#HELLO FUCKING COMEBACK

[chaoticlandworlder]

Saw someone say they don't get why people act like Max's drive in Brazil 2016 was one of the best wet races ever... PLEASE THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

okay so I just watched a compilation of someone's favourite moments from ep 19

and I'm sorry but wtf is the Nina thing? like I wasn't a fan of her from the start, because I thought she was too gimmicky. and now she has...powers or something? i didn't see the whole scene so idk but it was weird from what i did see.

if I could I'd just write out Nina altogether, and not have the...curse arc?? I'm sorry but wtf DSVC?

also side note does anyone know what the deal with fiore calling yul a mushroom muncher? honestly I do always enjoy fiore roasting people but that felt iffy to me. maybe it's just me, but I probably wouldn't have that in there?? idk I'm all over the place with this ep

-🎃

no yeah that was SO STUPID??? i always thought nina herself was like. a stupid concept. they don't even do anything interesting with her ever. she's just like. a talking puppet. and now apparently she has superpowers. o....kay............????????

the 'mushroom muncher' thing is i'm pretty sure a reference to the fact that he got poisoned by a mushroom, i don't think (?) it's supposed to be offensive but. hey it's ONC. if they try, and god knows they don't but somehow it happens anyways, they can make anything offensive!

[jadeoru]

BOKUTO EAT BRICKS AND SHIT THEM OUT CHALLENGE

DRUNK WALK HOME

prologue: rejection

masterlist

"and i sit on the curb 'cause it's the prettiest night / with no one else in sight / you know i wore this dress for you / these killer heels for you" -drunk walk home by mitski

She paces in the space behind the bar, by an overflowing dumpster and the piles of wooden crates. Her head is fuzzy and vision slightly blurred, the alcohol in her bloodstream making her feel slow and heavy. There’s a lit joint between her fingers, and she can hear the low thumping of bass pulsing through the walls.

The downing of three whiskey sours has done little to quell the budding nerves in her gut and in her chest. And she’s contemplating going back for fourth, wondering exactly how coherent she would need to be for her feelings to be taken seriously, and sincerely hoping that the answer is not at all.

She tries her best to keeps her thoughts from spiraling, to keep the words ‘failure’ and ‘rejection’ away from her conscious thoughts, abruptly and forcibly switching her train of thought every time they do. She inhales slowly, and tells herself that tonight, things will change, that one success will lead to others, and she won’t be the one shrouded in disappointment anymore.

And she’s grateful when she’s jerked from these thoughts by the excited exclamation of her name and a wind-knocking force that lifts her off the ground and spins her. She shrieks, briefly, as Bokuto laughs in her ear, holding her against his chest, keeping her arms pinned down to her side.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks as he eventually places her feet back down on the ground. “It’s no fun without you in there!”

Bokuto smiles, looking down at her, bright and wide, and it makes her smile. It’s hard not to smile around Bokuto, the energy he has is infectious. Persistently positive and unexpectedly wise. It fills her to the brim with something sweeping and sweet. “Just need a break,” she tells him, lifting her joint to her lips and inhaling briefly. She turns her head to exhale.

“Well, I’ll hang out here with you till you’re done,” he tells her, grin unrelenting.

And it’s a reassurance to her. The way he looks at her, bright shining eyes and warmth radiating, it makes her feel stupid for doubting him. Because she doesn’t see him look at any of his other friends like that. Because the way he talks to her, it’s different. She feels her smile grow, and her cheeks feel sore. It’s different, she tells herself.

“That’s good, actually, because I have something to tell you.”

Bokuto raises an eyebrow. “Something good I hope?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’d hope so.” She takes a moment to inhale, to try and steady her breath. “Bo, I’m in love with you. Like, in love with you.”

His smile falters. For a second. She notices it immediately, and her heart falls to her stomach. “In love? With me?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

And all confidence she had is siphoned out of her, drained and puddled on the floor around her. Her tongue dries, and she suddenly loses the ability to make eye contact. Her gaze is on her shoes when she says, “How-how do you feel? About me?”

The alcohol in her blood suddenly makes her dizzy. “I do love you,” Bokuto leads, “but I think I just love you like a friend. I don’t think it’s the same.”

His voice is different. It doesn’t sound like his. It’s all she can do to nod and blink the tears away. “Yeah,” she says, strained. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Bokuto reaches a hand towards her. She steps away from it, and he drops it back to his side. “Thank you for telling me.”

She laughs. Quickly and bitterly. Her vision blurs worse. She can’t see anything except the pavement beneath her feet. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Do you, do you wanna go back in with me?”

“Nah, I’ll stay out here for a minute. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.”

Bokuto leaves her out there alone. She hears the door close behind him, metal creaking, and there are no reasons left to hold back her tears now. She drops the half-smoked joint and stomps out, before she starts on her long, drunk walk home.

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @crownj1min @frvppe @mollyrolls @karasyuu @ciderscape @phoenix-eclipses @s1ckntw1st3d @cnnmairoll @soobin1437 @worldgyu @snail-squasher @dragonictears @ferntv @reignsaway @Lisoozi @staygoldsquatchling02 @gsyche @yuminako @spicana @hermaeusmorax @shoyostar @whorefornoodles @hqsimprevival2024 @atsumuenthusiast @lemonocityyy @itsdragonius @robinphobia @aboveasphodel @savemebrazilhinata @lllaw @dreamingofyeo @milesmoralesluvs @miliondollagirl @kitnootkat @soulfullystarry @bows4life

[jukain4216]

The Dreamcatcher highlight medley is everything I want it to b

[lostcausezealot]

The Shipping Allegations

DESCRIPTION: In which fans are avid fans of RumiY/n and three months since their hiatus, HUNTR/X’s comeback and your new solo album didn’t help.

Romantic, Read with slight caution (It tackles the part with Celine and Rumi so)

Rumi x Celine’s daughter!Reader 

There are wave to earth lyrics

Celine’s A grade parenting

Not proof read

Helloooo! This is actually my very first fic and I'm very rusty. I hope you enjoy the fic :))

Three months later when HUNTR/X announced their hiatus, released a series of photos for their comeback

It was posted all over social media photo of you four, a solo pic of each of the members. All seems fine. 

Until a certain photo of you and Rumi.

Shipping allegations have always been in every fandom. There was nothing new to that, but they couldn’t help but take notice how the photo of you both looks like something too romantic to be true.

From the photoshoot, it was a photo of your arms on your knees, ducking your head while admiring the leader with such adoring eyes. While Rumi stared back at you, laughing.

Fans always knew that you two were close since day one. Before the group even came to be.

Fans noticed the rift between you and your mother three months ago. Right just after defeating Gwi-Ma.

And they definitely noticed how defensive you grew when people continuously target Rumi’s patterns.

“I don’t get it, honestly,” You spoke in an interview. “It’s Rumi’s choice to let her patterns show. It’s her own body, why do people we barely know get to decide what she wants?”

The fans went crazy about it.

It was normal for Mira and Zoey to speak out in defense of their leader, but you? You were the quiet and gentle one out of the four.

Daily HUNTR/X @dailyhuntrix

Aren’t we going to question how y/n, the one who usually goes with the flow of HUNTR/X defended Rumi LIVE ON INTERVIEW?!?!?!?!?

TILL IS SEEING HUNTR/X IN # DAYS @zomira

THE RUy/n IS STRONG TODAY GUYS

Zo | spoilers @Mirawife

What a fucking day this has been

It truly didn’t help that Mira and Zoey decided to join in.

MIRA @MiraHUNTRX

We just saw that right @Zoey    

| ZOE @ZoeyHUNTRX 

  Oh, we definitely did HELLO??

|| RUMI @RumiHUNTRX 

   What are you guys talking about…?

 ||| ZOE @ZoeyHUNTRX

       IT’S NOTHING ^ ^

It continued with videos of you and Rumi. 

“y/n and Rumi being hopelessly in love with each other for 5 minutes.”

That was the title of the video, and exploded.

The video had more views than their debut MV. Much to Bobby’s panic and Mira and Zoey’s delight.

Compiled from livestreams, backstage footage, fancams, interviews, and even stolen glances during concerts. 

The fandom had receipts, and they damn brought them.

Clip 1:

It was one of their scheduled livestreams, and Zoey and Mira were the ones in charge of it.

“Which one’s better, Romance or Abby?” Mira wanted to snarl with the question.

“Come on,” Zoey cheerfully grinned, “It’s just a question.”

“A question that can make Twitter explode,” Mira replied. “Both are unbearable.”

Right after she answered the question, the elevator opened, and lo and behold, you and Rumi entered the penthouse laughing at whatever the leader said.

Oh, and don’t forget the fact that they were holding hands.

The two looked over the two members with the livestream still on and immediately let go of each other.

“Oh! Mira, Zoey!” Rumi nervously laughed, “I didn’t know you were live!”

You jabbed her gut in response.

Clip 2:

It was a short clip of you and Rumi entering a boba shop. Clearly, paparazzi still have no sense of personal space, as the video kept going.

Just as Rumi is about to get her wallet, you hand your card to the cashier and pay for your order.

“Hey! I was supposed to pay!” Rumi exclaimed, the wallet still in hand.

“I was the one who asked you out,” You replied, grabbing the two drinks. “It makes sense that I pay, right?”

Rumi stayed silent before smiling, “Fine, but next time I’m the one paying.”

“Deal.”

Clip 3:

It was another livestream, and you and Zoey were the ones this time. 

The live was practically taken over with Zoey talking the most while you happily listened. 

Until a question appeared in the comments.

“Where did you get the ring in your necklace, y/n?” Zoey read out the comment.

“Hm? Oh!” You grabbed the ring while smiling, “A friend gave it to me.”

Zoey stared at you with a look while you confusedly stared back at her.

“What?”

“I actually don’t know where that necklace is from.” 

“Well, there’s a reason why you don’t.” 

The next day, fans found an old photo of Rumi wearing the same necklace. It wasn’t the same necklace.

And the fans knew it was a matching ring.

Clip 4:

It was a big night. HUNTR/X had just won Song of the Year at a major ceremony. Screams echoed across the stadium.

All four of you went up to accept the award. Zoey delivered the thank you speech, and Mira stood beside her.

You and Rumi were slightly behind them. Hidden from the camera angle.

Until one fan caught it on a side-angle shot.

You leaned close. Whispered something.

Rumi covered your mouth, laughing.

And then almost imperceptibly. You nodded.

Fans would later subtitle the moment with guesses:

"I told you we’d make it."

"Still think I don’t deserve you?"

"I always think we deserve each other."

Nobody ever got the real words. And you two never confirmed it.

Clip 5:

None of the clip was supposed to be leaked, really. There was a signed NDA. 

But of course, there will always be those types of people.

It was a celebration by the company in celebration of HUNTR/X's comeback. 

It was a blurry video of you and Rumi talking to each other, looking like in their own little bubble. 

It may be a blurry video, but the sight of Rumi taking your hand to kiss it was clear as day.

And shockingly, two of the members don’t know anything about the clip.

And then came your solo album. Fans were surprised.

They weren’t surprised by the fact that it was full of love songs. It was the fact that it didn’t sound like HUNTR/X at all.

It didn’t sound like Pop. It definitely didn’t sound like Kpop. It sounded like Indie Rock.

“It was kind of just a little side project.” You smiled. “A friend helped me with the lyrics.”

You are my sea, you are my sunshine

The star, the moon

Since when did a friend help with lyrics like that? 

And it kept going too.

Daisy, every time I see you, 

My day is getting coloured

If I could be by your side

I’ll give you all my life, my seasons

When you spoke to me

The words are like a flowing star

Suddenly, a TikTok from HUNTR/X with you 

“There’s a rumor that your solo album was inspired by someone special. Want to tell us who?” You read it out loud while reading the comment.

“I think anyone who listens already knows,” Your forehead was only shown in the video,o but fans could hear Mira and Zoey asking, well, practically screaming on who it's about.

“When are we going to tell them?” You suddenly asked while playing with Rumi’s hair.

“They know,” Rumi replied back eyes still closed. “They’re just waiting for us to tell them.”

“I mean the fans,” You softly smiled.

“They’re just waiting for us to tell them,” Rumi repeated the same words before laughing, “I mean, have you seen the theories on Twitter?”

“I saw one where it said we switch one of our shoes so that we can be matching,” Rumi scoffed in response before laughing.

She finally opened her eyes, staring right back at you, her eyes always shine so bright you thought.

The breaking point was a leak of a series of photos taken by a fan.

It was raining heavily, and the streets were empty. Except with you and Rumi.

From the photos, the two of you look like you were arguing. It looked like a very bad argument. 

Until the last photo was you softly holding her cheeks, Rumi’s hand holding your chin, and kissing you without a care in the world.

Fans went wild. No, fans went crazy. They went rabid at the photo, people were talking about it left and right.

God bless your PR Team because the moment the photo was leaked, they went to work.

The photo wasn’t even going to be leaked. The photo was leaked because someone hacked into the fan’s iCloud.

“Don’t you get it?!” Rumi yelled. The rain poured harder, and she clutched her arm. “This is what I am!”

“I know!” You yelled while softly placing your hand on her arm. “I know! And who cares?!”

This all started because Celine went to the penthouse unannounced. Looking for Rumi. In turn, it sent Rumi into a spiral the moment Celine finally left. 

She suddenly ran from the group, and you chased after her.

“Celine should’ve done what I asked her to!” Rumi’s eyes were wide as if she were being hunted down. 

You knew what she was trying to say. You saw it happen. You saw her kneeling, holding out the sword, while you seemed so far away, trying to run and get the sword away.

“Rumi-!” You called her out before getting cut off.

“I could hurt you!” Rumi yelled back, one of her eyes turned yellow, her patterns glowed purple in discomfort, “Why do you still love me when I’m like this?!”

How Ironic when one month ago, she asked your mother the opposite.

You softly grabbed the hand that was nitpicking her arm before kissing it, “Because you’re you…”

“Even with the patterns…” You couldn’t tell if the water from your cheeks was from the “You look beautiful…”

“You are beautiful…”

That seemed to finally get Rumi into her senses as she slowly started to calm down as you continued.

“You don’t need to hide it…” Both of your hands grabbed her cheeks, “You aren’t a monster. You aren’t a mistake.”

You could faintly see Rumi’s tears flowing down as you softly smiled.

“You’re Rumi.” You concluded, letting out a breath, “You’re the girl I fell in love with all those years ago.”

Rumi looked at you with wide eyes while you looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

What can she do other than kiss the lips that she so adored.

“I know that we’re going to have arguments,” You sneezed into the tissue, “But can we at least have it indoors?”

