#*who he never really knew and so did not recognize

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 21

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.

A/N: our final chapter! thank you so much for reading this series. will be now working on jenson's fic and maybe an about you special chapter if you folks like that??? hehe enjoy

About You Series

2019, Suzuka Circuit

Mark watched the couple have a table for themselves. The body language alone could talk about how delighted Sebastian was and how comfortable Y/N is back in his presence. He smiled as he sips his cup of coffee.

"Uncle Mark, who is the pretty girl?" Margarette asked.

The little girl didn't stop asking question after recognizing Y/N as the girl who saved her from getting lost in Singapore. It took a lot of begging for her to part ways with Y/N so she could talk to Sebastian privately. Mark smiles thinking how Sebastian doesn't seem to be the only Vettel that Y/N charmed now.

"My sister and your Papa's..." Mark answers and he debates how to answer Sebastian's relationship with Y/N "bestfriend, your Papa's bestfriend"

Margarette's eyes widened in surprise, "if that is Papa's bestfriend then why don't I see her a lot?"

"Its complicated"Mark sips his coffee again to hide his nervousness.

"Compwicayed?"

The confused look in her face seems to signal to Mark that its the first time that she encountered the word. Mark tried to wrack his mind a way to explain the situation to the kid.

"You'll get it when you get older"Mark assures.

"But Y/N should come visit me more often if he is Papa's bestfriend" Margarette insists.

"I sure hope so"

Back at the other table, the conversation seems to be more quiet as if they were both not sure which part should they talk about first. After so many years of waiting for each other, they just felt speechless because this moment seems unreal. Sebastian feels like any second now, the alarm would ring and everything will fade away.

"All those years? You were just here in Japan?"Sebastian could not believe it.

She nods with a shy smile on her face.

"The community is well nice here. A good rehab to help me walk again. People here respects privacy" she enumerates.

"And since when did you start walking again?"

"I think spring of 2017"Y/N recalls "It was not easy to walk again and it really was more of a mental strength issue.."

Her right hand fiddles with the necklace, a habit that she never outgrew. Sebastian finds comfort that there may be some changes in her life but she is still the same old girl that he met years ago.

His eyes trailed at the pendant on the necklace and that's when Sebastian noticed the familiar piece.

"You kept it?"

"Why would I throw it away?" she asked

"I thought you hated me" Sebastian knew that he deserves to be hated for everything he said that night.

"And I thought you hated me"she rebuts.

The driver immediately shakes his head sideways. There is a higher chance that he would hate himself before hating Y/N. It was frankly impossible for Y/N to do anything to make him hate her.

"I searched for you ever since I went back to my senses that I said some hurtful things that I didn't mean that night" Sebastian held her free hand.

The feeling of holding her hand again just felt right.

"I wanted to hold your hand again and we will go to your rehab sessions. I wanted to pick you up when you fall. I wanted to cheer you on when you take your steps again. But I wasn't there because my stupid words created a wedge between us" he continues.

There were tears on her eyes. Sebastian doesn't know it but she remembers all those times where she suffered alone. She didn't have anyone, just strangers or staffs in the hospitals. Maybe she have tried to imagine Sebastian being there for her as well during that time.

"But I'm not going to let you walk alone again, I'm here to stay. I promised myself to be a better man when you come back so you don't have to leave again. I promised that while you rebuild yourself, I will also do that so that when the time comes and we meet again, we can get a shot at this." Sebastian's words were determined and sincere.

Y/N looks at him hopefully. However, her eyes found the figure of little Margarette and remember the dilemma that she may put her through.

"What about Hana and..." she whispers "Margarette?"

"We're coparenting and Hana has long moved on with a guy in Switzerland name is Connor and they are pretty serious" Sebastian updates.

She nods in understanding.

"But Margarette, I can't let go of her" Sebastian admits "She is my world ever since we got seperated"

This time, Y/N's hand other hand found its way on top of Sebastian's. It was like a gentle way of her assuring that she wouldn't ask for that.

"I would never ask to seperate the two of you" she states "if you would have me then I would like to not just get to know you again but get to know Margarette as well"

It brings tears of happiness in Sebastian's eyes. It was like everything was finally falling back to places. Even if it took so long to happen, he was so glad that it was happening.

"We'll be okay?"

And Y/N nods.

2019, Interlagos

F1Gossips In a surprise turn of events, Sebastian Vettel reunites with Y/N Webber as they arrive together for media day

User11 MY PARENTS!!!!

User7 everybody stay calm, whats the procedure!!! User8 no one is calm, we have prayed for this for years

User9 they look so happy

User18 ikr, even if seb has a bad car, he smiles like he is a world champion here User17 and lets talk about how i was so happy to see Y/N again

User81 was there! and i saw her and i couldnt believe my eyes!

User5 she is so brave and she is so strong. we hope she feels the warm support

Webber Returns for an Australian driver

The paddock was buzzing with excitement as news spread around the return of the infamous Y/N Webber to the public eye. After disappearing for several years, she walks to the free practice of Interlagos with a rising australian driver, Oscar Piastri.

She confirms in an interview that she will be back to work with her brother Mark, who is currently Piastri's manager. After the successful win of Piastri in Eurocup last October, Y/N announced Piastri is now moving up to Formula 3 in 2020. The reason for their presence in Interlagos is purely out of the invitation of the Renault garage but she states its a way to motivate Piastri to find his direction.

"It won't be difficult to move Oscar up. I definitely think that in a few years or so then he would be competing here in Interlagos with the rest of the Formula 1 drivers" states Y/N.

When asked about her personal life, Y/N redirects focus towards Piastri's growing career. However, the clear joy from some of the old drivers have been evident with her return. Lewis Hamilton described that "it was nice to have an old friend back in the paddock" and Y/N has been photographed with the Mercedes driver together with Scuderia Ferrari's Sebastian Vettel in several free practice pictures.

2019, Yas Marina Circuit

When Sebastian called asking that he needs help and he sent a location for a very expensive jewelry shop, Mark almost had a heart attack. He probably broke all the speed limits just to get to the store at a records time and prepared his fist to strangle the German driver.

"Where is that piece of shit?" he shouts as he opens the door.

A startled Sebastian rises from one of the waiting area chairs.

"Do you have to be so angry?" Sebastian complained.

Mark tried his best to calm himself down. Thinking happy thoughts and world peace before he says his next few words.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mark asked slowly "Why are you buying a ring?"

It was now Sebastian's turn to look at Mark as if he was crazy. Mark just kept his harsh glare towards Sebastian and it was like they were transported to those years when they were crashing with each other in Red Bull.

"Did you get her pregnant? I swear to God sebastian, I'm going to kill you right here and right now" Mark threatens.

"What? No!"

"Then why the hell are you buying a ring?"

"Because I love her"

Suddenly the buzzing of the shop suddenly goes quiet with the declaration of love of Sebastian. Mark's glare softened with the realization that maybe he overreacted and overthinked the whole thing.

"You thought" Sebastian catches on "That I'm proposing because I got her pregnant? Do you really think I will just marry her out of obligation?"

"Hey, its my job as a brother to overthink that all men are never good enough for my sister" Mark defended himself.

Sebastian shakes his head in disbelief

"Just help me pick out, I need your opinion because maybe the stuffs she liked changed over time" Sebastian went back to the original dilemma that he called Mark for.

Laid out in front of them were different cuts of diamonds in different designs. Sebastian was torn whether to pick something simple stone or should it be an extravagant as a marquise.

"They told me that I should give her something heirloom since its just an engagement ring but then I told them I already gave them that ring years before as a promise so this has to be different..."

While Sebastian is ranting, Mark was trying his best not to show emotions. He was reeling back to moments of a younger Y/N who wished to have her very own prince charming and now here she was about to be swept away by his former teammate.

"The oval one with the pretty blue diamonds all over it"Mark pointed out.

"Yeah, that was like the necklace I gave her for her birthday" Sebastian picks it up delicately "You think she will like it?"

"She would love it"

"Okay please ring this up and charge me" Sebastian instructs one of the sales assistant present.

Mark couldn't believe what was happening. A part of him was overjoyed to be included in the ring picking but there was this other part that knows that he will have to give her away.

"I thought you two are taking things slow?" Mark wondered.

"That we are but I just want to be ready" Sebastian agrees.

"Ready?"

Sebastian runs a hand over his hair, a sheepish smile on his face. It was the same kind of smile that he has whenever he talks about Y/N. Mark doesn't know how he missed it all these years.

"We waited for each other to be better version of ourselves. We gave each other time and now we meet again. We have some catch up to do and so but after that I feel like its just a few months before we level up this relationship" Sebastian explains.

Mark nods in understanding

"I'm really serious about her, Mark. I know I have been very stupid before but I have grown and I have learned. I'm not hurting her or even losing her ever again"

There was something that made Mark resign and give him the complete sign of approval. He knows how much Y/N have also loved Sebastian and maybe it was about time for Y/N to make her own family with him.

"Just take good care of her, she deserves good things"

"That's what I intend to promise her when I marry her" Sebastian assures.

2020, Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

A group of drivers were huddled up in a room and they were all engaged in a very serious conversation. One may think that this was a grid meeting but it seems like it was all centered to the whiteboard with the messy writing "how will Seb propose?".

Sebastian was actually quite desperate to ask help and initially he sent the message to the groupchat he had with Charles and Mick. However, he wasn't particularly tech savvy so it was sent to the grid group chat.

With everyone finding out the information, everyone is pitching in their ideas.

"I know, you should set up a picnic and then propose to her while eating" Daniel suggested.

"And then a bee or a wasp will invade their space and it will ruin the whole thing" Kimi countered.

"What about a stargazing" Charles pitched in "And then you get this telescope and then she looks at it then you get on one knee and when she looks back at you she is surprised"

"That's actually a good idea" the room murmurs in agreement.

"But what if there are no stars?" Sebastian worriedly asked.

So there goes the stargazing idea scratched out in the perfect proposal plan.

"Just propose to her at a Grand Prix" Lewis suggested "We're always in a Grand Prix"

"But its too much attention and I'm sure they want this to be intimate" the young Max Verstappen voiced out.

"But isn't it romantic to have a grand gesture at the place where their love story revolved?" Carlos backed up Lewis' suggestion.

The Red Bull driver shrugged in response.

"I think the best way of proposing would be in your flat or when you are feeling domestic, its a moment for you two and its going to give you a more real speech without all the fanfares and pressure" Max explained.

Charles shakes his head violently.

"No, you see this is why romance is dead." Charles argues.

The whole room was chaotic and ideas were pitched left and right. Sebastian felt like banging his head to the table but the heaviness of the box in his pocket is much more heavier.

"I still can't believe you didn't try to propose during the holidays" George exclaimed "That would have been perfect and no fuss at all"

"He tried to but then he got food poisoning during Christmas and flights got cancelled for New Year" Mick retells the unfortunate story.

"Maybe its the universe way of telling you that its not the right time"Sergio joked.

It immediately earned him a kick for his chair from Charles and Mick.

"We have waited for this for years so don't jinx it" Charles whined.

Their whole meeting was interrupted by a knock, a steward announced that the testing will commence in 10 minutes so they should be back to their garages.

"Don't worry Seb, we will help you out on this" Kimi patted his former teammate's back.

"Consider my suggestion" Max insists.

2020, somewhere in Japan

Usually its already halfway through the season already but June rolls in without any races. The whole world seems to stop because of the pandemic and its something very frustrating for most. However, here in Japan, Sebastian and Y/N were locked down since March and somehow they are enjoying the domesticity of life.

"Isn't it my shift today to cook?" Sebastian asked as he saunters to the kitchen.

The smell of a freshly cooked breakfast made him smile. He is still getting used how lucky he was that he gets to wake up with this kind of view.

"It was but you had a long round of meetings last night so I figured I'll do the cooking today" Y/N smiled.

Sebastian hugs her from behind and clings to her as she cooks.

"How was your meeting last night?"she wonders.

"Ehh could have been an email" Sebastian shrugs "And maybe I need to get back in shape to race for July"

Worry flashes across her face and it was not missed by Sebastian. She knows how much he misses racing but she wanted him healthy and safe.

"July, isn't that too soon? Is it safe?" she questioned.

"Relax" Sebastian assures "They are making sure that they are going to lessen the risk and the crowds. Its still up for negotiation"

"I supposed if Formula 1 is coming back then maybe Formula 3 is also going to follow soon" she sighs.

"Our vacation is ending" Sebastian jokes.

Y/N turns off the stove and faces Sebastian. She returns his embrace and stayed in that hug as if a bubble protecting her from whatever is happening in the outside world.

"I just want to stay like this forever" she mutters.

She knows its quite an awful statement. Some people have a hard time and they have to go back to their old lives soon. However, for the two of them, it was the break and the catching up that they needed.

Little did she know, these past few months seem to be Sebastian's vision of the future. It was something that perhaps what he looks forward to retirement.

"We can stay like this forever" Sebastian agrees "Just domestic life, farming, cooking, reading"

"I still have to work for Oscar" she reminds.

"Then you can work for Oscar and then we will be following you around" Sebastian smiles.

"What?" she laughs "You mean to tell me you won't be racing?"

It feels weird for Sebastian to reach that realization that he may have to retire some time soon. He loved what he did but he thinks its time for him to take on a new role and just enjoy life in a slower pace.

"I wanna quit racing and I wanna marry you" Sebastian finally makes the statement.

Y/N looks at him as if he misspoke something but Sebastian pulls out the box. He carries it everywhere with him just incase he decides its the perfect time to propose. He has been carrying it with him ever since this pandemic started because it was only during that time that he realized that moments are fleeting. If the opportunity exist then go and seize it.

Maybe this isn't in a fancy place to ask for marriage or maybe its not too publicized but this is the moment he has been waiting for. He would be a total idiot to lose it again.

"You are the love of my life that I have waited for a very long time now" Sebastian goes down on his knees and opening box "I have already achieved a lot of stuffs and won my fair share of championship or podiums. I achieved most of my dreams already and now I want to focus on my dreams of spending life with you. If you would have me then I would like more peaceful mornings like this one. I want to be that person that you come home after a long day at work. I want you and Margarette in those spontaneous grocery trips or the midnight snacks. I see you being a part of my life for as long as I live so if you will have me then I promise to be the best husband you could ask for"

The whole speech was not prepared. Even if Sebastian has visualized this speech for a while now, he seems to be underprepared and spewing out nonsense. He could only hope to hear a positive response for her.

