#I’m trying not to look at their instagram and wonder like am I going to the wrong artist ? do they have the style I really want ?

[earthpit]

does anyone have any advice for tattoo nerves

[pucksandpower]

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

[theyluvkarolina]

౨ৎ FOOLISH ONE ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Love sucks. Men suck. Even worse? Your “date” stood up up. To cheer you up, your friend invites you to a F1 race to cheer on her boyfriend and meet some new people. Not your thing. But a new face gives you hope.

PAIRING ౨ৎ Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ men sucking ass and being assholes (lando not included), spelling mistakes

A/N ౨ৎ i’ve been holding back this fic longer than i should have 🥴 enjoy!!

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n has posted 3 new stories!

201 people replied to your stories!

user1 DONT TELL ME WHAT I THINK HAPPENED HAPPENED :((

user2 all she wants is love bro 😞

user3 being stood up for the 3rd time is so tough. i’m so sorry lovely ❤️‍🩹

lilyzneimer my baby :(( text the gc if you want to talk 🩷

→ y/n_l/n i will in a bit i just need to recollect myself 🥹

oscarpiastri who needs to be run over. name and address.

→ y/n_l/n oscahhhh 😭😭

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n

📍 Sunshine State

y/n_l/n going on a trip 🌺🌴☀️🐬

1,498 comments

user1 i hope you have a wonderful trip especially after what happened :(

user2 girl you deserve this trip after the cheating ex-bf and 3 ghosters

user3 I NEED TO KNOW WHERE TO 😩😩

→ y/n_l/n that’s a secret 🤫

user4 you deserve this so much. men suck ass

→ y/n_l/n MEN SUCK ASS 🗣️ 🔥 !!!

oscarpiastri something tells me i’m going to regret this

→ user5 WHAT DO YOU KNOW OSCAR

→ user6 i’m telling you guys it’s a gp

→ user7 gp??? you guys know she hates them and she said it plenty times before 😭😭

→ user8 you never know.. 😋

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri has posted a story 12 minutes ago!

562 people replied to your stories!

user8 HELLO DID YOU AND LILY LOSE Y/N??? 😭😭

user9 STOP NO WONDER SHE LOOKED SO LOST IN OTHER PEOPLE’S TWEETS😭

lilyzneimer oscar, y/n is actually going to kill us. why did she even leave the garage?!

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ she needed to use the bathroom but i sorta forgot her directions aren’t… the best. → lilyzneimer she’s never coming back to a gp ever again. → oscarpiastri ✔︎ yeah. i wouldn’t be surprised.

landonorris ✔︎ i think i have who you’re looking for..

y/n_l/n OSCAR JACK PIASTRI OPEN YOUR MESSAGES RN A GUY GAVE ME HIS NUMBER

oscarpiastri ✔︎ why am i scared…

IMESSAGES

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y/n_l/n and oscarpiastri have posted new stories!

738 people replied to your story! 849 people replied to your story!

user10 “who is this man” GIRL THATS LANDO NORRIS 💀💀

→ y/n_l/n lando who now

→ user10 your..? your best friends team mate..?

user11 NOT LANDO TRYING TO FLIRT WITH HER WHILE OSCAR IS TRYING TO FIND HER

user12 why do lando and y/n look like they got caught doing something they aren’t supposed to do 😭

user13 the lando y/n meeting wasn’t expected but now? it’s a need.

TWITTER

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landonorris ✔︎

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

5,493 comments

user14 HE DID IT!!

→ user15 IT TOOK A COUPLE YEARS BUT HE DID IT!!!

user16 sochi??? what’s sochi??? i only know miami!!

oscarpiastri ✔︎ well done man 👏👏👏

lewishamilton ✔︎ WELL DONE

y/n_l/n y’know… f1 races aren’t so bad

*♥️ by Author !!*

→ landonorris ✔︎ it’s better with you here. i mean, i did win the one race you’re here 😏

→ user17 lando making the moves??

→ user18 the second hand embarrassment because she didn’t reply back after that 😭😭

oscarpiastri ✔︎ @ landonorris making moves on one of my best friends??

→ landonorris ✔︎ why not?

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ but why

→ landonorris ✔︎ why not

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ but why tho 😐

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n

📍 Italia

y/n_l/n he said whoever loses pays.

tagged ; landonorris

1,250 comments

user19 LANDO-Y/N PT 2???

user20 is she there for emilia-romangna???

→ user21 I THINK SO

→ user22 the way they are fueling my delusion

user23 why are the cute together 🥴

→ user24 they can literally just be friends

→ user25 yeah and friends play chess and explore italy which is a romantic destination 💀

oscarpiastri ✔︎ sooo… did he win?

→ y/n_l/n are you kidding me? i wiped the floor with him

landonorris ✔︎ $100 down the drain 😐

→ y/n_l/n down the drain? more like down into my stomach

→ landonorris ✔︎ yeah yeah 😒

→ y/n_l/n ✔︎ don’t get pissy with me YOU are the one that insisted on going there AND paying BEFORE the chess game 🤨

→ user26 STOP THAT’S CUTE :((

user27 y/n and lando hanging out even though she hates grand prixs? this was not on my 2024 bingo card

→ user28 it def wasn’t but lord do they look good together

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

landonorris ✔︎

landonorris fun days 🌊

1,690 comments

user29 HELLO THE SECOND PHOTO???

→ user33 mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy-

user30 IT SO OBVIOUSLY HER

→ user31 her?? who’s her??

→ user32 y/n!! she’s oscar and lily’s friend and hanged out with lando not too long ago actually

→ user31 oh. but how do we know it’s her???

carlossainz55 ✔︎ little lando norris isn’t so little anymore 😆 they grow up so fast 😭

→ landonorris ✔︎ haven’t been little for the past 8 years…

→ carlossainz55 ✔︎ i don’t know the texts send say otherwise

oscarpiastri ✔︎ huh. interesting.

→ landonorris ✔︎ …😰

oscarpiastri ✔︎ @ y/n_l/n you left me and lily for him? this guy?

→ user33 OSCAR CALLING HER OUT FOR LEAVING THEM???

→ user34 classic oscar fashion 💀

→ y/n_l/n he promised me that he had something worthwhile 😕

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ i did not need to know this.

→ y/n_l/n wdym???

→ y/n_l/n OMG OSCAR

→ y/n_l/n YOU LITTLE SHIT I DIDN:T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

→ y/n_l/n LANDO SAID HE HAD THE GOOD HÄAGEN-DAZS ICE CREAM :((

→ landonorris ✔︎ and it was some very good häagen-dazs ice cream 😏

→ y/n_l/n YOU’RE NOT HELPING LAN 😭😭

→ user35 LMAOAOOA

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

y/n_l/n

320 people replied to your story!

landonorris ✔︎ dare I say.. boyfriend material?

→ y/n_l/n husband actually ☝️☝️

→ landonorris ✔︎ updates already?? barely even a month in 🥴

→ y/n_l/n what can I say? You’re the one and when you know, you know 🩷

IMESSAGES

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

landonorris ✔︎

landonorris might have lost the race… but at least i’ve won first her heart :)) (ps: the only blonde that would separate us is if you dye yours blonde)

tagged ; y/n_l/n

3,018 comments

user36 THE CAPTION 😭😭

user37 AFTER THE DRAMA??

user38 bro said “lemme make a statement” after the accusations 😭

user39 everyone assumed so quickly as if it wasn’t obvious y/n and lando were dating

user40 i was expecting this but wasn’t at the same time

y/n_l/n ✔︎ yeah maybe second place

→ landonorris ✔︎ can i not be loving and romantic?? 😞😞

→ y/n_l/n ✔︎ just joking love you my mystical gnome 🩷

→ landonorris ✔︎ MYSTICAL GNOME???

→ user41 HELLO THATS SO RANDOM

oscarpiastri ✔︎ break her heart, and i’ll run you off the track

→ landonorris ✔︎ yes sir. won’t happen sir.

y/n_l/n

y/n_l/n i think i could get used to this sorta love. 🩷

tagged ; landonorris

3.959 comments

francisca.cgomes cutie(s)

→ y/n_l/n no u 🤭

→ landonorris ✔︎ it hasn’t even been a month and you already took my girl??

→ francisca.cgomes ✔︎ you snooze you lose 🤷‍♀️

user42 THEY BOTH DID IT!!

user43 CONFIRMED I REPEAT Y/N-LANDO IS CONFIRMED!!

user44 ITS HAPPENING GUYS Y/N FINALLY GOT A BF!!

lilyzneimer thank me everyone!! im the one that convinced her to go to the grand prix!!

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ thank you lily!! (i don’t get to hear y/n’s heart breaking because of idiots)

→ user45 thank you lily!! (we all say in unison.)

user46 all it took was one miami win and one text message to convince y/n.

→ user47 booking my own miami ticket after this 👩‍💻

oscarpiastri ✔︎ okay… maybe you guys are just a bit cute

landonorris ✔︎ who’s that pretty girl and handsome man in the photos?? 🤔

→ y/n_l/n hmmm… i heard their names are y/n and lando the best couple to ever??? even though her boyfriend is a little stupid at times she still loves him 🩷

→ landonorris ✔︎ loooovveee youuuuuu

→ landonorris ✔︎ but seriously. i love you so much and i’ll never take you for granted or do any of the nasty crap you went through. you deserve the world my love ❤️

→ y/n_l/n what if i cried.

→ landonorris ✔︎ then i’ll wipe your tears.

→ oscarpiastri ✔︎ aw. (im hurling)

[rememberwren]

Skin Deep

Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.

Sequel here.

-

“I bit the bullet!” you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friend’s ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.

“You bit what?” she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep. 

“The bullet,” you laugh. “I called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!” 

She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. She’d been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped you—encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to ‘make more mistakes’, to live life more fully. Now she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head and it’s the one doing the talking. 

“What guy I recommended?” she asks. 

“Kevin!”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?” 

You frown. “You said you went to Kevin.” 

“It wasn’t a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! He’s a creep; there’s a reason why I never went back.” 

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. It’s not just the tattoo. It’s the icing on a shitcake of a day. 

A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life. 

“You conveniently left that out. Ugh. I’ll cancel it. What am I even fucking doing—thank you—” you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. “—none of this is like me.” 

Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. “You were the one who said you’d always wanted a tattoo. You’re an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions you’re old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and he’s highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?” 

“Alright,” you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesn’t work out with this next tattoo artist, then you won’t be getting one at all. You’ll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all. 

-

What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it. 

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to people’s disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isn’t until you’ve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m free Wednesdays for consultations,” says a baritone voice from the other end of the line. 

Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. “I work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?” 

He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him. 

“Name a time. I’ll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,” he says. 

Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isn’t trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that you’ve already made an impression so foul that it’s incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted? 

“Alright,” you answer cautiously. “How’s five?” 

“Five. Don’t be late.” 

He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.

-

You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itself—a tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagram—is locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesn’t help. How are you supposed to get in? 

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy. 

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost. 

Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting. 

Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize. 

“I have a consultation,” you blurt out. “At…five?”

He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. He’s so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.

“Sit,” he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip—of tea, judging by the smell. “Name?”

You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek. 

“The water is for you,” he says. 

“Oh!” You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. “Thank you.”

“This is your first tattoo.” 

“What gave me away?” you ask with a weak laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.” 

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.” 

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as you’re comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.

 He asks what you want and God, that’s a harder question. 

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silence—pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair. 

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing. 

He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and you’re just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book. 

“I think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and we’ll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?” 

“I mean, it hurts?” you offer. 

He stares. “Two sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.” 

You think that maybe he’ll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you can’t help but watch him. 

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again. 

“Here.” 

You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didn’t make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean. 

His thoughtfulness touches you. 

“I love it. I want it,” you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you. 

“This is just a first sketch,” he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. “I’ll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?” 

“Yes,” you say, nearly buzzing. “I really want to book.”

He’s expensive—but judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, he’s got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldn’t bore him to death. 

“Thanks again for meeting with me,” you say as he sees you out. “I’ll be waiting for your text.” 

“You’ll get it.” He glances past you out the window. It’s dark. “Did you walk?” 

“No, my car is just there.”

“I’ll wait.” 

And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears. 

-

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend. 

GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks. 