After the incident, the next day, it left sick. Fortunately, thanks to Rumi being half-demon, she didn’t get sick at all.

“Sorry…” Rumi murmured while placing the egg soup beside the bed, “At least, this is my way of making up to you.”

You hummed in response, “I saw the photos.”

Rumi stopped her movements before continuing, “Are you mad?”

“No,” Rumi looked over to see you smiling, “I’m glad people know now, and besides…”

You opened your phone to show your wallpaper with a teasing smile on your face.

“It’s a good wallpaper.”

A week later, there was a joint post from both of your accounts. It was both of you wearing the same ring on both of your hands, a smile on both of your faces with a captioned post.

the friend who gave me my in question isn’t just a friend, btw

P.S. no it's not a wedding ring

[superbpiratesandwich]

NOT TOGETHER JUST IN THE SAME BED 

JOHN WALKER X READER

tags: fluff, slight angst, mention of an execution, trope "This is strictly professional (said as they cuddle under the covers teehee)", no use of y/n, mention of insomnia, some cursing, gender neutral reader.

2.1k words (WOWZA), one-shot.

It’s late. You should be asleep, not wandering the halls of the tower while everyone else slumbers (mostly) peacefully. It's been a long time since you've gotten a full night of sleep, fitfully tossing and turning while the clock ticks closer and closer to the inevitable sunrise that will find you, yet again, bleary eyed and barely functioning.  

As your mismatched sock-clad feet pad quietly down the halls, you think back to what brought you here, not just to the tower, but to this specific floor. John Walker must be the most obnoxious, arrogant, asshole-ish guy you had met in a long time. Theres’ not even a ‘but’ to that statement, it's the truth. The comments he’d give each member of the team, claiming it to be ‘constructive criticism’ when it was just his excuse to call us out on our flaws, poking and prodding until each of you were rearing to bite back. He’d just give that shit-eating grin that told you he knew he had gotten under your skin. That’s what you hated the most, that stupid fucking grin he got whenever he knew he had officially gotten on your last nerve.  

You’d worked side by side for almost a year when you saw a crack in the facade. The facade he had so carefully built up for years. The one that told everyone else he never needed anyone, never needed help. 

 You were up late again, meandering in the communal living room, watching some shitty reality show, when you heard footsteps. You didn't move; you stayed frozen in place as he appeared. His broad frame covered by a well-loved army green shirt and sweatpants. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead slightly with sweat, as if he’d been working out. But no, he seemed too... out of place to have just gotten back from the gym.  

You two just stared at each other for a few minutes, his usual hard, blue-eyed gaze now soft, almost vulnerable until he registered it was you sitting on the couch. 

“You look creepy as fuck sitting there like a couch goblin,” his voice was rough, raspy from sleep, or lack thereof. 

“Yeah, and you definitely don't look like the ghost of Christmas Past, hovering in the hallway like a fucking spirit,” you had fired back. 

He’d never admit it, but he likes that you can keep up with him, yes, the others can as well, but there's something about how you pin him to the spot with your comebacks, his usual witty one-liners all simultaneously leaving his brain all at once. 

He didn't respond, opting to just move quietly across the room and sit in the chair next to the couch you occupied. Nothing else was said that night, just two insomniacs watching shitty reality tv, not together, just in the same room. 

It started out as silent nights watching tv, if he was in the communal space first, he’d cut on some old western movie, Smokey and the Bandit type deal. If you were up first, which was the usual case, you'd turn on some reality tv, usually Love Island, you couldn’t help it, it’s always been a guilty pleasure. You have no idea how it went from quiet nights in the living room, to him coming to your door, you just remember the night that it switched in detail. 

It was one of the rare nights you actually slept, splayed on your stomach in your king-sized bed. Your room decorated with books, read and unread, plants that desperately needed water, different paintings, all on an olive-green backdrop. No personal pictures, not that anyone would notice, but you never talked much about your family, opting for a little privacy in the small team of misfits. You jolted a little at the sound of a knock, just one, quiet but firm, but it was enough to pull you halfway out of sleep. With a groggy “Hello?” you pushed yourself up squinting at your door.  

“Hey...” You heard his voice through the door, that same voice that had called you ‘a brat on steroids’ earlier that day. Silence hung in the air as you tried to get your brain to cooperate with your mouth, nothing came out.  

“Are you awake?” His voice caused neurons to start firing, you cleared your throat: 

“Y- yeah... I'm awake,” you called back 

More silence passed until his voice broke through the sleepy haze in your head again, 

“Can I come in?” His question had caught you off guard.  

He never asked, hell, he never knocked to come in to a space. If you were in a room that was locked, he’d just try the door handle, leaving it alone when seeing that it was locked, never even announcing himself. The idea of his ex-wife having to deal with that made you exhale softly out of your nose.  

You pulled yourself out of bed, glanced down to make sure you were decent. A large ‘Guns N’ Roses’ shirt hung on your frame, the shirt oversized on purpose, a pair of men's pajama pants, also oversized, a little long on you, kept your legs warm as you shuffled to the door. Pulling it open with a small whine of its hinges you look up a little at the super soldier in front of you-- scratch that, just soldier.  

There was nothing super about the man that stood in front of you that night. His eye bags looked deeper, his blue eyes glassy, almost like... like he’d been crying. You could've sworn you saw tear tracks on the skin of his cheeks not covered by his blonde beard. He was shirtless, by the dim light of the moon cascading in through the windows you saw a few scars littering his muscled chest, stretch marks outlining his pecs and biceps from where the serum had made his muscles grow inhumanly fast. 

Raising an eyebrow at him, you blinked a few times, “Yeah?” you asked softly, voice rough from having just been sleeping.  

“You weren't in the living room,” His tone was annoyed, like you actually getting a good night's rest threw off his regime. You stared at him for a long while before you shrugged “Sorry?” You phrased the word as a question, not sure if you should actually be sorry for disrupting his routine, or if you didn't care. You desperately wished you could say the latter was the truth. 

It was a standoff, his blue eyes scanned your form, your hair messy from sleep, dried saliva causing a few strands to stick together. His eyes flicked back to your room, before quickly returning to you, almost like he didn't want to get caught staring. “You can come in if you want,” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, you stepped aside, watching carefully as he looked at you, then into the dark room. He looked like you were setting a trap, like you had cameras set up, and as soon as he stepped inside, they’d pop out and say ‘Psych! Go back to bed you pathetic loser’. Not that he’d blame you for doing so. 

John knows he's a loser. An alcoholic, ex-husband, dead-beat dad who can't seem to get anything right in his life. He lost the title of Captain America after he let his emotions take a hold of him, executing someone in front of a crowd. That’s not Captain America. He lost his wife, the one person, aside from Lamar, who had cheered him on all this time, who had stuck by him. He didn't blame her either, he knew she'd cave one day when she discovered she had married a loser who was stuck in his glory days. 

And then there was you... You who hadn't treated him like a soldier, not even like a friend at first. You had simply matched him in every conceivable way, meeting his jokes head on, taking his instruction and making it your own on ops. You made him feel inadequate in the best way possible.  

So, standing in your door frame, sweaty, still shaky from the night terror, a reoccurring horror of the man he had executed on the steps of a statue that day flashing in his mind, he’d already come to terms with the fact that you would send him away. But no, you let him in, you let him sleep in your bed, your frame a foot away, blocked by a wall of pillows that night. You had disrupted his routine of finding you in the living room, or vice versa, and replaced it with letting him sleep in the same room as you, silently memorizing the way you'd snore softly, every third breath a small click leaving you.  

You both had silently fallen into a routine of sleeping next to one another, either in your bed, or in his, the former was more likely than the latter. Though you did enjoy the few nights you found your way to his room. The bare walls, still a steely grey, only decorated with a hook for his tactical gear, a few pictures of Olivia and Eli, and of course, him and Lamar.  

This is the sight that you came to when you stepped into his threshold tonight. He’d been away for a few nights, you slept while he was gone, not as peacefully, but you made it through each night. He had been so exhausted from the op that he had gone straight to his room, not even bothering with the report, leaving it for tomorrow’s problem.  

You question yourself as you stand in his doorway, watching his chest rise and fall on his bed. Why are you here? Is it because you can't sleep? Because you need him to sleep? Surely not. It's just because you want to know how the op went, yeah... that's believable. You slowly pad over to his bed, slinking onto the very edge of the mattress, trying to not wake the soldier. You curl into a ball, facing him, pulling the comforter up to your chin and closing your eyes. 

His eyes snap open, he’d known you were here before you even opened the door, he heard the elevator chime all the way down the hall. He looks over at you, his blue eyes soft from exhaustion, scanning your form. You look smaller than usual, curled under his black comforter, acting like you'll get some incurable disease if you touch him.  

You hear him grunt, a small, almost inaudible “Hmmph,” Before you feel a hand on your knee, you think it's going to just lay there when he starts to hook his fingers behind your knee, pulling you towards him. You comply without arguing, shifting until your leg is hitched over his abdomen. You feel the warmth of his bare skin against the bare skin of your thigh; it makes you shiver a little. Your right hand comes up to splay on his bare chest, fingers fidgeting with his dog tags. You both lay in silence for a few minutes, you can already feel sleep tugging at your mind.  

“How was the op?” You ask softly, voice half muffled by his chest. 

He shifts, turning his head to face you a little more, “Mm, shitty. Don't ask Barnes though, hell swear it went just dandy,”  You laugh at his use of the word ‘dandy’, “That good huh?” You respond. 

“Alexie announced us to the entire fucking complex; the man cannot do stealth. At. All.” he grumbles into your hair, and you can swear it sounds like he's inhaling the scent of your shampoo.  “Don't have to tell me twice, I've been paired up with him and he insists on being as loud as possible as to ‘scare the bears away’.” You comment quietly, slowly inching more into his chest. 

He turns a little, his right arm coming to fold around your upper back, his large hand tangling in your hair, “Mmmph, there a reason you came here?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine curiosity, you don't get the chance to respond before he asks another question, “You have a nightmare?” he sounds like he cares, which is rare for him.  

You just shake your head, closing your eyes before you softly admit, “Just... just missed you,” 

He lets the statement hang in the air before his arm is holding you closer, whispering into your hair, “Missed you too.” Neither of you acknowledge the intimacy of it all, refusing to believe that this is more than just two teammates sleeping, not *together* just in the same bed. 

[huntingcupid]

BMW WITH LARA RAJ

Ikaw ang laman ng passenger seat empty road four-seater para meron tayong space sa likod ating sulitin ang hamog magsisilbi na taklob ang hiling 'di malagot na masilip sa loob

⌗ LARA — fem!reader, smut, swearing, semi-public(?), teasing, soph x reader mentioned, getting caught, on live, fingering, etc...

⌗ CUPID — anon req, pretty short and straight forward

it started innocently, with lara offering eyekons a live — you two were in her car waiting for sophia cause she was in a meeting with the katz manager, lara's bmw to be specific, you scroll on your phone waiting for people to join, well until there was at least 10 thousand people in

“hello eyekons!” lara giggles, she positioned the phone up, only showing the upper halves of your bodies, “hey eyekons” you smile at the phone

suddenly you felt lara's hands trailing on your thighs, you were wearing baggy sweatpants and some hoodie for context, you look at the girl smiling awkwardly, “this isn't prerecorded eyekons” lara laughs avoiding your gaze — you suck your teeth knowing your in for a smile

“comeback?, no spoilers!” you try to talk yet you felt your breath hitch as laras fingers slowly enter your sweats, playing with the lace of your underwear, her fingers skimming your skin, her rings cold against your pelvis — you bit your lip fighting the moan that was about to leave your mouth

“its so warm-” you look at the girl “in here…” lara lightly giggles which you internally rolled your eyes at, “why are you so quiet y/n, eyekons are asking” lara looks at you, and just as you were gonna speak she plunges her digits into you, “i uh- i- feel s-sick” you stutter, closing your eyes tightly, lara hums going a steady pace, her thumb circling your clit as she reads the comments

one moment she pulls out only to push so deeply in, “f-fuck” you quiver, eyekons were concerned for you thinking you were really sick, “awh, look y/n they are worried for you” lara whispers into your ear directly, you look at the comments only nodding afraid to speak — “l-lara” you murmur, “is taking care of me don't worry” you smile

lara's other phone dings, a message from sophia your leader, she reads it and laughs a bit, only turning her phone off again, curious you open her phone and check the text

[soph] : lara, thats nasty as fuck — are you fucking y/n on live?!

[soph] : i have 6 more minutes in this conference room when i get back you two are getting scolded istg.

you blush feeling embarrassed, lara takes the phone and turns it off checking the time, “we only have 5 more minutes eyekons” lara says pouting, she fasten her pace making you whimper out, sweat poured from your forehead as you neared your climax, lara's fingers are so long that it kept hitting that perfect spot

“awh thats time” lara says in faux disappointment ending the live, “you're gonna cum now y/n we don't have time” lara mutters kissing the side of your neck as she pushed her digits further in, good thing the windows are tinted dark enough that no one can see inside — you moaned shamelessly as you felt a coil in your stomach beginning to tighten

“what the fuck?!” sophia says as she opens the door at the perfect moment as you came on lara's fingers, she looked disgusted and lara just smirked smugly, “oh come on, you want y/n too don't lie laforteza” lara teases and sophia smirks

you froze there silently, obviously flustered snd more importantly needy, sophia tilts her head to the side, “is it too late to join?” sophia laughs joined by lara

took "two bad bitches at the same damn time" too literally i guess

wc: 600 words

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: Sex. Minors DNI. Also, barely proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 3.8k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 1, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Sorry it has taken me a while to get this part out. But I think you’ll like it. *fingers crossed* FULL TAGLIST TO FOLLOW. Sorry, I'm in a rush today. This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part 4.5 | Part Five | Masterlist

A fancy hotel takeout sits untouched on your kitchen counter, the smell of roasted garlic filling the small space. You glance at the clock—6:47 PM.

Yoongi promised to take you to dinner, but given the circumstances, a quiet night in felt more appropriate. Safer for him. After all, the media has been relentless since the Dispatch scandal dropped close to midnight like Cinderella’s kitten heel at the ball.

You’re kind of pissed, actually. Scratch that—you’re furious. Just when it felt like you finally had Yoongi—finally had the chance to explore whatever this was between you—this bullshit had to rear its ugly head. A photo of his kind of ex leaving his building was enough to set the internet on fire, and now it felt like the flames were creeping dangerously close to your life.

You’ve talked to him once today, and even that conversation was clipped. A text from him at 5 let you know he was about to leave HYBE and swing by his place first. “Be there by 7,” he’d said.