"You are an idiot proposing to me in our kitchen" she finally says

A breath of relief rushes over Sebastian. He stands up to wipe her tears away and places the ring on her finger.

"Hey, I haven't said yes yet!" she jokes.

"I don't see you saying no"

2021, Spain

F1Gossips This year's silly season seems to be pointing in Spain. Drivers both current and former were spotted in their suits in a church in Spain.

User6 who is getting married???

User7 MARRIED???? User9 is jenson making poor choices again lol User10 thats just mean.

User5 i dont see pictures of sebastian here. thats weird, that's suspicious

User19 maybe he wasnt invited User55 lmao, why would they not invite seb?? User3 what if its seb's wedding User15 time to take your delulu pills User3

User13 let me innn, i wanna know who's marriage is this that got everyone in the new grid and old grid in.

User17 can drive to survive cover this event??

Y/NPrivate we waited for so long for this moment to happen. i still can't believe that i get to marry my first love. this relationship was a rollercoaster and we have spent years before coming to terms about our feelings. all i can say is everything is worth it because now i am building a family with you. thank you for bringing joy into my life. thank you for waiting for us to be the healed version of ourselves. and like i said, i'll be yours for eternity. kisses

CharlesLeclerc i swear i just finished crying and now i am crying again??!!

Y/NPrivate you always cry with ferrari -seb CharlesLeclerc you better watch out!! Y/NPrivate what are they gonna do fire me? i mean they already picked a replacement for me so they don't scare me -seb CharlesLeclerc Y/N YOUR HUSBAND IS RUDE, GET HIM OFF YOUR ACCOUNT Y/NPrivate its a conjugal account now hahaha

MickSchumacher papa would have been so happy to see his two favorite people finally get together

Y/NPrivate we wish he was there to see us

JensonButton im really happy for you Y/N, seb you know the rest mate

Y/NPrivate thanks Jenson, seb also sends his gratitude. PS we got to chat soon about the girl you are seeing JensonButton whatttt thats crazyyyyyy how did you know that Y/NPrivate duh i have eyes -seb JensonButton make your own instagram account seb!

Hanna_Prater its a very lovely wedding, thank you for inviting us!!

Y/NPrivate thank you for designing the venue, i really love it hanna! Hanna_Prater were coparents so only the best for you! Y/NPrivate love u hanna! sending my regards to connor as well

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

FADING AWAY-RAFE CAMERON

Y/N had always known that her relationship with Rafe wasn’t going to be easy. She knew the risks, how different they were, how their worlds never quite meshed, how people whispered behind their backs, judging them for even being in the same room. Rafe was a Kook, born into privilege and wrapped in a world of wealth and expectations. She was a Pogue, barely scraping by, fighting for every little piece of freedom and respect she could get.

And yet, despite the glaring differences, Y/N had believed in them. She believed in the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, in the way his touch felt like home, in the way their conversations lasted late into the night, and how every laugh shared between them felt like a secret just for the two of them. There was something there. Something real. At least, that’s what she told herself.

But lately, things had changed.

The moments of tenderness were becoming fewer and farther between. Where once Rafe had sought her out, now he barely looked at her. Where he had once reached for her hand in the middle of a crowded room, now he seemed to avoid her touch. His calls became infrequent, his texts dry and detached. The way he would glance at her when they were together, cold, distant, almost like she was a stranger, cut through her chest with every passing day.

It wasn’t just the absence of affection that stung; it was the silence. The silence that had become so heavy between them. The unspoken words that used to be so easy to say now seemed impossible to express.

Y/N had tried to ignore it at first, telling herself it was just a phase, that maybe he was dealing with something. After all, Rafe Cameron was always wrapped up in some kind of chaos, always struggling with his own demons. Maybe he was tired, maybe he had too much going on with his family, maybe he just needed space. She tried to convince herself that it was nothing. But deep down, the gnawing doubt in her chest kept growing.

She didn’t know how long she could pretend.

The tipping point came one evening, a night that felt just like all the others, except that it was the first time Y/N realized how much he had really slipped away.

They were sitting at a bonfire on the beach, surrounded by the usual crew, Kiara, JJ, Pope, and a few others who had come to let off some steam after a long week. Everyone was laughing, talking, passing around drinks, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation. She kept glancing over at Rafe, who was sitting with a group of his Kook friends, laughing, his head thrown back, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He had barely looked in her direction all night. The way he was engrossed in his conversation with them, the way he had kept his distance from her, stung more than it should have. They were always surrounded by people, but it used to be different. She used to be able to find him in a crowd, to catch his eye, to share a smile, a laugh. Now, it was like she was invisible.

She stood up, the warm sand beneath her feet doing little to ground her as she walked toward the group. As she approached Rafe, he didn’t look up right away, didn’t seem to notice her presence until she was standing directly in front of him.

“Hey,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

He glanced up, his eyes dull and distant. For a moment, it felt like he didn’t even recognize her. Then his lips curled into that lazy, indifferent smile, the same one he wore when he didn’t really care about anything, or anyone.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone flat.

Y/N’s heart sank, but she forced herself to keep it together. “You’ve been kind of distant lately,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “Is everything okay?”

Rafe took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke as if he didn’t even hear her question. “I’m fine.”

That was it. No concern. No acknowledgment. No tenderness.

She wanted to believe him. She really did. But the truth was glaring at her now. The coldness in his voice, the indifference in his eyes, it wasn’t the Rafe she had known. This wasn’t the boy who once pulled her close, who held her like she was the only thing that mattered in a world of chaos. This wasn’t the Rafe who had shared his dreams with her, who had whispered that he couldn’t imagine a future without her in it. This was someone else.

“I miss you, Rafe,” she said quietly, her heart raw.

He didn’t meet her eyes, instead looking over her shoulder like he was searching for someone else. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N. Things are different now.”

The words hit her like a slap, cold and harsh. Things were different now. And deep down, she knew that meant everything had changed, that maybe they had always been on borrowed time. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, he had never felt the same way she did, that maybe she had been living in a fantasy all along.

His friends, oblivious to the moment unfolding, continued to laugh, their voices rising above the crackling fire. But all Y/N could hear was the hollow sound of her own heart breaking.

“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Okay, Rafe. If you need space, I get it. But this…this isn’t working for me.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his pocket for another cigarette, lighting it without a word. The silence between them stretched on, heavier than the night air.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat thick with unshed tears. She wanted to scream, to shake him, to force him to see her. But she knew it was pointless. She had been fighting for this, fighting for him, for so long, and now, it felt like she was losing.

With a final, aching glance at him, Y/N turned and walked away. The sound of her footsteps was muffled by the crashing waves, but the weight in her chest felt louder than ever. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away. She needed to breathe, needed to escape the suffocating feeling that she was disappearing right before her own eyes.

She had tried to hold on. She had tried to convince herself that love was enough, that the two of them could overcome their differences, that Rafe was just lost in his own world and would come back to her. But she couldn’t keep pretending anymore. She couldn’t keep chasing someone who had already pulled away.

By the time she reached the pier, her tears had already started to fall. She stood at the edge, staring out at the endless ocean, the weight of everything crashing down on her. The sound of the waves, the cold air against her skin, it was all so empty, just like the space Rafe had left in her life.

“Did I ever mean anything to you?” she whispered to the wind, her voice breaking. “Or was I just another girl to use and forget?”

There was no answer. Just the sound of the ocean, endless and indifferent.

And in that moment, Y/N realized something that cut deeper than any of the lies, any of the broken promises. She had never been the one to fade away. It was always him, always his indifference, his neglect, his coldness.

And now, it was too late to fix it.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69

[mollywog]

What are your thoughts on Possibility of Peeta in Canon feeling guilt over a perception that he forced Katniss into the Star crossed lovers?

Oooo -Thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about this.

One of Peeta’s main survival tactics is his ability to read people and situations…. And he’s pretty good at it (which probably was helpful to him far before the arena with a volatile mother but that’s maybe more the stuff of HCs so moving on)

With that in mind:

One of the first things Peeta says to Katniss upon her discovering him in the arena is:

"Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

Even in his fevered state, Peeta is aware that this is an act (at least on Katniss’s side)

Later - when he’s trying to convince Katniss not to go to the feast and she claims that she isn’t, he says:

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going." He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.

‘I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going.’ -> all moments he (accurately) clocked where Katniss wasn’t being 100% honest if not outright lying

The ‘I don’t know how you’ve survived this long’ part is particularly interesting to me but I digress.

So then fast forward to after the feast where Katniss risked her life to save him:

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there's real anger in his voice. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"

I'm startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. "Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who ... who worries about ... what it would be like if ..."

I fumble. I'm not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread

"If what, Katniss?" he says softly.

I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I'm feeling, it's no one's business but mine.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he's probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," he says, and moves in to me.

In this moment Katniss inwardly acknowledges that she has real feeling beyond the act and Peeta, again, reads those feelings correctly.

This is the turning point for him.

So, then imagine his surprise on the train tracks (and all the self doubt):

"It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted."

"Not all of it," I say, tightly holding on to my flowers.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.

(Just picture Peeta replaying the games in his head and trying to figure out where he missed the tell.)

We often joke about Peeta being oblivious to Katniss’s feelings for him in Catching Fire, but really: He’s been burned by ‘misinterpreting’ her before and he’s trying not to make the same ‘mistake’ again.

In a way

“You love me. Real or not real?

Is a remnant of that doubt.

Anyways - back you your original question:

There wasn't a single person in Panem expecting the Gamemakers to allow for two winners prior to the rule change... 73 years of one Victor: It's unprecedented.

The star-crossed lovers strategy, under normal game circumstances,

Benefits them both. The romance makes them both fan favorites to sponsors. But, at the end of the day, there can only be one Victor. So when one were to die, public sympathy would swing sponsors towards the broken hearted other.

Relied very little on Katniss; she didn't have to opportunity to state her feelings for Peeta to the audience after the interview and in the arena, up until the rule change, she barely saw him. Had he died before the (unprecedented) rule change, there wouldn’t be much for her to do but appear sad. The star-crossed lover but is eventually just a sound bite.

No one could have predicted that both Katniss and Peeta would be crowned victors and have to maintain the strategy indefinitely.

So yes, on top of believing he mistook Katniss’s feelings for him in the arena, he then discovered they’d have to maintain the pretense of lovers for the rest of their lives… I’m sure he felt all sorts of miserable ways about that.

[kiyomitakada]

Speaking of in-universe RPF I think it would be funny if a handful of true crime nerds at To-oh started the rumor that the Wara Ningyo killer faked his death (I mean come on, Hideki Ryuga? Does he really think anyone will buy that????)

oh my god. wait. that's brilliant, we know for sure beyond's face was released at least to the police and probably to the press because light's the one who killed him and you need both a face and a name for that. oh my god. okay wait canon divergence:

misa never shows up on campus that day so the weird fraught L-and-light fake-ish friendship at to-oh continues

they both refuse to sign up for the tennis club because they don't have time but they continue to play tennis with each other on school courts regularly

the tennis captain is like (seething) they aren't allowed to use our courts but everyone loves watching their games so i can't kick them out. and no one else on our team is as good as them. i wish i could strangle these people

meanwhile kyoko (the girl with a crush on L) is waxing poetic about hideki ryuga to her friend one day and shows them a picture and the friend is like. …………… kyoko. girl. i think that is a serial killer.

kyoko is like OMG HOW DID I NOT RECOGNIZE HIM (<- is also a true crime nerd)

she talks about this to her friends, some of whom are true crime-pilled enough to talk about this to their friends, etc., and this is how The Wara Ningyo Killer Faked His Death rumor begins

the tennis captain catches word of this from one of the teammates

"are you telling me," captain yasunaga says very slowly, "that the weirdo playing perfect tennis in jeans and long sleeves on our tennis court has murdered three people."

"captain, we have to report this to the police!"

"no, they'll never believe us. i knew there was a reason we couldn't find anything about him online… we're doing this the hard way."

the next day a different tennis team member approaches light like hiii yagami… i know you probably don't know me ("sorry, i really don't") but we wanted to know more about your friend… is hideki ryuga really his real name…?

light, going full overthinker mode before snapping out of it: YEAH HAHA TOTALLY OF COURSE IT IS IVE NEVER HAD ANY DOUBTS

yasunaga later: damn it! yagami's in on it too! i bet they're going to start killing us next!

this is my proposal for the oft-discussed premise Death Note: Sports Anime But They're Still Running From The Police

[lonelyl00n]

To Love A Boy

billie eilish x fem!reader

- in which a girl is in love with her childhood friend (based on 'To Love a Boy' by Maya Hawke).

i want to love a boy the way i love the ocean...

Billie and I sat at the foot of the ocean, our jean shorts sitting vulnerable against the sand, a fact that I’ll probably regret once I uncomfortably drive back home. But there was a reason that it was worth it, as I watched Billie’s brown hair blow wildly in the California wind.

It had been a while since I’d last seen the girl. She had been on across the world on tour for several months. She had even asked me to accompany her, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough. Visualizing glistening sweat dripping down her body after a set, seeing her smiling and flirting around with her new influencer friends, and knowing that every night, she’d be cuddling into me, her legs entrapping mine in a tiny queen bed.

Just like she’s done since we were kids.

I couldn’t bear to feel these sinful feelings about my own best friend. Like an objectifying beast, so instead, I found myself a distraction. Jack.

Jack was nice. He approached me during an intense manga reading at the library, cutely stuttering out something along the lines of “you’re beautiful.” Nobody had ever called me beautiful, well, nobody except Billie. He invited me out to coffee, and we talked about the weather, about life, about fears, about hopes. He understood me in a way that nobody else had ever cared to before. Nobody except for the girl beside me.

“So...” The girl playfully spoke, “When were you going to tell me about Jack?” Huh? I hadn’t told her about him, for a very good reason. Recognizing my confused expression, the brown-haired girl laughed, “Dude, I had to find this out from Zoey. I mean, you tell her, but you didn’t tell me?”