You chew over this information. Yes he’d been wearing a mask, but he’d lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?  

Masks are cute, you say. 

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

You’re terrible. 

You’re…thinking about it. 

-

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST. 

The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness. 

I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think that’s the one. 

Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate.  

And fuck, you didn’t even think of that. 

-

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another. 

“You are,” your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. “Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.” 

The look you give her is the one the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was modeled after, surely. She doesn’t even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. You’ve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed. 

“Be glad you’re not going to creepy Kevin anymore,” your friend says.

“Very glad of it.” 

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions. 

“You should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. He’s been doing this for years. I’m sure he’s seen it all,” she says—the first good idea she’s had all night, miles ahead of ‘Just let Ghost see your cute tits’. 

That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you aren’t overstepping some weird artist-client boundary. 

I’m a little nervous.

You can cancel, is all he says. I’ll refund your money.

It’s not that. 

What is it? 

Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true. 

But all he said back was: how can I help?  

I don’t know, you admit. Then; sorry. I’m probably bothering you with this while you’re working. 

I’m not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you aren’t going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. I’ll let my piercer know I’m with a client and not to walk in. I’ll keep you covered every moment I can. Better? 

Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better. 

-

You bring the pasties anyway. 

-

The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase ‘knees knocking together’, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghost’s hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass. 

When it does, he’s like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in place—typical for him, if your friend’s words are to be trusted—but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs. 

You’re horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friend’s words echo in your mind—fuck the tattoo artist, maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

“Hi,” you squeak. 

Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.

“I’m still nervous,” you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesn’t. 

“That’s normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if it’s still what you want.”

It’s exactly what you want, and more. 

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented.” 

He huffs a little, like you shouldn’t have said such a thing. 

The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once he’s gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years. 

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

“Ready?” he asks at length. 

You nod, hoping your nerves don’t show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt you’re wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. He’s not watching a strip tease, he’s looking at a canvas. 

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you. 

“Am I hairy?” you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way. 

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

“I’m just teasing you.” 

“Didn’t think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,” he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. “You’re nervous, I mean.” 

“Would you take the mask off?” you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face. 

“No,” he says. He adds: “Sorry. It’s more sanitary f’you if I keep it on.” 

You get the feeling that he really is sorry—and that’s well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax. 

After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. It’s sexy. You’ve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than you’d ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadn’t expected. You feel so…badass. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.

But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt. 

“Thank you,” you say softly. 

He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. “I’ll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.” 

“I’m not backing out.” 

He clicks his tongue as if to say, It’s your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line. 

It burns more than you expected it to. There’s a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a cat’s tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact…a strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Good,” you squeak. 

You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.

“Let me know when you need to break.” 

You don’t know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs. 

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it. 

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, offering him an out.

“No,” he says. “I make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.”

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up. 

“Good for more?”

And so it repeats. 

At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. It’s too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through. 

His thumb gently strokes your sternum. 

“It’s rough. You can take it,” he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. “Just keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast. 

“You can do it. Just a little longer for me, and we’ll break.”

“Hurts,” you breathe, flinching again. 

He hushes you, surprisingly tender. 

“This is the worst of it.” This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear.  

“Break. Ten minutes,” he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain. 

You call out: “Hey, wait—I’d rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.” 

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

You duck your head, feeling silly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He vanishes again. 

He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again. 

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail you’d give your life to follow). 

“I think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,” he mutters at length. 

“Eager to be done?” you wonder. 

He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply. 

So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently. 

“Go take a look. I’m going to cover it up.” 

It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.

“I love it,” you choke out. “Thank you.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asks. “For Instagram.” 

“Sure!” It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are covered—the very far edges—but you can’t deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way. 

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: “Let me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Don’t do anything stupid to it. Understand?” 

“I understand.”

“And if you have any questions—text me.” 

-

You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental ‘likes’). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable. 

-

Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you don’t text him like he asked you to. You call. 

Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much? 

The internet doesn’t help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.   

With shaking hands, you don’t even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring. 

He’s going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone else—except he doesn’t. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering. 

“Yes?” Ghost says into the phone, as if that’s a decent hello. 

“There’s something wrong with my tattoo!” you cry. 

“Wait—get out of my goddamn way.” There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. “Say it again. Now I can fucking hear you.”

“There’s. Something. Wrong,” you say through your teeth. “With my tattoo!”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s falling off, for one!”

He snorts. “That’s normal. That's why you called?” 

“It’s all swollen and hot. And it hurts.” 

Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Hurts how bad?”

“Worse than getting it.” 

“Fuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop in…twenty?” 

“Twenty minutes from now?” 

“From when else?” He hangs up. Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word goodbye. 

-

The night is cool. You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop. 

Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow. 

He’s dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your tits—or resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes. 

“Well. Sit. Show me.”

You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. “What, just flash you?”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before.” 

Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands. 

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation. 

“You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?”

“Fuck my lungs,” he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. “Can I?”

You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. “Any fever?” he asks. 

“Not that I’ve noticed.” 

“You feel warm, but I’ve felt warmer. I don’t think it’s infected. Have you tried icing it?”

“No,” you admit. 

“Ice will help. Just use something clean, for fuck’s sake.” As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. “Forget it.” 

“Forget what?” 

“Talking about it goes against forgetting it.”

You groan, tossing up your hands. “You’re impossible.” 

He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttons—you end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one. 

“Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “And I wasn’t doing much.”

“You were with friends,” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Who told you that?” 

“I saw it on your Instagram tonight.” 

“Nosey.” 

“I could buy you a drink sometime,” you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out?  “Make up for the ones I lost you tonight.” 

“Maybe.”

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt. 

“Would you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to be…positive?”

He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You don’t cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off. 

“Maybe you should look closer.” 

His eyes flicker up to yours. “Closer.”

Your mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Can’t get much closer than I am.” 

“You could—if you wanted to.” 

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

“Mhm.”

The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want this—and whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already you’re aching—have been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the street—but he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat. 

“Pretty little tits,” he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair. 

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.” 

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.” 

His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I—“ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. He’s so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattoo—and then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness. 

You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex. 

“Driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind. 

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” 

“Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing. 

He buries his face in your neck. “Good. I won’t last when I’ve got my cock in you. I’d like you to cum at least once before then.”

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips. 

“What else do you need?” he asks. 

“My—touch me—“ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly. 

Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“Fucking perfect.” You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. “Look at me. Look at me.” 

You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure. 

He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth. 

When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. It’s probably a good thing too. You aren’t sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.

Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh. 

Fingers enter your vision—your own—reaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. He’s so bloody tall, too…but he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola. 

“No,” he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. “You can play with it.”

You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite. 

“You’re so—“ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: “—hot.” 

He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You can’t help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. “You broken, or can you take more?” 

“I want more.”

“Want my cock?” 

You nod, feeling like a bobble head. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“I want your cock.”

His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artist’s hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps. 

He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. 

“No gods here,” he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art. 

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. “Practically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. They’ll know who touched you.” 

“Good,” you breathe. 

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right. 

He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to you—for inspection, you realize, though you’ve had so few one night stands (try zero) that you’ve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length. 

Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily. 

“Relax…there you go. Let me in,” he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretch—he’s thick everywhere goddamn it—but it’s a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure. 

“Ghost,” you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.

“I think you can take it,” he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. “But what do you think?” 

“Your cock—want it—please—“

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.” 

He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until you’re clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin. 

His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when you’re pinned beneath it. 

“Stay still,” he mutters into the juncture of your neck. “Stay still or I’ll cum and this is all over.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. “Have to move, ‘m so full—“

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. “Roll onto your side.” 

He gives you instruction but isn’t shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit. 

You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat. 

“Want you to cum again,” he says, stilling your movements so that you can’t fuck your self back against him. “Give me one more. Then it’s my turn.”

“Ghost—I can’t—“ you’ve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms. 

“If you can’t, then don’t,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit. 

You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you aren’t the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again. 

He hums behind you, a smug sound. 

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” 

“Ghost!”

He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead. 

He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you. 

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didn’t know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you. 

Sooner than you’d like—but he’d warned you, hadn’t he?—his thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. And again: “Fuck, fuck. You broken?” 

“Yes.” 

He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see. 

-

“Sorry about this,” he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. You’re still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Regretting it already?” 

“Yes,” he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: “Should have at least taken you to dinner first.” 

“Dinner?”

“You owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.” He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasn’t relaxed, he says: “I don’t regret the sex. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

He scoffs a little. 

“I mean it,” you insist. You touch your tattoo. “I wanted it…the day you did—this.” 

He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. “I was interested.” 

You laugh; you can’t help it. “Dinner, then? Or drinks?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Get dressed.”

[sunrizef1]

Austin Orange

Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: Daniel’s obsession with Austin goes even farther than just the city.

A/n: finished this at 1 am lmao

——————————————————————

yourusername

Austin, Texas 📍

liked by danielricciardo yourbsf and 12,762 others

yourusername hook’em 🐮🧡

load comments …

user1 I love her

user2 slayyy

user3 is she from Austin?

↳ user4 I think she’s from somewhere in east Texas, he family owns a ranch near Austin tho

user5 Daniel in the likes??? 😭

user6 Danny ric????

user7 you guys are late Danny’s been in this girls like for a loooong time

user8 😍

user9 r we gonna get farm content???

danielricciardo 😍

↳ user10 get outta here

↳ user8 I commented this too ur not special

↳ user2 a man…

danielricciardo

Austin, tx 📍

liked by landonorris Mclaren and 1,098,345 others

danielricciardo horns up 🤠

load comments …

landonoriss 🐮

user11 I <3 cowboy daniel

user12 Texas is my fav

user13 I recognize that hat shop…

user14 funniest thing is Daniel didn't even go to UT 😭

user15 this looks similar to a certain cow-girls post…

↳ user16 girl what

↳ user17 @/yourusername just posted and it was like these same pics

↳ user18 and Daniel even liked it lmao

↳ user19 not even trying to hide it lol

redbullracing 🐂

user20 does he understand college football???

user21 🐄🤠🧡

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo yourbsf and 38,422 others

yourusername god bless texas 🧡

load comments …

user22 where is heeeee

user23 the cow 🥹

user24 ranch content!

user25 I thought cowgirls were just in movies…

user26 liked by danielricciardo

user27 what’s the animals names?

↳ yourusername the cow is named Cheeto and the horse is named Billy <3

↳ user28 CHEETO?? 😭

danielricciardo 👋

↳ yourusername 👋

user29 YALL SEEING THIS?

user30 she responded!!!!

user31 so they’re in love now

user32 I wanna be a farm girlie 🥲

yourusername added to their story

yourbsf

↳ wonder who took that picture 🤔

yourusername

↳ 😒

danielricciardo added to their story

landonorris

↳ 👀 did you get a certain Texan to show you around???

danielricciardo

↳ mate.