You stare at the pristine takeout containers, willing yourself not to spiral. You’re not that person anymore. You’re not the insecure girl who lets her emotions run wild over things she can’t control. You’ve done too much good work to let this unravel you.

“You’re fine. You’re fucking fine,” you mutter under your breath, pacing the kitchen.

Your phone vibrates on the counter. Namjoon. Always coming to your rescue at the right time.

“Hello?”

“You doin’ okay?” Namjoon asks, his voice calm but laced with concern.

“Define okay,” you quip, though your voice wavers slightly. “It’s been a lot.”

“I figured,” Namjoon says gently. “That’s why I’m calling. Just wanted to check in. Yoongi’s been swamped today, and I know how this stuff can mess with your head.”

You exhale slowly, grateful for the concern but also acutely aware of the simmering emotions just beneath the surface. “I’m trying, Joon. Really, I am. It’s just… exhausting. The waiting, the overthinking, the noise. I just want to know where I stand with him, you know?”

“He’ll tell you,” Namjoon assures you, his voice steady. “Just… don’t let the noise get to you.”

You swallow hard, his words striking a chord. “Thanks, Joon. Really.”

“Anytime,” he says warmly. “And hey, take it easy on him tonight, okay? He’s under a lot of pressure, but trust me, you’re his priority.”

“Will do, dad,” you tease, and for the first time all day, you feel a flicker of lightness.

“Bye.”

You set the phone down, Namjoon’s words lingering in your mind as you glance at the clock again. 

You think about Yoongi and the kind of pressure he must be feeling now. You can take care of him tonight. He deserves it.

You’re rearranging the pillows on the couch, trying not to glance at the clock again for the hundredth time. It’s not even about tidying the place anymore. It’s about occupying your hands, distracting yourself from the swirling mix of emotions in your chest.

Then, the doorbell rings.

7:01pm. 

You take a breath, smoothing your sweater. Calm. Casual. You’re fine.

You open the door.

And there he is. Yoongi stands in the dim light of the hallway, a dark jacket zipped up to his collarbone, a black mask shading his face, somehow directing the focus on the exhaustion in his eyes. But what caught your attention is his hair—slicked back with a little sprout of inky locks on top.

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking bashful at the heat in your gaze.

Christ. He looks good. Criminally.

He steps in. “Hi,” he says softly, his voice carrying that calm rasp you’ve missed.

Your heart clenches. “Hi,” you reply, your tone quieter than intended. You clear your throat, stepping back to let him in. “Come in.”

He steps inside, pausing in the entryway as he glances around. 

You then notice the bouquet in his hand��gorgeous white roses and baby’s breath wrapped in brown paper. 

He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes flick over your face. Something in your expression must’ve softened, because he quickly averts his gaze.

“I brought these,” he says, holding them out a little awkwardly.

Your chest tightens, a strange warmth spreading through you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

When you reach out to take the bouquet, your fingers graze his, and the contact lingers for just a second too long. Impulsively, your free hand rises to cup his cheek. Maybe it’s too much for whatever the hell this is between you, but the moment feels too honest to stop yourself.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

Yoongi freezes under your touch, his dark eyes widening ever so slightly. Then, as if the tension in his shoulders breaks all at once, he leans into your palm, just a fraction, and the smallest, most heartbreaking smile tugs at his lips as his eyes flutter close.

“I am now.”

You head to the kitchen, busying yourself with a vase to give the flowers the best chance to survive. You do not have a green thumb, so you pray to the gods the beautiful arrangement does not wither overnight.

“Hungry?” you ask, not turning around. “I bought chicken, shrimp fried rice, and some random banchan.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Yoongi replies, his voice closer than you expect. You glance back to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You place the vase on the counter and fold your arms. “So,” you start, forcing lightness into your tone. “Survived the day?”

“Barely,” he admits, a tired smirk tugging at his lips. “Had to dodge more cameras than usual. Sat in meetings for a couple of hours. Si-hyuk personally called Sung Kyung’s agency. They assured me that they will investigate thoroughly. I couldn’t eat. I get home and there’s still press camping out. So yeah, shit day and I almost didn’t make it out alive.”

“That’s the longest response I’ve ever gotten from you.” You tease. “You really must be stressed out.”

Yoongi chuckles and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been hanging over you both all day melts away. 

You go around the counter and stand facing him where he’s sitting on your bar stool. He parts his legs and you immediately take that space, crowding him a bit more by placing your hands tentatively on his shoulder.

His eyes, warm like molten chocolate, meet yours. “How about you?”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “I’m fine,” you say, though the tightness in your chest betrays you. “I mean, it’s not like this is new territory for you, right?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Yoongi says quietly. “And I don’t like that you’re sort of affected by it.”

“I can handle it,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel, projecting strength since he looks a little broken right now.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line, like he’s not entirely convinced. 

“I kinda knew what I was getting into when I knocked in your studio yesterday,” you say softly. “And I’d do it again. For you.”

His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his face at your admission before it softens into something else. Something deeper. “For me?”

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Yeah. For you.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Then he straightens up from his slouch, taking one of your hands from his shoulder, pressing his lips softly against your pulse point.

“Dinner first,” he says. 

“Then what?” you challenge.

Yoongi just grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

As you sip the last of your drink, you steel yourself to ask the question that’s been bugging you all day. “So,” you say finally, broaching the topic. “Sung Kyung.”

Yoongi pauses mid-bite, his eyes flicking to yours. He sets his chopsticks down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “What about her?”

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “Namjoon told me you’re co-parenting. But I need to hear where you two… stand?”

Yoongi exhales slowly. “Yeah, we’re co-parenting. That’s it. I don’t have any intention of getting back together with her. At all.” His voice is calm but firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I want Haneul to know his biological mom, but she and I—we’re done. That’s been over.”

Relief washes over you, but before you can fully settle into it, you notice the shift in his expression. His jaw tightens, and his eyes dart briefly to the table before returning to yours.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly, the words heavy with hesitation.

Fuck. You don’t like the sound of it, but you ask anyway. “What is it?”

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “A few weeks ago… she kissed me.”

Your stomach twists, and the room feels suddenly colder. “What?”

“I put a stop to it immediately,” he says quickly, his tone insistent. “I told her it couldn’t happen again, that if she wanted to keep seeing Han, she had to respect that boundary. And she has. She knows where we stand.”

You don’t respond right away, staring down at your plate as you try to process his words. 

Oh my god. This is so fucked up. You knew Sung Kyung’s reappearance wasn’t as harmless as it seemed, but hearing it confirmed still stings.

“I just thought…” you start, but the words trail off.

Yoongi’s voice is soft but steady. “You have every right to be upset.”

“Do I?” You think out loud. “We’re not…” You nod slowly, pushing your chair back. “I… need a minute.”

When you get to your bathroom, you release a long steadying breath. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the counter tightly. Fuck. You’re okay. This is–

A knock sounds at the door, startling you.

Yoongi’s voice is muffled as he says your name, but it’s gentle as can be. “Can I come in?”

You glance at the lock and realize, too late, that you forgot to turn it. The door creaks open, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and something softer.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him and his arms immediately slide around your waist. The warmth of his touch seeps into you, and you meet his gaze through the mirror.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You lean back against him, the tension in your shoulders easing but just slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“That’s fair,” he presses his lips to your temple. 

“But I need you to know–” presses another on your cheek.

“That I don’t want anyone else–” presses the last where your neck and shoulders meet. 

“Just you.”

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice, and when your eyes meet again in the mirror, the tenderness there leaves you so breathless.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you turn in his arms, your hands sliding up to his face as you pull him down for a kiss. His fingers tighten on your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

You walk back to your bed, lips fused with his, your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair. The urgency between you grows as you push him down onto the mattress, his back hitting the sheets with a quiet thud. You follow immediately, straddling him, your body molding against his as you capture his lips again. The kiss is deep, consuming, his hands gripping your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

You stay like that for a while, tongues teasing, breaths mingling, drunk in the taste of each other. Then, a sharp pull of his lower lip between your teeth has him groaning into your mouth.

You’re driven by lust, and something else. A possessive demon seems to be overriding your better judgment, thinking you’ve been timid with your feelings for long enough. No woman, not Sung Kyung, even if he is Han’s mom, can take what you and Yoongi have been building up to for so damn long.

“You’re in your head,” Yoongi says, nudging his nose against yours.

“Did she kiss you like this, huh?” The words leave you before you can stop them. Your lips return to his, sucking greedily, staking your claim.

Yoongi’s breath shudders as you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, baby.” His voice is rough, lips pink and swollen.

Your fingers slide under his shirt, pushing the fabric up and over his head, tossing it aside before your hands explore the newly exposed skin. He’s warm, toned beneath your touch, and the way his muscles tense under your fingertips only spurs you further. You lean down, lips dragging along his jawline, open-mouthed kisses trailing down his throat. He tastes sweet, salty, and entirely intoxicating.

“Did you fuck anyone else when I left?” you mumble against his skin, your teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

His breath hitches, “No, shit. No.”

“Good boy.” You hum in satisfaction, your lips venturing lower, your tongue flicking against the hollow of his throat. He groans, head pressing back into the pillow.

“Baby, you’re making me lose my shit right now,” he grits out, his voice strained, desperate. His hands now get braver, sliding underneath your top to fondle your tits. 

Maybe you’re delirious. Maybe you’re too turned on to think straight. Or maybe—maybe this is exactly what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him again.

Your hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of his hard length through his trousers, feeling the way he twitches under your palm. 

“You’re mine, okay?” you whisper, nipping at his bottom plush as your fingers give his dick a squeeze.

He exhales a shaky laugh, his lips curving under yours. “Yours.”

He lets you revel in your greed for a few moments, allowing you to do whatever you pleased as you lose yourself in the heat building between you.

He ruts up towards your hand, grunting slightly. Honestly, he’s so hard, it’d be a mercy to release him from the confines of his jeans. So you do, helping him unbutton, unzip, and undress, until his cock springs free and flops on his stomach.

What a pretty dick. Literally lickable—solid, girthy, veiny, a bead of white pooling at the slit. You take him in your mouth, tracing the tip with your tongue, the taste of pre-cum coating your throat. You let drool cascade down his length, slick fingers pumping his shaft while your mouth suctions his mushroom head.

His hand goes to the back of your neck, guiding you in a bit more. “Mmm… that’s it, baby.” 

Yoongi moans your name as you go faster. You feel him twitching inside your mouth. He’s so hard but you don’t want him to cum yet. You pop him off to lap at the base, before your tongue travels upward to trace the thick veins on the underside of his cock. 

Jaw slack, his eyes are dark, dark as he observes you while propped up on his elbows. “Come up,” he says when you reluctantly pull away. “Wanna eat you out.”

Your clothes are yanked off your body as you take his place on the cushions, not a single piece of fabric now separating your skin. He takes you by the hip and adjusts your position so he can get his face close to your mound. Before you can mentally prepare yourself, he shoves his hot tongue against your folds, locating your clit in 0.001 seconds and you know you’ll be careening off a cliff in no time.

“I—Yoongi, that’s… shit that’s nice.” You can’t help it. It does feel nice.

You reach for the little ponytail on his head, gripping it for dear life. He hums against your bud when you pull, the vibrations only driving you more insane.

“You taste so good baby,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“I can eat you out for days, make you cum,” he vows, delirious just like you are. “Over and over… my favorite fuckin’ snack.” 

“Oh my god, Yoongi…”

He feasts, and feasts, and soon enough, you’re shuddering in ecstasy, hips bucking in the process, as he slurps all you give him. He wears your cum like a gloss as he comes up for air, a lazy but proud smile on his face.

You reach for the drawer on your nightstand and pull out a new, sealed, and unopened box of condoms shoving it on his chest. He holds it in one hand, nose scrunching as he suppresses a laugh.

“Someone prepared…”

You shrug as he plucks one and unwraps it quickly, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re too cute for me.”

“Shut uppp.”

He rolls the condom on his dick, propping one hand by the side of your face as he uses the other to rub his blunt tip against your entrance. Your pussy is drenched and he slips right in and bottoms out with a grunt against your ear. He’s thick and big against your walls.

A smack against your ass cheeks makes you clench. “Ah, shit.” And another one lands before he soothes it with a gentle massage. 

You’re going crazy but you need him deeper. Sensing your needs, Yoongi pushes the back of your knees higher and snaps his hips with more force, pounding your pussy as your bed creaks against the wall. Your lids are heavy but you keep your eyes open long enough to see how fucked out he looks, cheeks flushed pink with a coat of sheen on his forehead, teeth caging his lower lip.

“You’re so hot. I wanna ride you,” you declare, stuttering a bit from his thrusts.

“Yeah?” He pants, slows the roll of his hips, waiting for your confirmation. 

When you nod, he slips off with a wince and you feel your juices trickle down your skin. You reverse positions, mattress dipping as you shift your knees on each side of his hips. 

“Do your thing, baby,” he urges, lacing his fingers behind his head, elbows bent outward in a relaxed pose.

Your smile is watery as you use his tip to prod against your clit one or twice before you sink him inside your wet heat. You moan in unison when you're fully seated, the feeling of him snug and warm and so full inside you driving you mad.

You tip your head back, palms planted against his chest as you swivel your hips in a slow dance. 

You look down on him, hair cascading over your shoulder, and you think how much you like this view. And how you won't mind this view everyday, actually. Seems the possessive streak from earlier still has not satiated. 

“Shit—you’re so hot like this.” 

You rock against him, clit stimulated deliciously as you ride his cock. He’s got a cocky little grin as you use him. You throw your ass back, and he has a front row seat and VIP access to your bouncing tits, his tongue slack on the side of his lips. He cups your tits with both hands, the wet pads of his thumbs rubbing against your nipples.

“My turn,” he grabs hold of your waist and thrusts upward so roughly your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He pistons into you, finger digging on your skin to keep you in place and a long moan rips from your throat when he jerks up particularly hard.

Your hands slip to his shoulder as your body bounces by the force of his movements, tits sliding against his chest. His thighs must be burning and when he slightly lets up, you dip your head, shamelessly to lick the side of his face, moaning his name against his ear. 

“Baby—” you beg, not really saying what you need, but he knows.

He uses a sweaty hand to guide a tit in his mouth, suckling at it with a bit of teeth. 

Not a moment later, he’s fucking you again from below, deeper, faster, and when rapidly presses into your sweet spot, you’re a goner.