I let out an awkward chuckle.” There’s a lot I haven’t told you.” I thought.

“Umm, well, Jack is nice.”

Billie cocked her head to the side, “Really, that’s all, just nice?” It was obvious she was skeptical, as I had never in my life expressed an interest in a boy, and now I was dating one.

But it was true. When Billie left, I spent almost every night at Jack’s house. At first, not much would happen between the two of us. We would order Chinese takeout, challenge each other in Just Dance, Binge watch How I Met Your Mother, and we would also kiss a bit. I say only a bit because there was no passion, not from me and not from him. But for some reason, we both put up with it. I didn’t find out why until a couple weeks later.

Jack and I met at our regular meet up spot, the coffee shop across from the library. Jack had offered to pay for our orders while I went to the restroom. As I walked out of the restroom, I found Jack, talking to a barista. The same Barista that’s working every time we’re there. Jack had both our drinks in hand, yapping nervously like he always does to the poor worker, but it was then that I noticed. That look.

His eyes were shimmering like a pile of gold was in front of him. His smile wider than the Nile Delta. Meanwhile, the man in front of him looked oblivious to this fact, but I wasn’t. It’s the same look that I caught myself giving to Billie.

Later that night, as we were binging season four of our favorite show, I finally spoke. “I saw.” I simply said. Jack jolted for a second and sighed. “And I see the way you look at the girl on your lock screen.” The two of us said nothing else, instead we scooted closer to each other. Jack lifted my body onto his lap and we let our lips do the talking.

It was not sweet, it was not tender, and it was not angry. It was filled with longingness. Not for each other, but for who we wished the other could be. But I knew that Jack wasn’t my childhood best friend, as he knew I wasn’t the handsome barista he admired. We called each other the Tracys to each other’s Robin. Nobody understood me the way Jack did. He became my closest friend, a companion that I could express my deepest feelings about Billie to and then kiss it all away and pretend like none of it existed.

But it did. I felt it every time she would call in from her hotel room after a concert, pouting and complaining about how much she missed me and how she wished I wasn't so stubborn on my decision of not coming with her. I felt it whenever she would send me good morning texts at exactly the same time every day, even when she was on the complete opposite side of the world. And I felt it whenever she would flash me that gorgeous smile of hers whenever she felt that I was feeling down. So yes, Jack was nice, great even! But he wasn't her.

I hadn’t even realized how silent I had gotten reminiscing about Jack and I’s pathetic relationship, two homosexuals roleplaying as people we weren’t, that I failed to notice how awkward the atmosphere had become.

“Well,” Billie finally broke the silence, “I’m glad you and your boyfriend are so in love.”

There was something weird in the way that she said it, but I didn’t get to think too much about it as she pulled me in, her lips pecking my forehead, how she’s always does. Because to her there was no meaning behind it. To her I was only her best friend and that’s all I would ever be to her. She rested her head on my shoulder as I laid my head on top of hers, together watching the glistening blue ocean. And as waves of the ocean kissed our feet, as the seagulls soared through the sky, as her warm breath invaded my shoulder, a terrible thought encroached my mind: I wished I could be in love with Jack the same way I was helplessly in love with the ocean.

[jackiespurnell]

𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩? (𝙛𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙪 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

────୨ৎ────────

you weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in jackie taylor’s house, sitting criss crossed on her pink bed sheets, with her hands placed on each of your shoulders, very much about to kiss you. this was not how you thought your friday afternoon was going to go.

it all started approximately 24 hours ago, right after yesterday’s soccer practice. you were getting ready to leave the school premises, excited to get home and lie down on your bed and pretend you actually have a love life that isn’t just fantasizing about your pretty, popular soccer captain.

not like anything would ever happen between you two. but, you know. a girl can dream. 

you were just grabbing your water bottle and your bag from the locker room, when you heard a noise. well, not really a noise. more like, noises. more, like screaming.

you didn’t recognize the voices, not at first. it sounds like a guy and girl, which didn’t make much sense, because that definitely wasn’t any of the coaches. you slowly and quietly walk over, hoping not to drag any attention to yourself. you were nosy, of course you wanted to know what exactly was going on. you hide behind a locker, peeking over to see jackie and jeff - her boyfriend - having another yelling match. typical.

jackie and jeff have been dating on and off since freshman year. they had been broken up and back together more times than you could count. you never really understood it, why break up with someone if you know you’re going to end up back together but who were you to judge? i mean, yeah, you’re like, 99% sure that you could treat her much better than that pathetic excuse for a dumb jock with a worse hairline than your balding father but. it’s fine. whatever floats her boat.

you listened in, staying still and quiet. they weren’t really arguing about anything new, or different, just the typical ‘oh, you never listen to me!’ ‘all i do is listen to you!’ ‘you don’t even love me!’ type bullshit. you kind of wish they’d either get their act together or just break up for good. sure, you love good drama, but it’s starting to get boring. 

“oh my god, jackie, what did you even expect!? it’s not my fault that after three years you didn’t want to have sex with me! and it’s definitely not my fault that shauna wanted me too!”

oh.

oh.

“what?” you whispered to yourself, because holy shit jeff was hooking up with shauna? well, not exactly. he never specified what exactly they were doing. they could’ve been just talking, or kissing, or like, actually hooking up-hooking up. jackie’s boyfriend and jackie’s best friend. jackie’s boyfriend for three years and jackie’s best friend for who knows how long. 

and jackie. she didn’t even seem surprised. like she knew. you wonder how she found out. you wonder if she was sad or angry or both. you wonder a lot of things actually, except you don’t have time to wonder because you were too shocked to notice jeff walking over to leave except he saw you so instead of leaving, jeff now is standing in front of you, looking at you like you were casually eavesdropping on their very important, very private conversation and oh, wait, that’s actually what you were doing. shit.

“what’s she doing?” jeff asks jackie and you just awkwardly stand there, and you look at jackie with an apologetic look in your eyes and you knew you’d have a lot of explaining to do.

“um” jackie says. “actually, she’s driving me home. so she was waiting for me”

jeff raises his eyebrows. “jackie, you live like five minutes away? you don’t need a car ride home. what’s going on?” you immediately feel bad, knowing jackie was gonna have to make up some fuck ass lie that probably wouldn’t even make any sense.

“well” jackie says, avoiding eye contact with either of you. “she was actually bringing me back to her place.” 

“why the fuck would you be going back to her place?” jeff asked and wow, okay. realistically, you knew it made sense, you and jackie never even hung out outside of practice but way to casually break your already fragile lovergirl heart. even if you knew jackie didn’t like you back, it kind of stung. the way jeff said her, not even paying attention to you, as if you were just some thing, some useless, worthless thing. it made you want to crawl into a hole and die. “i mean are you guys even friends?” he asks, finally looking in your direction.

now there are a million ways you figured this could go.

and this most definitely was not one of them.

because in what is probably your dumbest moment (and you’ve had some pretty dumb moments) you blurt out “actually she’s my girlfriend. and she’s over you. let’s go.”

and with that to take jackie by the arm and pull her away and holy shit you just took jackie by the arm and pulled her away from her actual boyfriend and holy shit you said you guys are dating and holy shit you technically told this girl you barely know anything about that she’s over her boyfriend and holy. fucking. shit.

once you two get out of the locker room and out of the school, you freeze and jackie stares at you expectantly and you try to come up with an explanation that isn’t ‘i was eavesdropping and overheard that your boyfriend was cheating on you with your best friend and i also kind of really like you so i said that and i’m sorry.’

you stare at her awkwardly, trying to come up with some reasonable response. “i, um, well…i, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but i heard about um…you know, you and jeff and shauna and i, just, you looked uncomfortable and i really shouldn’t have broken up with jeff for you and then said what i said and i’m so sorry.” you expect her to roll her eyes or yell at you or demand you go back inside and tell jeff you lied.

but instead? she starts bursting into laughter.

“oh my god, no! you’re good! no, that was like, the funniest fucking thing i’ve seen in ages. i mean, did you see the look on jeff’s face?” you wanted to say, no, jackie, i didn’t, because i was too busy freaking the fuck out.

“okay but like” jackie says. “maybe this could work.”

“this?” you question and then you realize she means this, as in really, genuinely, faking a relationship with her. “yeah.” jackie nods. “i mean, come on, jeff is probably gonna get with shauna like, for real now. would it be so bad to let them think im getting with you?”

you hesitate. “i don’t know jackie…” “come on! i mean, it’s just pretend, right?” that makes you hesitate even more. fake dating the girl you like was not the smartest move, even you knew that. but still, she’s giving you those puppy dog eyes, and fuck, you love her puppy dog eyes.

fine. you take it back. telling jeff you and jackie were dating when you weren’t wasn’t your dumbest moment.

agreeing with jackie to keep up the act was.

which is how you ended up, 24 hours later, in her house. on her bed. about to kiss.

jackie said you two need to be physical in front of people. she was the people’s princess after all, if she was going to do something, naturally, it had to be big. she needed to have you close to her at all times. an arm around your waist. your head on her shoulder. her lips against yours and of course, practice makes perfect. 

so she leans in to kiss you, and you’re about to freeze up, about to say no, about to say this is a bad idea and stupid and they should call it off, but you don’t, you don’t say a thing, and holy shit, she tastes good. and feels good. and just is good. and you as if she could stab you right now and you’d thank her. you then decide that you could die doing this, no, you want to die doing this. it would be painless and you’d be in total bliss. you are in total bliss.

maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a bad idea.

────୨ৎ────────

[ayrtonswnna]

helloo, author-chan! Me again hehe 😊😊

I love how you did my request abt Franco x Senna!reader. I really do, it really shows Ayrton's child-ish character (all thanks to the lord and savior, Gerhard Berger) Hehe.

Anyways, I wanna do another request.

It's for Ayrton himself, but the reader is his childhood friend who's goodbyes from him were like a form of betrayal for her accord and cut ties with him for good when she founds out he got married (which i think you know that his wife and him got divorced but then dated gfs here and there, you'll get my point). UNTIL, she was invited to the paddock in one of the races and she doesn't know he was a F1 driver.

Your plot is your own free will but make it STRAIGHT ANGST to Forgiving at the end, that is if you can ofc. No pressure 😊😊.

Good Luck, Author-chan 😘

ʚɞ a/n: more ayrton content yessss!!!! hey sweetheart, thank you very much!!!!! i am sorry for taking so long to finish your request, but here it is!!

i tried my best to embody your request (and take the challenge) and keep as much as i could of your ideas, added a lot for context and got a bit carried away, but i think it turned out great.

i'm head over heels for angst so here it is!!! hope you like it and thank you for your support!!!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀A LONG TIME COMING 〃 ayrton senna oneshot

ʚɞ ayrton senna x maria de oliveira. (female!oc)

ayrton sees his past right in front of him. a lot has changed.

warnings: ANGST. A LOT OF IT. story takes place in the late 80s/early 90s, it's up to you, author opened wikepedia and chose the first old man in power to be the villain, description of an abusive relationship, character physically and mentally hurt, ayrton saves the day, mention of non-active character death, author in need of therapy (she's picturing dead man as a savior)

Ayrton recognized her the moment he saw her. It wasn’t just her face—it was the memories she brought with her. Childhood afternoons spent running through São Paulo streets, teenage years filled with laughter and long conversations. All of it came rushing back in a heartbeat.

But she had changed.

The tight coils her mother used to braid into intricate hairstyles were now softer curls, looser and more subdued—maybe she straightened her hair sometimes. Gone were the colorful clothes and wide, carefree smiles. In their place were sharp heels, a tailored blazer, and muted tones. It was strange, seeing someone so familiar and yet so different. Could a person change so much and still remain the same?

"Do you know her?"

The question jolted Ayrton from his thoughts. The voice belonged to Jo Ramirez, McLaren’s team coordinator, who was sitting beside him and following his line of sight.

"Who?" Ayrton asked, though he already knew.

"Maria. My girlfriend."

The word hit him like a slap. Girlfriend?

"I—uh—yeah," Ayrton stammered, struggling to keep his tone casual. "Her mom’s Brazilian. Friends with my family. Something like that."

He hesitated before adding, "Isn’t she much younger? Like... twenty-five?"

Twenty-five. Ayrton knew her exact age, knew she’d turn twenty-six on November 3rd. He remembered everything. Her mom from Rio de Janeiro, her dad from England. Their parents’ business ties that had brought them together so often they practically grew up as siblings—until they weren’t anymore.

Until he left.

Jo chuckled, clearly finding the question amusing. "Yeah, something like that. But what’s it to you?"

Ayrton’s lips pressed into a thin line. Jo Ramirez was fifty. Fifty years old. Ayrton thought he knew Maria better than this, thought she’d never go down that road. A man twice her age, with a background so different from hers.

"I mean," Ayrton pressed, "she’s young enough to be your daughter. Don’t you... don’t you find it weird?"

Jo smirked, leaning back in his chair. "No, not at all. That’s the beauty of it. I can put her in her place. However I want to."

The words set off alarm bells in Ayrton’s head, a sinking feeling twisting in his gut. His face must have given him away because Jo laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Relax, man. It’s not what you think. She’s not a kid. And besides," Jo added, his tone turning smug, "you don’t know her anymore. People change."

Ayrton’s gaze shifted back to Maria, standing at the edge of the garage, her expression unreadable. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, her body tense like she didn’t belong there.

Jo’s next words were like knives.

"These girls, man... they’re like having a personal doll. A private paradise. You do what you want, whenever you want. She doesn’t even complain anymore."

Ayrton snapped his head toward him. "What the fuck, Jo? Are you—are you hearing yourself? What the fuck are you even saying?"

Jo just laughed again, as if Ayrton’s reaction was a joke. "Chill out, mate. It’s my girlfriend. None of your business."

But Ayrton couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach. His gaze flicked back to Maria, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Ayrton’s mind raced, trying to process Jo’s callous words. The jovial tone, the dismissive attitude — it all felt too wrong. He couldn't believe that the Maria he once knew, the vibrant and spirited girl who used to run through the streets of São Paulo with him, could be subjected to this kind of treatment.