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

danielricciardo

Liked by maxverstappen landonorris and 1,209,301 others

danielricciardo 🧡

load comments …

user33 sorry???

user34 🧑‍🦯 I do not see

user35 IS THAT Y/N????

user36 ewww

user37 CHEETO???

user38 no cuz you guys don’t get it, y/n had used the orange heart for forever and now Daniel is posting it after he finally got to meet her my heart can’t take it

landonorris 💋💋💋

↳ danielricciardo shut up

user39 that better be y/n or so help me god

user40 lando?? 😭

yourbsf 👀

liked by danielricciardo

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo landonorris and 112,332 others

yourusername she’s country

load comments …

user41 danielllll

user42 that’s Daniel if I’ve ever seen him

user43 billyyyyy

↳ user44 the true star

landonorris hey

↳ danielricciardo ???

user45 she’s so bae

user46 when she’s from Texas >

user47 I still don’t like her

↳ yourbsf girl stfu he won’t pick you

liked by yourusername

user48 liked by danielricciardo

user49 I’m in love with them both

user50 I don’t think that’s Daniel 🤷‍♀️

↳ user51 girl where else would Danny get a cow from

yourusername added to their story

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo yourbsf and 506,321 others

yourusername he’s new around here 🧡

load comments …

user52 oh god they’re like sickeningly sweet

user54 YEAHHHHH

user55 Daniel Ricciardo school of manifestation

user56 THIS IS WHAT WEVE BEEN WANTING

user57 couple of the year I fear

danielricciardo my lady 🧡

↳ yourusername my cowboy 🧡

↳ user58 AWWWWW

user59 sobbing

landonorris 🤠💋

liked by yourusername

user60 I’m in love with both of them

user61 fav couple

[cutielando]

when two world collide | c.l.

social media au

synopsis: in which a singer and a formula 1 find solace withing each other

my masterlist

liked by landonorris, selenagomez and 13,284,576 others

📍Las Vegas, Nevada

yourinsta thank you so much for last night, Vegas!! you were an incredible crowd and i can't thank you enough for supporting me always. Europe, here I come !!!!

view all 4,385,294 comments

user1 OMG MOTHEEEEEER 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

selenagomez forever proud of you !! 💖💖

yourinsta thank you, love !! ❤️

landonorris great job, bugger!! give me a call when you can so we can meet

yourinsta thanks hahaha i will 🫶🏻

landonorris try not to forget this time

yourinsta it was ONE time lando 🙄

landonorris doesn't matter

user2 not lando shading y/n 😭😭

user3 she's outdone herself with this tour fr

user4 MOTHER

arthur_leclerc you were awesome! ❤️

yourinsta thank you arthur !!!

yourmother so proud of you, sweetheart! ❤️❤️❤️

yourinsta i love you mom !!!!! ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc great concert ! liked by yourinsta

georgerussell63 you actually made it, proud of you nugget 😇

yourinsta thanks georgie 🥹🥹

user5 george calling y/n nugget >>>>>

charles_leclerc started following yourinsta 5:19 P.M.

yourinsta started following charles_leclerc 6:01 P.M.

liked by carlossains55, yourinsta and 3,284,469 others

📍Las Vegas, Nevada

charles_leclerc Very special weekend for us, good pace and in the end a very good result. Thank you Vegas, you were a gem. See you next week! ❤️

view all 283,591 comments

scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️

joris_trouche amazing weekend, well done mate🙏🏻🙏🏻

charles_leclerc thanks mate 🙏🏻

yourinsta congratulations !!! you were great !!❤️

charles_leclerc thank you !!!!!❤️🙏🏻

user1 um, Y/N IN CHARLES' COMMENTS? WHAT????

user2 Y/N, what are you doing here girl 🤔🤔🤔

leclerc_pascale je suis fier de toi, mon ange!! (i am proud of you, my angel) ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc je t'aime, maman ❤️

carlossainz55 congrats, hermano. we both know why you performed so well this weekend 😏😏

charles_leclerc yes mate, the car had good pace. thanks

carlossainz55 whatever you say, hermano

charles_leclerc i'm telling the truth

arthur_leclerc no, you're not

joris_trouche arthur and carlos are right, just saying

charles_leclerc i'm blocking all of you 🙄

user3 carlos and arthur exposing charles 🥲🥲

user4 there are rumors that Charles has a crush on Y/N and she attended the race in Vegas

user5 really?

user4 yes, apparently she couldn't make it originally but then her schedule changed and apparently she was there

user5 oooh i see, that would explain why Charles pushed so hard the entire race

instagram dms

charles_leclerc

hey y/n. hope i'm not bothering you or anything

yourinsta

hey charlie. not at all, what's up?

charles_leclerc

i had a really good time last weekend in Vegas, you're amazing. i was wondering if you'd consider going out with me this weekend? so we could get to know each other better?

yourinsta

of course ! can't wait :)

charles_leclerc

great!! i'll text you all the details soon

liked by yourbff, charles_leclerc and 9,284,581 others

📍Lusail International Circuit, Qatar

yourinsta i'm starting to think red suits me best. thank you for having me, ferrari!!! ❤️ tagged: scuderiaferrari

view all 2,381,573 comments

scuderiaferrari always a pleasure to have you in our garage !! ❤️

user1 i'm starting to smell a Ferrari romance here

carlossainz55 thank you for supporting us this weekend!

yourinsta of course !

charles_leclerc you might have been my good luck charm 🤔

yourinsta always 😏

user2 UM EXCUSE YOU???????????????????

arthur_leclerc i was wondering where all that pace came from 😆😆

charles_leclerc shut up

yourinsta happy to be of help

francisca.cgomes we need to hang out again!!!!!💖💖

yourinsta we doo!!!! ❤️

selenagomez red really does look good on you 😏😏

yourinsta i know 😮‍💨

user2 i’m really starting to smell a new relationship here

yourbff i’m actually jealous 😭😭

yourinsta i promise i’ll bring you with me next time🫶🏻

user3 we're just waiting for an official launch at this point

user4 i wanna be her

user5 i wanna be charles, tbh. she's so gorgeous 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

landonorris i'm very hurt by this, y/n

yourinsta i'm so sorry, i promise i'll be with you at the next race

landonorris papaya is a much cooler color than red

charles_leclerc not true mate

landonorris get out of here, leclerc

yourinsta boys, behave

landonorris yes ma'am

charles_leclerc yes y/n

user6 the comment thread >>>>>>>>>

liked by yourinsta, joris_trouche and 3,283,173 others

charles_leclerc feeling lucky lately

view all 482,174 comments

yourinsta i work wonders, i know 😏

charles_leclerc you do

user1 UM HELLO?????????

landonorris you're torturing the poor fans

charles_leclerc i don't know what you're talking about

landonorris you're like little kids

yourinsta shut up

joris_trouche you really aren't that good at this

charles_leclerc i'm trying, okay?

scuderiaferrari we love seeing it! ❤️ liked by yourinsta and charles_leclerc

user1 ferrari is loving it

user2 he seems happy, ngl

user3 this couple is everything, he seems genuinely happy to be around her and vice versa

user4 she deserved to be happy, i love them 😭😭😭😭

arthur_leclerc not suspicious at all

joris_trouche that's what i'm saying

charles_leclerc stop attacking me

carlossainz55 now we all know why you've been doing so well

charles_leclerc are you shading me?

carlossainz55 i don't even know what that means

user5 carlos is so confused help 😭😭

liked by leclerc_pascale, yourbff and 12,184,376 others

yourinsta in my lover girl era ❤️ tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 5,284,689 comments

charles_leclerc you make me the happiest i've ever been

yourinsta i love you ❤️

landonorris finally, keeping this a secret has been tough

yourinsta thank you lil lando

landonorris take that back

yourinsta i won't

user1 LANDO KNEW???????

user2 PARENTS 😭😭

user3 GIRL, really, the vroom vroom guy? 😭😭😭😭 liked by yourinsta

yourinsta what can i say, he makes my heart race

charles_leclerc damn right

user3 charles 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

arianagrande so happy for you, my love!!!!!

yourinsta i love you !!!

scuderiaferrari we can't wait to see you in the paddock, y/n! ❤️

yourinsta i can't wait either!! ❤️❤️

landonorris ...

mclaren ...

yourinsta ...sorry guys...

landonorris the betrayal 😭

selenagomez i'm so glad you're happy!!!!

yourinsta thank you, honey !!❤️

charles_leclerc thanks !

user4 CHARLES AND SELENA KNOW EACH OTHER NOW??????

user5 selena's one of y/n's best friends, doesn't really surprise me

user4 i know, but it just seems so unrealistic, like 2 worlds colliding

user6 seeing her this happy makes me want to cry😭😭😭😭😭

leclerc_pascale thank you for keeping my boy happy ❤️

yourinsta je t'aime, maman !!! ❤️❤️❤️

user7 y/n and charles' mom, i can't-😭😭😭😭

liked by yourinsta, arthur_leclerc and 4,912,482 others

📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

charles_leclerc tu es l'amour de ma vie ❤️ (you are the love of my life) tagged: yourinsta

view all 928,174 comments

yourinsta you're going to make me cry 😭😭😭

yourinsta i love you so so much, charlie❤️❤️❤️❤️

charles_leclerc i love you more ❤️❤️

arthur_leclerc simp

yourinsta don't make fun of my bf

user1 ooooh, protective y/n sticking up for her man

landonorris he stole you from me :(

charles_leclerc i did no such thing

landonorris yes you did, she never has time to hang out with me anymore because she's always with you

yourinsta i promise to hang out with you soon lando

landonorris lies

user2 seeing lando being sad because y/n doesn't hang out with him is so precious 🥹🥹 their friendship is everything

user3 imagine living the dream of being y/n's bestie

user2 i'd kill to be in his shoes

user4 mother is mothering as usual

leclerc_pascale je vous aimez! ❤️ (i love you two)

yourinsta nous t'aimons aussi, maman!! ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc ❤️

joris_trouche you're more annoying now than you were when you two were still private

yourinsta deal with it

charles_leclerc what she said

joris_trouche yourinsta i thought you were on my side?

yourinsta those days are long gone after you made fun of us

user5 she's literally so pretty and nice ❤️🥹🥹

user6 seeing them happy warms my heart 🥹

user7 did he seriously leave Charlotte for her? talk about a downgrade...

user6 excuse me? he's so much happier with Y/N now, it is not your business who he decides to date. plus, she's A GORGEOUS WORLD-RENOWNED SINGER and you're just a sorry excuse of a fan if you would rather bash his girlfriend than actually be happy for them

user5 THIS !!!

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[thedirtygridd]

THE DAY YOU BECAME LANDO’s TOY… 😈

WARNINGS - 18+, strong sexual content

Summary - Full of hot and sweaty Lando Norris….you’re just gonna want to read this one ;)

You received a notification From your phone, which was placed at the other side of the room at the time. You paced over to check who was messaging you, when you realised it was an Instagram direct message request from Lando Norris…You laughed to yourself. “What is lando doing trying to message me?” The f1 was in Singapore this weekend, and you were at the race a couple of hours ago, watching Lando himself celebrating on the podium…but now he was messaging you?

You wondered how he had found your Instagram, and why….as he didn’t even follow your account, nor had you ever met him personally.

You keenly opened the direct message and saw that it read “hey, you free?” He then added “could do with some company if ur around?” You could tell he was flirting with you, which was a huge shock at first. You couldn’t believe lando wanted you…more still, it seemed he wanted only one thing…

He was a couple of years younger than you, but you quite enjoyed the idea of having a slightly younger man…it turned you on. “don’t you have a girlfriend?” You responded. You were still wondering to yourself why he was messaging and where he had found your account. He was quick to reply. “I used to, not anymore. Free to play ;)” he added.

Soon after responding with that comment, he proceeded to liking a couple of your bikini pictures that you had posted on your account…“Now his intentions are clear” you thought to yourself while wondering what he might want to do to you…

“Are you not tired after the race?” You asked him. It was about midnight at this point.

“Meh I’m always up for meeting girls like u…but just a warning, I still haven’t showered after the race, unless u count a champagne shower…I’m a bit….sweaty” he replied

You bit your lip with anticipation. You had seen how sweaty he was after the race…he looked delicious. You wondered what he might taste like…

Before you could reply again he had sent another message saying he has organised a taxi to pick you up, and to be ready for it. You decided to go for it. You left your friends that you were with at the night club, and waited outside for the taxi to arrive.

When you arrived at the hotel he was staying at for the weekend. You went up to room 200, where he said he would be waiting. Knocked on the door, and waited. You were very nervous, but you hoped he would like the look of you in your tightly fit dress that you had chosen to wear, with black heels. You wanted to impress him. A few seconds later he opened the door, he stood there topless, and wet…you presumed still with sweat.

“hello, come in” he responded while sheepishly looking around to see if anyone had seen you enter. He closed the door behind you while inspecting your body up and down with his eyes. “Thanks for coming” he said You laughed nervously. You couldn’t believe what was happening. “You look fucking good” he added. “Why do you look so tired?” You added, before you even appreciated what he had said to you.

He did in fact look like he was panting, his topless chest had sweat dribbling down and his shoulders were glistening in the dim lights from the hotel room. “I’ve just been doing a mini wrist workout looking at some of your Instagram bikini pictures. ” he responded to your question, while giggling. “ oh and still a bit sweaty from F1 this evening, I still haven’t showered because I wanted to get back to my hotel” while saying this, he lifted up his arm to smell under his armpit briefly. “Yeah I am still a bit sweaty” he added. “But I’ll have a shower in a minute, because I was hoping to start another workout soon….” he bit his lip while his eyes wondered to your tanned legs and arse.