“I’m close, Yoongi. So close…”

“Me too, baby,” his voice is rough as he lets go of your bruised nipple, brows furrowed in concentration like he is fully intent to give you the orgasm of your life. He pushes into your depth relentlessly, 

White hot heat is blooming inside you, and you feel his cock throb, abs tightening, before he spills his seed in the condom, groaning with his eyes shut to savor the intensity of his release. It’s the pure unadulterated pleasure painted on his face and his deep delicious moan that tips you over the edge, too, clenching against his solidness as you slip into the sinful pleasure of your orgasm.

Chest to chest, you rest your full weight against him, softening dick still nestled inside you. You press your lips against his neck, feeling the vibrations of his throaty chuckle. Then he asks, “Was it good?”

“So good.”

“Mm.” He hums, nosing the side of your face so you’d look at him. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

“Which one?”

“That you, uh, despite everything, you’d do it again, for me.”

You start to feel a bit shy, but then you remember you’re literally naked. On top of him. And he is still inside you. The point of bashfulness is long past. It’s time for the truth. “Yeah.”

“Bold of you, no?”

“Dumb, too.”

He pushes an errant hair behind your ear, eyes still glazed from the sex, but fond. “You know I really like you, right? If it isn’t painfully obvious.”

“Me too, Yoongi. Since Stan. Maybe even earlier.”

“Will you be my girl, then?”

Yoongi watches you carefully, waiting for your response. The earnest curve of his lips, the slight scrunch of his nose, the way his fingers still rest on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away—it’s all so achingly real.

You study him for a moment, letting yourself take it in. Everything about him—his caring nature, his tenderness, his immense love for Han, his ability to drive you absolutely insane and still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The outside world is still in chaos. The scandal, the noise, the questions that neither of you have all the answers to yet. But here, in your little apartment, wrapped in the warmth of him, none of that feels as important as this.

“I will,” you finally say, voice steady.

His breath catches, just for a second. Then, his lips spread into the softest, gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, almost like he’s making sure he heard you right.

You nod, “Yeah.”

Your lips meet for a gentle kiss that feels like a promise and the rest of the world falls away. For now, no matter what comes next, it’s the two of you—finally honest, finally sure, and finally together.

:]

Part 6 >

A/N: YASSSS. Our babies have finally figured it out. How do you feel right now? Would love to hear your comments! 

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! Xo

P.S. Am gunning for 1,000 followers before Yoongi’s birthday. :) I think I’ll get there with your help. Feel free to reblog the story if you like, and that can help more people find our lovely L&L couple.

Love you!~

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

[chrisspirategirl]

Cologne.

જ⁀➴ Matthew Sturniolo

“Am I attractive? Tell me am I good enough?”

SUMMARY: you’ve been feeling insecure as of lately, not really knowing why since you’re known for your burst of confidence. But when your.. “fuck buddy” Matt finds out theres a sudden shift between the relationship.

You were and could proudly claim, the baddest bitch everyone knew. Always confident, sexy, seductive, a bitch, a sweetheart, everything in the book at this point. You always had on the most cuntiest outfits never ashamed to show off the body you were blessed with. But as of recently a sudden shift in your perspective changed. It was one of those days where you get hit with sudden depression and go through a whole crisis of anxiety, grief, and anger.

You were unhappy with how you looked for the first time which was a shock because hello? You’re stunning! But even people who seem to be absolutely flawless can still have some insecurities about themselves.

Your phone goes off, a message from Matt.

Matt 🤓: can I come over?

Matt and you were.. an interesting pair. Both constantly yelling at each other at the top of your lungs. You wouldn’t label Matt as your enemy because that was just corny to you. You both were just the same person in a different font and hated how similar you both acted. But over 6 months ago what started as a heated argument about some stupid movie turned into a night of raw, rough passionate sex. And since then you both agreed to be not so much as friends but definitely with benefits, fuck benefits if you will.

Something about him being so angry and pounding inside of you made your organs rearrange. Hate sex was definitely a new favorite for you. And Matt could definitely say the same. You both promised to keep this sex secret to yourselves because people were too nosy. And if ANYONE even found out about you and Matt secretly having sex the world would probably stop spinning.

You were hesitant to say yes to Matt’s message but you said yes regardless which you immediately regretted but he had already read the message so there was no doubt he was on his way. With a soft sigh you toss your phone to the side. You really weren’t in the mood for sex but you convinced yourself it was what you needed and definitely NOT someone to talk to.. yeah.

Roughly 20 minutes go by there’s a knock already knowing who you stand up from the couch opening the door to see Matt in a black hoodie and some jeans, “you look rough” he commented playfully like he always did but you weren’t in the mood to hit him with a comeback, “thanks.” You responded nonchalantly as you moved aside to let him in.

The blank response catches him off guard, “are you okay?” He asked slightly worried but tried to make it seem like he didn’t care, “I’m fine.” You said stuffing your hands into your black sweatpants.

“That doesn’t sound like you’re ‘fine’” he says with an eyebrow arched. “I said I’m fine okay?” You responded sharply, God, you really were a bitch huh?

“Okay sorry then geez.. what’s up your ass lately?” The last sentence he mumbled under his breath but you were able to pick up on it “you don’t have to be here you know?” You snapped at him.

“First off chill the fuck out. Second you said I could come if you didn’t want me here you could have said no.”

“Well.. I change my mind then get the fuck out.”

“What?”

“Get out Matt!”

“Y/n what is wrong with you?! Why are you crashing out like this?”

“I said I’m fucking fine! Are you stupid?!”

Matt strides towards you pinning you against the front door, “why the fuck are you being so aggressive for?” He asks roughly, not tolerating your bitchy attitude.

“Get off of me Matt!” You replied trying to squirm out of his grasp, his grip tightens on your hips not too hard but good enough to keep you from slipping away. “What’s wrong with you, you’re not being yourself” he asks again firmly

“Why do you even care.” You say desperately trying to stop yourself from crying in front of him.

“I’m asking you. What. Is. Wrong.” He repeats looking directly into your soul.

“I- I don’t know okay? I feel gross. I feel unhappy about everything, about myself.” Your words were choppy, barely able to speak as you managed to choke up a sort response.

Matt stands there holding you firmly looking at you like he was examining your emotions that were clearly visible, “what do you mean..” he says softly

“You don’t understand.”

“I want to, y/n. Talk to me.”

“It’s not so easy for me to just open up. I don’t even know how to explain what I’ve gone through.” You explained with tears that you refused to let run down your cheeks, but Matt was no idiot. He knew you were trying to act tough like nothing was bothering you but he could see it through your downturned eyes that used to stare up at him with lust now filled with tears and a calling to be cared for.

“Shhh” he coos, “you can let it out, I’m here.”

His hand gently wipes across your cheek and suddenly you’re balling your eyes out in his arms, you were definitely mentally kicking yourself for showing such a weak side to someone you’re not even supposed to be emotionally connected to but the feeling of Matt’s arms wrapped around you like he actually cared had you refusing to even push him away.

The smell of his cologne, an earthy soft wood fragrance filled your nostrils. The familiar scent you grew to secretly love brought a sense of comfort.

“Listen, kid” he begins softly whispering just above your ear, “I know we’re not on the same page most of the time, but I promise you you’re going to get through this. You’re enough, you matter, not just to me but to everyone who admires you. I’ll always be here for you even when you can’t force yourself to seek for help.” His words sink into your mind, the slight flutter in your stomach makes you almost sick but you can’t push him away nor did you really want to. He was the only one who showed a bit of affection rather than saying some crappy ‘aww I’m sorry’ and then leaving you alone.

You gently pull away from his embrace, “thanks Matt..” you say softly barely even putting any effort to talk but he’s able to hear you perfectly fine. He wipes the tear rolling down your cheek with his thumb. Leaning in to press his lips against yours gently rather than roughly like he always did.

He pulls away after a few seconds holding your pretty face in his hand, “God even when you’re upset you’re still so beautiful.”

Chat I love love LOVE cologne so fucking much it’s my most repeated song. It’s such a fucking banger I literally cannot. And I get to see beabadoobee this month I’m so excited :33

ALSO! This post isn’t made to offend anyone, if this topic came off as triggering I do apologize!! The fanfic is based off on what the song is about but again I apologize!!

Besos a mis amores!

↳ @chrisspirategirl 💘

Dividers —> @bernardsbendystraws

[holylulusworld]

No (Bucky)

Summary: You turn down every guy trying to hit on you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warning: many egos get scratched, fluff

A/N: Read Steve's version here: Yes

“Hi, my name is Sam. I saw you from over there and wanted to invite you to a drink or more,” he says and flashes you a smile. He’s not bad to look at. If only he didn’t eye you like his latest meal.

“No—” you turn another man down. It’s a crux, going to a bar alone. Most of the guys won’t take no for an answer or show enough decency to leave a woman alone. You wanted to have one drink after work, only to get hit on by the next best guy stepping into the bar.

The man’s shoulders sag, and he goes back to his friends’ table. They pat his shoulder, telling him to not take it to heart. You almost feel bad for him. But only until the next guy from their table walks toward you.

Great. They turned this into a challenge. Watching the next guy walk toward you, you sigh deeply. This is going to be a long night.

“Hello, darling. Name’s Tony,” the next guy drawls. He’s older than the first guy. “Why is a pretty lady like you all alone at a bar?”

You roll your eyes. “Not to talk to a guy with a goatee,” you snap at the man to cut him off. “If you would leave me alone now. The answer is no.”

“Ah, you’re the angry kind,” he leans against the bar counter, eyes drinking you in. “Why don’t you join me and my friends at our table?”

“Sorry, I’m not into gangbangs.”

The guest next to you coughs loudly because he choked on his beer thanks to your reply.

You dismissively wave your hand, sending the guy back to the table with his friends. He shakes his head and joins the bunch of guys.

“Nice comeback,” the guest next to you chuckles. “Oh, here we go. You should prepare for the next one.”

“Not again,” you sigh and down your drink in one go. You tap the glass, ordering another one, while a tall blonde guy steps closer. He seems a little shy as his blue eyes search yours.

“Sorry to disturb you, but—” he clears his throat and points at the table with his friends. “My friends and I wondered if you want to come over and join us.”

You look him up and down. He’s very handsome. Tall and well-built, and his eyes are nice too. Still, you won’t give him a chance.

“Sorry, but no,” you say, smiling. “Maybe in another life.”

“Uh—thanks for your time,” he stammers and walks off. You watch him leave, sighing, as two more guys are at their table.

“Do you think the others will hit on me too?” You ask the guy next to you who ordered beer. He shrugs and grabs the beer to walk away. “Crap, no.” You groan as he joins the guys hitting on you. “He's one of them!”

The guys at the table start to talk louder. They wildly gesture toward the guy talking to you and then at you.

“Fuck no,” you groan as the guy from earlier walks back toward you. He left the beer on the table and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Here we go.”

You sip at your drink and watch him step closer. He flashes you a stunning smile, making your heart flutter. “Hello, doll.” He playfully says and winks at you. “It looks like I’m back.”

“Yup.” You pop the p and grin at him. “So, what’s your pickup line? Do you want to buy me a drink or offer a gangbang like your friend?”

“Oh, doll,” he purrs, and steps closer to cage you against the bar counter with his body. “I don’t share well. If I lay claim on you, you’re only mine.”

You shudder under his gaze. “Who says I’ll allow you to lay claim on me? I don’t even know your name.” He laughs at your comeback. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s funny that you don’t even know you’re already mine.” He cups your jaw with his gloved hand and looks you in the eyes. “What do you say? Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

Steve, Sam, Tony, and the others watch Bucky wrap his arm around your waistline. He winks at them as you pass their table.

“What just happened?” Tony gasps loudly. “This can’t be! Cyborg-brain can’t succeed after all of us fail! How did he do this? How did he turn a no into a yes?"

You giggle and laugh as you run toward Bucky’s bike, holding hands.

“That was fun!”

"For how much longer will we pretend that we just met?” He asks while handing you the spare helmet he bought for you. “Doll?”

You place your hand on his chest and say, “I don’t know. Having a secret relationship has its advantages…”

Tags in reblog.

[thedilfdiaries]

Vicious

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ★ Wordcount: 1.8k

📽 —★ Summary: In the quiet solitude of your own home, you revel in the rare freedom of an empty house, indulging in forbidden pleasures on a hot summer day. The unexpected arrival of your dads buddy Joel turns your casual rebellion into something far more thrilling.

📽 —★ Warnings: 18+, mdni, reader is in college but is called a "school girl", wears a uniform that has a skirt. Joel and reader are both kinda assholes to each other. Mentions of smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, age gap (reader is early 20's, Joel is whatever you would like but in my mind 40's or older) p in v, uses of slut and whore, in this world and my daydreams Joel is able to get off multiple times without a break (I am not going for supreme accuracy I am going for porn), if I missed anything please let me know

📽 —★ Notes: Hello, welcome to my comeback fic. Please note that I am very rusty since posting my last fic in July 🫠 but I am very excited to be back writing, reading and posting once again! I hope you enjoy. I've missed being here with all you lovely humans so much 🥹

📽 —★ A big thank you to my wonderful friends for reading/hyping me: @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @thundermartini and @syd-djarin who also helped me with the mood board 💋 love you all so much. And of course @saradika-graphics for the lovely divider

“I’m home!” you shout the second you walk in the door. Dead silent, no response. You shrug as you make your way to your room but pause halfway up the stairs. No one. That means you can do whatever the hell you want. You walk back down, throwing your backpack to the floor an head to the kitchen, grabbing one of your dad's beers from the fridge, taking it out to the deck. You retrieve your hidden cigarette pack taped beneath the table outside. You grab a cigarette and light it up as you lean back in the chair, opening your legs until your feet rest on either side of the lawnchair. After a stressful day at school, you need some kind of relief. Plus, your schoolgirl uniform is much too uncomfortable on a hot summer day, causing you to undo the top few buttons of your white blouse, allowing the small but cool breeze to graze your exposed skin.

“I always thought you were a bit of a slut.”

You look up to see your dad’s buddy Joel leaning in the doorway, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as well. Instead of jumping up, snapping your legs shut, or covering your chest, you give him the finger. That guy can go fuck himself.

“And so polite too.”

“Joel, the last thing I need right now is you and your opinion. School sucked, and I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

“Christ, kid, I was only fucking with you. I mean, you do look trashy as hell, but that’s okay. I like trashy.”

“Are you hitting on me now? Really? You’re like seventy.”

“Try again sweetheart,” he says, stepping out onto the deck. You try to ignore him as he walks closer until he stops directly in front of you.

“You like the view, asshole?”

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning down and tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have guessed white. I mean, you don’t seem like the innocent type. More like a black satin sort of girl.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” you reply, taking a drag from your cigarette. “We have to wear white panties too. They check us every morning. We line up in a row, and they make us lift our skirts so they can see what we have on under them.”

“I’ll have to see if they have any openings. Sounds like a good job.”

“Oh fuck you. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with one of us, let alone three hundred.”

The bastard sinks down until he’s squatting in front of your now wet panties, still smoking as he admires the view. You finally reach down, open your legs wider, and give him the finger with your hand right in front of your cunt. If he wants to look, he can fucking look at that.

“If you didn’t want me, you’d be in the house already instead of sitting there with those pretty legs open.”

“Is that what you think?” you ask, trembling in spite of yourself. He’s a huge dick, but he’s also right. You do like teasing him, and the thought of him going home and jerking off over you is fun.

“I know it,” he says, sitting down at the bottom of the chair.

“And what would you do with a girl like me? I’ve probably had more sex than you’ll ever have. Better sex too.”

“What, with some stupid school boy who fucks like a jackhammer, hoping he’s found the right hole?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before butting your cigarette.

“Why don’tcha unbutton that shirt some more? Let me see how you’ve filled out.”

“Jesus Christ. What do you think my dad would say if he saw you eyeing his daughter up and down like a piece of meat?”

“What do you think he’d do if he saw you sitting here spread eagle, smoking a cigarette and drinking his beer? His sweet little angel, showin’ off for his friend?" he responds playfully, raising his eyebrows.

You sit up in the chair, never breaking his gaze as you undo the next two buttons of your blouse, revealing your naked chest.

“You’re not going to do a thing,” you say, reaching down and opening your shirt just enough for him to get a glimpse. “You’re going to sit there and drool over my body.”

“Is that whatcha think?” he chuckles. “What's actually going to happen is that I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you cry.”

“You’d probably come the second you got a glimpse of my pussy. I bet you’re so hard right now you can barely think."

“Try me,” he says, moving up between your legs. His hand now under your skirt.

“Let go and I’ll show you,” you say, your voice nearly catching in your throat. He moves his hand in an instant. You reach down, gently touching the lips around your clit through the thin white fabric. Joel watches the entire time, never taking his eyes off of your hand. “Is this what you want?” you say, pulling the white cotton to one side, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes.

“It’s a start,” he replies as he moves closer. He lifts your legs up over his knees. You are silent as he unzips his pants, and as much as you try not to watch, you can’t help yourself. He reaches in, and in one fluid motion, his cock juts out of his boxers.

“Jesus,” you say as he begins to stroke himself slowly. He’s only partially hard, but his cock is big and thick, and you are on dangerous ground.

“Just like those high school boys?” he asks, reaching out, grabbing you around the waist. Before you can protest, he pulls you up onto his lap, his hard cock stuck between your pussy and his stomach. His other hand joins the first until his fingers dig into the cheeks of your ass. His face is inches from you.

“You don’t have the nerve,” you say, not willing to look away.

Joel wastes no time as he tears your blouse open, the last remaining buttons flying off as he pulls it down over your shoulders, your bare breasts now fully visible. He tugs it down even further until it slides off your arms, leaving you topless.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to push those panties to one side, shove my big cock in you, and then listen to you scream.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” you whisper.

“No you won’t,” he says, sliding his hand all the way beneath you. As he holds you tight, he slips his fingers beneath your panties and then inside your now soaking wet pussy, working them in and out for a few seconds before bringing his hand up to your mouth and pushing his fingers between your lips. You gladly lick your excitement off his thick digits, feeling his large cock grow against you.

“You’re going to come in seconds," you whisper. “If you even make it inside me. You have no idea how sweet my little cunt is."

“Guess we’ll have to find out. But first, let’s see if you’re right, or if you’re just a filthy little slut who needs another dick.”

Before you can think of a response, he lifts you up, pushing your panties to one side, and then guides his large cock into you. In one swift motion, he’s deep inside of you, and you are on his lap. You try to suppress a moan as he pulls you closer.

“You knew this was going to happen the second you saw me. And so did I,” he adds.

He begins to move slowly, feeling him slide in and out of you each time you tighten your grip. Fuck, he feels good; his cock hitting your walls in all the right places. It’s not fair.

“And you’re a whore,” he says, moving his mouth down your chin, making his way down your neck.

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter, causing him to thrust harder.

“Which is why you’re letting me fuck you.” His hands run through your hair, gripping it in his hand as he continues to fuck you. You moan louder, trying to hold back a scream as his fingers grip tighter and tighter around your hair. You can feel his balls throbbing against you as his breath quickens. You are on fire as his cock pumps into your wet, hot, sensitive pussy, causing both of you to groan loudly. You can tell he’s close to his own release; you can feel your pussy convulsing, and you start moving on him harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he pounds himself into you. His balls clench tight as he groans loudly in ecstasy, his breath harsh with lust. His climax soon follows after, rope after rope of hot liquid exploding inside of you. He stays buried inside of you as the orgasm takes over him completely. After a few moments of catching his breath, Joel looks at you and mutters between breaths, "Just because I came doesn’t mean I’m done with you.”

And then he pulls out of you, flipping you over, pushing you down onto the deck chair and your panties to the side so you can feel him against you, his cock still dripping. But then, somehow, he’s back inside of you, fucking you into the fabric of the chair. “You might be cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling his weight against you, pinning you down. When he reaches an arm around your neck, you begin to moan. Oh god, don’t stop Joel. Don’t stop fucking me; I’m gonna come.”

“That’s right, baby. Come for me. Come like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, feeling yourself let go completely. You shake and tremble as you clench around him. His breath picks up as he’s close to his own orgasm.

“I’m going to come in this pussy one more time.”

“No!” you beg, needing to at least pretend to resist when in fact you don't want this to ever end. The thought of him coming in you again makes your pussy tighten in anticipation. Then finally, when it seems he won't ever come inside of you, he does. Your entire body begins trembling, fighting against another orgasm. As you feel him pull out of you, he turns you over, putting his hand in your panties and cupping your cheek. Your eyes open wide, and you can feel the warm liquid dripping from your thighs. He looks down at his own cock. It too has started to twitch.

“Look at the mess you made," he whispers, placing the tip of his cock into the wetness. "You'd better clean this up before someone sees. You're going to lick every drop,” he commands. You nod. "Good girl."

As you place kisses along his cock, licking away any remaining semen, Joel watches in amusement. You stand up, looking up at him.

“Are you satisfied?" you ask.

“For now," he smirks, turning towards the house. "See ya tomorrow." With that, he goes up the porch steps, his back to you and makes his way home, only to be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after.

[birlemsbae]

- meeting the sturniolos (pt. 1)

you’re next in line to meet the sturniolo triplets. you’ve dreamt of this moment forever. ever since they announced their tour 3 months ago, you knew that’d you wanna go.

going was such a great experience already, you had bonded with a couple of girls, going through your favorite youtube videos of them.

when they tell you it’s okay, you scurry over nick, who greets you with a smile ear to ear and a hug.

you then hug chris, you says the usual “hello” and hugs you. and then you met matt.

you step in line to greet matt who hugged you like usual, but the hug was a little longer than the rest.

when you both pull away from eachother, he looks you up and down. not in a romantic way, not in a judgmental way, just a gentle flicker over your outfit.

“i like your outfit,” he says.

“thank you,” you reply, and turn over to take a group picture with them.

after the photo, matt notices you have the diamond VIP pass which means you’re gonna end up seeing eachother again during the meet and greet.

you wave bye to the three of them and matt’s gaze lingers on you for a bit before turning the the next person in line.

after the picture portion and before the show, they held the meet and greet session at the back of their venue. it was a room filled with merch, photos of them, a bench connected to the back wall, and a speaker to play music.

when you arrive, you immediately head for the bench, wanting to sit down and not take away anyone else’s time from the triplets.

matt walks over to you and sits next to you. “big groups not your thing?”

you’re a bit startled, but then talking to him comes easy. “yeah, but i don’t wanna take away from everyone’s time.”

matt’s eyebrow furrow at that, “you’re not, trust me,” he flickers over to his brothers who are engaging with the girls in front of them. “what made you wanna come?”

“well obviously i love you guys. you’re sweet, caring, and hilariously funny. i love nicks comebacks.” you reply, crossing over your legs.

“yeah, he is comeback king after all,” he looks down and sees the other girls waiting to talk to him before turning and looking back at you.

he gets up immediately which makes you confused, not even a bye? seriously?

he comes back over with a photo of him and his brothers with his name signed on it. he smiles while giving it to you.

you smile back and take it, “uh, thanks.”

“flip it over when you’re leaving.” he smiles even wider. and off he goes, entertaining the other girls in front of him and his brothers.

when the meet and greet is over, you’re walking out when you remember: the card.

you pull it out your pocket and in very fine print you can make out:

hey! would love to get to know you better. text me sometime (xxx,xxx,xxxx)

your mouth drops to your toes. the matt sturniolo gave you his number. what the fuck.

A/N: 🌚

[thewriterghost]

Hello Kisses

Pairing: poly!marauders x reader

Summary: Sirius loves to give hello kisses to his darlings.

Note: Hi, hello, hey, it's me. I can't believe it took me this long to post something new of my own! Work is eating me alive, you guys. Seriously. Anyways, I really hope you like this!!! Thanks for reading!

Remus loves the lazy afternoons.

More importantly, he loves the lazy afternoons with you.

As the one with the least amount of energy in this relationship, considering his lovely boyfriends of course, you are the most eligible for the afternoon naps or the cuddles with book in hand.

Remus looks down at your peaceful expression as your head rests on his lap, eyes closed as you listen to Remus' gentle voice while he reads. For a moment, he thinks you are asleep with how comfortable you look. Until, of course, you smile without opening your eyes.

"Are you staring at me?" You ask, your playful voice almost imitating Sirius.

Remus smiles instead of pointing that out.

"How'd you know?" He asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the gentle silence in the house.

"You stopped reading, genius." You open your eyes to look at him, which only makes your smile widen as you see Remus peek at you from under the book he is holding.

"Maybe I was trying to create suspense." He replies, although you can see him trying to hide a smile of his own.

"I don't think romance is the right genre for that, love."

He wants to reply with a sarcastic or witty comeback, he really does, but how can he when your smile is lighting up the whole room? He can't quite find it in himself to interrupt it, honestly.

Yet, a moment later, the apartment door opens and interrupts it, and Remus finds himself unreasonably annoyed at it.

"Hello, my darlings." Sirius' voice echoes from the hallway.

And just like that, Remus' annoyance turns to a soft and mushy type of love inside him.

"Hey, Siri." You turn your head towards the hallway, signaling your boyfriend your whereabouts.

The raven-haired boy is quick to find you. Remus finds that the smile Sirius wears when he looks at the two of you, can rival the smile you had a minute ago; lighting up the room and making Remus feel all fuzzy inside.

As Remus puts his book down with a piece of napkin as a bookmark between the pages, Sirius walks up to him and leans in for a kiss.

"Hi." Remus whispers, ever so softly. You see Sirius smile and rather than answering verbally, he kisses Remus gently.

You don't get a chance to tease them about public display of affection between two parties in your living room, because a minute later Sirius leans in to Remus' lap for your kiss.

After he feels satisfied enough with his hello kisses, Sirius stands up straight to look around for your only other boyfriend who isn't present in the living room.

"Where's Jamie?" He asks to the two of you. Remus nods towards the bathroom.

"In the shower."

Remus watches as Sirius' face lights up with a mischievous grin as he stalks to the bathroom, quiet as a mouse. Remus' eyes follow his movements until he hears your soft voice from his lap.

"He'll barge in, won't he?" You sound like you're holding in a sigh but when he looks down at you, he sees the fond smile you always have around them.

"He has to get his kiss." Remus replies, shrugging as he repeats Sirius' usual excuse.

"Maybe I should start doing that." You look up at him with a playful glimmer in your eyes.

"Doing what?" He asks, voice still as quiet as before.

"Demanding kisses."

He smiles down at you, all warm yet playful in his own way.

"Dove, you want a kiss?"

"It doesn't count as demanding if you're offering."

"There's a reason you don't demand kisses." He leans down, his eyes flickering to your lips momentarily before he continues with a whisper. "We always offer."

You meet him halfway for the kiss and Remus feels you smile into it.

"Pads! Oh my fucking God!" James' voice manages to get to the living room.

Remus pulls away, feeling your giggles before they even reach his ears. Your laughter mixes with Sirius'.

"You scared the crap out of me!" Remus shakes his head as he finds himself unable to hold his chuckling at James' continuous exclamations.

"Stop yelling and give me my kiss!" Sirius' voice cuts James', making you laugh even more. Remus thinks it's more of a win-win for him now that the scenery for him rivals even the most beautiful sunsets themselves.

"I'm in the shower!" You hear James' voice turn somewhat bashful, Sirius' affection working on him as much as it is working on Remus and you.

Remus hears some shuffling and some water splashes, and soon enough, Sirius emerges from the bathroom with a playful grin.

"I got all my hello kisses, in case you were wondering."

Remus shakes his head with a fond smile. This may not feel like a lazy afternoon entirely, but he finds himself loving this more.

[cheftsunoda]

oh hello lover of mine! yes, i’ve another request (this is the kind of greed they talk about in the bible) i sat on this one for 2 days but i simply can’t wait any longer, it needs to leave my brain!christian horner seems a bit too happy with his life for my liking so i’ve decided to do something about it

geri halliwell x new redbull team principal reader!

HOORAY! CHRISTIAN HORNERS BEEN FIRED AND REPLACED BY SOMEONE HOTTER AND LESS FUCKING WEIRD! what could be better than that? GERI REALIZED HER HUSBAND SUCKS AND LEFT HIM FOR SOMEONE BETTER! a woman, just like God intended! yes this was fueled by my hatred for horner and my sadness when i found out geri didn’t end up with mel b (they were in love your honor!)

love you lots, xoxo

revenge with a little bit of spice — geri halliwell

geri halliwell x!fem redbull team principal

smau + blurbs

after reigning supreme in f1 during the late 2000s and retiring in 2015, yn thought her time in the spotlight was over. but when red bull racing parts ways with christian horner amidst public scandal, they call her back—not as a driver, but as the new team principal. max verstappen, once a karting kid she mentored, is thrilled. the entire grid holds her in reverence. but in the shadows of the paddock, another connection brews—geri halliwell, quietly separated from christian, finds herself drawn to the woman everyone looks up to. what starts as mutual admiration turns into something undeniable.

fc : bella hadid

(a/n) : my baby, my wife, my angel, my life. you know every single time you request— i drop everything for you and i get my ass to WORK. i h8 horner and love geri with all my heart so this made me so happy to write. love love love you so much. hope you enjoy baby!

and geri and mel b should’ve ended up together WE WERE ALL FUCKING ROBBED. another thing horner stole from me. in an alt timeline they r together and so in love tho:)

for plot purposes and what i am about to do - liam is still in the redbull seat instead of yuki

—

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda0511, aussiegrit and 11,007,002 others.

redbullracing : We’re proud to announce that YN LN will be stepping in as Team Principal of Oracle Red Bull Racing. A world champion. A pioneer. A leader. YN’s legacy on track shaped a generation—now, she’s here to lead the next one.

—

view 778,009 other comments.

maxverstappen1 : Couldn’t be happier. Welcome back, boss.

liked by yn_ln and redbullracing

↳ yn_ln : My boy. So proud of you and honored to lead you to that 5th WDC this year;)

liked by maxverstappen1 and redbullracing

danielricciardo : The comeback we ALL needed. 😤👑

liked by redbullracing and yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : Miss you DR3!!

liked by danielricciardo

lewishamilton : This is huge. Welcome back to the paddock, legend.

liked by yn_ln and redbullracing

↳ yn_ln : Always happy to be competing against you. Just a different way this time. Thanks Lew!

liked by lewishamilton

lando : wait does this mean i get to finally talk to yn without hyperventilating, crying or asking for an autograph

liked by yn_ln, maxverstappen1 and redbullracing

↳ yn_ln : All big and bad now that you got a few years under your belt, Lando? 😂 I'll still sign something for ya.

liked by lando and maxverstappen1

↳ lando : fuck. im still a fanboy. im lightheaded just from this interaction.

liked by yn_ln and maxverstappen1

aussiegrit : One of the greatest of all time. The sport just got lucky.

liked by yn_ln and redbullracing

↳ yn_ln : Ah Mark, we sure have come a long way. I used to try to fist fight you behind the press box and now we brunch. Thanks Bud!

liked by aussiegrit, redbullracing, maxverstappen1 and lando

↳ aussiegrit : Next brunch date on me by the way:)

liked by yn_ln

↳ lando : this is so iconic im SCREAMING.

username000 : the grid’s collective mommy issues just got amplified

username00 : She mentored half the damn grid. Royalty fr.

username0 : how does she still look this GOOD omg?

↳ username1 : her and lewis are the same age. they are both hot. that's what happens when you are unproblematic.

charles_leclerc : just another thing ferrari fumbled. welcome back yn!!! we all missed you.

liked by yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : Oh my Charlie. Don't be sad. Might just pick you up after that little contract ends;)

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↳ username5 : MOTHERRRRR.

jensonbutton : About time. We all knew she was the smartest one in the paddock anyway.

liked by yn_ln and redbullracing

mickschumacher : My dad always said...“If she’s on track, you’re chasing her.” Couldn’t be prouder.

liked by yn_ln and redbullracing

↳ yn_ln : My love, I miss you and love you dearly. Thank you.

liked mickschumacher

—

The door creaks open just a bit as you step into the Red Bull drivers’ briefing room. It’s quiet, polished, sterile like always—same flat grey chairs, same long table with untouched water bottles, same air of too much caffeine and too little patience. You see them before they see you.

Max is slouched in his chair, tapping his pen against the table in a rhythm only someone who hates meetings would find soothing. He looks like someone who hasn’t slept enough but will still win a Grand Prix out of spite. Liam Lawson, younger, fresher, a little cocky around the edges, is scrolling through his phone like he’s on a break between gaming sessions. Neither of them looks up. Perfect.

You don’t say a word. You just drop your folder on the table with a soft thunk, set down your coffee beside it, and walk around to the head of the room like you’ve been doing this every Monday since 2005.

Then—

Max glances up.

He freezes.

His chair screeches backward a little too fast.

“…no,” he whispers under his breath. “No way.”

Liam hears him, furrows his brow, and finally looks up too.

There’s a moment of absolute stillness, like the room itself has been hit with a red flag.

“WHAT,” Liam blurts, shooting up to his feet. “What the—what?!”

You lean against the table, arms folded, one brow raised.

“Morning,” you say smoothly. “Glad to see you both arrived on time. That’ll make my job easier.”

Max is still staring at you like you’ve descended from the heavens and walked straight out of a childhood poster. His mouth opens. Closes. Reopens.

“You’re—” he starts. His voice cracks. “You’re our new Team Principal?”

You nod once. No fanfare.

“Effective immediately.”

“But—” Liam gestures wildly. “You’re like… you’re you. You don’t do meetings. You do overtakes at 300 kph with one hand on the wheel and the other flipping off another world champion—”

Max shoots him a glare. “Shut up, Liam.”

You smile. Just barely.

“I do meetings now,” you say. “Retirement was boring.”

Max rubs a hand over his face. “This is insane. I used to watch your onboards before every race. You taught me how to drive. And now—”

“Now I’ll be telling you what to do on Sunday afternoons,” you finish for him, matter of fact.

Liam just drops into his chair like gravity gave up on him.

“I need to call my dad,” he mumbles. “He’s gonna faint.”

You open your folder, unbothered. Flip a few pages, click your pen. The silence stretches. Then Max clears his throat and says, quieter, more serious this time-

“I’m really glad it’s you.”

You pause. Look up. And for a moment, it’s just you and him—the little Dutch kid you used to watch on karting tracks, fearless and wide-eyed, now a world champion with your legacy at his back.

“I’m glad too,” you tell him. “Let’s win some more.”

—

The staffer who opens the door steps back immediately like they’ve just let royalty in. You step onto the deck, calm as ever in a sharp black gown. Monaco’s skyline twinkles behind you, but you’ve always looked more dangerous than the ocean on your worst day, and tonight is no exception. You scan the party—yacht teeming with PR reps, team execs, bored billionaires. And somewhere near the back, clustered in a semi circle of chaos— There they are.

Your boys. Still taller. Slightly more tired. A little more chaotic. But unmistakably yours.

“Act cool,” Oscar mutters.

“Why? She’s seen us all cry,” Max deadpans.

“She’s also beaten us all in sim racing just for fun,” Lando adds.

“I was nine,” Charles whispers, completely pale. “She literally taught me how to brake properly.”

“Shut up, she’s coming over—”

They all freeze as you approach, drink in hand, casual like you didn’t raise half the grid with your throttle foot and tactical mind alone.

“Evening, gentlemen,” you say with a tilt of your head.

They all greet you at once. A flood of names, hugs, nervous laughs, babbled compliments. You’re nearly crushed by the collective warmth of Max pulling you into a side hug and Lando practically vibrating.

“You look the same,” Lewis says from behind his sunglasses, hugging you next. “Still terrifying.”

You grin. “You got taller.”

He smirks. “You didn’t have to say that. I know I didn’t.”

George practically sprints over from the other side of the yacht. “I knew I saw you earlier—don’t leave without talking to me about the exit strategy in Sector 2 at Zandvoort—”

“I’ll tell you if you stop smiling like that,” you tease.

He immediately stops. “...Better?”

You glance at the drivers surrounding you—Carlos sipping his drink while trying not to cry, Pierre pretending he’s not filming you again, Charles blushing like he’s twelve and just got a gold star from his teacher.

“Have you all gotten softer since I left?” you ask.

Max scoffs. “No. I just missed you, that’s all.”

You smile—gentler now. “I missed you too.”

Yuki appears suddenly, holding a plate. “I got you one of the fancy hors d’oeuvres. I remembered you liked the crab ones.”

“You always remembered the important things,” you say, taking it gratefully.

From the back, Mick Schumacher quietly slips into view. You place a hand on his shoulder before he even says anything.

“You’re just like your father,” you whisper.

Mick lights up like a lantern. “He’d have lost his mind if he saw this.”

“He’s with us every race. Trust me.”

He nods, eyes glossy.

You look over at Esteban and Lance, both lingering near the railing with fond smiles, waving you over—but before you can move, a flash of red catches your eye. And a familiar voice cuts through the background noise like a melody you haven’t heard in years but still somehow know by heart.

“YN,” Geri Halliwell says.

You freeze, just slightly. It’s not loud. Not performative. Just your name—soft, stunned, slightly breathless. You turn. And there she is.

Red silk. Hair swept back. Smile cracking at the edges like she doesn’t trust it just yet. Like she didn’t think you’d actually be here. She takes a few tentative steps closer, eyes locked on yours, like the rest of the deck doesn’t exist.

“…It’s been a long time,” she says.

You nod, breath catching just a little. “Yeah. It has.”

A beat. Then she laughs—soft and familiar and full of something buried. “You look exactly the same.”

You smile. “You don’t.”

She grins, eyes warm. “Good different or bad different?”

You take a step toward her, closing the space like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Beautiful different.”

Behind you, an actual gasp erupts. Lando elbows Oscar so hard he chokes on his drink.

“She hasn’t seen her in years and that’s the first thing she says?” Charles hisses.

“Are we witnessing history or a breakup or a proposal? I genuinely don’t know,” Alex mutters.

“I’m sweating,” Max deadpans.

You and Geri don’t even look back. She reaches for your hand like she’s scared to, but you don’t flinch—you let her. Her fingers are cold. Yours are steady.

“I’m glad they picked you. I didn’t know you were interested in coming back,” she says, voice smaller now.

“I didn’t either,” you reply honestly. “But then… everything happened.”

Her smile fades a little, eyes flicking with something darker. “Yeah. Everything.”

You squeeze her hand. “You okay?”

Geri nods once. “Getting there.”

You give her a small, tired smile—the kind you save for people who’ve seen you at your worst. “We always were late bloomers.”

She lets out a soft laugh, shaky but real. “Speak for yourself. I had an entire pop career and a scandal by twenty five.”

You tilt your head. “You still lost to me in a kart race in ‘08.”

That makes her laugh—loud and sharp and lovely. And behind you? Chaos. Pure, stunned, reverent chaos. Pierre’s whispering, “I think they’re in love.”  Yuki’s already on FaceTime with Daniel Ricciardo. You look at Geri again, and her expression softens.

“I missed you,” she says, quieter than before.

Your throat tightens.

“…Yeah,” you whisper back. “I missed you too.”

—

You’re already halfway through a team debrief when you hear the sudden shift in energy around the garage. Not the usual buzz of engineers or the chaos of mechanics running diagnostics—but something quieter. Heavier. Intentional. You don’t even have to turn. You know who it is. Still, you glance over your shoulder. Just to be sure. There she is.

Geri.

White pantsuit, oversized sunglasses, hair pulled back in the effortless way that somehow makes her even more blinding. She's waving politely at a few familiar faces, but her eyes are already on you. Your pulse kicks up. You didn’t know she was coming.

“Did you…?” you ask aloud, trailing off as you look toward Max.

He shrugs innocently. Too innocently. He’s not even pretending to hide the grin spreading across his face.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, not looking at you as he sips his water. “Why wouldn’t she be here?”

You narrow your eyes. “Max.”

He looks at you now. Full smirk. Dimples and everything.

“I texted her,” he says with a casual shrug. “Told her you’d probably be too stubborn to invite her yourself.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m right, though.”

Before you can respond, Geri is at your side, taking off her sunglasses slowly. Her eyes land on you, warm and steady.

“Did I interrupt something?” she asks, voice low.

You shake your head, trying to keep your composure. “Just Max—meddling.”

She smiles, glancing briefly at him. “Well, he always did like playing Cupid.”

“I’m right here,” Max says flatly, but he’s still grinning.

You gesture to the garage. “Want the grand tour?”

“I still remember where everything is,” she murmurs, eyes flicking across the familiar chaos. “But sure. Lead the way.”

You walk her through the usual pre-race setup, ignoring the thirty sets of eyes burning into the back of your head.

Charles waves. Pierre mouths “oh my god.” Yuki gives you a thumbs up.

You’re halfway through explaining the tweaks made to Max’s suspension setup when she steps closer—too close, really—and leans in slightly.

“You seem... comfortable again,” she says.

You glance at her. “You make that sound surprising.”

She hums. “It is. You were gone a long time.”

You pause.

“So were you.”

That pulls a smile from her. Before she can respond, the grid call comes through the speakers. You nod, stepping back into team principal mode. Your voice is cool, sharp, focused—because it has to be. But when you glance at her, she’s still watching you. Not like she’s seeing a legend or a name from the past. Like she’s seeing you.

Max has just taken another podium—P2 this time. It was close, strategic, and frankly? Brilliant. You’re still going over the race data in the motorhome when someone knocks on the doorframe. You turn. It’s her. Geri.

She’s holding two bottles of water, clearly stolen from the VIP suite, and she’s flushed slightly from the sun.

“I figured you hadn’t eaten,” she says. “Or drank water in six hours.”

You blink at her.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the bottle.

There’s a pause. Charged, quiet, familiar.

Then—

“Come to dinner with me.”

You almost drop the bottle.

She smiles, soft and a little nervous.

“No pressure,” she adds. “Just dinner. Just… us. Somewhere quiet.”

You stare at her. “You’re sure?”

She tilts her head. “I don’t invite people twice, YN.”

You feel your chest tighten.

“I’d like that,” you say.

The smile she gives you in return is something you’ll remember even if every race after this fades to blur.

—

The restaurant Geri chose isn’t flashy. It’s quiet, nestled into a corner street above the marina, lit by warm lamps and the occasional flicker of candlelight. You’re seated at a table for two on the terrace—just far enough from the rest of the world. She’s already there when you arrive, wine in hand, her blazer hung neatly over the back of her chair. Her hair’s down now, and her heels are off. You recognize the version of her in front of you—the one who never needed a spotlight to shine.

“You came,” she says softly.

“You asked,” you reply, just as quiet.

You slide into the seat across from her, the air charged but not heavy. For a few minutes, you talk like you used to—memories of the paddock, of absurd sponsor events, of the time she beat Christian in a charity kart race and gloated for weeks. It’s easy. Too easy. Until the silence shifts.

She swirls the last sip of her wine in the glass. Doesn't meet your eyes.

“YN,” she says, “I need to tell you something.”

You straighten. “Okay.”

She takes a breath like it hurts. “Christian and I… we’re getting a divorce.”

The world stills around you. You don’t speak—just let the words hang, let her say them the way she needs to.

“I left him the minute the allegations came out,” she says. “But we kept it quiet. Lawyers. Statements. Press. It’s all still being handled, but—” She swallows. “It was already falling apart. Long before that. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

You set your glass down slowly. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, looking down at her hands. “I think I held on because I liked the idea of it. Of us. The fairytale. The team. The image.” Her voice drops. “But I was lonely. And angry. And tired of pretending that being ‘Christian Horner’s wife’ was enough for me.”