The words "personal doll" and "private paradise" echoed in his head, making his stomach churn. They didn’t fit with the Maria he remembered. His Maria, full of life and laughter, had been an equal, not someone who could be reduced to such an object.

“I guess you’re right,” Ayrton said, forcing a casual tone, even as every fiber of his being screamed in protest. “People change.”

Jo laughed again, patting Ayrton on the shoulder. “Exactly. Don’t worry about it.”

As soon as Jo turned his attention elsewhere, Ayrton’s eyes found Maria’s once more. She was standing at the edge of the garage, her body tense, her eyes distant. The sight of her made his heart ache. What had happened to her?

Maria had always been so alive, so full of personality. This version of her seemed almost foreign, like a ghost of the woman he used to know.

It wasn’t just the physical changes. Sure, she had grown into herself, but it was more than that. It was in the way she moved, the way her eyes shifted, constantly looking around, searching for something or someone. She was no longer the carefree girl from their shared past.

Maria hadn’t come to the paddock for him, not really. She was here because of Jo, and she had no intention of rekindling old memories. Her posture was stiff, her eyes flicking nervously, never settling. Ayrton felt the weight of that discomfort in his chest. This wasn’t how he imagined seeing her again.

"An elder?" Jo’s voice broke through Ayrton’s thoughts, pulling him back to the moment. The tone was playful, but there was something off about it. He squeezed Maria's side, just like he had when they were teenagers, poking into her space with a familiarity that made Ayrton uncomfortable. "C’mon, Mariazinha, you’re better than that! I can't believe I'm seeing you again. What happened to your hair? You’ve changed so much!"

Maria’s eyes darkened, and her response was cold, detached. "Grew old, I guess."

Ayrton took a small step back, unsure of how to continue. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There should have been more. More warmth, more recognition of the bond they once shared. But instead, there was this distance, this wall.

"Yes, could be it," Ayrton murmured. "How are you? How’s mamãe?" He used the term of endearment without thinking, but immediately regretted it. The word felt too intimate for the way things had turned out.

"Watching from above," Maria answered softly, her voice thick with an emotion Ayrton couldn’t place. She took a step away from him, eyes darting around as if looking for Jo.

Ayrton felt a pang of guilt. "I am so sorry," he said, reaching out to her but pulling back when he saw the way she flinched. "Was it... Was it recent? I passed by your house just last week."

Her eyes were cold now, and it stung. "Seven years ago."

Ayrton’s heart sank. He had missed so much. And Maria had been forced to pick up the pieces of a life that he had left behind.

"So, dad?" Ayrton asked, trying to change the subject, his mind reeling. "Bet you’re in England more these days, with Jo and everything."

Maria nodded, but her expression didn’t soften. "Yeah, I guess."

Ayrton noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. There was something in the air between them, something thick and unresolved. "It’s weird, though," he said, trying to ease the situation. "I would’ve never guessed you’d grow into such a quiet adult. You were always so... vocal."

Maria's lips twitched. "I guess life has a way of changing things."

Her words stung, and Ayrton knew they were aimed at him. He had left her. He had walked away without a second thought. And now, all these years later, he was standing in front of a woman who had learned to live without him.

"You found a wife and left," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "It’s not like you stayed to know what I’d grow into."

Ayrton winced, his own guilt rising up to choke him. "Yeah, I... I deserve that." He ran a hand through his hair. "I made mistakes. But I’m really happy to see you again. Maybe we could catch up, catch up like old times?"

Maria didn't respond immediately, her gaze flicking toward Jo in the distance. She seemed to hesitate before shaking her head. "I don’t think so. You can’t just leave and come back when you feel like it. This is not how it works. I put my life together without you, and I don’t want to go through that again. It’s already too—" She paused, her throat tightening.

"Too what?" Ayrton pressed, his heart racing. "You put your life together with a fifty-year-old man who talks about you like you're a piece of meat? I don’t understand. I don’t think I’m the complicated part in this."

Maria stepped closer to him, her face flushed with frustration. "Aren’t you also fucking young blond women all around? Why is my life suddenly your business? Jo was here for me when you turned your back on me. I don’t care how he talks, or how complicated it is. He was the one who showed up for me when you didn’t."

Ayrton stood there, his mind racing, but all he could focus on was the bruise on her neck. It was dark, swollen, and fresh. Something inside him snapped.

"Maria... What the fuck?" He reached out to touch her, his hand trembling as he took in the full extent of the mark. "Is this ok? What the hell happened?"

Maria flinched as his fingers brushed the bruise, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tried to cover it up, pulling her blazer back in place and stepping further away from him.

"I’m fine, stop acting like you care," she said, trying to sound convincing. But it didn’t fool Ayrton.

He couldn’t just stand there and pretend everything was fine. He wasn’t blind to what was happening. He wasn’t going to let this go.

But before he could say anything else, Jo appeared, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "Maria, my love. Looks like you’re catching up with your old friend, huh? I bet he wasn’t all that when you met."

Maria didn’t even look at him as she pulled away, muttering a quiet goodbye. "I’m going back to the hotel, alright? Meet me there, baby."

Jo gave a lazy wave, clearly disinterested, before turning his focus back on Ayrton. "Don’t you dare try anything between me and my girlfriend. You’re my driver, and I call the shots. It’s best you keep your distance from her."

Ayrton didn’t say anything. There was no point. Jo had made his stance clear. He just nodded, but inside, his mind was on Maria and the danger she was in.

"Copy."

It's not like anyone is in control of the situation. It's not like Ayrton could just close his eyes and get to sleep. It's past ten, and there’s no sign of sleep.

Facing Maria after so many years brought a scary amount of new things to the table. Things he thought he had buried as time passed and could live with that way.

But no. Just like his first year alone in the UK, right after Lilian, his wife at the time, dropped him saying she couldn’t keep up with this whole career thing. Just like when he caught himself thinking about how things would have been so different with Maria.

They had history, a background. High school lovebirds and childhood inseparable duo.

Ayrton remembered their weekends together, the ones when she was not traveling to her dad's house. The way she was so bad at speaking Portuguese and would always ask him for translations once he learned English. They took classes together throughout their whole childhood. They used to do everything together.

Karting, beach days, countryside days, summer travels. Birds of a feather, inseparable duo. All the shared birthday parties, the shared beds, breakfasts, school rides. High school years, teenage experiences.

It all seems to come back now. The best and the worst.

Because now Maria is hurt. Physically hurt, probably emotionally too. The sweetest girl he once knew is now hidden in layers of clothing and sharp answers.

It's impossible not to think about the what-ifs.

What if he never left her? What if he had proposed she move to the UK with him and not Lilian? She had a family there, maybe it would have worked out. What if he didn’t kiss her in his parent's backyard for one last time?

These are the type of things that keep men up at night, awake enough to go down to the hotel lobby to maybe get some tea and tire themselves out before sleeping.

As Ayrton descended to the hotel lobby, the dim lighting and soft hum of quiet conversations brought a strange sense of calm. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, let alone her.

But there she was, sitting on a leather armchair near the bar, staring at a half-empty glass of wine like it held all the answers to her life.

His feet moved before his brain could stop him. "Maria?"

She startled slightly, her eyes snapping up to meet his. For a second, Ayrton saw the girl he used to know—soft, wide-eyed, and vulnerable. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the guarded, distant woman she had become.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice low and tired.

"Couldn’t sleep," he admitted, sliding into the armchair beside her. "And you?"

She scoffed, swirling the wine in her glass. "Guess I couldn’t either."

The silence between them felt heavy, weighed down by years of unresolved feelings and the awkwardness of their earlier conversation. Ayrton couldn’t help but notice how she sat, her posture tense, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

"Maria," he started softly, leaning forward, "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

She froze, her fingers tightening around the glass.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Coming from what I saw earlier..." he said carefully, his eyes never leaving hers. "And the way you flinched when I tried to touch you. Maria, you don’t have to pretend with me."

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she looked away, her gaze fixed on the floor. "It’s not what you think."

"It’s exactly what I think," Ayrton said, his tone firm but not unkind. "I’ve known you my whole life, Maria. You don’t have to say it, but I see it. And I know you don’t deserve it."

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "What do you know about what I deserve, Ayrton? You left. You walked away like I was nothing. You don’t get to come back now and act like you care."

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I was stupid, Maria. I made mistakes. But I swear to you, if I’d known—"

"You didn’t," she interrupted, her tone sharp. "You didn’t know because you didn’t stay."

He fell silent, his guilt weighing heavily on him. She had every right to be angry, and he had no defense. But he couldn’t walk away from her again, not now.

"Let me fix it," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever it takes, Maria. Just let me help you."

She looked at him then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "There's nothing to fix, Ayrton. You can’t undo what’s already been done."

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but I can give you a way out. You don’t have to stay with him. You don’t have to live like this."

Maria swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she set the glass down. "It’s not how it works, Ayrton, this is not-"

"It is," Ayrton insisted. "You just have to trust me."

A few days later, the team had planned an evening out—a casual dinner to celebrate a successful race weekend. Maria had reluctantly agreed to join, knowing Jo would insist on her presence. Ayrton was there too, his eyes never straying far from her.

Throughout the evening, Jo’s behavior was increasingly abrasive. He held her arm tightly when guiding her to their table, his fingers digging into her skin. He interrupted her when she spoke, belittling her opinions with condescending remarks. Ayrton watched it all, his jaw tightening with every interaction.

The breaking point came when Jo grabbed her wrist in the middle of a conversation, yanking her back toward him. "Stop wandering off," he snapped, his tone low but menacing.

Maria winced, her free hand instinctively moving to cover her wrist. That's not much of him—acting that way where everyone could see it. "Jo," she said evenly, her voice trying to stay calm but laced with a tiny sign of desperation. "Not now."

Promptly, her eyes darted to Ayrton, as if something inside knew he'd be looking. And there he was.

The thing is, Maria isn't the only one who noticed that.

Jo smirked, releasing her as if nothing had happened. "Relax, Ayrton. She’s fine."

But Ayrton wasn’t fooled. His eyes locked with Maria’s, silently communicating what words couldn’t. Later, when the group began to disperse, he caught her arm gently, steering her toward a quiet corner of the parking lot.

"You don’t have to go back with him," he said, his voice urgent. "Get in my car. I’ll take you somewhere safe."

She hesitated, her eyes darting around as if expecting Jo to appear out of nowhere. "I can’t just leave. He’ll—"

"I don’t care what he’ll do," Ayrton interrupted. "You’re not staying with him another night, Maria. I won’t let you."

Her lips trembled, tears spilling over as she whispered, "It's not like... It's not like I can just leave."

"It is," Ayrton said, his voice softening. He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "But you’re not alone. I’m here, Maria. I’ve got you."

For a moment, she just stared at him, the weight of her fear and pain threatening to consume her. But then she nodded, a small, shaky movement that sealed her decision.

"Okay," she whispered.

Without another word, Ayrton led her to his car, opening the passenger door for her. As they drove away, the city lights fading behind them, Maria felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time in years, she wasn’t running away—she was being saved.

The sound of the sea outside Ayrton’s beach house was a gentle hum, blending seamlessly with the rhythmic clink of a knife against a cutting board. Maria sat across from him in the kitchen, chopping fruit for a simple breakfast. Ayrton, leaning casually against the counter, pretended to be busy with a task, though his eyes kept drifting to her.

There’s no race this weekend, and he felt like they could use a break. She would never deny a good beach weekend, and it only took a flight.

"This is just like old times," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Except now, you’re actually helping instead of sneaking bites every five minutes."

He grinned, playfully snatching a slice of mango from her plate. "Old habits die hard, don’t they?"

She swatted his hand away, laughing lightly, and for a moment, the heaviness that had lingered between them since that night at the hotel seemed to lift.

"So," he started, his tone deliberately casual, "how did you end up in... all of this? I mean, I know about your mom, but... Jo?"

Her smile faltered, and she set the knife down, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the cutting board. "I left Brazil not long after she passed. It was... too much. The house felt empty, and São Paulo didn’t feel like home anymore. I thought a fresh start would help. Then I moved in with Dad, in London."

Ayrton nodded, his expression softening. "Makes sense. You wanted to escape the memories."

Of course! Here's the complete passage, maintaining the original dialogues:

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy but steady. “Exactly. But I didn’t realize that running away wouldn’t fix anything. Jo came into my life when I was at my weakest. He knew what to say, how to act... At first, it felt like he was saving me. I didn’t see it for what it was until it was too late.”

His jaw tightened, and his hands clenched the edge of the counter. “You deserved so much more than that, Maria.”

She offered a sad smile. “I thought I did too. But by the time I realized who he really was, I didn’t know how to get out.”

There was a long pause, filled only by the distant crash of waves. Ayrton walked around the counter and sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “You don’t have to go through that again,” he said quietly. “Not ever.”

Maria looked at him, her eyes searching his face. “You’ve always been like this, haven’t you? Saying just the right thing to make me feel... safe.”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “It’s a gift. Though I recall you used to say I talked too much.”

She laughed, a genuine sound that made his chest tighten, in the best of ways. “You did. You still do.”

Their laughter faded, leaving a charged silence between them. Ayrton’s hand was on the table, so close to hers that their fingers nearly touched. For a fleeting moment, he thought about closing the gap, about leaning in, about finally—

Maria shifted, clearing her throat and breaking the spell. “We should finish this before the fruit turns to mush.”

Ayrton exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Right. Breakfast. Very important.”

Later, the sun was dipping low over the horizon when they found themselves on the beach. Maria walked ahead of him, her bare feet sinking into the sand, until she reached the water’s edge. She sat where the waves kissed the shore, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Ayrton stopped a few paces behind her, watching. She always used to do this — sit right where the ocean seemed to meet her. She used to say it made her feel small, but in a good way. Like her problems couldn’t possibly be bigger than the vast sea stretching out before her.

“You’re still doing that,” he said as he sat down beside her.

She glanced at him, her hair tousled by the breeze. “Doing what?”

“Sitting here like this. You’ve always loved the water.”

Maria shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the waves filling the space between them. Ayrton shifted closer, his shoulder brushing hers.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been. But I swear, Maria, I won’t let anything like Jo happen again. Not as long as I’m around.”