“You look even better than on your Instagram” he added. You blushed , you didn’t know what to say but returned the compliment back to him “you look good too, I quite like the sweaty look as well so don’t worry”“Haha!” He laughed “well I won’t worry about sweating All over you then” he joked…He moved over to a counter which had a small black outfit on top. He picked it up and passed it to you. “Put this on” he said. You took it in your hands, wondering what it was, when you realised. He had passed you a tiny lingerie outfit. “You want me to wear this?” You responded. He nodded and said he did. So you went into the bathroom and quickly changed. You looked at yourself in the mirror and thought how sexy you looked, you could see why he wanted you wearing it. When you walked back into the main room, Lando was sitting on the large leather sofa, he now had no clothes on and had his legs apart while he slowly touched his dick at the sight of you walking towards him.

The first thing you noticed was how large he was, you initially thought you didn’t know if you could take him…or at least all of him.Now that you were standing closer to him he was jerking his dick harder. “Turn around” he said “and bend over in front of me”

You did as he asked, bending over with your arse up in the air in front of him. You heard him stand up and step towards you. His fingers slowly brushed down the crack of your arse as he followed the string of lingerie that was covering you. You felt him move the string to one side before feeling his tongue and finger enter you. He entered both holes at the same time. His finger in your pussy, his tongue in your ass. You let out a groan in shock for what he was doing to you. A guy had never done both at the same time, and the feeling was incredible. You could hear his tongue sloshing around with all the juices you were giving him.

You felt your wetness slowly drip down your legs, that and spit from lando as he licked you out. He was groaning to himself, you knew he was loving it, his tongue all over you, getting you even wetter. You loved the feeling of him, you loved his saliva smothering you, it made you feel like an animal.He then grabbed you by the waist and gently threw you onto the sofa. The leather was cold at this point, but you had a feeling it may get warmer very soon…

He leant over you and came in to kiss. You could see his mouth was covered with a mixture of his saliva and your juices as he leant in. His mouth was warm, and his tongue was not shy. “Mhm” he groaned as his tongue licked the inside of your mouth. You wrapped your hands around him, placing them both on his back. His back felt harder than you thought, you could feel the indentations of his muscles running across it. To add to that, his back was also dripping with sweat. You ran your palms over it, feeling all the sweat you could. It felt so slimy and warm…your fingers almost sticking to him as you did it.

You let out a groan yourself at this point because he felt so incredible. Your left hand slowly moved up his sweaty back, towards his thick next. By this point your hands were dripping , but it felt warm and safe to be feeling him. You noticed he was wearing a metal necklace, which created a small bump as your hand moved up to the back of his neck.

“You just reminded me baby…” he said in between sucking your tongue. He reached his arm to the back of his neck, exposing his armpit right in front of your face. It was sweaty, and it smelt it, it smelt good. So manly. Part of you really enjoyed the natural scent of him. He yanked on the necklace chain and threw it to the other side of the room. “That was from my ex” he added. “I won’t be needing that anymore”At this point he thrust his throbbing cock inside of you.

You let out a huge groan, he didn’t hold back. You felt it stretch your walls out. It was deep inside you, but the girth of it made you feel like he was going to split you apart. “Oh shit lando…shit….arghhh” He continued to thrust into you. The moans you gave him only served to determine him to fuck you even harder. You gripped onto his biceps while he fucked you. They contracted every time he thrust into you, you could tell he was using every muscle in his body to please you.

You enjoyed the feeling of his arm tense under your hand, you felt his rock hard muscle“You’re so sexy” he whispered to you while deep inside. He grabbed both of your legs and held them up in front of him as his dick dove even deeper inside of you. “Mhm” “ugh” he groaned as he fucked you. You could tell he was enjoying this, and you now understood why he hadn’t showered before you came round, it would’ve been pointless. He was dripping wet again, the sweat was slowly dripping off his chest onto your tits, and the sofa was starting to get slippery with the mixture of sweat from you both fucking each other.

Next, he noticed that you still had your heels on, the fuck was so intense you had forgotten as well. He keenly untied the strap and took them off. He placed his hands on your feet, you noticed how his huge hands made your feet look petite and tiny. He grabbed both your feet and placed them both on his the front of his face.

The arch of your feet placed directly in contact with his mouth, and his nose while he continued inside of you. He took his time to savour the feeling of your pretty feet on his face, you wondered if he enjoyed the smell of them, before he then placed your toes in his mouth. You noticed how much tongue he was using, how much he was licking in between your toes and savouring the taste of them.

He let out even more groans at this point, you continued to feel his tongue getting your well looked after feet even wetter. “You dirty fuck…” you told him as he had your toes in his mouth. You knew he was loving you, loving the taste of you, the feeling of you. And you loved it too. It felt so primal. So good.

At this point you could tell he was getting closer. His cock had tended up even more and felt like it was about to blow. He slid his cock out of you and started to position himself above you as he jerked it off. It made a sloshing noise because of how wet it was…He now had both his legs besides you as he straddled over the top of you lying below him. “Suck my balls” he demanded. He edged up closer to your face so you were almost directly below his balls. You angled your head up and started sucking on them. They also tasted salty, you could tell he was sweaty all over. The taste was good, and they felt so warm in your mouth.

He continued to jerk his cock while you licked up and down his full balls. “Fuck yeah” he added while you worshipped him. “Keep going you dirty girl”He then pulled away from your face and back down to near your tits. He gave his cock one last jerk before his eyes rolled back into his head and released his load. He showered you with his warm cum. It completely covered your tits and part of your face as he groaned and shook uncontrollably in the pleasure of his orgasm. When the cum stopped spewing out of him, he slowly collapsed on top of you. The cum spreading between his sweaty chest in contact with your tits. He continued to kiss you on the sweat soaked sofa, before adding “you’re a good girl, and I’m not done with you yet”

He slid his fingers through the cum he had just sprayed all over you. He pushed his fingers in your mouth for you to suck them clean.

Next he flipped u onto your front, pushed his still hard dick in you, and fucked you again. Even harder this time.

The sound of skin on skin slapping against each other. You screamed in pleasure, and in slight pain because he was going hard.

You could smell the mixture of his cum and sweaty body creating an aroma around the hotel room.

You didn’t even have the brain capacity to think at this point, he was fucking you so hard

He spanked you, you felt his mark leave a burn on your right cheek.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you” he grunted

He pulled you over, leant in over you again , and shoved your face into his armpit. The smell almost made you gag, the sweat, the body odour of a hot sweaty man. He made you take in his scent “deep breath” he reminded you.

After this, you could tell he wasn’t gonna last long, he slapped your face and licked all over. His tongue brushing over your mouth and your nose.

“Damn my pits taste good on u”

He shoved his cock in u again, no condom, and you felt him release yet another load inside you

You felt him fill you up.

“I’ve never fucked a dirty slut like you before…next time I message you, you’re gonna do exactly what I say and come over. You’re my fuck toy…now get out”

He pulled you up and pushed you out his hotel room door, still half naked, still with the smell of his sweat on your body…still with cum dripping down your chest and thighs…

You had become lando norris’ sex toy…

[masonmontz]

hey hey hey, hope you like :) 

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

word count: 1k  jealous!mason (if you feel uncomfortable, it's not for you)

NICK JONAS - JEALOUS

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Mason snorted when he saw another story on your Instagram having fun with your girls. It was already the fifth photo you posted and Mason thought you were posting a lot in just one night.

Not because he's jealous, of course not.

Except he is.

It's your friend Grace's bachelorette party, and she took all her friends to a club in Manchester. Mason almost died when he saw you leave the house with huge high heels, a shorter dress than usual and wonderful makeup. He really tried to convince you to change your clothes, but it was in vain.

You just gave him a kiss and left, leaving Mason crawling behind you. Mason was jealous and hated when you went out without him, just because he knows how much other guys try their luck with you. But he doesn't mind you going out with your friends, he just stays at home bored until you arrive.

But that night Rasmus invited some players to his house for a game night, so Mason agreed since you were out too. Mason had been there for a while, but the whole time he was checking his phone to see your new stories, or to check if you had responded to his messages. 

“What’s wrong Mason? You haven't stopped looking at your phone since you arrived.” Onana asked, as once again he saw Mason snort into his cell phone. 

“Nothing.” Mason sighed. “Y/N went out with her friends to a club.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” John asked. 

“Bro, he’s jealous.” Onana answered, laughing at Mason’s face. 

“I am, okay? There’s nothing wrong with being jealous of my girlfriend.” Mason snorted when he saw his friends laughing at him. “Her dress was too short.”

They laughed harder at Mason, but he wasn't finding it funny at all, not when he knew that several men had probably already tried to talk to you. But he didn't respond to them and picked up his cell phone again, looking for your friend's Instagram account to see if she had posted anything else, as you weren't responding to his messages.

Mason's heart stopped when he saw the video she posted, where you were dancing and there was a man behind, you weren't paying attention to him, but he didn't take his eyes off you and Mason got irritated.

Even though he knows you love him, Mason can't help the thoughts. Mason doesn't like the way he's looking at you. Is he crazy for being jealous of someone you aren't even paying attention to? 

Mason's face turns red, wanting more than anything to go up to you and kiss you, pushing away any man nearby. Perhaps he is a little obsessed with you. Mason also knows it's not your fault they hover, but if they looked at your finger, they'd see the ring. The same ring that was on Mason's finger.

The red and very short dress made you look amazing, Mason almost drooled when he saw you, but he remembered that that appearance wasn't for him. Mason just wanted to throw you on the bed and leave you there for hours while he did everything to you, just because you looked perfect.

“That's it, I'm going there.” Mason got up five minutes later when he saw another video and the same guy was talking to you. “Thanks Rasmus for the invite, but I'm going to get my girl.”

“You're so stupid, let her have fun Mason.” Bruno spoke, but Mason ignored him and took the car keys.

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” He responded and left.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

The place was full of people and Mason almost regretted going there. Almost. 

It took him a few minutes to find you and he had to convince the security guard that he was just there to pick up his girlfriend. Maybe he offered a ticket to a Man U game and took the security guard's phone. That worked.

The music was loud and some people started to recognize Mason, but he tried to be nice by denying some photos. Mason hated not talking to anyone who got to him, but now he needed to get to you.

When Mason found you, you were laughing with Thalia, your friend, as you held a drink in your hands. The same guy from the videos was nearby and still staring at you, but he had two other friends with him and they seemed like wolves around you and your friends. Mason rolled his eyes. Not that he needed to tell anyone, but Mason puffed out his chest as he started walking towards you.

You saw him a few seconds later, so you didn't hear what Thalia was saying anymore. You raised your eyebrows when you saw Mason approaching with an angry look and a red face. Thalia saw him and left, walking towards the other girls.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, placing your hand on your waist and looking at him seriously. 

“I missed you, babe.” He smiled at you, then he held you and pulled you into a kiss, placing his hand possessively on your waist, you couldn’t even move.

“Mason, I’m being serious.” You said, slowly pushing him to face him. 

“I saw your Instagram and I didn't like that asshole back there keeping an eye on you.” Mason admitted with shame. “I needed to show him that you have one man and don't need another.”

“Yes, and you know I can say this myself.” You said it angrily, but you always liked it when Mason showed jealousy. “You shouldn't be here, it's a party for the girls.”

“So we need to get them out of here so I can leave too.” Mason looked back and stared at the three men, who even seemed a little shocked, probably recognizing Mason. He gave them a fake smile, then whispered in your ear, giving you goosebumps. “But I would like you to come with me, I want to take that dress off you.” 

“Don’t do that.” You almost moaned when Mason ran his hands down your bare back on purpose, and then squeezed your thigh in the middle of everyone. 

“It's my right to be hellish. You look so sexy and beautiful and every man here is looking at you, everyone wants a taste.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, closing your eyes as Mason kissed your cheek. “I still get jealous, even though I know you're just mine.”

“You are so possessive, Mason Mount.”

“I'm possessive and I'm not ashamed to admit it. You know I get excited when you get jealous too.”

Mason gave you a mischievous smile, so you smiled at him and looked back, seeing the man who had been trying to get to you the entire night had disappeared after Mason arrived. 