You don’t reach for her right away. You let her speak.

“And then,” she says, looking up at you, eyes shining—not with tears, but something sharper—“you walked back into the paddock, and I felt like I could breathe again.”

Your chest tightens. “Geri—”

She holds up a hand. “I’m not saying that to put pressure on you. I don’t want anything from you except this dinner. Except honesty.”

You sit back, studying her. The way she’s holding herself. Still poised, still strong—but you’ve known her long enough to recognize what vulnerability costs her.

“I don’t want to be a secret,” she says. “I don’t want to sneak around garages or pretend I’m just here for the team. I’ve already lived that kind of love. I want something real now.”

You stare at her for a long moment.

Then– “So do I.”

She exhales, like she’s been holding that breath for years.

You reach across the table and take her hand. This time, it’s not tentative. It’s deliberate. Solid. Warm.

“I don’t care about the noise,” you say. “I never did.”

“I know,” she says. “That’s what terrified me.”

You both laugh, softly. A little broken. A little whole. The waiter comes to take your order, but neither of you let go.

—

weeks later...

You find him sitting alone in the corner of the hospitality suite, long after the engineers have cleared out and the post-race buzz has faded. He’s hunched forward on the sofa, phone in hand, tapping mindlessly through some app he’s not really looking at.

He doesn’t notice you until you’re already sitting beside him.

“Morning,” you say gently.

Liam startles a bit but manages a smile. “Hey, boss.”

You nudge a water bottle toward him. He takes it without question.

For a moment, you sit in silence. The kind you don’t need to fill just for the sake of speaking. The kind that tells him: I’m not here to scold you.

Then, carefully—

“How are you, Liam?”

He exhales slowly. “I’m fine.”

You shoot him a look.

He laughs, dry and quiet. “Okay, I’m… not great.”

“That I can tell.”

You lean back slightly, watching him. His posture is tight. Like he’s been trying not to crumble for weeks.

“You’ve had a tough run lately,” you say. “We all see it. The missed apexes, the slower exits, the radio silence when it counts. You’re not a bad driver—not by a long shot. But you’re not you out there right now.”

He doesn’t respond at first. Just stares at the condensation on the water bottle. Finally—

“It’s a lot,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, encouraging. “The pressure?”

He nods. “The timing. The expectations. The headlines. One bad stint and it’s like I’ve wasted Red Bull’s time. One good lap and suddenly I’m being compared to Max.”

He pauses, then says it plainly. “I was thrown in. And I wanted it. I still want it. But I didn’t get the space to grow into it.”

Your chest tightens. He continues, quieter now. “I’ve spent half the season convincing myself I belong here, and the other half terrified someone’s going to pull the plug before I get the chance to prove it.”

You don’t speak for a moment. Just watch the way his shoulders drop—relief, maybe, from finally saying it out loud.

“Liam,” you say softly, “I never saw you as a stopgap. You earned your way in. But I also know that a rushed opportunity can kill a career before it really starts.”

He looks up at you then—really looks. You place your elbows on your knees, tone steady but warm. “So I’m going to ask you something, and I want the truth. No PR answers. No pride.”

He nods once, cautious but trusting.

“Do you want to stay in that seat? Right now. As you are. Under this pressure. Or do you think you’d be better—stronger—finishing the season with Racing Bulls?”

His eyes flicker. “Is that... is that even on the table?”

“If you want it to be,” you say. “I’m not here to set you up for failure. I’m here to build longevity. A future. If that means recalibrating and giving you space to breathe? Then we do that.”

Liam’s jaw clenches, and for a second you think he’s going to brush it off. But then—

“I think I’d do better with more time,” he says, voice hoarse. “I think I’d drive better if I wasn’t constantly terrified of being fired. I just... I need to remember that I love racing. Not performing for headlines.”

You smile, proud. “Then that’s our next move.”

He stares at you. “Just like that?”

You shrug. “You trusted me enough to tell the truth. That’s the hardest part. Now it’s my turn to protect you.”

Liam exhales—shaky, but steadier than before. “Thank you.”

You pat his shoulder as you stand. “You’re not a failed project, Lawson. You’re just still building.”

As you walk out, he stays on the sofa, water bottle untouched but grip a little looser. Breathing just a bit easier. And you? You’ve already got a plan.

—

The windows are open, letting in the sea breeze. The race is long over, the debriefs are done, and now it’s just the two of you. You’re barefoot, curled into one end of the couch in an oversized hoodie and joggers, your laptop open but untouched on the coffee table. Your phone buzzes every few minutes—press speculation, internal questions, messages waiting for your final decision. And across from you, nestled into your throw blanket with her legs tucked up and hair still damp from the shower, is Geri.

She’s flipping through a book absently, her attention mostly on you. She hasn’t said anything yet, but you can feel her watching you in that way she always has—the kind that notices every twitch in your jaw, every pause too long.

You exhale and close the laptop with a soft snap.

“I’m making the right call,” you murmur, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself.

She sets the book down. “But?”

“But I hate it.”

She shifts, settling closer, her eyes on yours. “Talk to me.”

You drag your fingers through your hair. “I met with Liam this morning. He finally admitted how much the seat is weighing on him. The pressure. The noise. The fact that he was thrown into a world-class team with no real build-up.”

Geri stays quiet, letting you speak.

“And he needs space. Less pressure. A season to grow instead of survive. And I have the power to give that to him,” you say. “So I’m making the switch.”

You hesitate.

“I’m moving Isack Hadjar into the Red Bull seat.”

Geri blinks, eyebrows raising just slightly. “That’s big.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’ve been watching him for months. He’s ready. Hungry. A bit raw, but… fearless.”

She smiles gently. “Reminds you of someone?”

You snort. “Max. Me on a good day.”

A pause.

Then you admit, quieter, “It’s the right call. It’s what’s best for both of them. Liam needs to find his footing again without the pressure of being Max Verstappen’s teammate. And Isack? He’ll either rise or he won’t—but he deserves the shot.”

Geri scoots closer, rests her chin on your shoulder. “So why do you look like you just put your heart through a blender?”

You rest your cheek against hers, eyes closing. “Because I care about both of them. I raised half this grid, remember? They’re not numbers to me. Not stats or PR strategies. They’re mine. And I hate that helping one of them feels like I’m sacrificing the other.”

She shifts so she can see your face. “You’re not sacrificing anyone. You’re just choosing growth over comfort. For both of them.”

You blink. “You sound like a therapist.”

She grins. “No, I just love you.”

That short-circuits your brain for a second. She says it so simply. So naturally. Like it’s always been true. You look at her, heart thudding.

“You do?” you whisper.

“I think I always have,” she says. “Even when we were younger. Even when I was someone else’s.”

You lean in. You can’t not.

She meets you halfway—soft and slow, a kiss that hums beneath your skin and makes everything loud inside you go still.

When you part, she touches your face.

“You lead with your heart, YN,” she says. “That’s your greatest strength. That’s what makes you you.”

You bury your face in her shoulder. “I’m just scared I’m doing it wrong.”

She wraps her arms around you. “Then do it scared. But don’t do it alone.”

The world outside continues to spin. The media will scream tomorrow. The drivers will speculate. The season will march on.

But in this moment, on a couch that smells like lavender and sea salt and safety, you exhale for the first time all day.

You’ll make the call in the morning. And you won’t second guess it. Because she’s right. You don’t lead like Christian. You lead like you. And it’s the right kind of hard.

—

The door clicks softly behind you as Isack enters your office. He’s trying to play it cool — straight back, hands loosely at his sides, neutral expression — but you can see the way his shoulders twitch ever so slightly. The subtle bounce in his step. The barely restrained hope. He’s nervous. You can tell he thinks he’s in trouble. Or about to get some cryptic “keep working hard” talk. You decide to cut the suspense.

You gesture for him to sit. “Close the door, Hadjar.”

He does, carefully. Then he sits, suddenly looking a lot smaller in the leather seat across from your desk. His hands fidget with the hem of his hoodie, the same one he’s had since his F2 days. You remember it well — he wore it the day he crashed out in Hungary and still showed up to help the engineers pack down.

You offer a smile. “You can relax, you’re not in trouble.”

“…Okay,” he says cautiously. “That’s… good.”

You lean back in your chair, watching him.

“You ever dream about driving the Red Bull car?” you ask.

His eyes widen. “I mean… obviously.”

You nod. “How long?”

He swallows. “Since I was twelve.”

“And how long have you thought that dream might never happen?”

That startles him.

He hesitates. “If I’m being honest?”

“Always,” you say, already knowing.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted it. But it always felt like it was going to go to someone else first. Someone safer. Someone… more molded.”

You study him a beat longer. “Do you feel ready?”

His gaze flickers. Then steadies. “Yes.”

You raise a brow. “You sure?”

“I’m nervous,” he admits. “But not about driving. Just about being given something that big. I’ve worked my ass off to prove I’m not just another young talent, you know? I didn’t want the seat handed to me just because they ran out of options.”

You lean forward, resting your arms on the desk. “That’s not what’s happening here, Isack.”

He looks at you then — really looks. Quiet, hopeful, reverent.

“I believe that,” he says softly. “Because it’s you saying it.”

Your breath catches.

“I think if this came from Christian, I’d be more scared than excited,” he adds. “I used to think I had to become whatever they needed me to be — a PR robot, a mini Max, a number two. But with you in charge, it doesn’t feel like I’m being shoved into a mold. It feels like… an opportunity.”

You exhale slowly. “That’s what I’m trying to give you.”

He leans forward slightly, eyes bright. “Are you really offering me the seat?”

You slide the contract folder across the desk to him. Isack doesn’t move at first. Just stares at it like it might disappear.

Then he reaches for it—hands shaking, a small laugh escaping him. “This is real?”

You nod. “As real as it gets.”

He flips through the first few pages like he’s trying not to cry. You give him the space. The silence stretches between you, warm and quiet and full of weight. After a few minutes, he closes it gently, placing his hand on the cover.

“I won’t let you down.”

“I’m not worried,” you say.

“I mean it.”

You nod. “I know you do.”

He laughs softly. “I’ve never wanted anything more than this. Not just because it’s Red Bull, but because I get to do it with you running the team. You were my hero growing up. I had the little helmet keychain.”

You blink. “God. I feel old.”

He grins. “You should. You were a beast.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

Then your voice softens. “This isn’t going to be easy, Isack. The pressure, the spotlight, the way every mistake will be headline material.”

“I know.”

“You’ll be compared to Max. To Liam. To every young driver that’s ever come through this team.”

“I can take it,” he says. “I can grow into it.”

You smile — truly, deeply.

“Good. Because I don’t want another Max Verstappen. I want Isack Hadjar.”

His eyes go glassy. He blinks fast.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

He laughs, hands in his hair. “Yes. God, yes. A million times yes.”

You stand and extend your hand across the desk. He rises, clutching the contract to his chest like it’s sacred, and shakes your hand with both of his. And just before he turns to leave, he stops at the door.

“Can I… hug you?”

You smile. “Yeah, rookie. You can.”

He walks back, wraps his arms around you tightly, like he’s holding onto the moment itself.

You pat his back gently. “Welcome to Red Bull, Hadjar.”

—

(yes i used your fic to fill my desire for isack to have the redbull seat. under yn's leadership there would be absolutely NO second driver death.)

f1

liked by isackhadjar, yn_ln, liamlawson30 and 13,007,018 others.

f1 : Red Bull Racing have confirmed that Isack Hadjar will step into the senior team’s second seat for the remainder of the 2025 season, while Liam Lawson will return to Racing Bulls to continue his development. Hadjar, who’s impressed throughout the first half of the season, called the promotion “the opportunity of a lifetime” and credited Red Bull’s new team principal YN LN for “believing in me not just as a driver, but as a person.” Lawson praised the decision with maturity and grace, saying, “YN didn’t just make a team decision — she made a driver first decision. Taking a step back now is the best thing for my career long term, and I’m grateful to be working with someone who sees that bigger picture.”

—

several weeks later...

f1gossipgirls

4,110,009 likes

f1gossipgirls : It’s official — Geri Halliwell and Christian Horner have announced their divorce, following months of speculation after that investigation rocked Red Bull earlier this season. While Geri’s been noticeably distant from her usual paddock appearances, there’s one person she’s continued to be seen with-Red Bull’s new team principal, YN LN. The former F1 legend has been spotted with Geri at multiple races, with whispers of private dinners and very familiar energy between them. Under YN’s leadership, Red Bull has done a full 180. The recent driver swap—promoting Isack Hadjar and moving Liam Lawson back to Racing Bulls—has paid off fast. Both drivers are thriving, Max is happier than ever, and the team looks unstoppable. Christian may be out, but Geri’s glowing, and Red Bull? They’re firmly in their ✨ slay era ✨.

—

view 710,000 other comments.

username000 : yn really said...i'll take your team and your wife. thanks

username00 : red bull went from scandal to serve in 3.5 months. iconic behavior.

username0 : i want a soft powerful woman to believe in me like yn believed in liam and isack 🥲

username1 : this has got me GAGGED. christian really lost everything to a woman he once bad mouthed in the press.

username5 : liam getting a break and support?? from management??? real driver development???

username7 : how did this become a sapphic power couple origin story i was NOT emotionally prepared

username10 : i was nervous about hadjar but yn could tell me to drive the car backwards off a cliff and i’d do it

username11 : max called her 'a second mother' last week and now she’s soft launching his second mother in law i CANNOT

—

You're deep in your headset, mid way through a strategy meeting, fingers flying across your tablet as you bark out setup changes like the world depends on it. Because, frankly, it does. Constructors’ is on the line. Max is on pole. Isack’s been driving like a man on fire. And the entire Red Bull garage is humming like a finely tuned machine under your command. Everything is calm. Controlled. Precise. Until you hear a voice you haven’t heard in years — at least not in person.

“So this is what world domination looks like up close.”

You freeze.

Because you know that voice.

You turn around and promptly get tackled into a bear hug that smells like expensive cologne, sunscreen, and vintage Red Bull podium champagne.

“DANIEL?!” you gasp, genuinely winded.

Daniel Ricciardo just grins, arms still wrapped around you like a human koala. “Heard the goat was doing final race boss moves. Thought I’d drop in.”

“Drop in,” you repeat, half laughing, half scolding. “You’re not on the guest list, are you?”

“Nope,” he says proudly. “They are all scared of you. Nobody stopped me.”

Before you can respond, two more shadows step in behind him, and your brain just short circuits.

“Button. Webber. Oh my god.”

Jenson is already holding up a Red Bull hat like it’s a peace offering. “We figured you might be a little busy saving F1. Thought we’d swing by and make it worse.”

Mark just shrugs like this is normal. “And someone has to supervise Ricciardo.”

You look between them all — three of your closest friends, former rivals, pitlane idiots, and brothers in arms from a different era — standing there with the dumbest matching grins on their faces.

Daniel slings an arm around your shoulder. “You didn’t think we were gonna let you close out this insane comeback season without the old guard watching, right?”

Your throat tightens. You blink a little too fast. “I’m literally going to cry.”

“Please do,” Jenson teases. “I brought tissues.”

“I genuinely hate all of you,” you mumble, already pulling them into another group hug.

Mechanics stop. Engineers stare. Max is openly filming from the corner with a smug smile. Isack is whispering to himself in disbelief that all these racing legends are in one room.

Fifteen minutes later, chaos is in full swing. Daniel has already gotten his hands on a spare Red Bull headset and is absolutely pretending to run strategy. Mark is sitting on your pit wall stool, muttering about how “it’s not as comfy as 2012,” while sipping espresso. Jenson has somehow stolen one of Isack’s balaclavas and is stretching it over his head while asking, “Be honest, if I shaved, could I pass as 23?”

You're red in the face from laughing. The team is trying to get work done, but morale has never been higher. Then comes the real moment. You’re back in your seat, headset on, trying to finalize last-minute details, when Mark leans down and says — quietly, sincerely.

“Hey. Before the lights go out… we’re proud of you.”

You pause.

Daniel adds, “You made this team your own. Fixed what was broken. Took care of the drivers. And didn’t lose yourself in the process.”

Jenson finishes, “You didn’t just return — you redefined what a principal can be.”

You can’t look at them. You’ll actually cry.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, swiping your eyes. “Couldn’t you have saved this until after I win the damn race?”

Mark chuckles. “Nah. Wanted to make sure you knew you already did.”

—

The moment Max crosses the line, your headset explodes.

“WORLD CHAMPION, BABY!” someone screams — you think it’s an engineer, or maybe Mark— but you can barely hear it over the thunder in your ears. Your hand’s shaking on the console. You can’t breathe.

“That’s five! FIVE!” Max is shouting over the radio, and you can practically hear his smile. “That one was for you, boss. For all of it.”

You drop your head into your hands, just for a second, before yanking the headset off and running straight to the pit wall. Max barrels into your arms, helmet still on, hugging you like he’s 17 again. “I told you we’d do it,” he says, voice muffled. “I told you.”

“Of course you did,” you say, laughing through the tears. “I never doubted you for a second.”

And then—

“P3! P3 for Isack Hadjar!” someone yells, and the screams go up again.

Isack is still in the car when you reach parc fermé, but when he sees you, he yells, “YOU ACTUALLY DID IT. YOU MANIAC. YOU WERE RIGHT.”

You point at him, grinning. “Did I or did I not say you’d thrive?”

He practically vaults the barrier. “You told me I could do it. And I FUCKING DID IT!”

The photographers are already flashing. Max and Isack grab your arms and, without warning, hoist you up on their shoulders, laughing like you’ve all just stolen time itself.

“Who runs the paddock?!” Max shouts to the crowd.

“SHE DOES!” Isack screams.

Fans are roaring. The garage is on fire with celebration. Someone — probably Daniel — is crying into a champagne bottle and hugging Liam. Mark’s trying to wave a Red Bull flag that’s way too large. Jenson is clapping like he’s at the Royal Opera.

And in the chaos, you catch sight of her. Geri.

Standing near the back of the garage, in a simple white dress, Red Bull jacket wrapped around her waist, lips parted in awe as she watches the three of you — her eyes only ever on you.

Your chest seizes. You slide down off the boys’ shoulders, heart still racing, and before your brain can catch up, you walk straight to her. The crowd parts. The world quiets.

She steps forward. And you don’t say a word. You just kiss her. Right there. On the pit wall. Post title. Post glory. You kiss her like the entire world isn’t watching.

And when you finally pull back, you hear someone– definitely Yuki scream, “HARD LAUNCHHHHHH.”

Geri just smiles like the sun was made for this exact moment. You take her hand.

Max is already back on the podium, Isack has one arm around Liam and the other pointing straight at you like, “THAT’S OUR TEAM PRINCIPAL,” and someone’s pouring champagne over your head. And as the anthem plays, as the trophy is raised, as the fireworks go off above the Marina, you know — this is it. Not just a comeback. Not just a win. But a new era.

Built by you. Loved by them. And finally, finally—Fully yours.

—

The door closes behind you both with a soft click — shutting out the roar of the celebrations, the flashing cameras, the endless noise of the paddock. Here, in the dim glow of your apartment, the world feels miles away. Geri slips off her heels, and you catch the faint scent of jasmine and sea salt that’s become her signature.

You pull her close, fingers threading into her hair as she rests her forehead against yours. Neither of you needs to say anything — the silence between you holds more meaning than any words could. The adrenaline from the race is still humming beneath your skin, but here, wrapped in each other’s arms, it begins to soften. Your breath slows to match hers.

“You were incredible today,” Geri murmurs, her voice low and reverent. “I don’t think anyone knows how much you carried—not just the team, but all of us.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I had a lot of help.”

Her hands trace small circles along your back. “Still… I’m proud of you. Proud to be here. Proud to be with you.”

You tilt your head up and kiss her slowly — gentle, full of everything you’ve held back for months. It’s a kiss that promises no more hiding. No more running.

She smiles against your lips, breath warm and steady. “We should celebrate,” she whispers. “Just us.”

You take her hand and lead her to the kitchen, where a bottle of champagne you’d stashed earlier waits, forgotten until now.

Glasses clink softly as you pour, and you settle together on the couch, legs tangled, feet bare against the soft rug.

The city lights shimmer through the windows, but the real light is here — in the way she looks at you, in the way your hands never stop finding each other.

Hours pass unnoticed.

You talk about the race, the future, silly moments you’ve shared. She laughs at your stories, and you trace lazy patterns on her skin.

When she curls into your side, sighing softly, you realize this is the victory that matters most. Not the trophies.  Not the titles. Not the glory. But the quiet certainty of being home —With her.

-

[redwinelewis]

LIKE A MERCEDES | LH44

type social media au

pairing lewis hamilton x chinese!reader

face claim lexie liu

song like a mercedes by lexie liu

summary in which lewis' singer girlfriend is part of the f1 the movie soundtrack

warnings none i think idk

author's note super short one bcs i've been wanting to write a smau with this song and lewis ❤️

english is not my first language. all pictures taken from instagram, pinterest and twitter. credit to owners.

masterlist

INSTAGRAM!

f1 and 5 others

liked by lewishamilton, roses_are_rosie and 1,836,938 others

f1 Here's the lineup for F1: The Movie soundtrack with a special track from two more mysterious acts 🏎️ Available June 27.

#F1 #F1TheAlbum

view all 2,728 comments

user TATE????

user user ln4 x t8 agenda continues to spread we love to see it

user DOJA?? ROSÉ???? TATE???????

user who are these people

user the way i only recognize like 2 of these singers

user MADISON BEER OMFG

user wait mysterious acts?

user LEWIS LIKED

user user everyday i manifest for an xnda comeback

user i wonder if lewis produces the soundtrack as well

user user dear god pls

yourinstagram

📍 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

liked by dprian, kikagomes and 3,836,899 others

yourinstagram do me, you don’t have to do me properly

view all 4,726 comments

user RARE LEWIS SIGHTING ON Y/N'S POST

user okay freaky

user HIS BACK 🫦

yourinstagram user behave

user y/n feed your children we're starving for a new album

user i love how she brags about her bf

user user i mean it's sir lewis hamilton. i would do the same.

user user real

user third pic is so bf lewis coded

user THE DRESS OMFG

user sir lewis can u fight

flavy.barla that dress 😍😍

lewishamilton

📍 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

liked by charles_leclerc, francolapinto and 2,826,314 others

lewishamilton 與你一路飛馳緊握著方向盤

view all 1,026 comments

user ok what is up with the caption

user user a vacation in brazil and he wrote the caption in mandarin he's so random 😭😭

user user i mean his gf is chinese right

user can someone tell me what the caption means the translate button isn't working

user user "Feeling like going on a joyride with you through the night" something like that

user user .... is this a lyric?

yourinstagram not fair!!!! that's my favourite part!!!!

yourinstagram yourinstagram and i told you not to post the fourth pic lew!!!!

lewishamilton yourinstagram You used my favourite part as well. And I love that photo

user yourinstagram lewishamilton HELLO WHAT'S GOING ON??????

user yourinstagram lewishamilton are yall teasing us a new single with those captions? 🤨

yourinstagram user no (yes)

user yourinstagram AHSKSHSHSJSKSH WHAT

yourinstagram

liked by jacksonwang852g7, lilymhe and 2,733,927 others

yourinstagram but you already know what i'm about to say 👀 LIKE A MERCEDES, my new single from F1: The Movie soundtrack featuring the one and only xnda is out now 🏎️

i have always admired lewis, on and off track. he is as passionate about music as he is about racing and making this song with him has been such an amazing experience. i hope you all love this song as much as we had fun making it ❤️

view all 3,570 comments

user OH I FUCKING KNEW IT

user FEATURING LEWIS??????

user XNDA IS BACKKKKKK

user is this a dream can somebody pinch me rn

user a new xnda song in the year of our lord 2025

user user "thank you y/n" we all say in unison

user this is everything to me btw

user this song is gonna be the only good thing from that fuck ass film

georgerussell63 Hell yeah! Let's go! 🙌🏻🔥

yourinstagram georgerussell63 thank you george! ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux song of the year ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourinstagram alexandrasaintmleux i love you ❤️❤️

tatemcrae a bop

lewishamilton and xnda

liked by yourinstagram, f1 and 7,836,644 others

lewishamilton Say less

view all 6,836 comments

user KMS POSTPONED

user whoremilton is back

user user we cheer

user i'm still processing the lyrics

user user this feels like "pipe" all over again

user his gf is so lucky 💔

user user thank you

yourinstagram user 🤨🤨

user user my bad queen 🙏🏽

yourinstagram you're so fucking amazing

lewishamilton yourinstagram Right back at ya darling

user lewishamilton DARLING 💗🩷🌷🌸♥️❣️❤️💘💖💝💞💟

user lewishamilton oh to be called darling by lewis hamilton

user this is already the best song from that movie

redwinelewis producing the film about the sport he conquered AND creates a song for its soundtrack.... sir lewis hamilton everybody ✨

[aajjks]

Fan(cy) You (m)

synopsis. Meet your biggest fan a.k.a. your biggest nightmare.

pairing: idol yn x fan!jungkook

warnings. DÁRK CÓNTÈNT, psychótíc bèhàvíóúr, sàsàèng jk, yándèrè thèmès, nón cón kïssïng, dèvótïón, 18+ thèmès

note. Let’s welcome another JK. Also, this was my older fic. Written for Jimin. But I decided to publish this as a JK fic. It was called devotee before. I hope you all will like him!

•••

His heart could explode in his chest.

Actually, it might’ve already did. Jungkook took a deep breath as he tried again to calm himself down. Walking almost fast as he bumped into his fellow— no.

There was only one devotee of you. And that was Jeon Jungkook.

Your biggest fan. Your biggest supporter. Your only lover.

Oh! How heart was shaking in his chest. “Please welcome the fantastic Y/N L/N!!!” His heart stopped.

You— You walked in all your glory. He covered his mouth as his eyes widened at you. You were here!!! You were finally here.

You finally came for him. After such agonising wait... you were finally closer to him.

“Excuse me sir.. can you stop shaking?” His eyes averted to the random person sitting beside him. Jungkook simply rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, shitface.” He spoke in a cold tone. And looked ahead.

Where you sat. Just right infront of his eyes. A huge love dazed smile started creeping up on his doll like features.

God you are so ethereal.

Were you real? His breath hitches in his throat the more he stared at your face.

His computer couldn’t/never ever did justice to your actual beauty.

He was going to sue the computer company.

It wasn’t really the first time that he was seeing you, oh no. He saw you a long time ago. When you had just debuted as a lead singer of the group.

He knew you the longest, and the most.

Actually more than your own self. Your favourite colour, your every single group EP. Your singles. Your group comebacks, your favourite drinks, your favourite chocolate brand, your favourite clothing, makeup brands. Your favourite bubblegum flavours, your favourite artists, the languages you could speak, your address, your house structure, your car. Your past relationships. Secret or not.

He bit his lip so hard that it started to bleed at the thought of your past relationships. The metallic taste on his tongue, the taste he was so familiar with.

...how could you date someone else? When he was there? How dare you. It was the most horrifying time of his life.

Crying day and night, not eating, tearing everything apart.

Trying to hate you.

But he couldn’t. He could never bring himself to hate you.

“Umm. You know, it’s your turn now...” the weirdo from before spoke again. But this time Jungkook smiled brightly. “Y-Yes!” He quickly stood up and fixed his outfit.

It was his turn now!!! He walked with excitement. HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR SO LONG.

Admiring you from afar was pure torture.

“Hello mr!” You smiled sweetly. Your eye smile making his heart do so many flips.

God he could kiss you right now!

He really could...

“H-Hi” He meekly replied... getting lost in your beauty. As you signaled to sign his album. His gaze never left your lips.

“I-I love you!!! I love you so much.” He confessed suddenly as you giggled while signing his album. “ aw really? I’m so happy that you do. I love you too.” You replied sweetly.

“What’s your name mr?” You looked up at him. Waiting for his response but he just went silent. he looks weirdly fit, familiar… those tattoos.

You asked again, to the tattooed man, sweetly patiently. when he didn’t reply, just waited for a few moments and that’s when you started noticing his features.

He’s pretty attractive

However, your trail of thoughts was cut short when he grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

Gasps were heard as your eyes widened in shock, your brain taking in the situation as he moaned in your mouth. His hands grabbed your face tightly.

You tried to push him away, the security tried too but he didn’t budge.

His dark hair was all you could see, when you felt his tongue licking your lips. “Mphm!!!” You tried to push him away but again... no use.

He kissed you like starved man. And after what felt like eternity he finally pulled away.

You stared at him in shook, while he just licked the lipgloss from his lips. “I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He finally introduced himself.

And your heart stopped. “W-What?!” You stuttered as flashbacks hit you. He just smirked in response.

“You can’t be!” You exclaimed again. “Y-You’re that Sasaeng?!!” You shivered in fear.

Jungkook just giggled. The infamous Y/N L/N’s crazy fan. No. Crazy was an underestimate. He was sickly, dangerously obsessed.

The only one who could do anything for you. “The one and only, my love.”