She turned to him, her eyes wide and shining with something he couldn’t quite name. “Ayrton...”

He reached up, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The gesture was so simple, so natural, that it felt like slipping back into something they’d never really left behind. Slowly, he leaned in, their foreheads almost touching.

This time, Maria didn’t pull away. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, hesitant, yet filled with unspoken promises. When they parted, Ayrton rested his forehead against hers, his hand still lingering near her face.

“Things can change,” he murmured. “We can change.”

Maria smiled, the first real, unguarded smile he’d seen from her in years. “Maybe they can.”

They stayed there, the waves crashing softly around them, as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

ʚïɞ check my masterlist 〃 drop a request 〃 featuring ayrton! ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2025

[moochii-daisies]

-18+, Minors DNI

- Genre//Pairing: fluff // idol yoongi x ditzy mess of a reader (they're the same age, reference to bein born in the 1900's)

- Summary: yoongi misses going to the movies, luckily - someone has a plan

- Length: 4.3k words

- warnings-content contains: swearing and yoongi has a lil sad moment (immediate comfort). reader and yoongi have unspoken (obvious) crushes on each other. cheesy use of d-day because song references bring me joy. they hold hands. because it's important to me that someone holds his hand. idk what it's like to be an idol this is loosely based on a daydream haha.

- Sidenotes: i think yoongi mentioned missing going to the movies in road to d-day? idk but the idea keeps popping up so i hope you enjoy and thank you for reading if you do <3 also - i think i read a fic a yr or so ago that first inspired this and if i can find it i'll post it here asap! (despite how this starts - i feel like yoongi would be so accepting and i hope that comes across)

──୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───

     "no."

yoongi slams the door in my face before i'm able to get a word in. and ok yeah, this idea is ridiculous.

but i'm on a mission.

it's sole purpose?

is to get this man out of the damn house.

     the devil himself mumbles through the intercom outside his front door, "you of all people, can not tell me to leave." and to be fair, the devil has a point.

     yoongi and i met in a pretty cliche way: bumped into each other in an elevator at work. but it wasn't love at first sight.

to put it politely.

the first time we were introduced properly, all this man did was stare blankly and say, "ok." before loudly launching into a monologue about how some girl on the elevator had ruined his morning coffee. (i accidentally bumped his shoulder and made him drop it.)

     in the many months since then - choice words have been said and things got immature. we may or may not have driven each other insane by exclusively texting at obscene hours. and someone may have pushed every single button on the elevator once to make the other late (it backfired, we were both going to the same meeting.)

     weirdly enough and despite all of this, our mutual love of chillin' the fuck out has been strong enough to bond us together. our combined ability to not leave the house has led to us spending a lot of our free time in each other's company. usually i hide whenever the doorbell rings, "you're like a stray cat." is what yoongi always says, all because i hissed at the sound of the doorbell one time. in my defense, i never know who the hell is gonna walk through his door. and i only hissed cause i was really tired. i think jungkook had come over at 8am to drop something off before he went to bed.

also, we almost exclusively hang out at his penthouse apartment. he came over to my place exactly once and discovered that i'd stopped going to the grocery store. in my defense (again), convenience stores really are convenient.

     since i "keep myself alive with shit food and miracles" - according to yoongi, our friendship has evolved to be...dynamic to say the least.

     this time though, i'm not the one who needs help being a person.

this time is different.

     i knew yoongi was famous before we became friends but it pretty quickly became obvious that yoongi was such an extreme shut-in out of necessity, not his own free will.

     if i hadn't recognized it, he certainly would've let me know. the hints started to drop whenever we'd watch a movie, he'd grumble and throw pieces of popcorn into my hair -

"this would be way more fun if we were in a theater."

     he insisted he didn't really want to go though, so i dropped it initially. but then he started sighing while looking out the window.

longingly.

     his chest would heave while he peered around dark curtains in his living room. although, he only ever did it at nighttime, so i dunno what he was looking at exactly. we did help stop a mugger once - with the aid of gargantuan binoculars that he bought for a bird-watching phase. i can't deny, that part was pretty cool.

however - the popcorn has become an issue. it's like he always has it on his person, specifically to throw at me. i dunno how he manages to do it but, there have been a few meetings lately where the other members stopped to pick pieces of it out of my hair with skeptical looks.

     i've given every reasonable excuse for it at this point and they're starting to get strange (ex: "i like to eat it with my hair hanging over the bowl.") whenever i've tried to call out the person responsible, yoongi does that thing he does when he's trying to avoid something. he gazes off at nothing and pretends to think very hard. usually, while he's walking away.

    all of this is to say - that's kinda why i'm here now: arguing with yoongi, locked outside of his apartment, with three giant bags weighing on my arms.

     " i, for some reason, am the only person who can tell you to leave." i smash down the button of the intercom to relay my response.

hobi led the group call initially -

     ok, i say group call. but this was the entire conversation:

hobi: yoongi?

jin: yep.

jimin: mhm.

taehyung: yup.

namjoon: yeah.

jungkook: yerp.

hobi: got it?

- ...

hobi: got it?

me: yes!

- call ended -

     i haven't really gotten that close with them yet.

and as far as i can tell, this is up to me.

apparently.

     yoongi scoffs through the monitor and static tickles down my ears.

     "you're the boss." is all he says.

     i can see the smirk on his face despite being on the other side of the door.

there's a moment of silence after that.

a moment that i break.

     "he who shall not be named! these are heavy and you have neighbors and i have time today. and i also! have no! shame!" yoongi pulls me through the door mid-shout.

     "are you fuckin' kidding me? you apologized to a tree for laughing too loud." his grip on my upper arm slides down to yank a bag out of one hand.

     "well, if it had been a person then it would've been polite." i huff and wobble on one leg, trying to get both shoes off hands free.

     as i look down at my stupidly tight boots, another bag lifts off of my arm.

     the sound of it crinkling is followed by a very heavy sigh.

     i triumphantly wrangle the second shoe off and grin at yoongi.

     "get out." he says sternly, then shoves the bags back against my chest.

     i grip onto his hands before he can pull them away.

with a small tug, and once he leans his face in closer, i whisper out, "no."

     he bonks his forehead against mine gently with a low, "okay, good." and we both smile on our way to the kitchen and dining area.

     once i've set the bags on the dark oak table i turn to him as seriously as i can, "ok but for real, if i have to watch you sigh while lookin' out the window one more time? i'm gonna lose my mind. plus, it'll be fun! you always say so..."

     i forget about trying to look serious and swing my hips back and forth as i talk.

     yoongi leans against clean kitchen countertops, crossing both arms and one foot over the other.

     "the simplicity is what i miss most." he's wry with his words, wrinkling his nose.

     i groan and rifle through the bags, "well when you start to sigh about that then i'll work on it. for now though, we've got...this!"

      shaking an ankle length tweed trench-coat, i turn to him with an encouraging nod.

     "this is gonna help me be unnoticed?" he asks incredulously.

     instead of answering, i dive back into the bag, rummaging around until i find a plastic pipe next.

     "might i suggest these for you sir?" i walk around the table and wave the trench-coat around in the air.

     "c'mon, you know you wanna. i already got us tickets on my phone! it's that new gambling movie where everything's tense the whole time but, the soundtrack has some composers you like -" i didn't mean to let that last part slip out.

     yoongi's lips twitch and he snatches the trench-coat away from me. then he gripes out:

     "hat."

just one word, accompanied with an expectant look.

     "please don't talk to me like i'ma dog." even though i say this, i reach into the bags to find the right one.

     yoongi smirks and takes a Sherlock Holmes style hat away from me.

     he jerks his chins at the bags and softly commands, "you."

i pull out an oversized men's suit, bowler hat and fake mustache from the middle one.

      yoongi's deadpan, "did you just wanna dress like Holmes and Watson." and i open my mouth to respond, then close it, twice.

     "look - it's D-Day. we're in disguise, it's like a sneaky mystery. like, nobody is gonna know except us and you can't throw popcorn at me!" i sneak in the request i've been too scared to ask at the end. it's easier to say with my eyes closed but, that doesn't cover how red my face feels.

     it's silent for a weird amount of time and i peek an eye open to glance at him.

     "change." is all he says as he squints at the ceiling, and i try not to skip on my way down the hall to the bathroom.

as i do, i hear his rumbling complaints bounce off the walls around me. the way my heart is thudding makes both ears strain for it, seeking it out.

"you keep calling it D-Day like that means something. but do i say no? of course not. why would i..."

i'm glad he can't see the smile on my face as i shut the door behind me. one deep, calm breath and my heartbeat settles back to normal.

     yoongi likes jasmine, tobacco and cedarwood. he's got those aroma reed incense jar things in every room. i've learned that he sticks with jasmine when he's moody, and that cedarwood is reserved for very good days. tobacco's kind of a mixed bag though. like, one day he was really dedicated to making a stew. as in, all day long - it was next level incredible though.

on another tobacco day, he got himself into a funky mood from reading too many crime novels. i know we both wound up believing that we were actually figuring out an unsolved case but, that was a sleep-deprived 5am belief.

     anyways, today it's jasmine.

i wiggle into the baggy suit and place the bowler hat on top of my head. it's so big that i can only see the reflection of my chin when i look in the mirror. it's always soft lighting at yoongi's place. decorations? eh, he's made it look nice but it isn't a priority. harsh lighting though? it makes him so irritable that he called jungkook over one day to help him switch all of the lightbulbs out for ones labeled, "soft and gentle". the overhead light is never on in his apartment and despite the black wood accents, nothing looks lifeless or dark. instead, it's all just warm.

everything in his place is always warm.

     "what if we don't do this and we never speak of this again?" yoongi grumbles on the other side of the bathroom door and my fake mustache teeters as i fight off a grin.

     handlebar secured - i fling the door open, except, all i can see is a bit of yoongi's broad back as he hides behind the wall. a few steps to my right and just around the corner, i try to take a sneaky glimpse but our eyes meet directly. he frowns, rolls his in an exaggerated manner - and tries not to laugh. the hat is squishing his cheeks together in a way that makes me want to giggle just as much as it makes me want to bite them.

     "perhaps you do need a hat." i hold a hand over my mouth and duck my head away from his gaze.

     "are you...laughing at me?" he leans over to regain eye contact. if he's trying not to look amused, he isn't putting much effort into it.

     "nyope. no. i dunno what you're talkin' about." i twist my lips together, attempting to hold back my smile. then yoongi starts snaking his neck around, chasing my averting eyes with a side-smile sliding across his face.

     long, wide fingers stretch out and palm the top of my bowler hat.

"gimme a good one." he teases, then steers my head over to the bags and patiently waits for me to find him a better one.

i whip around with an oversized floppy sunhat in my hands.

"i think it's perfect." is all i can say.

unfortunately, i can't hide my beaming grin as i do.

yoongi scoffs and rips the hat out from my grip before ironically growling, "then put it on me."

it comes out deep enough that it hits the pit of my stomach.

he holds it hostage in front of his body, just in front of his hips - and watches me with such a probing curiosity, my cheeks feel like they're steaming.

every part of me vibrates as i reach for it. i don't know what's making me so nervous. it's just putting a hat on his head. my attempt to tease him comes out in a mumble, "what? you scared you won't look handsome?"

yoongi tilts his head, the inquisitive stare bearing down on me makes the dining room shrink - trapping both of us inside of it.

"do you think i'm handsome?" his tongue pokes out of his mouth and he exhales a laugh while i smack him on the shoulder with one of my suit sleeves.

"you know i do fucker." the words tumble out of me without permission and all i can do is hope that i said them fast enough, and incoherently enough, for him to not understand.

he chuckles and turns a shoulder in a half-assed move, avoiding my half-assed blows. then he adjusts the giant sunhat, two pouty lips grin at me from underneath its brim. as soon as the plastic pipe tucks between them he asks, "to the movies?"

i push down on the fake mustache tickling under my nose, "indubitably."

i don't need to think about how handsome yoongi is or why he asked what i think or how going to the movies alone together kinda feels like a date. even if we're dressed like...well, kinda like if Holmes was having a gardening day and Watson lost all of the suits that fit him.

as we tug on our shoes, yoongi loses it over the fact that i only remembered to bring ankle boots. one red pointed toe sticks out from beneath the suit's pant leg.

"so stylish." he muses.

i trip over my own feet and ignore that he says this, "gimme your shoulder please."

yoongi smirks but dips one shoulder down slightly so i can place a hand on it for balance. once the most frustrating shoes in the world have been put back on, he casually reaches up to weave his fingers through mine.

he doesn't say anything about it, just stealthily moves towards his front door so he can stick one eye against the peephole. holding my hand as he does.

"Watson," he loudly whispers back at me, "i think this is broken." and i tear my eyes away from our intertwined hands.

in just as loud of a whisper i shoot back, "or maybe nobody's outside and we should move Holmes."

my hand is squeezed in response and i know i should help with being a lookout but, the way our fingers look together is doing something to the inside of my brain. something that makes it hard to breathe.

was his hand always so big?

it's like our hands lock together at the knuckles.

like they've both finally slid into place.

hey yoongi, did you know we're holding hands?

were you aware? that you held my hand and also are now holding it?

the objects of my fascination yank out of view as yoongi hurries us through the door and down the hall.

"go, go, go." he repeats the words under his breath and the dampness of his palm makes his nervousness a bit more blatantly apparent.

i match his pace.

he does this funny thing whenever he gets speedy - both arms lift up to his sides like a professional power walker. except this time as he does it, he doesn't let go of my hand.

so we power walk to the elevator at the end of the hall, side by side. neither of us say a word, aside from his looping "go, go, go" until the metal doors before us ding and we make it safely inside.

unseen.

well, no.

     we see ourselves in the reflection of the elevator doors and neither of us can keep our eyes open as we're hit with continuous rolls of laughter.

the mood sobers once a second ding lets us know that we've made it down to the parking garage.

now it's my turn to lead.

ok, it would be my turn to lead except - the moment that we walk by yoongi's car - he halts.