“Let’s go home. Only bought this dress so you could take it off”

[sinofwriting]

Homecoming - Oscar Piastri/Reader/Logan Sargeant (Part Two)

Words: 1,131 Summary: After showing up to the hotel, she of course attends the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Note(s): This was commissioned by the lovely Mari on Ko-fi! I hadn’t thought about this fic in a while until you asked for a part two. So everyone make sure to read part one first! Takes place at Las Vegas GP 2023 Part One

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Wait, wear the shorts instead.” She just barely resists throwing something at Logan and Oscar thumps the American lightly before pressing a kiss to the area. “It’s a night race.” “But you’re legs, baby. You’re legs.” Logan practically moans. She looks at the shorts, considering. It was just them doing the track walks and going over data. No practice until tomorrow. “Fine, but if I get cold” Oscar stops her, “we’ll just warm you up.” She shakes her head but starts putting them on, nose wrinkling as she adjusts the waistband.

“Am I allowed to be at the track walk?” “Should be. Ben goes. I think I’ve seen Lily do one.” “Lily did the track walk in Japan, to help fill out the people walking around.” Oscar says before kissing Logan. “Now, get dressed. Boxers aren’t appropriate wear at the track.” She sighs, leaning against the dresser and eyeing Logan’s spread out half naked body. “If only they were.” Oscar makes a humming noise in agreement and the oldest of them turns pink, getting up. “Alright, you two. No objectifying me.” “Never.” She kisses his cheek. “We just want to be able to look at you.” “Very true.”

Logan grins, shaking his head. “You two are adorable.” A small laugh leaves her. “We know.”

Oscar and her sit on the bed as they watch Logan get ready. He takes the longest of the three of them but still only takes maybe ten minutes.

“Alright,” Logan says, picking up a set of keys. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

—

Oscar nudges her, seeing her furrowed eyebrows as she looks at an outline of the track. “What’s up?” “It looks like an upside down pig.” Oscar’s eyes immediately lock on the outline and he snorts. “It does.” “I think this will be a good track.” “Sainz got a hole punched through his car.” She waves her hand, trying not to think about how hard it had been to watch Logan and Oscar climb back in their cars after. “I don’t care about Sainz.” “If it had been George on the other hand,” Logan starts. She sighs, “If I wasn’t with you two, I’d happily be with George and Carmen.” “Thanks, baby.” She laughs, turning to look at Logan. “I said if I wasn’t with you two.” She pokes his cheek. “And there isn’t a world where that doesn’t happen.” Logan smiles and she feels Oscar press a kiss to her shoulder.

“Alex was trying to figure out where he recognized you from.” “Your phone. Oscar’s phone.” “Yeah, he tried asking but then told me not to tell him cause he wanted to figure it out.” “And you just let him?” “He’s texted me twice with guesses.” Logan laughs.

—

“George.” “Alex.” Alex ignores the raised eyebrow from George. “Please tell me you recognize the girl with Logan and Oscar. I swear I’ve seen her before, but I have no idea.” George looks over, eyes squinting. “She looks vaguely familiar. Instagram?” He shakes his head, “no.” “Uh, what’s her name?” “Y/N.” “Yeah, I’ve got nothing. Daniel could know.” Alex just scoffs. “You just want to talk to Daniel.” But he’s already starting to walk to where Daniel is standing, Max and Charles with him. “As if you don’t.” George murmurs, following him.

“Daniel.” The older grins, “Albono! How are you today?” “I’m alright, hey do you recognize the girl with Oscar and Logan?” Daniel turns to look over and so do Charles and Max. “Okay, I know she’s the only girl there, but the one with Logan’s hand on her ass and Oscar’s arm around her shoulders?” Alex blinks at the description because that couldn’t be, but he looks and yep, Logan definitely has a hand on her ass and Oscar does have an arm over her shoulders. “Yeah, that one.” “No. No idea.” “Dammit.” He groans.

“I wonder how long they’ve been together.” “What?” Max looks at Alex confused. “Well, she’s obviously dating one or both of them. Wonder how long.” Alex groans, remembering seeing a picture of her on Logan’s lock screen. “Easy enough to find out.” Daniel grins, before raising both hands to his mouth, slightly amplifying his next words. “Oscar! Logan! Come here!”

They watch as the two rookies exchange a confused glance, but they come over, the girl between them coming with.

“Hi. How are you two feeling?” Oscar shrugs. “Alright. Not a bad track.” “Yeah, hopefully the racing isn’t shit though.” Charles shakes his head at the very slight jab to the FIA, though they more than deserve it, and extends his hand to the only girl. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Charles.” She smiles, shaking his hand and giving her name. “It’s nice to meet you. All of you.” She says, making eye contact with them all. “You too!” Daniel says, grinning. “How long have you known the rookies here?” “Well, Logan and I have known each other since we were born and I met Oscar not long after Logan did.” “Wow, that’s a long time.” “It is.” She laughs, and the older drivers watch as Logan and Oscar smile at the sound.

“Is this your first race?” “It’s my first F1 race, I went to a few F2 and F3 races when I could.” “Not nearly enough.” Logan playfully huffs. “Oh, are you in school?” Alex asks. “No, I’m in the military though as of forty-eight hours ago I’m in the inactive reserves.” “You did get your degree in sports medicine though.” Oscar adds. “That’s amazing and you're just as old as them?” “Bit younger than Oscar, but not even by a year.” “Impressive.” Max says.

She shakes her head, “Says the three time world champion by twenty-six.” He laughs, “just means I know better than anyone what is impressive.” “Stop flirting with Max,” Oscar playfully scolds, nudging her a bit. “Charles is right there and so is your crush.” Oscar tilts his head towards George. “And y’know we are here too.” Logan adds. “Me.” George points at himself. She sighs, “If Logan and Oscar didn’t exist, I would be asking Carmen and you if I could join.” Daniel lets out a loud laugh, setting off Max and Charles, as Alex looks at her in disbelief while George tries not to laugh, his shoulders visibly shaking, as Logan and Oscar shake their heads. “So, I shouldn’t let Carmen know?” She shrugs, “that is up to you.” “She is gonna love you.” Daniel laughs, clapping George on the shoulder. “You two have your hands full.” He says to Oscar and Logan, wiggling his eyebrows. Oscar sighs. “Just a bit.” Logan says. And the five drivers watch as she presses a kiss to Logan’s then Oscar’s cheek, the two boys instantly grinning at the contact.

[formulawolff]

✧˖° a day in the life ✧˖°

pairing: female!driver x toto wolff

summary: as the season progresses, you decide to share some of your favorite snapshots to your instagram. however, as you post more and more photos, the fans are beginning to really starting to wonder who that mystery man may be.

a/n: these posts are set between chapters vii, viii, and ix of alkaline! they aren’t really super time specific. they’re just around the time golden girl was in brackley, her travels through england, and of course, the races!

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon, lilymhe, and 800,004 others!

goldengirl: a day in the life :p

view 2,082 comments

lilymhe: oh my gosh!!! it’s me!!! ilysm!! 🥹

goldengirl: ofc!!! my bestie <3 ily more!!

goldengirlforever: these are so cute! 🤍

kikiayy: mother is mothering with the photo dumps lately

f1fanboy: i can feel her aura through the screen

alex_albon: who’s that cutie in the second photo? i need her number ASAP‼️

goldengirl: sorry but she doesn’t date nerds 🤓

alex_albon: if you keep bullying me, i’m going to go straight to james! i am not NOT messing around‼️👹😤

williamsracing: what’s 4 + 4? cause you ATE that! 💅🏻

f1fangirly: PLS WILLIAMS WHAT IS THIS!!?

goldengirlforever: i’m literally crying rn 😭 wtf

goldengirlstan: they really slayed with that comment though

view more replies

lewishamilton: why does it look like you’re in twilight in the first pic lol

mercedesgirly0420: ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

hastalavistababy: WHAT ON—

justaninchident: this is the weirdest crossover episode ever

view more replies

landonorris: can u send me the editing app u use you ur pics

goldengirl: idk can you use proper grammar first?

landonorris: can YOU send me the editing app that YOU use for YOUR photos? please and thank you mommy 🥺

landonorrisfan8383: MOMMY⁉️ 😳 HELLO⁉️

f1ismylife: WAIT WHAT IF LANDO IS THE MYSTERY MAN SHE HAS BEEN POSTING—

mclarengirly: OH MY GOD YOU COULD BE RIGHT!

goldengirl: ahahaha no. that’s not my man. it’s just an inside joke. nothing more, i promise :p

view more replies

liked by lilymhe, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 736,283 others

goldengirl: recent travels ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

view 4,763 comments

lilymhe: you’re so cute i’m gonna throw up

goldengirl: i WISH a certain someone would flirt with me the way you do 😫

alex_albon: i’m still waiting on meeting the day you bring this mystery man to the paddock. 🤨

goldengirl: i will one day!

mercedesamgf1: hey! that looks familiar! 😎

goldengirl: thank you for showing me around! i had a great time! :)

hastalavistababy: THIS IS GETTING WEIRD.

goldengirlforever: PLEASE DON’T TELL US YOU’RE SIGNING WITH MERCEDES NEXT SEASON.

view more replies

lewishamilton: why didn’t you tell me you were in brackley? 🧐

goldengirl: because it was for business and not hanging out 🙄🤚🏻

mercedesfan737: BUSINESS?

ilovef1: this is getting insane. where is drive to survive when you need them? 😩 i hope they’re covering this for the upcoming season

formulaonefan4life: wdym business? this is fishy af.

view more replies

goldengirl: guys…. i literally had a meeting with some sponsors in london & then i decided to take a trip to brackley to see the mercedes hq & campus. just because i drive for williams doesn’t mean that i can’t just go look at the place 😭

totosgirl73738: it’s just a bit sketch because toto was in brackley the same time you were.

justaninchident: @totosgirl73728 girl… that man owns 33% of the company.. i think he works there.

totoswife1988: she’s just not making herself look good rn with all the affair rumors going around. that’s all. going out of her way to brackley to just “see” the mercedes is weird.

justaninchident: speculating about someone’s personal life is weird. 🥱

view more replies

landonorris: was the mercedes campus cool at least? sorry ppl are being nosy af

goldengirl: yeah! i got to meet a ton of their staff & saw a lot of behind the scenes stuff! come with me next time. we can try fish and chips!

landonorris: omg!! the boys and golden girl take a field trip!! we can visit george and eat beans on toast!

view more replies

alexandrasaintmleux: where can i fill out the application to be you? is there like a tutorial or something i can follow?

goldengirl: brb i’ll post one to tik tok right now! 🤭

[sturnsbae]

can you write about matt and the reader based on the songs better by Khalid and that way by tate McRae?

thank you❤️

BETTER THAT WAY - MATT STURNIOLO

ok the header is so ugly im sorry pls ignore that.

this was VERY rushed and it’s not at all proofread so im sorry if it has mistakes lol

summary: you and matt are keeping things on the low from everyone, but once you start catching feelings it starts to get complicated.

—

it was around september when matt had followed you on instagram, and only a few days later that he had started texting you. it all started off pretty harmless until you suddenly found yourself inviting him over at ungodly hours and smelling him on your sheets the next day.

you can’t help but wonder if maybe you hadn’t followed him back that things would be different, but looking at the chemistry and sexual tension between the two of you, it was inevitable that something would start between you guys. the hardest part of it all surprisingly wasn’t trying to hide it from his brothers, they were clueless, the real issue was avoiding any and all rumors from the fans. this meant no liking each others instagram posts, and most definitely no visible hickeys.

“fuck matt, don’t leave a hickey,” you moan softly as his lips suck the skin on your neck. he pulls back from your neck and hovers over you, looking down at you with a pout.

“i’m sorry, baby, but i can’t have your fans trying to decode who the hell left a big lovebite on my neck,” you chuckle, thinking back to how both of your guys fandoms had reacted when you started following each other on social media.

“hmph, i know. i just wish i could let the whole world know that you’re mine,” he sighs as he rolls off of you and sits up on the edge of the bed. his words feel like a stab in the heart. there’s nothing more that you want than to be able to be public about your… situation… with matt. it wasn’t clear what you guys were, but the big red scratches along his back were a tell tale sign that you guys were at least something.

“oh my god matt, i’m so sorry!” you exclaim as you trace the raw scratches on his back.

he chuckles, “no baby, i’m sorry. i must’ve fucked you too well,” he winks. you just roll your eyes and toss him his shirt that was laying on the floor next to your side of the bed.

“drive safe okay?” you say to him, giving him a small peck on the cheek before he walks off into the dark late night air. he smiles at you before driving away, leaving you with a small pain in your heart. you wish you guys could just doze off into a sleep in each others arms, but you can’t and it kills you. being famous comes at a cost apparently.

—

matty | are you going to larrays bday party tn?

y/n! | yeah i am! are you?

matty | yep! i’m excited to u ;)

y/n! | omfg if we get caught that’s on you

matty | oh please i know how to lock a bathroom door 🙄

y/n! | yeah okay whatever i’ll see u later matt 😭

and just like that, you found yourself putting extra effort into your outfit and makeup for tonight. you subconsciously found yourself putting on your smallest black dress, and putting on matt’s favorite lipstick.

“y/n! it’s so good to see you love!” tara says as she greets you at the door of the party.

“tara hi!! ive missed you it’s been too long!” you exclaim as you hug your friend. as your head scans the room, you notice matt holding a soda in his hand.

“i’ll see you around, okay?” you smile at her before scurrying over to your friends. you all take a shot, which leads to at least two other rounds.

“you look so hot, y/n! you never dress up this much! what’s the reason?” your friend exclaims over the music.

“eh, just felt like it!” you blush, trying to hold back from exposing your secret fling with matt sturniolo, who happens to be staring at you from across the room with a smirk on his lips, admiring you from afar.

“are you… looking at matt?” your friend whispers in your ear, immediately bringing you back to reality.

“what?! oh my god! no! i just zoned out a bit, but anyways lets take another shot yeah?” you say as your eyes widen, trying to think of any way to distract your friend from what she just saw.

after a few minutes, you feel your phone buzz. you look down at see a text from matt.

matty | upstairs bathroom. now.

you bite the insides of your cheeks, stumbling a little as you make your way up the stairs. as you enter the bathroom you see matt waiting for you.

“well hello sir,” you smirk.

“you look… fuck,” he says before he pulls you towards him and places his lips on yours. you chuckle into the kiss as your hands run wildly through his hair. matt gentle lifts you up and places you on the bathroom counter, placing himself between your legs and attaching his lips to your collarbone.

“mmm, matt,” you moan out, gripping his hair gently. matt works his lips all over your body, making your head fall back.

“matty, are you gonna fuck me or what?” you giggle out, clearly drunk.

“absolutely not, y/n. you’re drunk,” he says sternly.

“cmon please? you can’t just drag me up here and give me nothing,” you whine. he just smiles at you and kisses your forehead softly.

“i’m sorry, baby. i’ll come over tomorrow night, okay?” he says, gently rubbing your arm with his thumb. him saying this makes you upset. it reminds you that you’re just his secret sex toy.

you roll your eyes and hop off of the counter, “matt what even are we? i’m so tired of this secretive shit! it’s been like two months of this,” you slur out, very very clearly drunk.

“what? what do you mean?”

you just roll your eyes, “you heard me matt, i wanna be more than this! i like you! a lot!”

“y/n, you’re drunk. we’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“yeah whatever matt, i’m going back downstairs,” you say, scurrying back down to your friends.

“where the hell were you? you were gone for like… ever!” one of your friends drunkenly states.

“sorry! there was a line in the bathroom, but let’s take more shots pleaseeeee,” you beg, trying to get matt out of your mind and have a good night.

before you even realize it, you’re so drunk that you can barely even function, you’re pure giggles. matt has secretly been keeping at eye on you all night, making sure his girl isn’t getting into trouble.

“matt, we don’t mean to be intrusive but you’ve been staring at y/n all night. is there something going on there?” nick asks his brother, as chris nods his head agreeing with nicks question.

“it’s complicated, i’ll explain later. but i think she’s mad at me, and she’s also really fucking drunk. you guys wouldn’t be mad if i took her home tonight right?” matt asks.

“of course not man, do whatever you need. we won’t ask any questions… well, not until later. you owe us some sort of explanation,” chris laughs.

matt just rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to you, “hey y/n. you’re really drunk, i’m gonna take you home okay?”

“matt! stop it! why are you talking to me! you’re gonna expose our secret!” you exclaim, not realizing how loud you’re being, but no one is really paying attention.

“i don’t care about that anymore, i just wanna make sure you get home safe. please just let me drive you home?” he asks as he wraps an arm around you.

“ugh whatever,” you roll your eyes as you walk off with matt, waving goodbye to your friends who have a puzzled look on their faces.

“nick! hi! i haven’t seen you all night!” you squeal as you get settled in the backseat next to nick.

nick chuckles a little, “hi y/n, it’s good to see you!”

“am i just chopped liver up here?” chris jokes from the front seat.

“oh god no! hi chris!” you exclaim. the boys just laugh softly at your happiness. at a red light matt turns around and looks at you, “y/n i have a sweatshirt somewhere back there if you want it.”

you smile at him, “awww thank you matty!” you find the light gray sweatshirt on the floor by your feet and slip it on, smelling the familiar scent of his cologne that tends to linger in your sheets.

you arrive at your house, and matt walks you to the door. he reaches around the potted plant that sits on your doorstep and grabs the hidden key. “oh my god, i forgot i told you about that!” you say as he unlocks the door for you, smiling at your not so sober state. he then helps you take your makeup off and even helps unzip your dress.

“thank you matty, i love you,” you mutter out as you start to doze off, snuggled in the sheets with matt’s hoodie loosely hugging your body.

matt’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink at your words, and he wishes he could say it back but he’s much rather wait until you’re sober so you can remember it. “goodnight y/n, i’m sorry i upset you earlier. but i’m gonna make you mine, i promise,” he whispers as he places a gentle kiss on your temple and shuts of the lights.

he locks up your house and heads back to the car, where his brothers sit with a million questions, but they can tell now is not a good time to ask. so they don’t.

—

it’s now late the next day, and you’re finally recovering from your hangover when you get a text from matt.

matty | are u home? i wanna take you somewhere

y/n! | yeah i’m home. everything okay?

matty | i’ll be there in 5

you immediately jump out of bed and rush to put on at least a little mascara and change out of your pajamas into something a little less wrinkled and lazy.

you get into matt’s car and look at him with a puzzled, but happy, look. “so can i ask what’s up?”

“i wanna take you somewhere first before i tell you. but how are you feeling?”

you can’t help but laugh a little, “god i regret my choices last night. i drank way too much.”

“yeah i could tell,” he chuckles.

“thank you so much for taking me home, by the way. i really really appreciate it.”

“always, y/n.”

a few minutes later you guys arrive at a park and matt tells you to stay in the car while he grabs a few things from the trunk. he then walks off into the park and tells you to not look until he comes back to get you, so that’s exactly what you do.

“alright m’lady, come with me!” he laughs as he takes your hand and leads you out of the car and to a small picnic set up.

“matt oh my god! you did not!” you gasp, turning to him with a big smile.

“oh but i did,” he smiles as he sits down on the blanket.

“matt! this is the cutest thing anyone’s ever done for me!” you pout, hugging him gently as you sit down. you guys get settled before he takes your hand in his.

“alright well, the whole reason i did this was because last night you and i got into a little argument. i don’t know if you remember, but you had told me off for keeping this entire thing a secret and admitted your feelings for me. and i just wanted to say that i really, really like you a lot too, so i wanted to make this official. i’m so tired of having to hide you, i wanna show you off. so will you be my girlfriend?”

your heart flutters, and you immediately nod your head before kissing his lips softly.

“so i’m taking that as a yes?” matt chuckles.

“of course matt!”

“good, i’m glad. i’m so glad that i get to publicly call you mine. it’s better that way.”

[deltaromeo3]

ᴡʜᴏ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? - Mason Mount

pairing: mason mount x footballer!reader

summary: in which the Chelsea women’s and men’s team have a joint training- revealing a new transfer.

✿ A/N: this is a long one yall… couldn’t write short fics for the life of me. + this is my first mason/football fic! hope you enjoy it :) let me know if i should write more mason/football fics? :p feedback is appreciated <3

— Requests are open! Send some my way :)

It was a wet Thursday morning. Training went on as usual; starting with stretching and warm ups.

It was only when Mason was halfway done with his stretches that he realise something or rather someone had caught the attention of his fellow teammates.

“Is she new? Haven’t seen her around before.” Reece asks Ben.

He figured they were chatting on about the women’s team on the other side of the pitch. Mason wasn’t really interested, he’s seen them around before. Theres the usual like Sam Kerr, Lauren James, Fran Kirby…

Well… he wasn’t interested.. not until Kai chimes in.

“Watcha lookin’ at boys?” Kai spoke.

“Number-” Reece squints, hoping it would make the number appear more clearer.

“Eight?” Kai finishes his sentence.

“Yeah yeah! She new?”

Kai nods. “Yeah and shes a forward. But she can play AM CM proper well. Or so I’ve heard,”

“Really?” Mason speaks, a little amused by your ability to play multiple positions- one of them being the same as his.

Kai hums in response. “Why Mase? Interested?” He smirks, elbow making contact with Mason’s rib.

“N-nah…” He takes one more glance towards you.

★★★

You were busy warming up when you realised you were sharing a pitch with the Chelsea mens team. Not gonna lie, you were excited.

“Good morning!” Lauren greets you and you greet her back.

“Good morning indeed,” You glanced towards the other side of the pitch- towards the direction of the men’s team.

She suddenly chuckles, “You’ve got fans.” She chinned towards where the men’s team were standing.

You turned around to be met with Reece, Ben, Kai and Mason all looking your way. Reece gave you a friendly wave and you waved back.

Lauren throws a smirk at you.

“What? I’m being friendly,”

★★★

Training was almost over. Everyone was dismissed for a short water break and so you headed to the sidelines to grab a drink.

As you headed towards the water bottles, you could hear the loud chatter coming from your left.

You were sipping on your drink, minding your own business when suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned around to be met with whom you were sure was Reece James.

“H-hey,” Reece stutters. “Are you new here? Sorry, I know it’s a tad bit random but we’re all just wondering. Haven’t seen you ‘round here before.”

You let out a soft laugh, finding it unusual. “You’re Reece, right?”

He nods, “Y-you know me?” He stutters as you catch him offguard.

You chuckled. “Of course! You’re one of the best right backs, how could I not?”

You could see a smile forming on his face, but it was hidden quickly.

“I’m Y/N. And yeah, i’m new. What’s up?”

“Oh- Nah, me and my mates were just wondering.”

You let out a chuckle, “You mean the mates that are looking at us right now?”

“Wh-“ Reece turns around, only to be met with three pairs of eyes looking at the interaction going on between the two of you.

He scratches the back of his head, “Yeah.. them. Sorry. They’re weirdos.”

You chuckled, but was soon interrupted by Mason coming by.

“Oi Reece! Stop bugging her! Sorry, he’s a bit of a chatter bug today. Hi, I’m Mason.” He extends his hand and you shake it. He smiles at you, and you can already feel your heartbeat quickening.

“Hi Mason, I’m Y/N,” You said, trying to play it cool.

Y/N..Y/N.. Mason thinks to himself. I must remember to look her up on Instagram later.

“That’s a nice name. You must be new here! Welcome to Chelsea.”

“Y-yeah! Welcome to Chelsea.” Reece adds.

“Thank you! I feel so welcomed already,” You smiled.

You wanted to continue the conversation with them but your coach was calling for you.

“Well it was nice meeting you- Mason, Reece. But as you can see I’m needed elsewhere. Twas a nice chat!” You waved as you jogged off.

“Having fun aren’t ya?” Coach Hayes teased.

“I’m just being friendly is all,” You smiled.

Meanwhile….

“Nice name? Really Mase?” Reece teased.

Mason chuckles, “What? It’s true innit? Y/N.”

★★★

WEMBLEY STADIUM - Chelsea Vs Manchester United

Your heart was pounding. This would be the game that would determine the Women’s FA Cup winner.

You were in the changing room, pre-gaming. You had your AirPods in- “No limit by G-Eazy” playing. Needless to say, you were in your own world.

You were suddenly interrupted when Lauren came by and sat down beside you. By the looks of it, you were sure she was talking to you. You paused your song.

“I’m sorry Lauren, didn’t catch any of that. What did you say?”