"look. look how safe and inside and fast we could get there with this instead. we live in a modern world, not the 1800's or whatever." he bounces as he whines and it's so cute that i physically feel a scream bloom within my chest.

i try my absolute hardest to appear unmoved.

with a tug on his hand i let out an exasperated sigh, "Holmes is basically from the 1900's. which - mind you - we were born in. AND, how will we know that the disguises work if we don't put them to the test? hm?"

i can't decipher all of the emotions in yoongi's expression, amused appears to be one of them at least. the ghost scent of jasmine wafts under my nose as i gaze at him. a nervousness restlessly attempts to settle itself in my pulse.

then yoongi stops hiding.

both shoulders curve forward as he sinks in on himself. silver-grey hair hangs over his face while he stares at the ground.

"i miss bein' a person." the words are spoken to the asphalt beneath our feet, they come out a little bitterly.

"i can't do things that make me...relate to people anymore. i can't do things like, like people do - you know? no, you don't." yoongi answers his own question, then takes a deep breath before he continues.

"i think i feel like a person around you and i'm grateful, i hope that isn't doubted but - who i am now can't...be a person. all the time." one shoe scuffs against the floor. he's wearing his favorite comfy Vans.

i know he put them on so i wasn't alone in wearing goofy shoes but, he still pulls the look off.

he chews on the plastic pipe, looking lost in thought - and even that he pulls off well.

i can't think of anything that feels right to say and it's not an optimal method but, i open my mouth with the hope that something good comes out of it.

"you're right. that i don't know what it's like but - um, but that's why this plan is so potentially perfect! we're just pretending to be wonky Holmes and Watson, so it doesn't count as real people time. is that bad? well uh, we can have someone follow us? in case it backfires or something?" i feel my voice pitch up, what feels like, a few octaves as i finish speaking.

a gummy smile beams out from under his sunhat before he pats the hood of his car twice. a man in a suit and dark sunglasses pops up in the drivers seat, the sudden appearance makes me yelp.

with buckled knees i hiss out, "are you fuckin' kidding me yoongi? you couldn't just tell me he was coming?" my grip around his hand tightens and i cling around his bicep.

yoongi just shrugs, "eh, it seemed like an opportunity to get closer. c'mon Watson." and he strides forward, like the conversation never happened at all.

the black car behind us feels off putting at first, but pretty soon, we're so engrossed in the roles that i forget all about it.

yoongi really loves the pipe. he nibbles on it between speaking as we tuck behind a wall.

"the lady in the red hat seems like a clue," he softly murmurs, "like a clue to something...mysterious."

my eyes narrow, "please never become a detective."

"oh i'm sorry sidekick. did you say something? something that undermines your lead detective?" he bickers back with a wiggle of his head. we keep up the petty argument as we trail behind the lady in the red hat until she turns away from the path to the theater.

"ok, well. she's no longer a suspect for now." yoongi clears his throat and my chance to retort disappears as soon as he see's a small group of young adults walking ahead of us, towards the direction of the theater.

with an unexpected quickness, yoongi squats down behind a garbage can - holding our hands on top of his knee.

"i'm out. this is so fuckin' stupid. not elementary, dear Watson. the opposite of elementary." he says this urgently but doesn't budge.

"we are two talking chins. that's all the world can see Holmes, and all we need to do is get snacks. then we're in the dark. and i'm buying! you don't even need to talk to anyone! you can just, i dunno - hide behind me." i don't know why i'm whispering.

"oh sure, i'm letting you buy." is scoffed into my face and i'm reminded of the first time we were introduced properly.

i jolt to my feet with renewed stubbornness, "gimme your card then. cause you know what isn't super sneaky? hiding behind, maybe the only, public trash can in the area. let's go, let's go, let's go."

yoongi makes an assortment of disgruntled sounds but stands up and shuffles to stand behind me. my left arm folds behind my back because we both silently refuse to let go of the other's hand.

"it looks like you're holding me hostage." i murmur back to him as we approach the theater.

hard plastic presses against my lower back and, "pew pew." rumbles against my ear.

yoongi keeps speaking, "huh, it's emptier than i expected."

i twist around to give him an impish stare.

"movie theater's typically are on tuesday morning's." i mimic his deadpan delivery and get a snorted laugh out of him.

we shuffle towards the concession stand, yoongi jokingly asks for popcorn and dodges the elbow i jab back at him.

fried chicken, a cherry-coke slushie and a bag of sour candy successfully acquired, we find our way over to theater room three. yoongi holds the first in one hand (because, "i don't trust you with my chicken.") and i balance the other two. our held hands remain threaded together.

"you better not throw any of these at me." i frown, struggling to force the candy bag into a suit pocket.

"does my hand bein' sweaty bother you?" yoongi bluntly asks and i trip up the first step towards our seat. usually, he likes to be up in the back and in the corner - out of sight, where it's easy to slip in or out if necessary. today, i want him to experience the Best Seats. mid-way up, directly in the center. that isn't the point but it's all i can let myself think.

i only realize i've been staring at him instead of responding when he tries to unclasp our hands.

"it doesn't! it doesn't!" i panic and squeeze my fingers around him. even in the dark room and under cover of his sunhat, pouty lips twitch up into a smile.

"if anyone else comes and i hafta pee these 'Best Seats' automatically lose three points." he chuckles and steps ahead of me. as we trudge up the steps, the pre-show clips rolling on the big screen sound like they're incredibly far away.

"oh sure, i'd expect a full house at 9am." the snicker at my sarcasm brings an unwanted blush across my face. he leads us to our seats while i stare at the floor, red cheeks hiding beneath my bowler hat.

chicken secured, slushie in it's rightful cup holder - we plop into the cushioned seats with budding excitement. i bounce a bit in my chair as i ramble about the Experience of going to the movies until he unlinks our fingers. the palm of my hand feels unbearably empty without his pressing against it but he doesn't let it go, he keeps it on the top of his thigh - wiping the other off against his tweed trench-coat.

"you may not mind but i don't want you holdin' a sweaty hand all day." yoongi states calmly.

the notion that he imagines holding hands outside of this movie scheme makes me choke on spit and i whip the slushie out of its holder to suck down icy cherry-coke. a freezing burn brings sweet relief from whatever the hell is buzzing through my bloodstream.

"you're so considerate." the words come out of me a bit strangled and yoongi wraps a warm hand around my throat. he jerks his chin up so that the sunhat flops back a bit, with a knowing look and one lifted eyebrow. then he casually remarks - "look at what you just did, not considering you stresses me out. of course i mean it in a good way, shush. better now?"

i nod dumbly as the freezer burn subsides. grateful for him and his warmth, and for the darkness that blankets us - equally infuriated at the screen lights for shining directly on our rosy pink faces.

as yoongi opens his mouth to speak again, the lights all fade to black. a booming voice throughout the otherwise empty theater informs us the show is about to begin.

my fingers twitch against his thigh and i feel my wrist turn without me telling it to. long digits push through mine before they curl around the knuckles. out of the corner of my eye, i watch him relax and spread both legs wide.

in a hushed voice i ask him, "D-Day, good day?"

soft lips push against the tops of my fingers before something's flung into my hair with a snort.

"D-Day, very good day."

[smallest-turtle]

Venigni is Absolutely putting things together in WaGLaB btw he finds out that A) the puppet is a perfect replica of Carlo*, and B) that Geppetto resurrected a grown ass man (Romeo) into a puppet

And he has a BAD FEELING ABOUT THAT. HE DOES NOT LIKE WHERE THOSE TWO ARROWS ARE POINTING.

[wisegirl-seaweedbrain]

and the crowd… exchanges confused glances?

[leapinarmadillo]

ohhhh. i forgot that people used to say michael was getting surgeries in order to look like diana ross. ugh. i don't think there's anything to that but............ugh.

[screampied]

#OOHMAMI! g. suguru

☆ sum. cuban link, diamond cross—you’re a big fan of suguru geto, the top street racer in tokyo. he doesn’t wanna win any more races, he wants to win you this time. keep at it and he might have to fuck you on the highway.

wc. 5.7k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, suguru has a (dick) piercing / tats, semi-public, riding, brief ōral (f! receiving), you get eaten out his window lol, overstim, dirty talk, praise, size kink, impact play, petnames, drive safe, continuation here :)

an. chase atlantic inspired me ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

“you, yeah you. wanna ride?”

stop thinking dirty, stop thinking dir—

you stop dead in your tracks, hearing the deafening vrooming of a certain nissan skyline gtr along with a raspy deep voice. you knew that voice, in fact you’d be a fool not to recognize the voice of the suguru geto, infamous street racer who’s won more races around the world than you could count. he’s got a big hand on the steering wheel with his dark purple helmet cracked open. growing pathetically sheepish, you could barely get any words out before you start to feel your feet gradually dragging toward his rumbling car.

“really?” you mumble, barely even pressed up against his tinted window and you could smell his loud rich cologne from there. you couldn’t help but fangirl—and oh, did he look so much better in person. geto’s got pretty long tresses of black hair that’s usually down, but in every race it’s always pinned back. a few loose strands run down his face, peeking out of his helmet and his glove grips tightly against his bedazzled steering wheel that had ‘s. geto’ carved into the material as it flawlessly spiraled around the wheel.

“reaaally,” he tauntingly repeats your word, cocking his head to get a better look at you. you could smell the thick puffed smoke that weeps out of his silvery flashy tailpipes and he hums. slouching back against his seat manspread, his foot eases off from the break and you watch as the flashy racer’s seat flies open on its on, and you step in. “i take it you’re here to see the race?”

no, no you weren’t.

you couldn’t lie to yourself—you were here to see the race, but you were to here to see geto also. you’ve only seen him during his interviews, magazines, and sometimes on tv where his races would be broadcasted for the entire world to see.

but, you managed to snag enough money to actually see him in the flesh.

without a second thought you make your way inside. on the inside, you were screaming. you were currently living every one of his fangirl’s dream. immediately once you sit down, you’re surrounded by the balmy welcoming warmth of his beloved str. you assumed it was an older model but he made it work anyway — it had cushioned seats with blaring speakers and oh, the smell . . it’s almost as if the vehicle had a signature cologne scent of its self. it’s really masculine and it makes your thighs squeeze together once you recline back a bit. his seats warmed up your backside automatically and you glance around the rest of the car, taking in its glitzy beauty.

it’s pretty, you’ve only seen pictures. ogling near his rear view mirror, you see fuzzy dice dangling as he’s adjusting it. the rest of the cars usually gathered near the meet up spot before the race actually starts.

“she’s pretty, isn’t she?” geto snickers, noticing you gawking at the inside of his car.

indeed, you heard about how geto built this entire thing from scratch. before doing street racing as a little side hustling hobby, he used to be a mechanic. a well known one, but that wasn’t as fun as actually racing.

geto tosses an arm behind the head rest of your seat, preparing to go in reverse. “had her for about two years. haven’t lose a match, since.”

“not one?” you murmur, wanting to call his bluff. sure, you’ve never seen anyone covering him losing a match but that was a bit hard to believe.

“doubtin’ me, sweetheart?” he rasps, and you feel the rough jittering of the car. geto’s backing up safely, curving his wheel briefly to drive out of one of his many garages.

sweetheart, you don’t know why but that single pet name had you feeling hot for a moment. once your eyes dart back toward him for a split second, you spot a toothpick sticking out from the corner of his crooked lips. he’s so pretty — he’s got a natural smirk that’s tugging against the corners of his lips. as he starts to drive toward the starting point for the highly anticipated race, a gloved thumb taps against his furry steering glimmering wheel. with a low hum, he glances at you. “seatbelt, silly girl.”

shit, you snap on your seat belt moments later and notice even his signature’s all over his seatbelt covers. ‘suguru geto’ in bright bold letters.

drafty air wafts against your skin as he’s still creating distance with just a few miles. once he reaches near the starting line, you hear his foot tapping against the break.

one, two, three . . three, two, one . . he’s bored.

geto positions his rear view mirror for the millionth time before noticing you zeroing your eyes at his gear shift that glistens from the dozens of rhinestones that glue against the cover. countless diamonds stick up and down the leather skin of the handle and it’s so pretty.

“hold on, sweetheart,” geto purrs, his eyes slowly locking onto the flagger that’s stood in front of the row of cars.

geto’s still got a firm hand gripped onto his wheel, his right foot just barely hovering over the gas. come on, he just wanted to get it over with. you could almost smell the competitiveness dripping from his body.

it was intense, you could almost feel the anticipation as if you were in the driver’s seat. the tall woman that’s dressed in nothing but sheer black carries a hefty checked flag, swaying it in the air every few seconds. as she safely spaces herself between the cars, she does it two more times and you realize it’s almost time for take off.

the cars that were lined up beside and next to geto start to rev their engines and so does he. it’s a roaring groan, and his rousing wheels burn into the hardened cement, his gold pipes coughing up clouds of purple smoke. geto gives his wheel one more tap with his thumb before glancing at you with a cunning grin. “lie back, i take off pretty fast, heh.”

and he wasn’t kidding.

the moment the flagger does a final up-down sway motion with the flag, all race cars accelerate quickly past the starting point. you sink back into the plushy seat as he meanly yanks back his stick shift.

his engine’s loud, and within seconds he’s already in the lead. it’s like he wasn’t even trying. frantic turbo spits through his rusted pipes and you can feel his car speedily pass through each poor vehicle that tries to get in his way.

vroooooom, he’s flying by each checkpoint and you could almost smell the adrenaline that’s coursing through his pulsating veins.

the thrill . .

you felt it all ghost through your own veins, feeling the frigid air roaming through his vents tickle against the hairs that stand up on your arms. geto makes a few sharp turns, keeping an eye on the time every so often. his personal best was around five minutes and seventy-seven seconds. with a coarse grip, he’s tilting his steering wheel while the thunder of his engine growls louder and louder within each whizzing mile.

over time though—you can’t help but be a bit nosy. your eyes shift toward the racer and god, you’re just now noticing how handsome he was.

geto usually wore sweats along with his street gear. he didn’t have to wear his helmet but he preferred it just in case. its all black with a splash of purple—you can see his signature lazily signed near the very top. outlined beside his name was a curling design of smoke. the part where he sees through was all darkly tinted so you could hardly see his face unless you squinted or he took it off.

it’s like it added more to his appeal in a way. he sat manspread and doing so, it gave you a one way ticket to stare straight down at his barely hidden bulge.

fuck, your mind started to ponder. you had so many unanswered questions. isn’t it painful driving around that hard—

“hey,” your raunchy thoughts get rudely interrupted and you don’t even realize how many minutes had passed from you being cooped up in your own lewd fantasm. geto’s driving a bit slower now, around sixty mph instead of his usual two hundred. he’s way in the lead, first place. one hand’s lazily on the steering wheel and he fakes a yawn.

oh he’s cocky.

with a quick glance out his mirror, he knew the other cars were far behind him and he now starts drifting near the freeway. with an intrigued hum, he notices just exactly what you were staring at. his lap. “don’t tell me this was the ride you thought i meant, sweetheart.”

“i—”

it’s like his cologne got louder.

you choked on your words, wondering if you were hearing right. suguru, the suguru geto was flirting with you?

and the thing that got you the most was that he wasn’t even looking at you anymore—every few seconds, you’d lock eyes against him near the ear view mirror, feeling hot once his eyes slowly rove down your figure through his dark tinted helmet.

not only was his cologne loud but so were your thoughts—shamelessly, you did think he was referring to that kind of ride minutes earlier.

and the more you stared at his hardened bulge through his grey sweats, the more you started to think. .

but, little did you know your dirty wish would be granted.

not even a few moment later, you’d find yourself fucked - literally.

geto positions you on his lap, halfway pulling down his loose sweats just so you could ride something else entirely.

instead of riding just his car — you rode his dick, and fuck was he just ridiculously big.

too big, and he knows it. geto groans once he’s buried full inside, lodging his thick cock in between your slimy gummy walls. “shit,” he’d hiss, his head occasionally tossing back once the ring piercing that’s stuck on his tip tap tap tap’s away against your precious g-spot. it swirls all around the inside of your cunt and your thighs struggled to stay open. it tickles, but you were far from laughing. he’s so big, easily rearranging your insides and be barely even had to move a muscle.

he’s ruthless - but your hips were even more ruthless though, far more.

geto knew all too well that this was dangerous—just one swerve from the swerving stimulation of bodies smacking against his and game fucking over.

you moan, burying your face into his neck as your hips continue to move against him. he’s still burning gas as your cunt’s just merrily drooling all down his length from each slapping thrust.

belatedly, your brows furrow, almost forgetting why you even showed up to this event. well, part of why you came. “f- fuck, what about t- the race?” you speak in a breathy tone, your tempo becoming more and more relentless. the salaciously enticing jerk of your unsteady hips gradually turn into rough unstable bounces and he kisses his teeth. geto feels the convulsing veins that run down his cock pulse right through him and between your walls, you feel it too.

“oh, sweetheart,” he huffs, his back of his helmet hitting against his headrest. looking at you with hazy hooded eyes, he flashes you a sleazy grin. “technically, i already won,” and you gasp, feeling him reach a gloved hand down between your rickety thighs. his touch was so gentle, you felt yourself shuddering from both twin digits that drag further down your chest. he cups one of your bouncing tits that pop out of your tank top, brushing a thumb against your sensitive nipple. “god, what a pretty fuckin’ body. look at you girl,” and he’s still got a hand on the steering wheel.

a trembling whimper dies out your throat at the feeling of his swollen fat cockhead vigorously thrusting in and out of your dribbling entrance.

you’re just so soaked. it’s like you can’t help but be sopping wet on his lap and he loves it. sloshes of sobs echo out of your pussy and your legs pathetically quaver directly on top of him.

both of you groan in complete unison and a big hand of his creeps further down, giving your ass a teasing squeeze. “fuuucck, reel those nasty hips. ride it baby, ride me, yeah,” and you hear the grumbling revs of his engine ring against your ears louder. it makes the entire car shake a bit despite him pushing down a few miles. with widened dewy eyes staring at the back of his car, you squint, seeing dozens of cars trying to catch up to geto.

they didn’t have a chance,

they looked like tiny splotching dots in the far distance. geto even had the audacity to not do his usual speed and yet he was still dusting the other racers.

typical.

“s- suguru,” you whine, the undersides of your thighs sticking against him. each time you bounced back on his cock, each ruthless ‘pap pap pap’ of your skin mashing against his and the clingy recoil never fails to leave you brain dead for a few seconds. he’s so thick. you swivel your hips around him, gasping every time his dick piercing scrapes against your clit. the cold material makes a good portion of your thighs quake and you can’t help but coo out a few sweet ‘ooh’ or ‘ah’s right next to the shell of his ear. your panties were lazily shoved to the side and he didn’t even bother taking them off.

yet.

“so fuckin’ big, shiiiit.” you’d whimper, trying to swerve your way all around him. he’s just too big, you were even surprised he fit. you had to go down slow, aligning yourself against him — every few seconds his cock would pop out of you, making that cute squelch sound that makes his suck his teeth in annoyance.

“mhm, ‘n you’re takin’ it so well. you’re a big girl, fuckin’ take it,” he rasps in a hushed tone, nipping a few teeth near the inside of your neck. his helmet along with his toothpick ends up falling near the side of his seat with a loud thud.

your hips were killer.

unlike any opponent he’s had to go up against. you’re happily squeezing around him like a vice, taking in his curved inches like a champ. “f- fuck, who taught you how ‘ta ride? heh, tryna give me a run for my money, hm pretty?”

your whiny moans only pitch louder once he grips a nice chunk of your ass with one hand, peering at his bedazzled dash. the speed was a bit over one fifty now but it didn’t even feel like it.

“ugh, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp, growing more and more dumb the faster you bounced on his heavy throbbing cock. his peeling sack hangs from underneath and he’s so swollen, you feel it.

maddened angry balls entirely reddened and puffed up from the delicious stimulation. with every sharp pull of your hips bouncing up and down, he feels himself shriveling — he’s so sensitive inside of you, and he can almost taste his own pleasure. whilst you continue to twirl your ass around in rotation for him, you couldn’t help but shamelessly salivate at the thought of imagining just how full he might be.

“sugu—fuuuckk,” and a bead of sweat races down the side of your face. geto’s primarily focusing on the road, it’s an easy straight shot and with how it was practically the middle of the night it wasn’t that many cars except for the one’s participating in the annual street races.

“bet you are. sloppy girl,” he huffs, groaning at the echoing loud smacks of your ass. you’re mercilessly clamping down his lap over and over, preparing to gush all over the dick that’s currently nestled inside of you. he’s got such a mouth watering curve of his cock that makes your stomach twist and churn.

the kind of curve that doesn’t involve his motor vehicle, that kind.

geto’s dick knew how to do swerves on its own, it even knew how to carve an entire bumpy race track allllll through your insides with his fat pink tip. “touch yourself, pretty. gimme a show before you mess up my fuckin’ seats.”

you could hear the sass in his voice along with a drip of vex and you’d giggle if you weren’t being ruthless stuffed full of inches. “o- okay,” you breathe through clenched teeth, guiding your hands up and down your body. geto’s dark eyes stare at you intently.

he stared at the way your hands caress your pretty plump tits, feeling down the valley of your exposed chest. his eyes flicker toward you then back at the road, then at you again - he repeats it, feeling his own muscles starting to tighten through his clothing. “ngh, suguru. can’t hold—”

your addictive slams against his cock got more intense until he’s fully buried balls deep inside of your squeezing cunt. you hear the saturated plops that’s squealing out of your pussy and you can’t even believe that’s you that’s sounding like that.

your poor sweet cunt was louder than his radio, completely shrieking over some random chorus of a heavy metal song you didn’t even know was playing in the background.

“fuck, cum then. cum on me, girl,” he grunts, one hand grabbing a nice fat piece of your ass again before spanking it.

you moan, the sharp brief twinge of elation sending you a shiver that immediately sends convulses between your thighs. lewd filthy thoughts foil at your brain and pretty soon, the car steams up with steamy clouded fog.

erratic sharp breaths match each other’s pace and you’re left breathless. geto feels your legs on the verge of giving out and he snickers, bringing a gloved hand to stroke against your sopping pussy. “go on, don’t be shy. should make ya lick up the mess later anyway.”

whimpering, your release comes and fuck, a sharp scream ripples out from your throat once you’re finally coming undone on his cock. the wrinkled skin of his base continues to stick against his sack due to you bouncing against him.

it’s hot, literally.

with both plush mounds of skin harshly plummeting on top of each other, the heat of the car made it feel like the air conditioner wasn’t even on. “thaaat’s it, work those hips, goddamn,” and abruptly, he cuts off from his words after feeling his mushroom tip reach a certain spongey spot that’s buried way inside of your gripping walls.

you gasp once you feel him throb inside with a soft upward shimmy of his hips. milliseconds later, your thighs collapse down on him and you feel yourself succumbing. you’re creaming down his shaft with your slippery slick while at the very same time, struggling to catch your breath. as you weakly try to continue your grinding with your feeble knees, geto uses a single hand to quickly make a detour.

he was close.

the race car makes a swift turn to the left lane, driving a few more miles before he then turns the opposite direction — pulling over safely. with a cooing skrrrrt, his rubber tires come to a cruising stop and geto groans, gripping at his tensing bouncing thigh with his glove. the finish line was just a few feet away but he could care less.

once he puts his car in park, geto falls back into his seat with own sable dark eyes flickering back to the very depths of his skull.

you rode him good, good to the point where he doesn’t even know what to say for a hot second. blinking twice, geto smears his glossed lips together before exhaling, “phew,” and he swats another palm against your ass. black unkempt strands of hair tape against the center of forehead like glue whilst he’s finally got a good grip on your hips. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum too,” and your puffy folds continue to dribble with honeyed slick.

you’re damping his cock and the squelches you make, they were loud.

so wet and slimy. he could listen to it all day, just the sound of your sweet cunt whimpering out sweet sloshes of nothing. the overwhelming sensitivity leaves a sourly candied taste in your mouth and you whine, feeling him squeeze a hand against your right hip. with a raspy out of breath tone, he strokes a thumb underneath your quivering bottom lip. “ ‘s okay if i cum inside, pretty?”

“y- yeah, please,” you babble out in broken cries, feeling your tummy frantically heave in and out.

as he grabs your hips, steadying you—you intake a breath, remembering how many inches he was buried inside. your tummy tucks inward and you whimper, feeling him preparing to shoot pure blanks. with a size like his, geto’s cock never failed to leave its sloppy infamous mark.

you’re just marveled at how fat his tip is, it’s voluntarily french-kissing up against sweet beloved cervix that’s screaming out curses just as much as you. he’s got two hands on your veering hips, smooth fabric of his racing gloves sliding up and down your wobbly. with pouty compressed lips, you moan, bringing your hands to grab onto his shoulders. “cum, cum in me—fuck.”

geto huskily groans, tossing his head back once your hips zealously reel into him right as he gives you the final perfunctory thrust that finishes him off. immediately, he’s shooting out ribbons of hot cum that pour into you. you’re panting as he slows down, glossy eyes raking at his body. you could see a bit of his tatted sleeves peek from underneath his shirt - his tense muscles bulging.

“god, better take all of it,” he groans, pretty black lashes sticking against his droopy hooded sockets.

it spurts out slowly but surely.

globs and globs of frothy cum bubble down the swollen sides of his cock and you feel it all. it’s toasty and warm and as he’s pouring his all into you, painting your gummy walls his pristine-white color, you couldn’t help but lean in.

geto’s matching your breathy irregular pants before he feels your trembling lips crash onto his. “mmf,” he moans against your lips, tilting his head back slightly to a certain attractive degree. a hand of his reaches toward his radio, turning the middle notch all the way down just to hear the squelches of his own seed slobbering down your slick cunt.

he tastes sweet. you moan at the lingering taste of fresh cooling mint that lives on his tongue, feeling his hands tighten around your waist.

oh, he’s obsessed—

screw the race by this point, all he wanted at this moment was you.

geto’s still got such a large load that’s dumping into you raw and it even oozes down past your thighs, a few creamy droplets plopping down on his velvet seats. he grunts, both twisting tongues ferociously tangling against each other whilst your pussy’s still squeezing down on him like a vice. a glossed translucent ring forms around his base and he feels you trying to touch yourself with two curious fingers.

with a slight smack, he swats your hand away and you whine in his mouth. “heh, hands to yourself,” you pout because earlier he let you touch yourself but now, no. he teases, breaking away from the hot kiss. a stringy cobweb of saliva tears back from both lax plump lips before he playfully nibbles on your chin. geto notices how slumped out you were and a broad open hand of his crawls between your legs. “ooooh,” and he lifts you up from his swollen flaccid cock, gazing at just how much of a fill he’s pumped into you. “well look at that,” and you whimper, feeling him strum a thumb down your drooling cunt. “would be a shame if it all went to waste,” then he quirks a brow, sliding a tongue across his lips. “princess, stick your head out the window for me real quick.”

“out the wind—”

and not even seconds later, you find yourself literally being bent over, halfway hanging out of his rolled down tinted window. geto wasn’t done, at least not yet.

your sheeny glossed lips immediately part into an ‘o’ as a sweet gasp leaves your lips. with clammy hands, they grip onto the edge of his window and you whimper once he delves his long tongue inside of your cunt. your fingers gripped against the window so hard that it ends up leaving dozens of your cute fingerprints against the tinted glass.

“oh my goddd,” you babble out in elongated sweet syllables. with your pretty eyes bulging, you gasp at feeling the tip of his tongue swirl all around inside of you.

geto lowly grunts, lapping his twitching pink muscle down your runny folds back and forth. between your legs—he’s a menace, and it was no prying him off.

at all.

he doesn’t even bat an eye at the simple fact that he’s eating his own cum out of you, unapologetically savoring the bittersweet taste that lands right on his flavored tastebuds. your legs were so weak and you can feel his warm breath continuously fan against and on your sopping folds as he chuckles.