“I said,” She pauses. “You know what? Never mind. Gotta keep your mind in the right place. I’ll tell ya after the game.”

You found it a little suspicious but you brushed it off and continued being in your own bubble.

Little did you know….

masonmount posted on their story

Obviously you didnt know it just yet… You didn’t even have time to check your phone.

★ ★ ★

“A 3p in the FA Cup for Chelsea. They’ve won it for the third year in a row! Y/N L/N, the man- or woman of the match for today! Incredible! Seems like Chelsea made the right decision.”

You managed to score the winning goal, clinching Chelsea their FA cup win. You were overjoyed, once again proving Chelsea right- having you wouldn’t be a waste.

You were seated on the podium after celebrating with your team- trying to find photos to post on Instagram.

You looked up for a brief second, suddenly realising that Reece was congratulating and talking to Lauren. But that wasn’t it, no- not far behind him were Kai, Ben and Mason goddamn Mount. Wasn’t hard to spot him as he was in Chelsea’s jersey.

You continued to edit your photos, not caring much about them when suddenly you felt a presence glooming over you.

“So, man of the match huh?” He teases.

You immediately recognised the voice.

You let out a soft chuckle before locking your phone to look up at him. “It appears so,”

He laughs. There it was. The laugh. The feeling you got when you heard his laugh and you saw his smile felt even better than winning the cup. Maybe that was a stretch, but it was true.

“Congratulations by the way,” He sits down next to you.

“Thank you Mason. I didn’t know you came! I could’ve dedicated my goal to you,”

“Wh-what?” He laughs as you catch him off guard.

“I’m just joking,” You smile. “Who are you here for? Lauren? Fran perhaps…?” You asked, hoping to find out who the lucky girl would be. Sure as hell couldn’t be you.

“Fran?” He laughs again. It’s you, you muppet. He thinks to himself. “Well… do you see me talking to them right now?”

“You could be, they’re right there,” You glanced towards Lauren and Fran, who were already looking towards you with a mischievous grin on their faces.

“I just did. And now i’m talking to you. I came here for you!”

“What?” Now you were the one who were caught off guard.

“I’m here for you,” He repeats himself.

“No yeah- I heard you. W-why?”

He laughs. “I just had to! Kai and Ben were going on about how good you were so I just had to see it for myself. And boy they weren’t wrong. You play better than me.”

You blushed. “Thank you Mason,”

“So can I get your autograph, Miss Y/N L/N? Sign my jersey perhaps? It’ll be worth tons one day I know it!”

You let out a cackle, “Don’t be silly Mason,”

“I’m serious! Cmon!”

“A photo perhaps? It’ll last longer,”

He nods. You call Lauren over to take a photo of the both of you. She leaves shortly after.

Mason suddenly takes the medal off of your neck, walking off back to Reece and the rest, and you followed suit.

“Who’s medal ya got there Mase?”

“Oh no one’s. Just the man of the match.” He bloats jokingly, glancing towards you.

The group laughs. He quickly takes off the medal, handing it back to you but you stopped him.

“Ah ah, wait. Be a doll and pose for me,”

And so, he does. Such a doll he is.

yourusername just posted on their story

“So, what was it you said in the changing room?” You asked Lauren.

She glances over to her brother and his group of friends. “Aren’t you glad they came?”

“Oh I’m more then glad.”

“Awesome. Cause this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of them.”

Your phone dings.

masonmount started following you.

masonmount reposted your story.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Chapter 6- just like your father

Series masterlist

Warnings- once again not too much rafe): I’m trying to get more rafe in the next parts, the readers drunk the whole time basically lol

“Now a live update from the sheriffs department.”

“Yeah, after six weeks, the five teens that had been missing from Kildare county have returned, been reunited with their families.” Rafe went closer to the tv, sitting down and staring out. “We’re still waiting for details about their journey. But I’m sure they have quite a tale to tell.”

“We also got word that the father of one of the teens, John B Routledge, who’s been presumed dead for a year now, has also returned live and well. Wonders never cease. Right now, we’re just trying to get those kids settled back into school, with their families. They’ve been through a lot.”

“The teens were down in Kildare island with two other Kildare teens, Sarah Cameron and Y/N Maybank.” The sheriff spoke.

Rafes eyes widened at the mention of you and his sister.

“Sarah’s the daughter of disgraced real estate magnate, Ward Cameron, who confessed to the murder of Peterkin two months ago. y/n is the daughter of Luke Maybank, who is also presumed missing after escaping prison.”

Rafe watched as both of your pictures were put on screen, he recognized yours to be one of you you posted to your instagram, you at the beach. He was in the background, he noticed upon looking closer. Then, a picture of your brother, you and your dad.

You looked at the tv screen, scoffing at the picture they put up when they said your dad’s name. A picture of you, JJ and your dad. It was JJ’s first day of school, you remember that day as if it was your own first day of school.

You gripped the can harder, heavily sighing and leaning back in the chair. Yeah, you’d need more than one drink today.

“When I was there, Rafe was talking about how the cross was his. Not- not Ward’s.” You told them all, hiccuping after and covering your mouth.

“Are you- are you seriously drunk right now?” Pope asked, all of them noticing the way you slurred your words.

“Fuck off. I’m an adult. Can do whatever I want.” You said with a childish giggle.

“It’s like 10 am in the morning.”

“Yo!” Kiara sapped her fingers. “Can we please get back on the topic?”

“Right. And he’s coming into Wilmington tonight at eight. It’s being shipped by train from like… R.. Ra… Raleigh I think? I dunno.”

“You get any other information?” Pope asked.

“Uh, y/n got the cargo number.” Kiara spoke, picking up the paper.

“Okay, well, that’s a start.”

“I mean, they’re definitely fencing that shit off as we speak. So we should probably get a move on.” JJ said, watching you down the rest of the can, and grab a 4th one next to you from your spot on the floor.

“Sarah, you hear from John B?”

“No, I mean, he’s probably off somewhere with his dad. But the problem is they have the Twinkie.”

“Our transportation.”

“I have a car, you know? It’s a hunk of shit, but it works.” You shrugged.

All of them raised their eyebrows at that. “It’s back at Ricky’s. I should probably go talk to him anyways.”

They all were hesitant, you could tell.

“I’m- I’m your only fuckin’ option, so, my car or nothing.”

“She’s right.” JJ told them, already hopping on his bike.

“Ricky?” You shouted when you opened the door. He wasn’t home, you sighed, taking the keys off the counter and stumbling back outside.

“He not home?” JJ asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Nope.” You told him, locking the door. You go into the car, trying to get it started. But it never turns on, you groan in annoyance, fumbling with the keys, and trying again.

“Goddamnit!” You laughed, slamming your fist onto the dashboard and going out.

“It’s… not working.”

“Not working? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know! It’s not fucking starting.” You shrugged.

JJ threw his hands up in defeat.

“Alright. That’s okay. We can.. try my dads.” Pope said.

“And I’ll try to see if my parents will.” Kiara spoke.

You ended up going with JJ and Kiara to her parents.

“Jesus, Cleo was not wrong. It does look like the White House.” You mumbled when you entered. You drunkenly stumbled up the steps, JJ rolling his eyes and eventually just helping you up once you almost fell.

“We just found out it’s… it’s gonna be in Wilmington tonight.”

“Okay, and the cross is Popes family-“

“Popes family heirloom.” Kiara finished.

“Shit, this house is nice. Think we could just…?” You told JJ, grabbing an expensive bracelet sitting on the counter and pocketing it.

An idea popped into his head when you did that. If they don’t wanna give them the keys, he can take them.

“He’s alive!” Kiara argued. “JJ.” She turned, the cutlery clanking as he put it away guiltily, getting caught messing with it.

“Do rich people really need to use like… fancy everything? Like fancy plates? Is that necessary?” You mumbled, mostly to yourself as you took another sip.

“A little help?”

He put his hand up, counting off his fingers.

“Wards alive in the Carribean. He’s living off the loot he stole from us, and, uh, yeah, he’s flying across to Wilmington.”

“I was-“ you covered your mouth when you hiccuped again. “With them during the whole thingie. Basically I fell into the water…” you imitated water splashing with your hands.

“And it was like ‘ahhh! Now I’m stuck with my ex boyfriend who’s also crazy on an island, ahh!’ And then we went to some vacation home he has, and I saw Ward and he was like ‘sup, y/n. I’m alive.’ And that’s what happened.” You nodded to yourself, all of them staring at you dumbfounded.

“Give me a break, man.” Kiara’s dad spoke.

“Yeah, you’re right. What do I know? Just saw it with my own two eyes.” You shrugged, rolling your eyes and taking another sip from the bottle. “So did Kiara and JJ but, whatever.”

“I’m skeptical, okay? I am skeptical, y/n as in I think it’s all bullshit. And I think you’ve been led astray, Kiara. And you, JJ, Y/N- let’s get this out in the open.”

“Just take it down a bit-“ her mom tried.

“No. Let me tell you something, you need to understand that I do get it.”

“Sure you do.” You and JJ said in unison, you both laughing at that.

“Do you hear me?”

“Sure. Sure.”

“I like you, guys, and I bet you’re fricking fun to hang with, and to ditch school with, go down to the break, and.. drink beer,” he directed that last sentence to you, eyeing the can in your hand.

“because I was once just like you both. I didn’t think that anything mattered, thought I could make up any bullshit story and these stupid kooks would believe it. But then I learned about hard work.”

“Yeah, well, hard work doesn’t get you shit if you’re like us. I mean- shit, compared to me, you have no clue what hard work is like.” You spat, pointing to yourself. He was getting to close to JJ for your comfort.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “And about what really mattered. All I care about, all that I care about is my daughter. That’s it. And all I know is that she was a lot better off before she met you and your friends.” He said, this sentence directed to JJ.

“Dad, I was never better off!” Kiara argued, you looked at JJ, shaking your head when you saw his reaction. You were gonna kill this guy.

“I was miserable.”

“Miserable? No, no. No!” He shouted, turning to you and JJ.

“No, these pogues have ruined my daughter’s life.” He shouted in your face, you stood in front of JJ, trying your best to protect him.

“Didn’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Carrera.” You told him, turning to usher JJ out.

“Y’all have a good day.” JJ spoke, both of you heading to the door.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?” Kiara asked.

“Protecting my daughter.”

“Can we please-“

“Wait a second. Everybody says it, they are liars and thief’s!” Her dad shouted.

You and JJ stopped in your tracks.

“They’re just like their father! I mean, one of them is already drunk off their ass!”

The two words neither of you wanted to hear.

You looked at JJ, who held back tears at the words. You held your own back, throwing the rest of the can, looking at it pour onto the hardwood floor.

You grabbed the keys from the tray, you looked around again, shrugging before grabbing a jacket on the coat hanger, as well as some shoes.

“Wanna talk shit, you’re gonna get bit, right?” You mumbled to yourself, shrugging and following JJ down the steps.

“Is she.. talking with Topper?” Pope asked, all of them turning to you and Topper at the bar.

“He didn’t want me to say anything, but he’s a fucking mess.” Topper said with a laugh, you laughed with him.

“Yeah, well, he was an asshole. So…” you said, taking the shot you ordered.

“Believe me, I know.” He told you,

“Hey, Jayj.”

“What?”

“I bet you Topper has a way to transport the cross.” Pope spoke.

“Actually, Popes right. He does have a rig.”

“No.” Sarah argued.

“Yes.”

“Yes, come on.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“What are we talking about?” You asked them, coming up behind them suddenly.

“Sarah, you already got him whipped anyway, right? So why don’t you just take one for the team?”

“What would John B say?” She said.

“I think John B will completely understand. Think about the circumstances, it’s about treasure.”

“We can handle John B. Just talk to him.”

“Why do I feel like I’m gonna regret this?” Topper spoke, all of you happy when you saw her hug him.

You ended up falling asleep on the boat. Your eyes shut as they all came up with plans.

You can’t even escape him in your dreams. Because when you fell asleep, a fond memory of the two of you popped up in your mind.

“Shit, slow down.” He laughed, grabbing onto your hand as you ran down, pushing past people and making your way down straight to the floor.

“Can’t believe I let you drag me into this shit.” He said with a laugh when the band came on stage and cheers erupted.

He watched you while you paid close attention to the band. And when your guys song came on, he was told to sing with you, he hesitated but eventually did.

“Got the music in you, baby. Tell me why. You've been locked in here forever. And you just can't say goodbye. Your lips, my lips. Apocalypse.”

You both sung to each other, you staring at him with the most love and adoration he’s ever seen, and him staring at you with the most love anyone’s ever seen him have.

You both leaned in, but before your lips connected…

You woke up, quickly sitting up and groaning, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Jesus. Think I drunk too much earlier. I’m going crazy.” You told them, all of them turning to look at you now.

Taglist

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah

[lemonwisp]

Okay folks here is my honest review of season 4 of the umbrella academy (not that it matters but this is from a person who’s obsession runs so deep I started a meme page for this show, I started making edits because of this show, I found out how to label my sexuality because of this show, after season 1 I bought all the comics and then I also bought the you look like death comics when they came out, I have nearly every funko pop (rip hazel and cha cha when I get you and when I get young Ben my collection will be complete) I love this show more than words can describe)

I was expecting it to be bad, in the way that season 3 was bad, and it wasn’t bad in that way, however there was still some awful cgi (tua really shows me that shows can have wonderful and awful cgi at the same time)

I enjoyed the first episode and became hopeful when Klaus got the dog tags but then he doesn’t even put them on despite keeping them. I loved Klaus’s friendship with Claire, I liked Luther acting like a golden retriever. Blah blah blah. I liked Diego and the piñata and the fact they called their firstborn Grace was really sweet

However the continuity errors in this season really bothered me. At the end of season 3 Klaus still has the dog tags and temple tattoo, in the promotional picture Klaus has the temple tattoo, yet in the show it wasn’t there.

The plot hole of Sloane not being there (I know realistically when Allison told Reggie the timeline she wanted she was being selfish but still)

Also the thing about Lila and hating bracelets totally goes back on the fact that Diego got her one in season 2 and she wore it all the time.

THE FACT IT TOOK THEM SO LONG TO GET TO MAINE BUT WHEN PEOPLE JUST WALKED OFF THEY GOT BACK TO THEIR HOUSES AND STUFF SO FAST

The fact Ray leaving was mentioned only twice and we never got more information on that.

The fact that Klaus pulled the lovers card and Dave didn’t come back! The fact Klaus had time to try to summon Dave and just didn’t. Klaus writing STOP on their hand and then that just disappearing. Also Klaus’s PTSD just not being shown anymore.

I’m not even going to talk about the Lila and Five situation because I’m so unbelievably angry about it. I’m obviously angry about Dave not being mentioned at all.

Also I thought Klaus being a medium was clever but also then it just turned into them being used and idk I just want Klaus to be happy

Also Ben this season was funny, but I just miss brelly Ben so much.

And while they were in the subway station I was waiting for Brelly ben to show up because the scene in season 3 of Ben BEING ON A TRAIN! I was like oh that must be brelly ben, like that’s where he went after turning into swiss cheese and then they’d get him and have him face sparrow Ben or something.

And after all of the lead up to how Ben originally died and it just being that Reggie killed him. I feel like that wasn’t that big of a shock value because Reginald seems like the type to do that. I also feel like it was kind of boring. But I did appreciate the fact the young cast were in season 4

Also I’m not saying Jennifer should have died but they said only one of them needed to die and I know it’s selfish to want Ben to live and I felt bad for Jennifer it’s just I didn’t really grow attached to her

I understand why it ended the way it did but also am upset with the ending. I admit the marigolds at the end were cute, but even though I know it’s self indulgent to wish for this I just wanted them to be happy. Or even if the ending was just like a time loop and it restarted back to season 1 would have made me feel a bit more satisfied.

I don’t know, it’s just that I’ve grown up watching tua, I’ve spent five years of my life hyperfixating on this show, and it feels like the actors care about their characters and the writers do not.

However I’m so glad I got to be part of this journey with all the other TUA fans, I thank everyone who supported my meme page I have on Instagram, who makes fan art, fan fiction, and edits about the show and comics, everyone who cares about TUA, and I’m sorry that it ended the way that it did because frankly seeing the fans care more about the characters than the writers hurts. Knowing the injustices done to the characters hurts, but I’m glad I’m not alone when I say season four kinda fucking sucked.

EDIT: NOT TO EVEN MENTION IN SEASON 3 BEN KEPT DRAWING JENNIFER THEN THAT WAS NEVER MENTIONED IN SEASON 4 and CLAIRE KNEW KLAUS WAS IMMORTAL LIKE WHEN DID SHE FIND THAT OUT

[wiz4rdd1]

———————————ꔫ———————————-

Tears fall like rain

Warning- Angst, crying, argument, fluff, use of Y/N, Allat!

Summary- Chris has been acting distant and rude bickering with you all day until you finally had enough and asked him what’s wrong which lead to a big argument..

Chris x fem Reader

———————————ꔫ———————————

7:27

I’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on with Chris today. Lately he’s been bickering with me, snarky remarks when I say anything, and don’t get me started on ignoring me half the time. I asked Matt and Nick why he is acting like that but they had no clue, so I decided to go ask him what is up with him. I walked upstairs towards his room where he sat on his phone sitting on his bed not even acknowledging that I’m even there standing there with my arms crossed.

“Hey baby I’ve been wondering..” Fidgeting with my hands not looking at him. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been acting so rude and distant towards me. You know you can tell me anything y’know right?” Finally looking up at him seeing he’s not even looking at me still. “Babe…Did you hear m-“ He cuts me off immediately. “Shut the fuck n leave my room will ya?” He snapped a cold heartily look towards me way. “W-what?” My head sank he never spoke to me or even acted like this when I’m around. “You heard me. I don’t need to tell you every little thing in my life, shit man can’t even leave me alone.” He growled.

“What is your problem?” I snapped back getting closer to the bed. “My problem? My problem? You! You’re the fucking problem always clinging on me or needing me all the time! Fucking annoying, and don’t get me started on how annoying you are.” Chris getting up throwing his phone on his bed with his voice getting louder. I felt tears crawling into my eyes forming, my cheeks slightly pink. “W-what?” My voice breaking. “Just go Y/N, leave go home I don’t care where you go but not here.” He mumbles going back on his bed to ignore me once again. I didn’t even say anything I just walked away tears flowing down my cheeks uncontrollably.

“Hey-wait are you okay?” Nicks watching me walk down the stairs crying with a concerned look. “N-no your f-f-fucking brother-I” I can’t speak my breathing is hard I’m sobbing uncontrollably my eyes all blurry. “Hey hey hey it’s gonna be okay, ok? I-I’ll try to talk to him but how ‘bout you sleep in my room okay?” He grabs me hugging me. “O-okay” I mumble. I walked up the stairs quietly and quickly to nick’s room and changed into extra clothes I left in nick’s room one time. I changed into my soft light pink tank top that had lace around it and matching pair of shorts and cuddle in the blankets.

8:38

It’s been awhile since the fight and now I’m laying here scrolling through instagram. Then nick comes in after trying to talk to Chris. “Uh he’s not talking to me neither but all I know is that I told him is to get his ass up here and apologize and appreciate you or he’s sleeping by himself officially” He said in a sassy tone. “Thanks nick.. I really am grateful to have you.” I sniffle. “It’s okay let’s just watch a movie for now.” He smiled.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

“Hello? Come in.” Nick said loudly. “C-can I talk to Y/N? P-please?” He stuttered. I notice that his eyes are puffy and red like he’s been crying just now and he’s cheeks stained with tears. Nick looked at me to see if I’ll accept or if he should kick his ass out, but I nod and get up to follow Chris. He takes us to his bedroom where I stood still while he sat down grabbing my hands to pull me closer to him. “Baby.. I’m so fucking sorry I don’t know why I acted like that o-or even said those things.” He continued sniffling. “I had so much fucking shit going on but that’s not an excuse to direct my anger towards ma.. p-please baby forgive your my girl and always be the one f’me angel.” He looked into my eyes with sadness and guilt while waiting for my answer. “Baby I forgive you b-but don’t ever say those things again it really fucking hurt.” I giggled.

He pulls me in grabbing my waist hugging me. “I love you so much baby..” He chuckled. “I love you Chris.” I smiled. He picked me up from the floor throwing me into the bed with him cuddling me making me smell his delicious cologne. “Now I can finally sleep good now since my baby is with me” He sighed in relief. “Babyyy don’t make me leave right now.” I threaten joklely. “Nononono” He giggles.

———————————ꔫ———————————-

I HOPE U LIKE THIS ONE ESPECIALLY WITH A DIFF FONTTTTT

[swiftieblyth]

Blyth Family: Big Announcement

warnings- fluff, pregnancy, worried Tom, soft!Tom, mentions of being sick

You were sitting on the plane on your way to California for the Tangled premiere desperately trying not to throw up.

“You okay, love?” Tom asked, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“I’m trying not to throw up.” You slurred, resting your head on his chest.

“I know.” He replied kissing your head. “What would make it better? Do you want tea, or should you take a nap? Is there anything I can do?”

“Just hold me.” You groaned, as Lady climbed into your lap, making you smile a bit. “Hi, Princess,” you smiled, scooping her up and putting her on your chest cuddling her.

💜💜💜

y/nblyth_ posted

liked by_ tomblyth, rachelzegler, joshandresrivera, hunterschafer, taylorswift, killatrav, taylornation, and more

I love my sweet little Lady! Thank you for always making Mama fell so much better when she’s sick! I love me sweet girl so much, and so glad she loves her mama! 💕💕💕 We all love you my little lovebug! Thank you for making us feel so much better!

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tomblyth_ I love my girls and my family so much!!! I’m so glad our little Lady makes you feel so much better when she’s with you!!! I love that she makes both of you feel better!!!! 💕💕💕

↪️ y/nblyth_ thank you darling! We both love you 💕💕💕💕💕

↪️y/nTom_ Ummmmmm……. Am I the only one thinking they’re up to something??? The way she said Us and when she’s sick, and we both, and the way Tom said you both and my family?????????

↪️theblythsfan_ Um, is she pregnant????? Are they going to have a kid???? That last photo? I’m not going to mean this in a rude why because I love her so much and that won’t change, but she has gained a little bit of weight, which could be a little baby bump!!!!!!!

rachelzegler_ Look at that pretty Mama 😍

↪️y/nblyth_ thx bea!!!!!

💜💜💜

“Are you sure about this?” Tom asked, as the car came to a stop outside of the carpet. “It’s not too late, we can tell them to take us home.”

“No,” you breathed, holding his hand. “We need to do this.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone. And we can leave early if you need or even want to. Or we can leave before that one scene-“

“Tom,” you smiled, putting your free hand on Tom’s cheek, cutting him off. “I’ll be fine. I think you’re more nervous than I am, and I’m the one who’s growing a child in me.” You laughed.

“I know,” he chuckled a bit, putting a hand on your tiny barely visible bump. “I’m just worried about you. Both of you.”

“I know. Thank you. But I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“I just don’t want you to over do it.”

“I wont, and I’ll let you know if I need anything, you know that.”

“I know. But you know how reporters work, they’re terrifying sometimes.”

“I know, but I’ll have you. You’ll keep both of us safe.”

“I know. You ready?”

“Are you?” You asked, brushing some hair out of his face.

“Yeah,” he breathed kissing your head. “I’m ready.” You went to move but Tom stopped you. “Hold on.” He leaned down and kissed your stomach making you smile. “Mummy and I love you baby.”

He looked up and saw you trying not to cry. “I love you!” You breathed, hugging him.

“I love you to darling,” Tom smiled kissing your head.

💜💜💜

You and Tom were about to carpet and you know that you’re going to have to do it soon. Especially since you hinted at it in your last post, you were just waiting for the right time.

“Y/N!” A reporter called catching your attention. “There’s been a lot of talk about your last Instagram post.” You looked up at Tom as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you to his chest. ��A lot of people are wondering if you are pregnant, do you or Tom have anything you want to say to that?”

“Well, I mean we have seen some of the comments, you started, smiling up at Tom who smirked.

“Size of a blueberry,” he explained, making you smile.

“I’m sorry?” The reporter asked.

“Baby Blyth is the size of a blueberry,” you smiled, holding your hands to your stomach on top of Tom’s.