“my my, look at her. this prize’s way better than some money,” he hums, using a leather thumbed glove to swipe down your entrance. he’s slow, dragging it all the way down just to watch spurts of your slick pop onto his digit. you’re just so wet, metallic fingers of his ghost further down your clit before you whine. geto sees your cunt pulsing from the sheer thrill and he snickers, smacking a palm right against your slobbering core. “she’s fuckin’ nasty today, yeah?” and his eyes flicker toward your drooling cunt, giving it a teasing suck. “mmph, listen to her with me, gorgeous,” and one spank against your pussy turns into one, then two, then three.

growing quiet, you listen to the weeping sounds purring out of your own cunt. so loud, so shamelessly loud. you could hear it and he barely even had to touch you. you’re drenching up his seats and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, feeling your heart pound ruthlessly out your chest. his tongue knew just where to go—it’s creating a path of its own, laying flat against your clit before sucking against every tender spot. your legs were on its final hinges. you felt like they were about to snap shut. you’re staring out the window, still not seeing any cars which was good.

if anyone saw you like this, being eaten out in this kind of position, you don’t know what would happen.

geto resumes to flick his long tongue down your swollen slit, lapping up the last few droplets of his own cum that tries to dribble down the crevices of your thighs. another final swat from his mean palm sets against your clit and you let off a cute squeal, your tummy instinctively caving in. “so much back talk from a pussy this fuckin’ sloppy. oughta teach it some manners, pretty girl,” he grumbles, and your eyes blissfully roll back once you hear him starting to sluuuurp.

geto had no shame — it was decided, this was far better than any race he’s ever had.

his teeth nip near the inside corners of your thighs before he trails back to munching on your clit, burying his nose deep. “mhm,” he groans, and it only takes a few seconds before his jaw finally locks. geto reaches down, giving his cock a few solid pumps. his pretty reddened tip was angry, it still had dried spurts of cum racing from the sides and he grunts at the memory of being inside of you only just a few minutes ago. whilst his face’s shoved right between your thighs—you don’t even realize you’re trying to reach back to grab onto his hair. you’re hesitant though, and he finds it cute. departing his wet slick lips briefly, a wry grin spreads against his lips. “kinky,” the dark haired man flicks a tongue across his lips, savoring your juices that smeared against his mouth. “don’t be shy. do it,” and you moan once he teasingly whistles against your pussy, kissing against your nub. “pull my hair girl. pull.”

you give it a good yank and his head pushes forward into you—geto’s lengthy tongue dips further inside your cunt and you whimper, gnawing the inside of your stiff jaw. “fuck,” you gasp, and as his tongue gradually curls various bubbly letters inside of your pussy.

it multitasks, continuing to send your entire body a plethora of fluttering butterflies. he was so sloppy, seeping from the corners of his mouth with your slick and just your slick. his head moving side to side eagerly and every few seconds, he’s got to flick away long shaggy strands of his hair. geto’s proudly devouring you entirely whilst you’re just literally hanging out his window.

“oh, come on. harder, sweetheart. even i can do better than tha—ngh.”

with more force, you tug roughly on his pretty black strands and you heard the most sluttiest moan pour from his lips. god, he was so close that you could literally feel that infamous smug grin spread against his lips. geto brings a fat round thumb to run down your drooling cunt, giving it a ‘good job’ kiss. “atta girl. that’s my girl.”

geto ends up coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of over and over and over again.

he’s mean with his tongue, slurping everything out of you until you had no more - nothing more to coal his chin with. his favorite thing to do was to playfully bite against your clit, feeling you writhe and shiver all because of his mouth.

you end up leaving his entire chin with a pretty stream of your syrupy slick. geto’s panting, falling back after talking you through your nth orgasm, and with a peek through his rear view mirror, he spots the remaining race cars that were finally approaching the finish line.

“ah, about time,” geto rolls his eyes, sliding his lips near the corner of his chin where a bit more of your slick laid.

he acted like it was nothing, like he didn’t just have his tongue shoved inches deep inside of your cunt, stuffing his race gloved fingers in and out of you until you gushed right down his lengthy thick digits. you’re just sat on his lap, and you’re too dumb to move an inch. “heh, comfy?” he purrs, dragging his seatbelt across both stacked bodies. you fall against his chest, inhaling his signature manly scent and feel the car jolt once he puts it back in drive.

needy silence was your only reply and he tsks, resting his chin on top of your head before driving toward the finish line. it was barely even a few feet away, and waiting there was a bunch of fans that were awaiting to greet their new winner.

geto couldn’t care less though—he had you on his lap and he could already feel himself bulging again.

he found it cute how you were just clinging onto him now.

maybe you were delusional—maybe it was the fangirl in you screaming, begging for more, but your body wasn’t just begging anymore, it ached for more.

he drives you back toward the car meet up spot, helping you fix back your skirt. with wobbly legs, you step out of the flaunting vehicle with the help of his burly arms wrapped around you. “t- thank you,” you pant, trying to catch your breath, even still. geto stands up tall and he completely towers over you. you feel so small all of a sudden, watching as he puts his helmet back on.

“anything for a fan,” he coos, and he brushes a thumb against your lips. just a single gesture just as that felt so intimate. your eyes lock with his for a long moment, and just before you could say anything more, he mumbles. “oh, you probably want an autograph?”

your eyes light up and you grow sheepish, awkwardly tugging on the vip-checked lanyard that wraps around your throat. “yeah, please.”

“such manners like a good girl, cute,” and you bring out a magazine with his face plastered on it as a headline for this week’s up and coming races in tokyo. “nah,” he waves it away, and as your brow quirks, he takes out a sharpie. geto slides the cap in between his teeth before he glances at you. “pull your shirt down real quick, sweetheart,” and without a second thought, you tug down the hem of your shirt, barely exposing your chest.

geto’s eyes rove down your skin before he swiftly signs right against your left tit. the ink softly runs against your skin and you gasp, watching as he marks up the upper part of your chest. “aaaand, perfect,” he concludes, adding a ‘xo’ at the end of his signature. geto puts the cap back on and he flashes you a sly expression. “so i’ll see you at the next race?”

he starts walking away before you could even reply and you feel the weight of your shaky legs grow heavy. “y.. yeah,” and with dewy eyes, you watch as he steps in his car, playfully revving his engine at you.

the cool air sets against your skin once more as you stood there with shaky legs. the car meet slowly gets more crowded as the rest of the racers pass the finish line.

but, your brows furrow once you realize you felt a bit . . . empty between your legs.

with a soft gasp, you squint near the inside of geto’s car before he pulls off.

hanging over his rear view mirror instead of the fuzzy dice you once saw—was nothing other than your panties,

his real prize.

[thewritingpossum]

I've made this exact same post before but that scene where Ioann Antonovich goes "I saw a bird once. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" destroys me every single time

[radiance1]

When the Justice League heard of Phantom, they believed they had to act quickly. Based on what they were told by the GIW, a branch of the government they had no knowledge of previously (Batman is working to correct that), the ghost was dangerous and extremely powerful.

A ghost that terrorized a small town that they GIW have tried-and failed- on numerous occasions to send back to the Ghost Zone. The GIW wouldn't have come to the Justice League for help if it were just that, but based on what they have claimed Phantom has achieved an inexplicable rise in power after having met with the King of ghosts himself.

If what they say is true, then ghosts could potentially invade and cause an all-out war with humanity that the Justice League would rather much avoid thank you.

Negotiations for peace or understanding have been repeatedly rejected and the GIW has been led to believe that Phantom has done something to the Fenton couple. The leading ecto-biologists in the world, years of research suddenly wiped clean off and acting much more cordial towards the ghost.

A complete 180.

So much so that you could even claim them to have been mind controlled. Which isn't outside the realm of possibility due to ghosts having an innate ability to overshadow others and control them.

Perhaps even the entire town has fallen under Phantom's control. Even another ghost, who had just been recently opposed to Phantom, has fallen under his control.

So the Justice League had to act fast.

---

Danny was fucked.

He could tell that very, very well. He still didn't have his entire new... dragon thing... under control very well, mostly sticking a half human like form. His powers were stronger yes but he couldn't really control them well.

Which is kinda why he's fucked.

Danny has never heard about the Justice League before, mostly because he had recently found out that apparently Amity Park was isolated. Like, extremely. Basically it's own little world cut off from the rest.

So when they appeared with the GIW he thought, hey, maybe they were finally changing their white suit shtick.

He didn't expect them to be extremely well-trained, have supernatural abilities or magic. Along with their usual tech well.

Yea.

Danny was fucked.

And he was very, very scared.

He's already died once but that didn't mean he wanted to die again, and he knows that he would probably be heavily experimented on if the GIW actually got their hands on him.

He was alone. He was surrounded. He was outnumbered. And he was oh, so very scared.

His family and friends had already fallen (thankfully not dead, just unconscious he thinks) and Vlad was occupied elsewhere, also fighting.

So Danny was alone.

No one would be coming to help him.

So what did he do?

He opened his mouth and did something he didn't do often. Despite that he could see that they somewhat recognized what he was about to do and tried to find cover.

Danny wasn't aiming at them.

He pulled his head back, mouth aimed at the sky.

Danny wailed.

It was waaaay more powerful than he had originally thought, so he was glad he aimed it at the sky.

As soon as it was over he felt drained, swaying on his feet and trying to use his tail to steady himself and not fall off his own claws.

They didn't know what was happening.

Danny just hoped it worked.

---

Neither the Justice League nor the GIW knew why Phantom shot one of his most powerful attacks up into the sky, but they did see the opportunity it presented.

Phantom was weak. Looking like he would fall off his own feet and fall unconscious.

They had to act quickly.

But before they could, from right where Phantom had wailed into the sky.

It cracked.

And continued to crack.

Until a large hole appeared in the sky, leading into a dimension of endless green.

The Infinite Realms.

They believed Phantom was trying to retreat.

They were wrong.

Two roars came from the portal, forcing everyone to cover their ears.

Then.

Something came out of the portal.

A long, serpentine dragon flowed out, flying around the area of the crack before descending down and around Phantom.

Then.

A giant claw grabbed onto the edge of the crack. Pushing against it until it broke, forcing the hole bigger and bigger as a much, much larger dragon stepped out. Standing protectively over the serpentine dragon and Phantom.

A large crown wrapped in flame floating about its head signified its status.

The Ghost King.

[mellowwillowy]

Bathtub sex with your husband because he was suddenly all petty and jealous with your servants helping you bathe.

CW: NSFW, slight yandere, GN Reader

Your husband had always been an understanding man, he thought with a cool head and logic all the time. He would never get jealous of his love rivals, reasoning he was way better of an option than they would ever be.

Yes, he was not arrogant but he knew his own self-worth. He knew he had always been the best for you.

So why did he suddenly insist on helping you bathe?

“Dear, did you mean bathing with me or did I hear you wrong?” You stood next to him as he prepared the water for you. The scent he chose had always been floral, something that smelled innocent in a sense.

Your husband shook his face as he felt the temperature of the water. It welcomed him warmly, assuring him that it was the perfect temperature for you to relax already. Yulian beckoned you to enter the bathtub and so you did.

He pushed a cart of bathroom amenities, the aromatherapy candles all lit to light the room enough for as he switched the lights off.

You sighed at the sensation, slowly melting into one with the water. Yulian sat by the tub, his hands slowly massaging your tense shoulders as he hummed a lullaby for you.

“How lucky are the servants who help you bathe to see you like this every day.” He whispered into your ears as you giggled.

“Are you envious of them?”

Yulian stayed silent for a moment as he poured water over your head, “Recently,” he spoke as he poured the ointment into his hands, “I’ve been seeing lots of divorce trials.”

You hummed at his reply, leaning into his hands massaging your scalp, “And?”

“Most of them come from… affairs.”

You raised one of your eyebrows at the mention of affair, “Are you saying I might be cheating with one of my servants dear?”

“Not really,” Yulian now focused back on massaging your shoulders again, “but I can't help but be bothered by the fact that one of your servants might be admiring you, enchanted by you.”

His face inched closer to yours now, “And while they are at it, they can freely see and feel your body…” his hands slowly felt your arms up and down, “and be around you every day, helping you dress, attending all your needs while I'm away.”

You've never seen your husband act like this before. This was the first time he had shown his jealousy blatantly.

Yulian started pressing chaste kisses on the back of your neck, his grips remained on your arms. You squirmed as his hands snaked further into your nipples.

“It's so unfair, I'm your husband and yet they get to see you so vulnerable more often than I would ever be.”

What was once a chaste kiss soon turned into hickeys, purple decorating you from the back of your neck to your collarbone. You recognized this gesture as his way of showing his pettiness.

“So today,” his fingers tweaked your nipples as he kissed your earlobe, “can I show you just how much I love and adore every bits of you?”

—

The two of you were connected in the bathtub, his cock throbbed as its snug inside of you. How many times had he cum so early yet still had the strength to continue? You knew your husband couldn't last long but that didn't mean his stamina was to be doubted.

His precision in hitting your sweet spot had always been pitch-perfect. It never failed to make you squeal and tighten around him, pushing him closer to yet another orgasm.

Yulian hid his face in the crook of your neck, trying his best to not bite into your flesh, and opted to bite his lip until he tasted steel instead.

You moaned out his name as you felt like you were about to reach yet another orgasm as well. Your hand intertwined with his, you turned back to kiss him, tasting his blood while at it.

“So close… together?”

Yulian’s cock throbbed at the mention of it before he nodded along, “I-I’ll try.”

Yulian lifted you from his lap and positioned you to lean onto the wall before he continued ramming into you like a starving man. Nonetheless, he still made sure to prioritize your pleasure as well instead of being selfish and chasing his own release.

Your knees wobbled and you felt really weak yet his strong grip wouldn't let you slide down, at least not until you two were done.

Ragged breath and breathy groans, the bathroom smelled like sex instead of florals. The whole candles flickered with each thrust he made and the water rippled with every shake your legs made.

It didn't take so long for you two to come in unison. The bath water that was once pristine and clean was soon mixed with both of your bodily fluids. Your insides felt warm the moment he came inside you again.

Your knees slowly gave up as the two of you slowly collected your composure. Yulian’s hands never let you go as he slowly lowered you into his embrace again.

He started peppering your face with kisses again, his fingers ran over all the hickeys he had left all over you, some were in a very visible place.

“How am I supposed to cover all of these dear?” you pouted at him as you pushed his face away from you playfully.

Yulian raised his eyebrows before answering you, “You don't cover them dear.”

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh