#a handful of teams doing really well is great and all

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 4

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader 3569w pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3

phew! that's a long one, but i'm really proud of it, i've tried to get more comfortable in my pacing, hope u guys like it<3

The grass still smelled the same, bringing back unwanted memories of yesterday’s humiliation. Sweat ran down your forehead as you used your shirt to wipe it off; Ona would be proud of that move. The exhaustion got the best of you and you let yourself flop on the turf, breathing heavily and rolling on your back. Every coach who had ever trained you had told you to walk it off, but there wasn't any scientific evidence of that, and more importantly, there were no coaches around you.

The Barcelona sky was bright blue, though you could spot a few clouds here and there. If you were in a better mood, you’d have tried to guess what object their shape matched. The gentle wind caressed your face and you couldn’t contain a shiver. When you had arrived earlier in the morning, it was still dark, and you had witnessed the sun rise. Yesterday’s mistake pushed you to come to the field early to train. You needed to plunge your head back in the game, and quickly. The taste of humiliation still bitter in your mouth.

You had pushed yourself through multiple sets of drills, though none that would really improve your timing as you were training alone. But still, you knew you needed to run off the embarrassment, so you tackled shadow opponents, working on quickly going up and down. You sprinted until it felt like your legs would fall off. You did so many ball control exercises with intricate cones patterns it made your head spin. The previously pristine pitch now scattered with proofs of your training while you lay sprawled on the ground.

A voice shut up behind you, startling you in the process. “You do know what recovery day means, right?” The blonde had a disapproving tone matching the look on her face. “You’re not supposed to sneak in extra practice.” she finishes sternly. You gave your capitain a sheepish look.

“Running never hurt anyone?” you tried, but it seemed like Alexia wasn’t having any of it. So you followed up, “Why are you here anyways, are you not supposed to be in the recovery room?”

The older woman was not impressed.

“Part of the recovery plan today is to have an activation session.” she glared at you and you felt your body shrink in the dirt. At that, her voice softened when she added “Now stop being snarky and tell me what’s wrong, Cariño.” Her gaze felt heavy on you, like she was trying to see right through you. Maybe she did.

You open your mouth to speak but words are caught in your throat, no sounds leaving the tip of your tongue. Your hands are clenched and you can’t help but stare at them, or really anything but Alexia standing in front of you. The blonde sighed, and gently came to lay with you on the pitch.

Alexia isn’t sure of what to do. For the few days she has known you, you were always such a cheerful and energetic person. You managed to coax smiles out of the most serious players, all because your chaotic aura was incredibly endearing. She guessed your personality might have fooled them all, you’re still only a child after all. Seventeen and so much pressure on your shoulders.

“You’re doing great you know” she starts her voice warm, but you look up at her, frowning.

“I tackled a cone yesterday.” you whisper, words spilling out of your mouth before you could really think about it.

She frowns. “…That’s what it’s about?” her head tilts, giving away her confusion.

“Well, I mean, It’s just…” you struggle to piece together a correct phrase. You look up to see Alexia giving you a gentle, encouraging smile, and somehow it’s enough to send you in a ramble.

“Because, I’m trying really hard! But then I messed up that tackle. And, and! The Mapi cardboard, it was just to be funny, since we had talked about it during team bonding.” You rattled, gesturing without making much sense.

“But fans aren’t happy with me, and they’re right! I’m here to play football, because it’s my job! You guys shouldn’t have to deal with this, we’re not here to have fun, It’s not- I shouldn’t-” Your distress was cut off by Alexia, pulling you in her arms, but you can’t stop yourself. “I just, I should not be making everyone’s life harder,” your voice breaks and you clutch at your captain like your life depends on it.

The blonde gently caresses you back, shushing you and you feel yourself sink into her.

“Why are you apologizing? You have done nothing wrong, I promise you no one is mad at you, for anything. You’ve made us laugh so much in so little time, and we can see you’re working hard,” her voice is full of gentleness, and you can tell she really means it. She gently wipes away some of your tears with her sleeve.

“The cone!” you half sob on her shoulder.

A chuckle escaped Alexia’s lips and she slapped a hand on her mouth, you recoiled, audibly gasping and looking at her with wide eyes.

And the absurdity of the situation hit you like a freight train.

You were somewhere between a laugh and a cry now, “It’s not funny!” you whined, pushing her shoulder with your hand.

“Perdón, Cariño” the blonde chuckled, “It’s just, all this for a cone?”

You pouted, and the captain shook your shoulder slightly, giving them a squeeze.

“You’ve just been promoted to one of the best clubs in the world, you’re fitting in really well, you’ve got potential and Mapi is basically your mentor already, but you’re worried about one failed tackle?” she questioned with a smirk.

You hid your face in your hands. It seemed so stupid said like that, and you felt so embarrassed and vulnerable. Alexia got up, clutching your hand in hers to pull you with her.

“Come on, Diablilla, let’s go get changed before activation begins, sí? ” she awkwardly patted your head and started dragging you toward the locker room. “Oh and, I think Mapi is going to want to see your cardboard soon again, apparently she has many ideas for pictures” she said, her voice mixed with amusement and disapproval while you chuckled.

Alexia really did find you very endearing, and she knew the whole team felt the same way. They just needed to make you understand. It seemed really well timed when Mapi saw you walking in the tunnel and pulled you into her arms.

Her arms squish you into her body, and you give her a weak laugh. When Mapi pulls back and sees traces of tears on your face, she frowns. “¿Estás bien?” she asks you, her face full of concern.

“Better now,” you answer truthfully.

“Actually, Mapi,” you begin, “I wanted to say, thank you. For what you wrote, on the cardboard…You know.” you voice is low and when your eyes meet, you shy away.

When you look back to her though, she’s got a smile going up to her ears, her eyes sparkling. The brunette pinches your cheeks, surprising you.

“Well, look at you being all emotional?” Her voice is full of playfulness and you can tell she’s not going to spot annoying you.

“Mapi! Stop!” you squeal. You two bicker the whole way to the locker room, pushing each other.

She puts her arm over your shoulder and pinches the back of your neck with her thumb and index. “I’m just doing mentor duty, Cariño,” she smirks.

“You’re supposed to be the mature one!” you whine after she tickles you for the third time.

Alexia smiles profoundly seeing you two walking in front of her. You looked so shaken up when she had seen you on the field, she wasn’t sure anything she might tell you would help.

You made your way to the door entry, almost running to escape from Mapi’s rough love. You spotted Ingrid and ran to hide behind her.

“Ingrid! Mapi is annoying me!” you fake a pout.

The Norwegian looks surprised at the forward love you show both Mapi and her. But still, she plays into your game, throwing her arms up to take a more protective role.

“María, leave Skrulla alone.” she says sternly.

Mapi sighs, giving up and going to her place, grumbling bad words at the both of you. You just stick your tongue out at the tattooed woman, earning yourself a disapproving look from Irene. But Vicky’s voice shoots up before you can say anything else.

“Oh Mapi, looks like you’re going to sleep on the couch because of the new kid!” Her voice is teasing, making the whole team bark out a laugh.

You made your way to your locker, still snickering from the scene that had just happened. It felt a bit crazy to you, the way your teammates had managed to get you to calm down from your self deprecating state so quickly. Normally, it would take you days of very rough training to get over a mistake like the one you had done yesterday. Yet, Alexia alone had managed to take so much of the weight off of your shoulders. If the captain of the team, one of the most hardworking people you knew, did not see any trouble with what happened yesterday, then you’d trust her.

You reached for your locker, wanting to get changed in some jogging before going to the activation session, as you won’t be playing football. They mainly consisted of cardio and active stretches.

As you turned the lock open, an avalanche of neon orange and yellow fell in your arms. What felt like close to one hundred cones were spilling from your locker, getting everywhere on you and bouncing off the floor as you tried to catch them.

The whole team laughs as you turn around, mouth wide open and still clutching some of the cones against yourself.

“WHO?!” you scream, still shocked.

“Thought you needed extra tackling practice!” Pina manages to say in between wheezes which sends the team crackling even more. You can feel your cheeks heat up.

“That’s karma for making Ingrid tell off Mapi,” Jana adds, not helping your case.

Then it’s Ona who chimes in, “Looks like Diablilla got tricked,” but you hardly hear them, your eyes get caught into Pina's eyes and she bolts.

“She’s so dead!” you yell as you start chasing Pina, who runs away, still clutching at her ribs from laughing too much.

Pina almost manages to run away until she reaches a dead end in the maze of hallways the stadium is. Instead of letting herself be caught, she simply traces back her steps, feinting you so you can’t trap her, and making a beeline for the locker room, again. You chase her, smirking when you realize her mistake, in the locker room, you’ll be able to trap her.

When Pina bursts through the door of the room where most of your teammates are, quickly followed by yourself, you can hear Caro and Irene telling the both of you off.

But your brain doesn’t register it, you’re too focused on wanting to catch the forward. Pina had spotted Alexia and decided to mirror the situation you were previously in with Mapi and Ingrid, except she literally gripped Alexia and threw her at you, using her like some kind of shield. The look on your captain face is laughable, a mix of shock and bewilderment

“¡Madre mía! Pina, Y/n, Para!” the blonde screams in frustration, trying to separate you like two children fighting.

Except the harsh scolding is enough to distract Pina, giving you time to throw yourself at her, wrestling her to the floor.

Neon colors near you grab your attention, so you pick up one of the flat disks and drop it on top of Pina’s head.

“You got cone-ed!” you squeal, your body vibrating with laughter. You step back and look around the room, everybody is wheezing at your banter. Mapi is absolutely dying from the look on Alexia’s face (who still hasn’t recovered from Pina almost sacrificing her to save her skin) and you’re sure the tattooed woman will never let the captain forget.

Salma and Vicky are snickering while filming the both of you. You’re certain it’s going to be posted on the official fcb account, but you’re laughing so much you can’t bring yourself to be bothered.

Irene shakes her head, “Dios Mío, these kids are more tiring than Mateo.” But the smile tugging at her lips tells you she doesn’t really mean it.

“So, you are all going to inhale for 5 seconds, hold it in for 5 seconds, and then exhale for 5 seconds, we’re going to do it together. Remember to keep your eyes closed.” The yoga teacher said with what she probably thought was a soothing voice.

Apparently, in the weekly recovery session, yoga classes were mandatory. They happened after the activation training, which the coaches probably hoped would help the team settle before yoga. You had gotten through the actual yoga positions well enough. But they were followed by a few minutes of meditation, much to your dismay. Staying still and keeping your mouth close was not something you had ever been good at. Especially not while trying to “clear your thoughts away”. You were sitting in the lotus position, looking around, fully aware you were disrespecting what the instructor had said mere seconds ago.

You audibly sighed when you realized all the women had their eyes closed, deeply uninterested in doing anything else than the breathing exercise. Unfortunately for you, your sigh was heard by Alexia, who opened one eye to shoot daggers at you. You quickly turned your head and shut your eyes. You’d have never guessed the Catalan woman to be so into meditation.

“We’ll redo the same thing, but now, you are going to release all the tension in your body when you exhale,” the teacher continued to dictate.

The collective noise of inhaling was loud in the room full of tranquility.

Suddenly, a piercing screech broke the peacefulness.

“AAAAAAAAAH” you just couldn’t help it, the tension had escaped your body, without meaning to, in a very dramatic way. You froze, not daring to open your eyes and the whole team stilled.

“What was that?!” Mapi exclaimed herself, her voice breaking the silence quickly followed by a snort.

“Did someone just exorcise a demon?” Jana said, faking being scared.

“Someone isn’t feeling very zen,” said Ingrid with an amused voice as she elbowed you in the ribs barely holding in her laughter.

You opened your eyes to see the whole team staring at you, the teacher looked bewildered. You felt yourself sink in the mushy mat, “I didn’t mean to!” you mumbled weakly.

“It’s called the scream it out method! Very trendy,” Pina said, leaning against Patri stile cracking up and you shot her a glare. She was pushing her luck today, and the smirk she gave you confirmed it. The prank war was on.

Even Alexia couldn’t help herself, “That’s certainly not in a yoga manual.”

You let yourself flop back on the mat as you heavily groaned.

“Though I’m sure the tension did leave her body,” replied Frido. You stared at her trying to look annoyed, but the Swedish woman just shrugged, still laughing.

Mapi had apparently managed to calm herself. She had gotten up to plop down next to you. Her eyes were mischievous when said “Why would you just release tension when you can traumatize the entire team by screaming?” and even you couldn’t hold back a chuckle with how proud she looked about her joke.

The “traumatized” team seemed in a very nice mood, all cracking up more as the team continued to pile their jokes on you. You covered your face with your hand, still slightly embarrassed but the chuckle of the whole team made you feel better.

Alexia got up, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, we’ll stretch out a bit more and then we’re done for the day. And no more screaming, Cariño” she said with a stare. You nodded, giving her an embarrassed smile.

“Wait, that’s all she gets? Last time I did something like that, you made me run 10 laps!” Pina added, looking astonished.

“Only one of us can be the favourite!” you replied. Irene, who was walking behind you, gave you a soft tap on the back of the head making you wince.

“That’s child abuse,” you deadpanned and Irene choked back a snort, giving you a judgmental look.

Mapi and you were exchanging about various defending strategies while you rolled your calves on the foam, frowning when it hit a particular tense spot. The Spaniard was leaning into Ingrid while the Norwegian was chatting with Frido.

The team was scattered into multiple different friend groups and you couldn’t quite believe you had lucked out in the middle of defender heaven. You would have spent more time fangirling about it in your head if you hadn’t been struck with the smartest plan ever.

You knew you wanted to take vengeance for Pina’s prank, but Alexia and Irene, as good captains, were keeping a close eye on you, apparently feeling your prankster aura. But they underestimated your brain, and what you were capable of, really. What was better than being able to mess with someone without them knowing you’d be the one doing it? Ok, tackling an opponent was better. But still, your idea was pretty cool.

A mischievous smile took over your lips as you opened your phone, logging into your fan account to start editing a meme. Once satisfied, you set a timer so it would publish in 10 minutes.

You raised your eyes from the screen to see Mapi staring at you, she was squinting and her head was tilted.

“What is our little Diablilla planning again?” she said with a smirk, loud enough for the two Scandinavians to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re imagining things, Mapi.” you tried to secure your voice as much as possible. You realized using the fan account and posting while surrounded by the team was risky. But you knew nobody has seen you, and with the delayed post? They wouldn’t figure it out. So you placed your phone on the ground, and joined Frido’s and Ingrid’s conversation. You knew both women (all three of them, really) loved coffee, so you couldn’t help yourself when you heard they were speaking about coffee shops.

“Oh! Do you guys know that one place around the corner? I used to go there before practice when I was at La Masia,” you started rambling.

It didn’t seem to bother them though, instead, the women were listening attentively to your story about what you called “the best coffee in the world”. They were so interested in fact, that you all decided you’d go there together tomorrow, and you couldn’t hide the gigantic smile on your face.

The coffee talk was interrupted by Frido’s phone pinging, she picked up the phone, eyes sparkling with interest.

“New post from the TacklerCulers account!” she announced and Ingrid quickly leaned over her shoulder to be able to see the screen.

tacklerculers

posted 36 seconds ago… liked by 259 others.

TacklerCulers: Everybody hold their boots! Pinagoal or, should I say, Spongeboal?

Both women burst out laughing and threw the phone at Mapi so the both of you could have a look too.

“You have to see this!” Ingrid had blurted out between chuckles.

Mapi had looked at them with a curious expression, until her face had changed into one of pure happiness, her eyes crinkling.

“Pina! You’ve been turned into a meme now!” Mapi called out, making the small spanish come running toward you. You gave a knowing chuckle. God, this was even better than you had planned.

“…I don’t know if I should be flattered or annoyed?” she said after being blessed by the sight of that meme.

“Definitely flattered,” you said as innocently as possible, “This is a work of art.”

“This feels like a hate crime.” she shot back, frowning at you.

Frido is laughing harder when she chimes in “It’s already trending, wait till people start showing up to matches with posters of this.” Her statement made Pina frown, putting her hand on her forehead dramatically.

“Actually Pina, that’s really what you looked like,” you add quickly with a smirk.

“Who even runs this account?” the forward shriek, and her eyes narrow at you.

“I’m not brilliant enough I fear,” you reply trying to seem sincere, but you can’t help feeling a cold sweat running down your neck, making the hair stand up, alert.

A few other players had seen the commotion and had come to check it out, eyes full of curiosity. Patri was laughing hard when Frido had tilted the phone to show her.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” she observed.

“I hate you all.” Pina blurted out, sending the whole group gasping for air.

You clutch at your belly from how painful it is to laugh so much. You’re not even trying to hide the fact you’re full on snorting in a loud, uncontrollable way. The joy is warm in your body, filling it delightfully. You’re overwhelmed by a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt in a while, and maybe everything would be ok, after all.

[a1ecmcdowell]

on the outskirts of the good morning america! stage stand two men far too big for the aprons being tied around their waists. one has a cigarette in his teeth, the other has a joint, and neither look at each other. it’s already too much that they have them standing right next to each other to walk out together; why the hell would they push it?

“looks great, sweetheart,” ben says to the assistant adjusting the frilly deep red fabric around his waist, straightening the spelt letters on them. most wonderful. as if he needed any more fuel to the fire that was his ego.

cole got time of the year. they're supposed to go onto that stage, stand close enough for people to read their cheesy aprons as a full sentence, and present a united front. no, america, these guys do not hate each other — look, they're having the most wonderful time of the year.

who's idea was it to turn this sentence into matching aprons, anyways? ben got a compliment and cole got a time on a calendar.

cole scoffs. ben snorts. as much as he loathes to admit it ever, ben knew cole pretty well, tended to know where his head was at. "and don't you just look darlin'."

"fuck off."

one of the vought higher ups shoots him a stern look. "get it all out of your system before you walk onto that stage," she scolds, nearly a foot shorter than the both of them but with far more fire than either, "because you will not blow this for yourselves, or for vought."

"my reputation is not bankin' on a pussy little talk show about making sugar cookies, madison," her name was madison, apparently, and ben says it with enough conviction that cole thinks they've had conversations like this before, "and puttin' me out there to try and save his when i've had to save his ass many—"

"oh, piss off," cole scoffs again, stamping his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. "i've been doing great on my own, this has nothing to do with..." he trails off when he catches madison's eye.

madison's smile hardens into something more sympathetic, like she really, truly, regrets to inform him of what's going to come out of her mouth. "smiling like a serial killer when asked to be gentler in your appearances is not 'doing great,' reaper. it's doing the bare minimum. badly."

ben takes the words as ammunition, loads them up in his throat and fires, with a twinkling grin. "you're the bare minimum and i'm the most wonderful. gonna frame this moment—" he holds his hands up together, and spreads them like he's displaying something other than his eye twitching attitude. "good morning america! — where cole found his true self in goddamn buttercream icing, of all things."

"oh my god." cole turns, grabbing a fistful of ben's frilly, sparkly apron and yanking him by it. "one of these days, someone's gonna knock you down a few pegs, and it's gonna stick. and when it happens, i'll be front row—"

a gentle hand touches cole's elbow, hesitantly. well, this is doing nothing for his rep at all. at least he fucked up the meticulously straightened words on ben's apron. the headset wearing girl who approached the both of them smiles just as forced as every single one of cole's. "you two are on in five."

★ ˚⋆

"now, you'd never be able to tell by lookin' at him, amy," ben starts, placing his hand on cole's shoulder for the thirteenth time in five minutes, "but reaper here loves sugar cookies. dontcha, reap?"

cole started counting at touch six. it's all a game to ben, and cole really, really hates his games. "yep. love 'em."

he should be giving more. but honestly, the only thing in his head is how desperately, how furiously, he wants to snap ben's wrist.

ben pats him on the shoulder again. fourteen. "tell the people how much you love 'em, don't be shy."

he was not being shy, he was being civil. "if you don't get your goddamn hands off of me, ben, i swear to god, i'm breaking every single one of your knuckles."

the soft gasps of the live audience, and the production team falling completely and utterly silent, is the sole indicator that his mic really is as sensitive as they warned him about, and he ignored.

"it's okay!" the host, amy, says quickly, her smile forced and so damn jolly for it being seven in the morning. "we'll... censor it."

that was the worst thing that anyone could have said to them.

the first batch of cookies was already done, pretend baked in the oven when it'd been sitting right in front of them under the counter the whole time, so when ben picked up the remaining ball of cookie dough and threw it at cole, everything fell apart rather quickly.

"did you just f*cking-" cole shoves his hand into the bag of flour, throwing the handful of powder at ben. "don't be a f***ing c*nt."

ben's cackling, white staining the entire front of his glittery red apron in splotches. "batter's up!" flour puffs in his face as cole throws another, dust dancing in front of his laughing expression. "get it? the g*ddamn batter's- well, it's down now, actually."

"shut the hell up."

"um, hey guys," amy says from behind them, flour all over her maroon long sleeve from being caught in the crossfire, "maybe we should... not do this."

they've never listened to anyone in their lives, but especially now, when they're stronger than anyone else in the universe.

"hey, he copped an attitude with me, sweetcheeks," ben says, snatching a cookie off of the tray in front of him, flinging it like a frisbee. "i'm just defending myself."

"well, maybe-"

"defending yourself? so you feel threatened... by flour," cole says, laughing incredulously. "oh! i know why. givin' you flashbacks, isn't it? looks a little too much like c*caine... poor baby."

ben's eyes flash. "watch your f*cking mouth."

"go on, soldier boy! tell the audience how much you love sugar cookies!" cole grabs another handful of flour, blowing it in a poof in front of ben's face. "all that white powder on top... g*ddamn, no wonder you wanted to do this show so badly!"

ben dips his hand into the red icing in front of him, slapping the wad across cole's cheek. the smack sound is so much more pronounced with the buttercream on his palm, and cole can't help it. as much as he wants to be angry, to maybe light the whole room up if it meant incinerating ben, he laughs heartily. "did you just f*cking slap me with buttercream?"

"alright," amy announces over the sound of cole's laughter, and ben's spluttering of it, too, through his defensive words. "i'll be back after this short commercial break."

behind the curtains, madison has her head in her hands. on the stage, ben's swiping his finger across cole's cheek and shoving the icing laden digit between his lips. "pretty damn good," he mumbles gruffly, a twitch of a hesitant smile on his mouth.

most wonderful time of the year indeed.

notes, oh u guys this was so so fun thank u to everyone who convinced me to write it PLSORDLSJ I <3 CHRISTMAS DRABBLES

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ultravi0lence14 @ostaramoon

[lemotmo]

Just wanted to ask you and Ali, you guys claim Lou was fired, what do you think is the reason he got fired.

Oh Nonny, you are not catching me at the right time for this question.

I have had it with the man and his evil minions. They just do not know when to quit and I've had enough of this inane nonsense.

Listen, I had a really lousy workday today. A full day of pouring energy into a job I love and getting NOTHING in return. Only to get home and to read how these sheep and their evil Overlord are once again trying to be cool and are -once again- missing by a mile! All they are succeeding at is being extremely cringy and highly embarrassing.

Anyway... I feel like our fandom has written novels by now about all the many reasons we think he got fired.

Here's a few of them though:

A plethora of racist, sexist and ableist posts found on his social media.

Giving away too much inside show information in one of his first interviews. Like the fact that it was actually supposed to be Eddie in that storyline, instead of Buck.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos filled with bullsh*t headcanons about how T was loving and sweet and never racist or sexist, oh no... of course not. He was just a sweet misunderstood woobie summer child.🤦‍♀️

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos telling people BT were thriving and they would stay strong together. All of this while he KNEW from the beginning that T was only there as a plot device for a short period of time, to serve Buck's narrative.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos on set, effectively SPOILING some things the public wasn't supposed to know yet.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos and charging his disciples loads of money to hear him talk nonsense out of his *ss.

Creating thoroughly unpro... you get where I'm going with this right? But there's more. Let's see. What else? Oh yes!

Not a reason this time, but a consequence: he suddenly stopped making his thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos from one day to the next, going completely silent on all of his social media for months. BIG RED FLAG THERE! Either his own team stepped in and told him just how unprofessional he was or ABC stepped in to make him stop being so f*cking unprofessional. It's very likely it was ABC and Tim.

Let's find some more reasons now... Oh yes. What about the fact that he obviously did not want to film any kind of intimate scene with another man? He talked about this in one of his first interviews when he was still sane. He felt that 'making out' wasn't necessary in this story or some BS like that. Well, seems like he had no trouble making out with women in other projects. Hmmm... 🤔 They didn't even touch anymore in season 8.

Oh hey, did you notice that there was no love lost at all between the main cast and Lou? There were pictures of everyone BUT him. Again.. I wonder why? Hmmm... such a mystery. Might it be because no one on the cast or crew really liked the man. After all, he was the cause of his fanbase going completely insane, running around threatening and harassing other fans, calling them homophobic, accusing people of doing terrible things by creating fake evidence, harassing the cast and crew to the point that they had to block them and the showrunner had to step in and call them out for their toxicity!

Last but not least that terribly embarassing last interview that he did. Man, I have never felt so much second-hand embarassment as when I was reading that article wannabe article. In this trash article the man praised himself for being a wonderful actor who made some really great choices in those BT scenes. How full of yourself can one possibly be? It's gross. He talked about how he didn't see the ending coming, even though in his first interviews he clearly stated he wasn't going to stick around for long. Make it make sense!🤷‍♀️ In this article he basically says that 911 and Tim did him dirty, causing Tim to have to state -in no uncertain terms- that the BT relationship is over and done with. Aka 'the final nail in the BT coffin'. Aka 'the best day of my life'.

All of his (badly executed) rethoric made sure that his minions started turning on Oliver, calling him homophobic and biphobic, accusing him of all sorts of terrible things. And what about the racism towards Ryan? Can't forget about that horror. I know I'll never forget reading those comments.

Even now, after they finally got rid off him, he is still making his toxic cameo videos spurring his loyal fiends on to keep on hoping that Tommy will return. He knows full well that he is never coming back, but as long as they keep paying him, he'll keep saying what they want to hear. But you know what? All those dumb hashtags won't change the fact that he isn't coming back.

Bottom line? He is gone. Was he fired. Probably yes. We'll never be completely certain, but it's pretty obvious they didn't part in good ways.

Everyone in this fandom is tired, exhausted and depleted of energy because of this man and his cult. We are mostly free of the toxicity now and are slowly returning to the great fandom we were before, theorising and talking about Buddie. Let's keep doing just that: moving on without looking back. Great things lie ahead for us in 8b and season 9. Let's enjoy the win!

As for Lou? I wish for him a main role in his own crappy very unsuccessful TV-show (that will get cancelled after one season). Then all of his stans will follow and we'll finally be fully free.

Well, I have to say... that was cathartic. I needed to get that off my chest. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to rant Nonny. I feel so much better already. 😋

[justasecretflower]

~ Sdv men watching sappy romance movies with you~🪻

Incl- Alex, shane, Harvey, Sam, Sebastian, Elliot, wizard, Gunther, willy.

Alex

The Notebook

He is definitely the type to be like 'I'm not gonna cry I'm a man' and ends up sobbing

he's quietly crying though, looking away and wiping his eyes

At the end he shrugs it off and goes like 'yeah that wasn't even sad..' he says while his voice is still shaky💀

He prefers this over horror movies though, that we'll get into next post...

Shane

Titanic

I believe he wouldn't cry

he wasn't sad or happy he was angry

the whole movie.

I am a firm believer he makes fun of characters in movies from romances to horror.

He's also one of those people that wouldn't shut up about how jack 100% could've also fit on that door.

If he sees you crying, though, he'd chuckle and wipe your tears with his thumb and tell you there's nothing to cry about.

He'd definitely laugh at you secretly, not in a mean way, just teasing.

I think his favorite genre is horror and says all the time how much he hates sappy romances, but since he's got a soft spot for you he'll watch them

Harvey

five feet apart

I think he would enjoy these movies a lot.

he's got an appreciation for all good cinema.

as a doctor he get's a little emotional thinking about his patients ever going through a thing like staying away from the person they love the most, so he does get a little misty.

If you cry, he holds you, and kisses your cheek.

he doesn't believe he's too 'manly' to watch romance, nor does he find it annoying.

I feel like most of your chill dates would revolve around watching a romance movie at home on the couch.

Sam

500 days of summer

he's in and out of this experience so he wouldn't cry

he tries to pay attention for you he really does but sometimes he just finds himself staring at you instead of watching the movie.

he prefers dates where he's actively doing stuff so he can pay attention better, sitting still for a long time is not his forte.

but if you're team Todd, he's team Todd, if you're team summer, he's team summer, you're mad? so is he, you're crying? He is too, and he doesn't even know why.

sebastian

Brokeback mountain

He's kind of just there

I don't think he's super crazy into it and crying, but I also don't think he's distracted 24/7.

he get's a little melancholy, and likes the general feel of the movie.

he likes laying on your lap while you watch the movie, pls play with his hair.

I think he likes it, isn't super into romance, likes sci-fi, horrors, but he appreciates the movie.

Elliot

Romeo and Juliet

he doesn't care if he's soft he's crying at the end and babbling on about the beauty and tragedy of their love story

definitely the type to pause at every scene, translate what they're saying, go in depth about what each thing in the scene symbolizes, ect.

he honestly is a lil annoying to watch a movie with.

if you cry with him he'll hold you and you'll cry together.

90% of you guys watching the movie was him going in depth about what everything meant and everything they said.

rasmodius m wizard

The Phantom of the Opera

he doesn't cry, but he enjoys the art of the story.

it becomes a favorite of his. Saying that, he doesn't watch movies and hasn't ever, really.

he's been busy doing wizard stuff. Whatever that is

he deeply enjoys the tragedy, the heartbreak, the beauty and depth of the story. If anything he'd also enjoy Romeo and Juliet

If you cry, he'll kiss your tears away and run his hands up your arm.

Gunther

The great Gatsby (more of a tragedy...)

He likes to watch historically set movies and documentaries

he's not huge on romance but will watch whatever you watch, just to be close with you.

he has you between his legs with your back on his torso and your head resting in his neck kind of

definitely not his cup of tea but he learns how to semi like it, since it is a great piece of cinema and extremely well written literature.

when he was younger he def was a history and literature kid so he read the book when he was younger.

willy

10 things I hate about you

how did you even convince him to sit down and watch a romance?..

he would hate on romance and how sappy it is

you'd practically have to drag him to the couch.

"Im not the romance type of man darlin"

he would half be watching and half cleaning some of his fishing rods

he is such a Kat stan

don't tell me otherwise

enjoys it but acts like he doesn't

"That was a waste of an hour.."

you will find him watching it later and chuckling.

If u wanna request Sdv use the “🪻” in your request💕

tags

[trustherkindheart]

As a Reign fan I can't say I'm thrilled it was Portland but this is why I love the NWSL. A team on a lengthy winless streak soundedly beating the 1st place team on a historic unbeaten streak.

This is the heart of what this league is

[tora-the-cat]

An interesting little fun thing with team 7 is that you assume that Sakura's gonna, like, woobify and simplify Sasuke by putting him on a pedastal,cause her goal is centered around him and shes a 12 y/o fangirl so like of course her understanding of him is skewed cause she doesnt see him as a person, just an object of affection, right? She's can't get Sasuke, can't imprint on and/or traumabond with him like Naruto and Kakashi do. They don't see him with rose tinted glasses, because they've lived through their own Horrors and empathize with Sasuke's experience.

......right?

WRONG lmao!! They have too many ghosts!! Naruto's single-minded codependent ass won't get out of his own way long enough to see Sasuke for who he actually is, only able to empathize with the parts of his trauma Naruto relates to and not really capable of understanding him outside of the context of himself (because Sasuke is. His other half). And Kakashi is far too jaded to be fair to him!! He can't decide if Sasuke is gonna end up as a mini-him or a mini-Obito or maybe a mini-Itachi, but either way he ALSO is too traumatized to see Sasuke AS SASUKE.

meanehile SAKURA'S autistic ass may have dogshit empathy, but you know what she does have? A special interest in sasuke. Nothing better to do then give herself a degree in Uchihaisms. She can write character studies about him. she can read his soul. Whenever she says something about him she is right. Every fucking time! She is RIGHT!!!!

'sasuke would NOT compliment me this directly or explicitly express worry unprompted, especially if it gets in the way of his goals' correct.

'Sasuke shouldn't hide that curse on his neck its not healthy BUT if I tell anyone about it he'll never trust me again, which might be even more dangerous for him then the curse mark. Like he can probably handle the curse mark but no one else can stop him from ripping peoples arms off.' correct.

Speaking of! 'Sasuke would not hurt me even when he seems to be...possessed? whatever the only way to knock him out of it is to present myself as Alive and thus something to be protected rather then something to be avenged, because he gets really stuck in his own head about revenge' CORRECT

'hey so um. like. Sasuke's gonna leave Konoha. I'm not sure anything can stop him at this point and honestly I'm kinda starting to doubt anything should, so the only thing I could possibly do to help him at this point is ALSO defect.' CORRECT!!!!

[kumakuma-circus]

just randomly remembered that during my like 10+ attempts at the shadow yukiko fight i more or less consistently ran out of revival beads so yosuke was just dead (well unconscious but whatever) on the ground for like half the fight gfhfjvhfhfhd-

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[winnie1emon]

✧.* now what happens when you find a frustrated theodore nott on the quidditch pitch...?

theodore nott x prefect!lamb!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.4k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, sexual language, praise, piv, fingering, unprotected sex, face painting lmao, slight exhibitionism(?)(on the quidditch stands lol)

a/n: first smut fic like ever i fear... don't bully please </3 + been working on this sleep-deprived, lmk about spelling mistakes :(

"Hey- hey!" you said loudly over the raging music, leaning over your friend's shoulder. "I'm gonna go; got prefect duty!"

Your friend, too engrossed in your house's quidditch victory party after they had beaten Slytherin earlier that evening, gave you a mere nod before realizing you actually said something. "Really? There are other prefects out anyways and you never find anyone. Don't be lame, just stay!"

"No, it's fine. I like walking outside anyways, it's fun," you explained, garnering a rather dismissive wave goodbye from your friend.

You trudged down the corridors searching for the way out of the castle. Curfew was approaching and you were given the task of finding a few stragglers outdoors; a task you most appreciated due to the fact you'd never find anybody and you were usually lucky with receiving ample amounts of good weather.

Too comfortable with the usual, you spent most of your patrol time frolicking on the grassy fields and never looked too carefully for any students. You were about to head back inside when you saw the broom shed's door open. Curiously, you peered inside and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary...

A bit daunted, you closed the door and suddenly saw movement in the corner of your eye. You whipped around quickly, seeing someone flying on the quidditch pitch. You made your way into the pitch, assuming it was some overzealous lowerclassman riding on their broomstick.

As you made your way into the pitch, you realized how large it really was, somewhat awestruck. Hearing a distressed grunt, you turned around and saw the person who was flying, quite a distance away, chuck their broom onto the ground. You hastened over and the image came into view. Their brunette waves became clearer with each step you took and you managed to get their attention.

"H-hey!" You waved. You came to a stop in front of them, slightly huffing as they looked at you acutely. "Theodore, it's curfew in like... oh, two minutes ago."

Theodore raised an eyebrow at your words, seeming as if he had no idea who you were. "What?" he asked you, even though he heard what you said.

"It's past curfew, you can't be here," you said patiently. "What are you even doing here?"

"What's it look like?" he retorted. "Practicing," he added before you could answer his rhetoric question.

"Well... you should practice tomorrow. You already had that game today, you should take a break," you suggested.

He gave you what was probably the most condescending look ever, roaming over your figure. "Yeah, and we lost, princess. Need to practice."

"Don't overwork yourself," you said, your voice tinged with concern. "You were great today, I saw!"

"Mhm, probably cheering on your house, yeah?" he sneered. "Just get lost, I'm not harmin' anyone by practicing, but you're going to tell someone aren't you?" He looked a bit taut and you couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for him. After all, he wasn't the worst player on his team yet he was the only one here practicing, probably losing hairs in the process.

"No, I won't tell anyone," you said quickly. "You look exhausted though. At least sit down." You trailed all the way to one of the tall wooden towers going up to the quidditch spectator stands, feeling the wooden bench poke your thighs. Surprisingly, he sat beside you on your right with a grunt, running his hands through his hair.

Well, now what.

You peered at him in wonderment as his gaze was set straight, admiring his birthmark. Your eyes trailed around the side of his face, looking at his thick, dark brows and then at his slightly unkempt hair. He turned suddenly to face you and you darted your head away, embarrassed. He let out a small scoff, throwing his head down in a smirk.

"So," you started. "You like quidditch?" you asked dumbly. He obviously did... he plays.

"I do," he responded. "When we win."

"You guys almost did," you consoled him, tentatively reaching to rub his shoulder.

Theodore didn't protest, finding the way your palm's touch warmed his shoulder unexpectedly comforting. He looked at your seemingly apologetic face before his eyes wandered down your form, going from your neck and then down to your legs.

"Mm, almost."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you spoke up again. "Yeah, almost! Almost is good!" You reassured him. "Don't beat yourself up-- you're already so stressed." You recalled the instances in class where he'd focus on his work, the times you saw him in the library as you patrolled the halls, and the way he never seemed to hang out with his friends this past week.

"Oh princess," he said, calling you that nickname again, making you turn a light shade of pink. "When has almost winning ever helped anyone? What can I do about the stress? Nothing's going to change if I don't work." He gave a nonchalant shrug, breaking contact with your sorry eyes as he buried his head in his hands.

"Uhm... I mean, do you want help?" You peered at him, wide-eyed and full of pity.

--------------------------------------------------------

And that's how you found yourself sitting on the open quidditch stands, thighs squeezed together with your head downcast as Theodore rubbed lazy circles over your underwear.

"I-I don't really see how this is supposed to help you," you mumbled.

He used his other hand to hold your chin gently, guiding your head to face him. "You think seeing a pretty girl like you lookin' like this doesn't help me?" he simpered. You felt your face heat up from the compliment, shifting your thighs to press against each other some more.

He let go of your chin and you looked down to watch him spread your thighs apart gently. Despite never being his friend, his touch felt familiar, even soothing. In fact, you didn't protest against him, even when you felt him slip your underwear to the side and insert a thick finger into your cunt.

Your mouth agape, you turned to look at him, brows knitting together as he met your gaze with a lascivious smile. You pressed your lips together to try and catch your breath, but it only lasted a few seconds as your lips parted once he entered another digit into you. He moved slowly, not taking his eyes off of yours, drinking in your dazed look.

You felt his pace increase, his fingers going in and out of your now glossy cunt rapidly, and let out a shaky moan which made Theodore's mouth contort in a wicked smile. You threw your head back, looking up at the greying sky. He leaned closer to you, his warm breath hitting your ear as he whispered.

"Feels good, yeah? Feels good to help me decompress hm?" He asked you quietly, having you squirm from his touch. You nodded meekly and let out a small yeah in response.

You had never experienced anything like this before. You were sort of scared, but also excited... maybe a bit confused? ...happy to help?

His touch eventually slowed, his two now-soaked fingers leaving your cunt as he held them up in front of you. Your eyes followed his fingers, your face turning into that of surprise as he brought his fingers into his mouth momentarily.

"So sweet..." he breathed out. "Come on, open up," he slapped your cheek lightly with his clean hand.

You opened your mouth slightly, your eyes looking reluctant.

"Come on, don't be scared," he cooed. You opened a little wider and he gently placed the two fingers on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around slowly, tasting sweet, kind of salty as well, but you weren't sure if that was you or his fingers. Taking in your appearance with his fingers in your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Cute."

He stood up from the bench with a sigh, taking a step in front of you. "Just one more thing, that okay?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Yeah- yeah sure," you agreed. Even though you were unfamiliar with what you guys were doing, you were just glad you could help him out in some way.

"Good girl. --Has anyone told you how sweet you are?" He leaned forward slightly and cupped your cheeks to tilt your head upwards as you stayed seated on the bench.

"Some people, mhm," you nodded.

"Well, they weren't lying." He complimented you casually, making your stomach lurch in an oddly pleasant way. You adverted your gaze so you could soak in his compliment, your head then snapping up at the sound of a zipper. He gave you a wink that you'd be thinking about for the next week and a dazzling smile that you couldn't protest against.

He guided your legs up off the ground so you'd be kneeling on the stands bench and turned you around, having you facing opposite of the center of the quidditch pitch, towards the castle. Your eyes widened from the circumstances, the risk of being so exposed. You heard him shuffle a little behind you, the sound of his pants going down, boxers following.

You felt one of his cold fingers brush against your skin as he pushed your skirt up, making you shudder. He pulled your sodden underwear down and you heard him take a sharp inhale. His fingers ran over your folds, eliciting a groan from him. "You're so wet... n' you've never done this?" he asked you.

You shook your head, making him sigh.

"And you really want to give this to me?"

"Yeah, I do," you muttered quietly. You didn't care that it was Theodore, you just saw him as someone who needed some help and you were going to give it to them... Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you cared that it was Theodore. The Slytherin that you'd always catch yourself ogling at during the quidditch games, the one you'd stare at in potions, the guy you'd hold the door open for before Charms class.

Seeing no reason to delay his pleasure, Theodore positioned himself between your legs, holding your waist from behind as he pushed the tip of his cock into your ready cunt. You couldn't help the large gasp you let out while he stretched you out. You tried to recuperate momentarily, but he continued to enter you slowly, feeling as if there was no end.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured. He slid in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace over time before you started to let out involuntary moans.

"Theo- Theodore," you huffed out, almost whining. "The castle-- someone could see us," you worried.

His pace becoming incontinent, he brushed off your concern with ease. "No one will, okay?"

Even with his reassurance, you couldn't help but feel sheepish, your anxiety spiking as the thrill got to you.

"Oh my g-god," you moaned. Theodore leaned into your back, head resting on the nape of your shoulder. He snaked his arm on your other shoulder, putting you in a headlock. You brought your hands up to hold his arm, your mind going blank as he started up a relentless speed on you and had his other arm travel down to rub on your clit.

"Shh, shh," he whispered. "Now they will see us if you don't quiet down, yeah?" You nodded in agreement, understanding that you mustn't be loud. After a few minutes of biting back your moans as he drilled into you, he positioned you to lie on your back, on one of the benches. You complied and allowed him to reposition himself into you.

"F-fuck!" You mewled, unable to contain yourself in the new position.

"Shh, shh, shhh..." he shushed you once again, covering your mouth with a large hand as the other held both of your legs against his chest. "Be quiet for me, okay? You can do it," he murmured into your ear, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You nodded slowly as you looked up at him when he pulled his head away from you. "Good... so good."

So entranced by his eye contact, your brain drowned out the sounds of his cock going in and out of your sopping cunt, forgetting all about your precarious surroundings.

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to unravel and you knew that your orgasm was nearing. You clawed at Theodore's hand that was on your mouth and he let go, allowing your ragged gasps to float out into the air.

"You okay?" he asked you. "You close?" He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your state, horribly disheveled, biting your own lip to keep yourself from attracting attention.

"Mm," you nodded weakly, feeling your legs begin to shake. As you came undone, you felt him slow down, letting out groans of his own. You bit down on your lips harder and you could feel tears creeping into your eyes as you felt overloaded with sensations. He pulled out of you with a light pop and stepped towards your head.

He had his cock a few inches above your face and looked hesitant before asking, "May I?"

You honestly weren't very sure of what he was requesting, but you let out a soft yeah, being surprised once he spilled onto your face.

Your lips parted into an o-shape as you squinted slightly. After one last drop, you ran a finger on your cheek, observing the mark he left on you trailing down your finger. He dropped his hands to his side and crouched down to be face level with you. He cupped your face with his hands as he ushered you to sit up.

"You're a sweetheart, so nice of you to help," he praised. Even though he had just done things to you that you'd never even been brave enough to imagine an hour prior, you couldn't fight back the bashful look on your face.

"Of course," you whispered. "Do you feel better?" you asked, pulling your underwear back up.

"Yeah, yeah I do," he chortled. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You saw the sky darkening by the second and looked out the pitch. "Oh! Someone's coming!" you exclaimed.

He gave a mischievous smile that you could stare at for days, planted a quick kiss on your lips, and grabbed your hand to stand you up, brushing ur skirt down to cover your behind.

"Then let's go."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[sincerelyneo]

juno | l.hc

“one of me is cute, but two though…?”

💿now playing: juno by sabrina carpenter

❯ summary: Kids were never really something you thought about. But then you saw your sexy as fuck boyfriend playing uncle and now you can't stop thinking about giving him a baby of his own. What can you say...your hormones are high.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, established relationship

❯ words: 2.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don't do this!), swearing, breeding and pregnancy kink, possessiveness, dirty talk, begging, praise, creampie, slight angst not really idk, fluff, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just the reader getting baby fever from seeing hyuck with kids (very real el oh el.)

an: i know this is like my third haechan post in a week, but i literally don’t care. sue me x

You didn’t want kids. Well, that’s not true. You were indifferent to kids. 

That was until you saw your boyfriend with them. You didn’t think you could be more attracted to him, but then he had to go and check off the "great with kids" box. Maybe it’s just his playful side, but Lee Donghyuck is just so good with them.

And being forced to attend his niece’s first birthday party made you realise it. Honestly, you’d never given much thought to the idea of kids—cute yes, ready to give up endless nights of sleep, no. 

But the minute after you walked through his childhood family home and were done greeting his parents and siblings, a swarm of kids ran at him, hugging his legs and stomach. And he just melted into them, so gentle and excited. It was cute and made you smile. 

From then it was him letting his oldest niece cover his tanned cheeks in blush and stickers, to tossing a ball with his nephew after he announced he made the basketball team—and don’t even get started on him poking the chubby cheeks of his youngest niece, her soft giggles filling the backyard of the party. 

It was like he was in his element—soft, loving, and completely at ease. And even though his nieces and nephews had other uncles and aunts, they’d always say Uncle Hyuck was their favourite—even if they weren’t supposed to.

You watch him from the patio door in the kitchen, overhearing him tell his dad he’s “too young to be having the adult conversations,” which was really code for ‘let me play with the kids.’ 

Running around, telling jokes, creating games. It had your stomach turning and—were your heart strings being pulled? Seeing this absolute perfect man, so caring and playful, living just to make those little ones laugh and smile, had you seriously considering the sleepless nights that might come with having some of your own.

Wait. 

“He’s good with them, huh?”

You jolt, turning to see Hyuck’s sister standing behind you.

“Uh... yeah, I guess so,” you shrug. She steps beside you, and the two of you stand there, watching your boyfriend bounce his niece in his arms, soothing her gently.

She giggles, and you glance over at Hyuck’s sister again. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “Just... you’re looking at him like you’re ready to add to the Lee family name.”

You gasp. “I am not!”

She gives you a knowing look, and you bite your lip, eyes shifting back to Hyuck. This time, he’s handing his niece a sippy cup, tapping her nose. Your chest tightens.

“Okay... I suppose he is good with them.”

Hyuck’s sister nods, humming in agreement. “He always has been. With every younger sibling, every cousin—even when I had my first daughter, Hyuck was the most excited.”

He’s sitting on the grass now, all his nieces and nephews swarming him, tickling him. He’s being extra dramatic, letting the younger ones tug at his hair just to make them laugh. You stare, warmth and wholesomeness filling you.

“He’d make a great dad, Y/N.”

The statement is completely sobering.

“Uh,” you stammer, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

That’s not entirely true. You had spoken about it—once. You’d told him it wasn’t something you had planned for but weren’t necessarily opposed to, and the conversation had never come up again.

Hyuck’s sister blinks at you, clearly confused. “That’s crazy. Hyuck’s always said he wants to be a dad.”

Clearly. 

There’s no denying that. It’s so obvious—every second he’s cupping up the kids, tickling them, teasing them. He looks so profoundly happy, so perfect. And it suddenly clicks for you.

This could be yours. Forever. He wants it. And now... you’re starting to think you want it, too. Him, this, forever. His kids. Your kids.

“Y/N! Y/N!” one of the younger kids calls, waving you over from across the backyard. “Can you play with us? We need more people to play the monsters. Uncle Hyuckie can’t do it on his own.”

And just like that, you’re being pulled away from the baby fever conversation and coaxed into joining them—not that it took much convincing. Your thoughts were starting to scare you a little. You’d never seriously thought about kids—until now.

Because you’d never seen Hyuck look more attractive than when he was playing dad.

“I can’t believe she’s one already,” Hyuck beams from where he’s stretched out on your bed. He’s been talking about the party nonstop since you got home. “Did you see the little bows in her hair? So fucking cute.”

You glance at him through the vanity mirror where you’re sitting, watching the way his face lights up, animated and so full of joy. There’s a warmth in your eyes, your lips curved into a soft smile as you take him in. He notices, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?” 

You stand and walk over to him, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. His eyebrows knit together, more confused now.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

You smile, sidestepping his question with one of your own. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yess…?” he replies, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice.

“Your family’s really nice.”

“Oh, are they now?” He squints playfully. “I saw you talking to my sister. I hope she wasn’t embarrassing me—she loves doing that.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “She wasn’t.”

“Okay…” he draws out. “Then what was she saying?” 

“That you’d be a good dad. That you want to be a dad.” 

Hyuck’s eyes widen and you mentally add this moment to the short list of times your boyfriend has been rendered completely speechless—still countable on one hand.

He coughs, his cheeks turning pink. “S-She said that?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“And…what did you say back?”

You spread his legs out on the bed so you can slide between them, sitting there and looking up at him as he waits, eager for your response. He’s so cute like this—adorable, even—clearly dying to hear what you thought.

“I didn’t respond,” you admit honestly.

You catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he covers it with a laugh—though it’s not genuine. You can tell he’s trying to brush it off, trying to pretend that he’d be okay with the possibility that you might not want that kind of future with him.

“She shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I used to talk about it a lot as a kid. I don’t really think like that now. I can’t, you know… because of my job.”

“So you don’t want kids because of your job?” You ask. The tone in your voice takes him by surprise because now you’re the one sounding hurt. 

“Baby... is this a trick question?” He laughs nervously.

You shake your head, crossing your arms across your chest. “No Hyuck. But I want you to answer it truthfully.” 

He shrugs, looking unsure. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’re lying.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, I don’t know what you want me to say—”

“The truth,” you insist. 

He pauses, his gaze softening. “I love you, Y/N. You said kids weren’t really part of your plan, and that’s okay,” he begins, his voice steady but sincere. “And yeah, maybe I always kind of thought kids would be in mine, but then I met you. And you became my plan.”

You grab a hold of his hand and squeeze. It draws a genuine smile from him before he speaks again. 

“I know we’ve never talked about it since. But I’m fine with anything—as long as it’s with you.”

You smile, his comment pulling at your heartstrings because you feel the exact same way. 

“Those kids absolutely adore you, Hyuck,” you say and he gives a half smile. 

“Well, I am their favourite Uncle.” 

You trail a soft finger up and down the naked skin of his arm. His eyes follow your touch and that furrowed expression is on his face again. 

“Y/N what’s going on with you? You’re confusing me—”

“You know—” you cut him off. “I think you’d be a great dad.” 

He stares at you, properly taking you in. He’s never seen this side of you before, and you’ve never given him a compliment quite like that before. The thought of you being into the idea of him as a dad… well, he didn’t expect it to turn him on this much. Maybe it’s the way your fingers brush his arm? Yeah no, it’s not.

“Today made me realise something,” you say, shifting to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck now. He raises a curious brow, waiting. “You look so hot with kids. The thought of you being a dad is so fucking hot, Hyuck.”

Hyuck smiles at the confession, and his hands move to grip your ass as he ground your hips forward on himself. You let out a small gasp of surprise as you feel him. 

“Please don’t joke like that, Y/N,” he whines, eyes squeezing shut. “Because I’ve been thinking about you being the mother of my kids since the day I met you.”

You giggle, biting your lip to stifle the soft moans escaping you as he grinds you slowly against his growing bulge.

“Well, why don’t you do something about it then,” you tease breathlessly, feeling the hardness of him through his sweatpants.

Hyuck’s mouth parts, caught somewhere between awe and shock, but before he can question how serious you are, your lips capture his, and your tongue is slipping inside his mouth to deepen the kiss.

The groan you both share is synchronised, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to flip you over, hovering above you with a renewed sense of urgency to make promise of your teasing. 

His fingers hook into your panties, sliding them off as you shift upward against your pillows, tossing your nightgown aside. Hyuck strips out of his own clothes, desperate to press his bare skin against yours, his need overwhelming any sense of patience.

He kisses you back roughly, passionately. Fuelled by your impossible hotness and readiness to be fucked—fucked by him. Your tongue dips deeper and deeper into his mouth, never satisfied, craving more of him. You cling to him, your hands and legs moving over his skin, desperate to feel every inch. Your hips roll up, slickness coating his shaft, causing a rippling gasp to leave his mouth. 

Hyuck pulls back with dark eyes. You—his girl—naked and desperate under him, begging him to do something about his baby fever—your baby fever. It’s the hottest shit he’s ever seen. His new favourite thing. His obsession. He loves seeing you like this, he decides—so willing, so desperate for him, for his cock. Needing him to bring you the pleasure only he can give. And he’ll make sure you remember that once you're carrying his child.

The image floods his mind—your stomach growing, swelling with his baby, the glow in your smile as you hold his child. A family, all with him. Only him. Because you want his kids.

The last thought pushes him over the edge, and with a low growl, he bites down on your neck, lips and teeth claiming your skin. He wants you marked by him—like always—but this time it’s different. It’s possessive. Primal. Feral. His saliva wet on your neck, dark bruises blooming over your breasts, his fingers burning prints into your hips, and his seed buried deep inside your soaking wet cunt.

His cock jumps when you roll your hips again, your whimpers causing him to groan and eyes roll back. You sound so desperate. Desperate to make him your forever. 

“Hyuck—” you sob as his teeth graze your nipple, sending it hardening under his touch. “Please, I need to feel you.”

His eyes sparkle with lust as he drapes your legs over his waist and leans down, capturing your mouth in a long, needy kiss. He aligns himself with your slick pussy, your fingers clawing at his back as he slowly eases into you. He fills you completely, lifting your hips to bury himself deeper.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he mumbles, pulling away to admire the way you take his thick cock. “Taking me so well, always so good for me, aren’t you, baby?”

You moan as his cock hits every spot inside you—so deep, so hard, so good. Each thrust drags along your walls in a way that feels divine.

“Can’t wait until you’re mine, so full of me,” he whispers, kissing your neck. You whimper, your walls clenching at his words, urging him to quicken his pace. “Do you want that, baby? Want my cum inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes—fuck yes—please.”

“Say it for me,” he requests softly, a gentle yet desperate edge in his voice. “Please tell me.”

“I want to be yours; make me yours,” you breathe out.

Hyuck's gaze drops to your lips, entranced by the words spilling from them. He thrusts harder, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer. Your cunt swallows his cock whole, turning his thrusts sloppy, and he groans.

You’re practically sobbing with how fast he’s driving into you, so close to seeing stars.

“You’re so good at taking me,” he praises, his breath ragged. “Gonna make me fill you.”

You squeeze around him, and the thought of cumming inside you sends a shiver through his thighs, making his breathing stutter.

“Yes! Fuck, please keep going,” You pant. 

“Want you so full of me that it’s dripping down your leg. And then I’ll push it back in when I fuck you again.”

Your breaths grow louder and quicker, matching his as you both teeter on the edge. He kisses you deeply, your mouths suffocating each other as you grip his soft brown hair. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tight.

“Hyuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“So fucking good, baby,” he moans in awe. “I’m going to fill you with my cum. I want you overflowing with my seed—fuck!” He grunts hoarsely, his body tightening with tension.

Your walls shatter around him, tightening and fluttering on his cock as you cum. Hyuck holds you close, so intimately, holding himself deep inside you as he feels the first spurts of his cum shooting from his cock. 

He doesn’t stop, his hips still moving gently, making sure you take everything, softening each thrust with tender kisses along your bare shoulders. You sigh dreamily, fingers threading through his hair, and he smiles, still half-hard inside you. You’re exhausted, and the sight of your sleepy expression makes his heart twist. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, you stay like that—so close, so intimate.

But as the post-orgasm bliss begins to fade, a flicker of panic flashes in his eyes.

“Fuck—” he mutters, pulling himself off of you quickly. There’s a gnawing feeling in his chest, a sudden guilt. “Y/N, I’m really sorry, I got caught up in the moment. Do you want me to run to the store—”

“No.” You shake your head and grab his arm, keeping him close. “I don’t want you to. If that’s okay…”

His eyes darken with lust before a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Y-yeah… that’s more than okay with me,” he says, nodding eagerly.

“Who knows?” You shrug with a teasing grin. “I might not even get pregnant this time.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “This time?”

You nod confidently. “Yeah, this time. Because we’re going to keep doing this until I am pregnant, Hyuck.”

His grin widens as he climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, especially not when I woke up this morning,” he laughs, pressing soft kisses along your neck.

You giggle, leaning into his touch. “What can I say? Seeing you in dad mode made me so fucking horny.”

[cheriladycl01]

Fan Zone Fanatic - Lando Norris x Anxiety! Reader

Plot: You love taking the F1 bracelets off of fans because you will play with them whenever you get anxious and they are a source of comfort for you now.

(I literally do this with my bracelets lmao)

One thing you absolutely adored was fan interaction. As much as you got really anxious in large crowds with overstimulating sounds and smells, you loved helping give gifts to Lando and guide him to younger fans with caps pushed to the back and hold his own hand for comfort when he too got overwhelmed from the amount of people yelling his name.

Right now you were at the gates to the paddock and you were walking through hand in hand with Lando. When you saw a load of fans at the entrance.

“Lando! Lando”

“Come sign my helmet please”

“Lando I have something for you”

“Y/N”

Loads of voices came at one, you smile at Lando and nod your head over to the fans starting to drag him over to the fencing.

“Omg Y/N” one cries handing you a pretty generic McLaren hat, you take it to pass to Lando until she shakes her head.

“I want you to sign it! I’ve already got Landos” she smiles and you laugh, loving that people wanted your signature too.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin it!” You smile kindly at her and she nods again. You sign it and then she pulls a clip of the friendship bracelets out.

“Please take one” she smiles and beofre you know it, you have loads of girls gifting you friendship bracelets off their bags.

Before you know it, you have all sorts of bracelets covering your arms.

There was mainly Lando and McLaren ones, but a few Chili or Enjoy the butterfly’s ones snuck their way onto your wrist that when you were showing Lando all of them once you got into the paddock he was laughing so hard.

“I think my fans love you more than they love me if I’m being honest, they’re always so sweet and respectful to you” he smiles as he shifts through the bracelets before he finds one with your name on it that he takes off your own wrists and places it on his own. “This one im keeping” he comments.

“I think I might head to the fanzone today, deck myself out in McLaren merch and just see what happens” you grin and he looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“Are you sure baby? I don’t think that’s a great idea, you’ve never experienced the fans without a barrier or anything …” he offers and you nod your head knowing what your getting yourself into.

“I know but I want to interact and I’m kind of obsessed with these bracelets now and I kind of want more of them!” You nod having made up your mind fully with a small smile matching it.

“Okay baby, but just keep one of the security with you. Just so they can help you out if needed. You don’t have to walk with them but just keep them close yeah? Take Dave, you like Dave right?” Lando says immediately concerned about you.

“I’ll take Dave just for you’re own piece of mind” you tease lightly nudging him before you take his team hat and grab one of his spare team tops.

“How do i look” you say with a twirl before ending with a hand in your hip.

“Beautiful” Lando mutters with heart eyes as he looks over at you.

Lando if he was being honest, never had it so good. You were literally perfect in his eyes. You treated him so well, and there wasn’t a singular moment he didn’t feel lucky to experience the weird and wonderful phenomena we call life.

“Stop it, you’re making me blush” you comment and he just laughs before kissing your cheek and sending you off.

“Don’t be gone too long okay! And check in with me! Please?” He asks.

“Ooooo wait can I buy some hats and get you to sign them please?!? I can hand them out in exchange for bracelets” you grin and before you know it you’ve got Lando signing as many hats as you could possibly fit in one bag.

He ended up signing 60 hats in the span of 20 minutes which is pretty impressive, considering he has to break to make out with you for 5 of those. Lando was an exceptionally clingy boyfriend.

Eventually you leave waving goodbye to him and smiling.

You walk out of the paddock entrance and around to the main gate. Where you’ve got the sunglasses and baseball cap on, it’s kind of hard to notice who you actually are so you were pretty confident that you could walk through pretty happily.

You noticed Dave, not too close and not too far. You walked into the fan zone seeing all the stools and shops with merch from different teams and the smell of the greasy hot dogs and chips.

You were just walking looking through one of the McLaren stands and about to pick up a Lando Norris t-shirt when a small tap was felt on your thigh. You turn round seeing a little girl, maybe 6 or 7.

“Hiya” you smile and the mum asks if you want to trade bracelets. You nod happily and show her your arms of the ones you had and she sees the LN4 one with his helmet design.

“Oh that’s a good one, Landos helmet” you grin and smile at her kindly taking it off your own wrist and putting it around hers.

“Woah you have so many” you laugh lightly seeing up to her elbows covered in them.

“Take two if you would like” the mum smiles and you nod.

“Why don’t you choose one for me, and then I’ll choose another one?” You ask the young girl and she nods excitedly looking over her arms before picking out a Max one.

“Max huh” you grin taking the MaxV33 off her and pulling it around your own wrist.

“I think I’ll take this one too, my goal today is to get one of every driver” you smile and she grins seeing you take the Zhou Guanyu one.

“I also have something I want to give you from Lando” you grin and she looks excited.

You pull out the signed hat and she squeals, looking over the signature.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She grins and pulls you into a hug. You laugh back and go to offer the mum one, but she politely shakes her head.

“Keep them for the youngsters” she smiles and you nod. The little girl finally lets go and hands the old hat back to her mum before putting the new signed on.

“Awww look at that! You look so cool!” You exclaim and the girl giggles more.

You say goodbye and get back to shopping. You end up buying an overpriced Lando top despite you wearing official staff uniform as of right now and thank the very shocked worker who asks for you picture once you’ve payed. You offer her a hat but refuses as she got one earlier before her shift from the paddock entrance.

You head into the heart of the fanzone where the sims are and all the other interactive stuff they put on for the fans. You can hear music from the massive stage, which is slowly starting to fill up.

20 minutes until Ferrari on stage.

1 hour till McLaren on stage. You knew you were going to go there for the McLaren one.

“Y/N?” You hear from you far left and see 3 girls with two guys behind them.

You smile happily jog over to them.

“Hey!” You grin and one of the girls squeals.

“Do you want some of our bracelets we brought way to many!” The girls admit showing you their bags full of the beaded bracelets.

“How long did this take you guys! These are incredible” you smile looking at all the different colours and types and the fact some had crystals on them. And all the funny messages rather than drivers names.

“Oh it’s nothing, just something we like to do in our free time!” One of the girls nods.

“They’re lying it took them days to prepare these for the race” one of the guys admits and you nod knowing that was far more accurate.

“How many can I take?” You ask looking at them, it was strange because even though these girls looked in their teens and younger than you they were all a lot taller than you. Making you feel kind of strange looking upwards at almost all of them.

“As many as you want” you start to look through. You burst out laughing at one that says Muppet 1 and Muppet 2 in one of the girls bags.

“Can i take both and give one to Lando so we’re matching” and she nods enthusiastically at the thought of Lando himself having one of her bracelets.

“Omg yes! Please please! Do you erm speak to any of the other drivers?” She asks and you nod, you were close with loads of the drivers. Especially their girlfriend as you were a social floater, sometimes you went out shopping with Alexandra, Charles girlfriend. Or going for brunch with Carmen, golfing with Lily or out to dinner with Oscar and his Lily.

“I do, why do you want me to give something?” You ask politely and she nods handing you a T-shirt. You open it up to see a funny print of George Russell T-Posing.

“I’ll make sure when I get back to the paddock to give this to George” you smile and she thanks you profusely.

You got to the next girls bag and find a Yuki Tsunoda One, and a Lando one that was of his Miami win. It had a little palm tree dangly on it and you knew you just had to take it.

And in the last one you picked out a Charles Leclerc and Ferrari one.

“This may seem rude but I don’t want to trade to many bracelets off, I want to keep as many as possible but I have other gifts” you smile and pull 5 signed caps out the bag handing one to each of them.

“They’re signed by Lando” you smile and they all looked shocked and one almost starts to tear up.

“Can I hug you?” One of them asks before you nod and pull her into a hug. You get a group photo before they run off all having really happy faces.

This is why you were so happy to do this, just seeing that smile on random peoples faces knowing you’d made them feel like that was so rewarding.

You walk to the sim racers and see loads of people on them, trying to get in good laps. You were utterly hopeless on Landos at home so there was no way you were trying it here and making a fool out of yourself.

“Girlie! You want a bracelet!” A voice from behind you says and you turn to look.

A girl comes running up to you, showing the clip of beads in front of you.

The afternoon continued like that. You took bracelets and gave people hats in exchange for them. You were thankful nobody had posted the pictures you’d taken with them yet, so it still didn’t feel like you were having people actively come try and find you.

You make your way to the stage seeing it’s pretty empty now that Ferrari have gone and you stand right by the fence where Lando will be able to see you. There’s two guys in McLaren hats next to you, one in a Lando one and one in a Danny Ric one.

“Damn that’s some fossil merch” you joke and they turn to look at you seeing you’re get up. They laugh and nod explaining how they live McLaren but Danny is their driver.

“Who do you support?” One of them asks before his mate bursts out laughing.

“Dude that Lando’s girlfriend” the other one with the DR3 McLaren hat laughs. And you laugh with him before the guys fully takes a look over you and flushes Red.

“I’m so so sorry” he says.

“It’s fine, but of course my driver is Yuki Tsunoda” you tease and they both laugh. You have a nice conversation with them, you’d get Lando to sign their hats when he was on stage.

The guys were really nice, just asking you questions about the paddock on racing and how long you’d followed the sport and it was nice just talking.

However the more people started to fill up the more you got anxious. Unconsciously your hand started to fiddle with the bracelets, lightly snapping them against your skin or pushing the beads from one place to another. The feeling giving you a certain kind of comfort to stimulate you enough that it was a distraction from all the noise around you.

All of a sudden the music gets louder beofre Naomi Schiff comes out to introduce the drivers to the now packed in crowd.

“Hello, how are we all feeling out there? Little warm today isn’t it. We’ll all of you keep hydrated nearest water station is up to your right” she indicates.

“Now without further or do, let’s find your drivers. Here for McLaren, Oscar Piastri and LANDO NORRIS” she calls and both the papaya boys come jogging out onto the stage.

“Hello Lando, Hello Oscar, how are you guys today?” She asks and both of them nod.

“Yeah really good, it’s pretty warm but we’re excited to be here” Lando says and Oscar nods in agreement.

“Yes, I think I’ve drunk 3 big bottles of water and two cans of monster” Oscar jokes and everyone in the crowd laughs.

“Enjoy the summer break?” She asks and they both nod.

“Yeah I got to spend lots of time with my girlfriend in England, and we …” Oscar starts but is interrupted by Lando.

“Oooo girlfriend, your girlfriend” Lando teases making Oscar go bright red in embarrassment.

“Says you, you wouldn’t shut up about Y/N” Oscar pushes back making Lando just laugh. The boys beside you starts whopping and cheering your name trying to point you out and draw attention to the fact your here.

People start to catch on and help to point you out, making you duck your head down in embarrassment as you laugh.

“Oh look Lando we’ve got some fans calling your name over here, oh wait. Is that … Lando is that Y/N” she says holding her que cards above her head to stop the glare of the sun to her eyes so she can get s better look at you.

You smile and wave being very familiar with the woman.

“Oh you’re right, give it up for Landos girlfriend everyone” Naomi cheers and you blush.

“Hi baby” Lando smiles shyly waving at you making you wave back.

“Wait did you chance tops?” He laughs seeing you now in the Lando Norris official team t-shirt. You nod and he just laughs shaking his head.

Before you know it he’s jumped down and is coming over to you. He pulls you into a hug, before signing some stuff around you and going back up to where Oscar is.

“Well, what did you do over the summer. You and Y/N were very present online” she adds knowing you always loved to post online what you and Lando did as it served as memories to share with a wider community.

Also a lot of what you posted have the fans a fix of their delulu needs which you were always happy to do.

“We want to Boa Vista and then we saw Martin Garrix a good friend play in Ibiza, we saw some of the other drivers there too. Went to a Taylor Swift concert, went to Bali and now we’re back here and racing” he grins and you smile at the thought of the summer holidays with Lando.

“Awww well sounds like you had a lovely time and you’re nice and relaxed ready to get racing again. How does it feel knowing how close you are to a championship with Max?” She asks and he nods.

“Looking for a good result this weekend but with my lucky charm here I’m hoping for a win” he nods and after some more questions posed to Oscar and Lando people start to leave the minute they are off the stage.

You keep a hold on one of the bracelets going behind the stage to where Lando is waiting for you. Dave helps you get past the majority of the crowd who some ask for pictures with you and more bracelets are given to you.

You round the corner into the VIP second and a Lando immediately comes up to you wrapping you in a hug.

“That was nice seeing you it there, but I was terrified the whole time with how cramped in you all looked” he admits as he kisses your temple.

“Look how many bracelets I got! Oooo look I have one for you too, a matching one with me” you grin and hand him the muppet number 1 and show him your muppet number 2.

“These are brilliant. I’m happy you enjoyed yourself.” He smiles and walks you over to the car to take you to the paddock.

Going forward you actually wore those bracelets given to you all the time. You and Lando wore the muppet ones everyday but you would change up which ones you’d wear on your other wrist each day but you always made sure you had one especially when you knew it was going to be an anxiety filled day.

The fans would never know how much these bracelets meant to you but you were so thankful.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[itadorey]

𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 (?) 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄— gojo satoru

pairing: racer!gojo x race engineer!reader genre: formula 1 au, fluff summary: he's insufferable (and wants to ask you out) and you're just trying to help him win the championship notes: formula 1 has ruined my life. probably lots of inconsistencies but i sped wrote this. this turned out a lot longer than i initially planned. gn reader but mention of wearing a dress. word count: ~3.2k

It's hot.

Your nose scrunches up in mild disgust as you feel a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, quickly making it's way towards the collar of your shirt before it's wiped away with a soft towel.

"Thanks," you mutter, looking up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by a swoon-worthy smile. You huff lightly at the wink Gojo sends your way, turning away slightly to let your eyes roam over the rest of the paddock. Your lips turn up into a smile when you catch sight of Geto Suguru walking past your garage, and you return his greeting with a wave of your own before you hear Gojo grumble from his place beside you.

"Fraternizing with the enemy," he says, annoyance coating his words. He crosses his arms, unintentionally flexing and drawing your gaze towards his torso. His black fireproofs fit him snugly, and you find your mouth going dry as you try your best not to ogle him. You wonder if the temperature's gotten hotter. "That's not very nice of you."

"He's not the enemy," you protest, turning away to grab Gojo's helmet before thrusting it into his chest. "He's your best friend."

"Off track he is," Gojo agrees, holding onto the helmet. He pulls you in slightly, raising a brow when you don't immediately let it go. "But on track, he's my biggest competition. So you should be focused on me, not him. He's only a handful of points behind me."

"I'd hardly call one hundred points a handful," you mutter, turning to the side to grab a clipboard. "I think you're guaranteed to win the championship this year. Plus, Megumi's been doing great as well. Kid is in third place and it's only his second year! I think we've got the constructor's in the bag as well."

"All I need is a couple of bad races and next thing you know, Geto Suguru is the 2024 World Champion."

"Bad races," you snort, guiding Gojo towards his car and shoving his balaclava into his free hand. "Gojo Satoru does not have bad races. I don't know how you do it. I feel like you never drop below second place."

"It's all thanks to those genius strategies of yours," Gojo quips, watching in amusement as you shake your head in mild disbelief. There's a soft glint in his eye that you never seem to notice, and he finds himself wondering if maybe he should be a little more obvious about his feelings. (Everyone else on the grid and even the majority of the fans know he has the hots for you, so really, you're just the densest person to exist).

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say, waving him off as you start to make your way towards the rest of your team. "Pull your suit up and go get settled in."

Gojo watches you for a couple of minutes, leaning against a cement column with his arms crossed. He doesn't know how, but watching you organize the team and go over your notes has become his pre-race ritual. He's so lost in thought that he fails to notice the cameras pointed at him, broadcasting the lovestruck look on his face for everyone watching the race live to see.

"Ready to go?"

Gojo snaps out of his daze when his team principal, Yaga Masamichi, comes up to him. There's a faint smirk on his lips as he motions towards you, his sunglasses hiding the teasing glint that Gojo just knows is present. "Or is there something you need to urgently discuss with your beloved race engineer?"

Gojo rolls his eyes but chooses to remain silent before pulling his balaclava over his head. He's abnormally quiet as he settles into his seat, and when he catches sight of you giving him a thumbs up from afar, he decides to ask you out right after he beats Geto and wins first place.

"Radio check."

"I can hear you loud and clear," you respond, your voice carrying the same lilt that Gojo's does. He laughs quietly, settling into the second position after the formation lap. A glance to his left leaves him scowling when he sees Geto flip him off, and he sighs deeply before realizing that his radio is still on. "Something wrong?"

"Just Suguru being an asshole," he responds, his irritation fading away when you attempt to choke down your laughter.

"Radio is still on," you manage to spit out. "Mind your language."

"You can reprimand me later," Gojo says immediately, well aware that his radio has probably drawn the broadcaster's attention. "Over dinner, maybe? Just you and me in the candlelight at that little Italian place you like."

"Win the race and then maybe I'll consider it," you hum, amusement tinging your words as you shake your head. Gojo can't help but pout when he realizes that you're dismissing his words as a joke, and he merely huffs before turning his radio off and telling himself that he has to beat Geto to the first turn if he wants any chance of winning this race.

It isn't long until lights out, and Gojo finds himself reacting just quick enough to push past Geto's car and take the lead. He catches a glimpse of Megumi gaining on Yuuji, eventually passing him and allowing him to start catching up to Geto. Seeing that his biggest competition is now being distracted by his teammate, Gojo turns his focus back to the track, trying to put as much distance between him and Geto as possible. A few laps pass before he hears his radio crackle to life, and he hears you speak softly so as to not startle him with the suddenness of your words.

"You're seven seconds ahead of Geto," you say, earning a hum of acknowledgement in return. "You also currently have the fastest lap so please focus on managing your tyres."

"The tyres are fine," Gojo's voice trills through your headphones. You glance over at Yaga, grimacing when you see him shaking his head.

"There's been reports of graining," you respond nonchalantly. "Please take better care of your tyres unless you want us to pit you earlier than planned and switch to plan B."

"Alright, whatever," Gojo grumbles, going quiet for a few seconds before speaking once more. "Now let me focus on driving. The sooner I win, the sooner I can see your pretty face."

You roll your eyes at his words, raising an eyebrow in confusion when Yaga fails to muffle his amused chuckle.

"Something funny?" you ask, leaning back slightly to look at the older man. He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the monitor in front of him. You roll your eyes briefly before turning back to the pit wall as well, ignoring the words Yaga mutters under his breath about someone being oblivious.

The race progresses smoothly, and you find yourself feeling thankful that both you and Tsumiki (Megumi's race engineer) have had an uneventful race so far. It isn't until the race is about a third of the way through that you finally turn the radio on again, holding out a hand to stop Tsumiki from doing the same. "Gojo? We are boxing next lap, do you copy?"

"Copy," he responds immediately, his tone uncharacteristically serious for once. "Are we sticking with plan A?"

"Yes, you listened for once," you confirm, nodding your head even though he can't see you. "You have enough of a gap that we can comfortably put you on hards and have you back in the top spot in no time. The track is warm enough for those tyres."

"I always listen to you," Gojo replies without missing a beat. "Anything you say goes."

A deep sigh is all he gets in return, and he can't help the small chuckles that leaves his lips as he finishes his lap and prepares to pull into the pit lane. The stop is performed without a hitch, and you sigh in relief when Gojo emerges in third place, only a couple of seconds behind Megumi. You exchanged nods with Tsumiki, and you turn your attention back to the monitor in front of you as she radios Megumi to come in for his pit stop next.

"Okay, Gojo," you speak when you see Megumi head into the pit lane. "We're getting Megumi in and out as fast as possible. Geto is about ten seconds ahead of you, it's time to push."

"Perfect, but not as perfect as you" Gojo sings, swearing as he takes a turn a little too wide.

"Make that eleven seconds," you correct, biting your lips to hold back a laugh when Gojo swears again. "Go do your thing. I'll keep you updated."

There's no response as the radio clicks off, and you find yourself wincing when you realize that Megumi's slow pit stop has dropped him down to fifth place behind Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna. You can hear hushed words coming from Tsumiki, and you can't help but feel bad for her predicament considering that Sukuna is the reason that Megumi hadn't been able to finish his race a couple of weeks ago after being pushed off track and into the barrier.

You watch with bated breath as the gap between Gojo and Geto begins to close, and you cross your fingers and hope that Shoko, his race engineer, will choose that moment to call him in for a tyre change. Your hopes go unanswered, and you're on the edge of your seat when Gojo managed to catch up to Geto after ten laps.

The air feels tense as you and Yaga watch Gojo get incredibly close to Geto, separating from him right as he turns a corner to avoid being hit. He's close to him— too close, you think— and you find yourself taking a deep breath to prevent yourself from turning on the radio to tell him to stop being so aggressive. A glance to your right tells you that Yaga isn't concerned with Gojo's driving, so you decide to let him be and see how the situation works out.

Your fingers grip onto your clipboard, knuckles going white as Gojo manages to swerve himself into the spot right next to Geto. You're slightly awestruck as you watch Geto and Gojo race wheel to wheel, their synchronicity impressive as they take tight corners and long straights in unison. There's a brief moment during which you wonder what it would be like if they were teammates, and you shake your head to clear the thoughts from your head. You fear that being teammates could damage their friendship beyond repair.

"There's been contact!" Yaga shouts, snapping you back to reality. You scramble for the radio button, a gasp leaving your lips as you watch Gojo swerve close to the edge of the track. You see Geto move in the opposite direction, and you quickly scan all the monitors before speaking to your racer.

"Gojo, there was contact but the car seems to be perfectly fine," you say calmly, watching as he straightens himself out and passes Geto. "That's P1."

"Great!" Gojo replies breathlessly, his voice sounding slightly strained. "How is Geto? Is he fine?"

You take a second to glance to the side, receiving a nod from Yaga before he motions to the pit lane. A soft call of your name has you turning your attention back to the radio, and you nod to yourself before updating Gojo. "He's fine, slight front wing damage so Shoko brought him in to get that changed along with his tyres. You're in the lead and we're waiting to see what the stewards will say about the incident. We think you might get a warning."

"Alright, better than a penalty," Gojo says, nodding to himself as he takes another turn. "Just a couple more laps and then I can take you out for that dinner."

"I said I'd think about it," you reply dryly, ignoring the giggle that leaves Tsumiki's lips. "Just bring it home. Geto had a bad pit stop so him, Yuuji, and Megumi are like fifteen seconds behind you."

"Whoa! Megumi made it past Sukuna? The kid's got balls."

"Language, Gojo," you remind him, sighing softly. "I'm turning the radio off now. Don't fuck this up."

"Language!" Gojo mocks, his laugh cutting out as you turn the radio off. You spend the last quarter of the race watching Megumi alongside Tsumiki, slightly impressed as Gojo manages to retain his now sixteen second lead. It isn't until Geto manages to break away from Yuuji and Megumi that you start to get nervous, and you watch as he begins to push the last few laps of the race.

"Gojo?" you ask, the radio crackling to life as you watch the monitors. "Just letting you know that Geto has managed to pull ahead of Yuuji and Megumi. I don't think he can catch up but there's still a couple of laps and he always manages to surprise us."

The silence you receive unsettles you, and you mutely turn the radio off and sit back to watch the end of the race. There's not much you can do but rely on Gojo to pull through, and you can vaguely hear Tsumiki talking to Megumi over the radio as he battles with Yuuji. You're on the edge of your seat when Geto manages to set the fastest lap in the race, and you begin to worry that he might be able to catch up to Gojo, only for your fears to be quelled when you realize that it is the final lap of the race.

"Last lap, Gojo!" you call out, turning the radio on in excitement. "Bring it home!"

"Last lap?" he asks, laughing breathlessly when he receives a hum from you. "How far behind me is the next car?"

"Fourteen seconds," you respond, bouncing your knee up and down in anticipation as he turns the last corner. The upcoming straight is the only thing between him and the finish line, and you feel your heart drop when Gojo's car suddenly starts to lose speed. "Gojo? Are you losing power?"

"Nope!" he chirps cheerily, humming softly to himself. "Are you feeling Italian? We can always choose a different restaurant for dinner?"

You do your best to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine, watching as Gojo trails towards the finish line at what can only be described as a snail's pace compared to the speed of Formula 1 cars. Your eyes widen when you see the gap between him and Geto close, and you do your best to not let your nervousness creep into your tone. "Gojo, is really not the time to be talking about dinner."

"But you're going out to dinner with me right?" comes his immediate response.

"Gojo, please hurry up and cross the finish line."

"Not until you agree to go out with me!" he trills. Yaga shoots you a pleading glance.

"Gojo! Please! Just win the race!" you beg, swallowing harshly as your fingers begin to tap against your clipboard. You catch a glimpse of the amused look on Tsumiki's face, but you're unable to give her the scathing glare you usually would due to the fear you're beginning to feel.

"I can stay here all day," he replies smugly, giggling to himself as he speeds the car up just to slow down once more. "Well I can't, but I can stay here until I cross the finish line in P20."

"Oh my fucking god," you nearly shriek, watching as Geto takes the final turn and begins to head down the straight. "Yes! Yes, I'll go out with you, Gojo! Now please just cross the damn finish line, you dumbass!"

"My pleasure!" he teases, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just in time to cross the finish line a second before Geto. A loud whoop leaves Yaga's mouth as everyone in the pit wall relaxes, too relieved by Gojo's win to instantly realize that Megumi has managed to cross the finish line before Yuuji. The cheers surrounding you sound muted as you put your head in your hands, trying to calm your racing heart and fight off a smile as you realize that you now have a date for the night.

You barely process anything as Tsumiki drags you towards the now parked racecars, and you try your best to ignore Shoko's smug smirk as she whispers into Geto's ear. You think it's safe to assume that she's filling him in on what happened with Gojo during the last lap.

His loud laugh accompanies by a friendly wink thrown your way confirms your assumption.

You stand near the back of the crowd as Gojo stands on top of his car, holding his pointer finger up and posing for pictures before leaping back onto the ground and proceeding to congratulate Geto and Megumi for their performances. You manage to catch his eye after a few minutes, and you feel your face grow warm when a genuine smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling as he makes his way through the crowd towards you.

"Congrats on P1," you say quietly, trying your best to ignore the way he's looking at you.

"All thanks to your genius strategies," he quips, repeating his words from earlier. The smile on his face tells you that he wants to make a suggestive comment, and you do your best to redirect the conversation before he can.

"You should probably head into the cooldown room," you comment casually, tilting your head in the direction that Geto and Megumi had disappeared to. "Podium celebration is about to start. Don't forget to get weighed."

"Don't forget to wear that pretty, red dress I like," he responds confidently. A surprised laugh leaves your lips at his comment, and you can't help but shake your head fondly as you finally look up at him.

"You know, you didn't have to give me a heart attack during the race. You could've asked me out after the race like a normal person. I would've said yes," you confess, becoming hyperaware of all the attention the two of you seem to be drawing.

"What can I say?" Gojo responds, shrugging half-heartedly as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's close enough that you can see the varying shades of blue in his eyes, and you resist the urge to jokingly push him away when he loops an arm around your waist. "I tend to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Oh boy, don't I know it," you whisper, not giving him the chance to respond before you loop your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. Both of you faintly register the whoops and cheers surrounding you, and you can't help but break apart from each other as laughter starts to bubble up in your throats.

It isn't until you fully pull away from him and usher him towards the cooldown room that you notice the sheer amount of cameras that have been pointed your way, focusing on the moment that has just been shared between the both of you. An embarrassed noise escapes your lips as you duck into your team's garage, giggling when you hear Yaga congratulating you loudly on your win. A smile spreads across your face as you settle into a seat to watch the podium ceremony, and you find yourself wondering if you and Gojo will manage to evade the press when you finally leave the track.

It's safe to say that the internet has a field day when the news of Gojo's end-of-race stunt and your spontaneous kiss breaks.

ty for reading!! rbs are appreciated <3

[fairuzfan]

The thing with news sources and deciding what's trustworthy and what's not is that when you see criticism of Aljazeera (which to be clear is not a great news source about anything other than Palestine) is that they completely neglect to mention that each regional section of Al-Jazeera has different people in charge of it, different contributors, different sources.

By all means, analyze your sources and understand what information you're getting but to say outright that ALL of what AlJazeera reports EVER is wrong is inherently meant to discredit Palestinian journalists in a way that no other journalist who is not Palestinian and NOT directly experiencing the war in Gaza has been discredited. Surprisingly (not really but), a lot of Palestinians in Gaza are employed by AlJazeera because it's difficult for them to find employment elsewhere.

And again, I do not love AlJazeera. I think they do plenty of faulty journalism and reporting and I actively avoid them for most news sources. But RIGHT NOW with everything going on in Gaza, they're probably one of the most trustworthy ones because of their first hand accounts and willingness to publish Palestinian voices, which many, MANY news stations refuse to do. I especially encourage the Arabic version of AlJazeera!

Like Haartz has like... 4 Palestinians on their editorial team max, and they have EVEN LESS people on the ground in Gaza whereas we have dozens of reporters from Gaza on Al-Jazeera, many of which have died. The way to fact check your news is you find how many times they link factual evidence (like videos of experiences, primary accounts, primary quotes) and compare it with circumstance of publishing.

Here are some ways to fact check and questions to ask, even when looking at Al Jazeera:

Is this a first hand account? If not, does it name a person who experienced this first hand?

If they cite/name a person who experienced it first hand, are they a trustworthy person? What are their ties to the situation? Why would they report this, have they reported situations like this in the past?

What would the person reporting gain from reporting this? A Palestinian with an Instagram post about their life in Gaza has much less to gain than an Israeli soldier publishing their experience in Gaza, for example.

In the first hand account, are there actions or evidence that is corroborated? IE: There was a video of an Israeli soldier abducting a blonde Palestinian, and there was a Human Rights Org that reported child abductions from evidence gather by an on the ground reporter. There is less of a chance that this is false, therefore.

If you don't see other news sources reporting this (ie, you don't see CNN/NYT/BBC/Fox/any other western-led media outlet) then ask: Why would they not report it? Does that mean it's false? Maybe not. Many Euro-american sources spend MONTHS before they talk about an issue (think: Washington post article "questioning" the evidence of Hamas in Al-Shifaa hospital more than a month after the raid happened)

Defining "Trustworthy":

What is their history on reporting events? Are they someone who is well known in whatever community they represent?

Think: Ghassan Abu-Sitta, a world renowned doctor. When he reports something with his name attached, he is putting his entire reputation on the line. Therefore, it is more likely he is telling the truth.

Are they someone who has any real, structural power over the situation? Maha Hussaini, for example, cannot change her circumstances because a ceasefire relies on other people separate from her, a journalist. Therefore, she has less of a reason to lie about things happening to her.

For the news source: what are their ties to the situation? CNN, for example, has stated they have their content reviewed by the IDF. Wael Al-Dahdouh, before he was evacuated, was providing first hand accounts of situation, meaning its difficult for him to fake anything or misrepresent.

What else has this person/news source reported? What are their political leanings — not just left/right, but what are their general stances on a variety of issues?

How many people who are part of the community impacted are part of reporting on this (IE: How many Palestinian POVs are shared, how many Israeli POVs are shared, what are the POVs of the people shared in general?).

Can someone I personally trust vouch for this person? If not, can I ask someone I trust to look over this person/agency and tell me their opinion?

There's for sure more I'm forgetting but these are some ways I personally check my facts and information as a quick rundown. And I see this issue of not knowing how to fact check happen ALL OVER the place, on both sides. So I really, highly encourage everyone to engage with sources more honestly!

You'll make mistakes, everyone does! I do as well! But try to be vigilant about these things so we can ensure that we're spreading accurate information and try to correct information when possible! There's no 100% unbiased source so I encourage you to compare/contrast information and your understandings of the world to fully comprehend the situation!

Please use these questions when checking ANY news source, even Al-Jazeera!

[themultifanshipper]

Who knew practicing your makeup skills on Lando and Oscar would lead to this.

Vaguely based on the time I did my ex's makeup and we got unbearably horny because of it

Warnings: filth, absolute filth, smut, threesome, spit, PinV sex, PinA sex, double penetration, the inherent eroticism of doing someone's makeup, the inherent eroticism of landoscar in the same room, Landoscar being kinky little fuckers. I'd say pwp but tbh the plot is like 3 sentences.

You'd spent two years being a makeup artist on the formula 1 media team. Which was great, it payed well, you'd made some great friends, you traveled all over the place. It was a lot of people's dream job, really.

But you had to admit you were getting bored of covering zits and five o’clock shadows all the time (and hickeys but shhhhhh) and you were hoping for a bit of a change of routine.

That change came in the form of an offer to become the official f1 Academy makeup artist.

Sure it wasn't exactly Cirque du Soleil but at least you'd get to do a bit more than just pandering to male egos.

So before the end of the season, you thought you'd get a bit of practice in by doing some of your friends makeup.

The problem was the only friends you had access to while traveling were formula one drivers, or in other words, men.

So you roped your two best friends in the paddock Lando and Oscar into letting you do their makeup one afternoon, in the comfort of their motorhome bathroom, where the lighting was best, and the presence of a sink was convenient.

You grabbed a chair from the other room, which happened to be quite large, so it took up most of the space in the bathroom.

You did Oscar's eyes first, that way you could alternate between the two so they wouldn't have to stay still for too long.

You instructed Oscar to close his eyes, then you stepped closer, shaking the tube to get the liquid flowing.

Having Oscar under you, so pliant and at your mercy with his eyes closed sent a shiver up your spine and you hesitated for a second, you mind conjuring up other scenarios where you two could be in this position. Then you quickly came to your senses and eagerly applied the black liquid in a sharp wing.

The angle was a bit weird but you got through it, and when he opened his eyes to look at you, your breath caught in your throat. He was beautiful. Not in a particularly feminine way but it really fucking suited him, it made his deep brown eyes stand out. You were almost jealous.

Then it was Lando's turn. They swapped places, Lando settling on the chair while Oscar sat on the floor.

You uncapped the lid and went to start Lando's liner, but the angle was even worse due to their slight height difference.

You huffed. “Hang on I need to get closer, this is killing my wrist.” You thought for a second. “Can I sit on your lap? I promise it'll be quick”

Lando’s eyes widened a fraction but he nodded and you straddled his thighs, your legs on either side of his.

Plot twist, it was not quick. He couldn't keep still long enough and you kept having to stop to let him scratch his nose, beard, neck, etc…

You got a bit frustrated at his fidgeting so you grabbed his jaw, perhaps a bit harder than intended, and held him in place.

“Stop moving!” you ordered, and he became weirdly stock still suddenly.

In your concentration you didn't notice how close your face had gotten to his, and how his pupils dilated more and more, the closer you got.

You shifted on his lap as you tried to get the right angle to do the last part, but you must have hurt him because he gasped and scrunched his eyebrows together as his hands flew to your hips to stop you from moving.

“Shit, you ok? Did I hurt you?”

“Nope, no it's fine just…” he exhaled shakily “just don't move around too much” he gulped as he avoided eye contact. His breathing had picked up a bit and you didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable so you hurried the rest. But you had to admit, sitting on Lando's lap with his hands squeezing your hips was making you hot, and slightly dizzy.

Oscar was looking curiously at the interaction from the floor, eyes darting from your faces only a few inches apart, to where Lando’s leg was starting to twitch, to his hands on the meat of your hips, to the way your fingers were digging into his jaw to keep him still.

You managed to finish quickly, and as you got off him you noticed the mirror was starting to steam up a little bit. What you didn't see was the way Lando adjusted his pants before getting up to let Oscar have his turn.

“Holy shit, mate. It looks really good on you” Oscar was almost in awe as he got up, now slightly higher than eye level with Lando.

The two of them sort of stood there looking at each other’s eyes with an intensity you'd never seen in them before, then seemingly remembered where they were before clearing their throats and shuffling around awkwardly to switch places.

"You wanna..."

"Yeah, thanks"

You took the lipstick out of your bag, applying a bit to a brush before grabbing Oscar's jaw the same way you had Lando’s, and tilting his face upwards. His hand naturally came to rest on your waist as you sat down on him, you didn't mind. He swallowed and the movement of his adam's apple caught your eye.

“You okay?” you whispered, looking into his eyes from above.

“Yeah” he replied, the deafening silence that followed almost overwhelmed you so you quickly started swiping the brush over his bottom lip.

You took the liberty of using your thumb to wipe some excess off, and it grazed Oscar's tongue.

He gasped and you swore, about to apologise, but when you looked at his eyes you were shocked to find them closed, as Oscar opened his mouth just a fraction more, inviting.

When you didn't say anything or move for several seconds, he looked up at you through lidded eyes and you understood. He was turned on.

You didn't dare move. You glanced at his lips then back up to his eyes and he did the same.

“Oscar…” You breathed out, barely even loud enough to be considered a whisper.

In guise of a response, he pressed your hips down and rolled his upwards, and the groan he let out was almost akin to whimper. He was so hard you could feel him through all the layers.

You chanced a glance down to where Lando was sitting and the look that met yours was overwhelming. He looked like a siren, painted eyes also lidded as he looked at you and Oscar, mouth hanging half open as his hand palmed his obvious erection through his joggers.

“You two are so fucking hot” he whispered, and you looked back at the man you were currently grinding on. Oscar looked so fucked out you might have blacked out for a second, dropping the makeup brush on the counter and grabbing Oscar by the hair to pull his head back ever further, exposing his neck. You trailed kisses along his jaw before settling below his ear to bite at it lightly.

“You want to fuck me, Osc? Give this little freak a show, huh?” You ground your hips down harder and he groaned out a curse at the ceiling before sliding a hand around your neck to close the gap between you.

His lips were slippery thanks to the half-applied lipstick, but he made up for it by sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and your hips stuttered against his as you felt Lando's hands start to work at your clothes…

You weren't sure when the plan changed, but you found yourself riding Lando instead of Oscar on the chair, while Oscar guided your hips at a leisurely pace as he sloppily made out with Lando over your shoulder.

You haven't truly lived until you've witnessed that.

Suddenly Oscar had a thought and slowed your hips down to a slow grind. You were sweaty and your legs were aching so you were thankful for the break.

“Can you take us both?” Oscar asked.

You and Lando froze. You frowned at each other.

“What?”

“Do you think” he started, trailing sloppy kisses down your back, hands going lower and lower. “you can take us both?”

“As in…?” you trailed off as he got to the dip in your lower back.

“As in both of us…” his hands came down to spread your ass as he kissed the end of your tail bone. “… at the same time.” His thumb stroked over your rim and you shuddered in Lando's embrace.

“I've never done that before” but you could feel yourself getting wetter at the prospect.

“Do you want to try it?” Oscar asked, still level with where you and Lando were joined.

You didn't take much convincing, and as soon as he had your consent, Oscar surged forward and licked a stripe from where you were split open by Lando, up to where his last kiss had landed.

You moaned as he spread you open and and spat straight onto your puckered hole, watching his spit slide down your skin to Lando's cock inside you. Lando swore as you tightened around him and pulled out so that he wouldn't come too soon. You took the opportunity to arch your back, presenting yourself to Oscar as Lando stroked your hair and kissed you sweetly.

Oscar wasted no time, he dived in with expert precision, stretching you out with his tongue, then a finger, then two, dipping them in your cunt first to get them nice and wet.

Soon enough you were panting into Lando's chest and dripping over his thighs, overwhelmed by the new sensations taking over your body. When Oscar got to four fingers he pulled out and gave your ass a quick spank before dipping his cock into your wet folds once.

When his tip breached your rim, he stopped to let you adjust for a second, before continuing to slide into you slowly.

The drag of his cock inside you was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, and you felt like you were going to come any second, just from that.

Lando chose that moment to slide back into you, slightly less on the edge than before, but as soon as he was fully inside and nudged your g-spot you came with a shout as your body clamped down on the two cocks inside of you. The feeling so intense you swore you could see colours burst beneath your eyelids as the waves crashed over you and wetness dripped between the three of you.

Oscar groaned as he realised you were squirting, probably also for the first time.

Lando couldn't help himself, his hips moved of their own accord as he chased his high, and the stream just kept flowing as Oscar followed his lead, both men incredibly close to orgasm themselves.

The feeling of the two of them filling you up with their cum was peculiar but indescribably erotic as you came down from your high with them.

Turns out the worst part of aftercare with Lando and Oscar, was having to instruct them on how to remove their (now slightly smudged) makeup.

Your legs were too unstable to move so you barked orders at them in the bathroom until they were done. Then they came to bed and lay on either side of you, hands wandering over each others bodies as the three of you drifted into bliss

Looks like your days of covering hickeys weren't quite finished yet.

[pucksandpower]

Rock and A Hard Place

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of the Hungarian Grand Prix has your protective side clawing to the surface

Lando trudges into his driver’s room, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. The scent of champagne clings to him, a bitter reminder of the podium celebration he’d just endured. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the world and its expectations.

You’re already there, waiting for him. Your eyes soften as you take in his dejected posture. “Hey, champ,” you say softly, approaching him with open arms.

Lando looks up, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a storm of emotions swirling in those color changing depths — disappointment, anger, and a hint of relief at seeing you. “Some champ I am,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you wrap your arms around him.

“You finished P2. That’s still amazing,” you remind him, your voice gentle but firm. Your hands move to the zipper of his race suit, slowly peeling away the champagne-soaked fabric.

Lando lets out a bitter laugh. “Second place is just the first loser, isn’t it?” He winces as he moves his arms, the physical toll of the race finally catching up with him.

You shake your head, helping him out of the suit. “That’s not true and you know it. You fought hard out there.”

“I fought, alright,” Lando agrees, his voice tinged with frustration. “Fought with the team, fought with Will, fought with Oscar ...” He trails off, shaking his head.

As you help him step out of the suit, you can feel the tension radiating off him. “Talk to me, love. What happened out there?”

Lando sinks down onto the small couch in the room, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “It was all going so well at the start. Pole position, you know? I thought ... I really thought this could be it.”

You sit beside him, your hand finding his. “And then?”

“Oscar had a better start,” Lando explains, his free hand gesticulating as he speaks. “He took the lead, and I was right behind him. We were flying, both of us. But then the team ...” He pauses, swallowing hard.

“What did the team do?” You prompt gently, your thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of his hand.

Lando’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of hurt and confusion in them. “They told me to pit before Oscar. I undercut him, took the lead. I thought ... I thought they were backing me for the win.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue. The pain in his voice is palpable, and your heart aches for him.

“But then they started pushing for a swap,” Lando continues, his voice rising slightly. “They wanted me to give the position back to Oscar. Can you believe that? After I’d fought so hard to get there?”

“That must have been so frustrating,” you say softly, squeezing his hand.

Lando nods vigorously. “It was! I mean, I get team orders, I do. But this ... it felt like they were playing with me. One minute they’re helping me get ahead, the next they want me to give it all up.”

“Did you argue with them?” You ask, though you already know the answer from the tension in his body.

“For laps,” Lando admits, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Will probably has a headache from all my yelling. But in the end ... in the end, I had to do it. Three laps from the end, I let Oscar by.”

You lean in, resting your head on his shoulder. “That must have been a really tough decision.”

Lando’s arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. “It was. I ... I know it was the right thing to do for the team. But it hurts, you know? To be so close and then ...”

“And then have it slip away,” you finish for him. “I can’t imagine how that feels.”

Lando’s quiet for a moment, his fingers idly playing with a strand of your hair. “It feels like shit, if I’m honest,” he finally says, a weak laugh escaping him.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “But you did it anyway. That takes a lot of strength. A lot of maturity.”

He shrugs, but you can see a flicker of pride in his eyes. “Maybe. Still doesn’t feel great, though.”

“I know,” you say, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “But I’m so proud of you. Not just for the podium, but for how you handled everything.”

Lando leans into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm. “You showed real team spirit out there. And let’s not forget, you started on pole. That’s incredible in itself.”

A small smile starts to form on Lando’s lips. “It was a pretty good qualifying, wasn’t it?”

You grin, nodding enthusiastically. “It was amazing. You were flying around that track like it was your personal playground.”

Lando’s smile grows, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I did feel pretty good yesterday. Like I could do no wrong.”

“Because you’re talented, Lando,” you remind him, your voice warm with affection. “So incredibly talented. One race doesn’t change that.”

He looks at you, his eyes softening. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

You shrug, a playful smirk on your lips. “It’s a gift. Plus, I happen to be your biggest fan.”

Lando chuckles, the sound warming your heart. “My biggest fan, huh? I thought that was Zak.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Zak’s got nothing on me. I’ve got the inside scoop on Lando Norris.”

“Oh yeah?” Lando raises an eyebrow, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. “And what’s that?”

You lean in close, your voice dropping to a whisper. “That he’s not just an incredible driver, but also the kindest, funniest, most amazing person I know.”

Lando’s cheeks flush slightly, but his eyes are bright as they meet yours. “You’re biased,” he accuses, but there’s no heat in his words.

“Guilty as charged,” you admit with a grin. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Lando’s hand comes up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs.

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out,” you reply, leaning into his touch.

For a moment, you both sit in comfortable silence, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Then Lando speaks again, his voice softer now. “You know, even with everything that happened ... standing on that podium, I couldn’t help but think about how far we’ve come. The team, I mean.”

You nod encouragingly. “It’s been quite a journey, hasn’t it?”

“God, yes,” Lando agrees, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “Remember when getting into Q3 was a big deal? And now we’re fighting for wins, getting double podiums ...”

“It’s incredible,” you say, your voice filled with genuine awe. “You should be so proud of the part you’ve played in that.”

Lando’s quiet for a moment, considering your words. “I am,” he finally says, a note of surprise in his voice. “I really am. It’s just ... sometimes it’s hard to see the big picture.”

You nod, understanding. “That’s why you’ve got me. To remind you of how far you’ve come when you’re too close to see it yourself.”

Lando’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You grin up at him. “You were just you. That’s more than enough.”

Lando’s eyes soften, a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the room temperature. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, heart swelling with affection. “Forever and ever.”

As you lean in to kiss him, you can feel the last of the tension leaving Lando’s body. The disappointment of the race isn’t forgotten, but it’s faded into the background, overshadowed by the love and support between you.

When you finally pull apart, Lando’s smiling — a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. “You know,” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice, “I think I might need some help getting this champagne off me. Fancy a shower?”

You laugh, standing up and offering him your hand. “Lead the way. I hear you’re pretty good at that.”

As Lando takes your hand, his earlier frustration seems a distant memory. There will be other races, other chances for victory. But right now, in this moment, he has everything he needs — the love of his life, a promising career, and the knowledge that no matter what happens on track, he always has a home to come back to in your arms.

***

The soft glow of candlelight flickers across the table, casting dancing shadows on Lando’s face as he leans in, a conspiratorial grin on his lips. “You know,” he says, his voice low and playful, “I think I might actually be hungry enough to eat everything on this menu.”

You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Everything? Even the fish?”

Lando’s nose wrinkles, but his grin doesn’t falter. “Okay, maybe not everything. But close enough.”

The restaurant buzzes with quiet conversation around you, a contrast to the chaos of the track earlier in the day. It’s a small, intimate place, tucked away from the main streets of Budapest — a hidden gem Lando discovered during one of his previous visits to the city.

“I’m just glad we managed to sneak out without anyone recognizing us,” you say, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers with his. “It’s nice to have you all to myself for a change.”

Lando’s thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, his eyes soft in the candlelight. “Trust me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

As the waiter approaches with your drinks — a local craft beer for Lando and a colorful cocktail for you — Lando’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Everything okay?” You ask, concern coloring your voice.

Lando nods, but there’s a hint of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Yeah, just ... social media’s going a bit mad about the race. Some people aren’t too happy about how it played out.”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Hey, look at me. What matters is that you did what was best for the team. That takes real strength.”

Lando’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of gratitude and lingering doubt in them. “I know, I just ... sometimes I wonder if I made the right call.”

Before you can respond, a loud voice cuts through the restaurant’s gentle ambiance. “Oi! Is that Lando Norris?”

Lando stiffens, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as you both turn to see a man stumbling towards your table. The strong smell of alcohol precedes him, and his eyes are slightly unfocused as he points an accusatory finger at Lando.

“It is you!” The man slurs, swaying slightly as he reaches your table. “The guy who gave up the win. What kind of racer does that, eh?”

Lando takes a deep breath, his media training kicking in as he forces a polite smile. “I’m sorry, mate, but we’re trying to have a private dinner here. Maybe we could chat another time?”

The man ignores him, his voice rising. “Nah, I wanna talk now. You know what? None of the greats would’ve done what you did today. Senna wouldn’t have moved over. Schumacher wouldn’t have. Hell, even Hamilton wouldn’t have.”

You can see Lando’s jaw clenching, his earlier good mood evaporating. “Look, I understand you’re upset, but-”

“Upset?” The man interrupts, laughing bitterly. “I’m not upset, I’m disappointed. You had a chance to prove yourself today, and you blew it. That’s why you’ll never be a world champion.”

The words hit Lando like a physical blow. You watch as he flinches, the doubt and self-recrimination from earlier flooding back into his eyes.

That’s when something inside you snaps.

You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping loudly against the floor. The restaurant goes quiet, all eyes turning to your table.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice calm but with an edge of steel, “but I think you need to leave. Now.”

The man turns his bleary gaze on you, a sneer twisting his features. “Oh yeah? And who are you to tell me what to do?”

You step closer, your eyes flashing with anger. “I’m someone who actually understands what happened out there today. Unlike you, who’s clearly talking out of your arse.”

Lando reaches for your hand, his voice low and urgent. “It’s okay, really. Let’s just ignore him.”

But you’re not about to let this go. Not when this drunken idiot is tearing down everything Lando’s worked so hard for.

“No, it’s not okay,” you say, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. “This man,” you gesture to Lando, “drove an incredible race today. He started on pole, fought hard for every position, and when it came down to it, he put his team first. That takes more courage and integrity than you could ever understand.”

The drunk fan scoffs, but you’re not finished.

“You want to talk about the greats? Let’s talk about them. Senna, Schumacher, Hamilton — they all understood the importance of teamwork. They all had races where they had to make tough decisions for the good of the team. That’s part of what made them champions.”

You’re on a roll now, your voice rising with passion. “Lando didn’t give up today. He showed exactly why he’s one of the best drivers on the grid. He proved he can make the hard calls, that he understands the bigger picture. That’s what separates the good drivers from the great ones.”

The man opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “And you know what? The fact that you can’t see that says a lot more about you than it does about Lando. A true fan, a true lover of the sport, would understand the complexity of these decisions. They’d appreciate the skill and the emotional strength involved, not just blindly demand wins at any cost.”

The restaurant is dead silent now, everyone watching the confrontation unfold. Lando’s looking at you with a mixture of awe and affection, his earlier doubts forgotten in the face of your fierce defense.

The drunk fan, however, isn’t backing down. “Oh, spare me the lecture,” he sneers. “You’re just defending him because-”

You don’t let him finish. In one swift motion, you pick up your cocktail and dump it over the man’s head.

Gasps echo through the restaurant as the colorful liquid drips down the man’s face, soaking into his shirt. For a moment, he stands there in shock, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“I think,” you say, your voice cold, “that you need to leave.”

The man splutters, wiping ineffectually at his face. “You ... you can’t ...”

“She can, and she did,” Lando says, standing up to join you. There’s a new confidence in his posture, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks at you. “And she’s right. About everything.”

The restaurant manager appears then, flanked by two burly waiters. “Sir,” he says to the drunk fan, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We don’t tolerate harassment of our guests.”

As the man is escorted out, still muttering under his breath, the tension in the room gradually dissipates. A few nearby diners even break into applause, offering you supportive smiles.

Lando turns to you, his eyes shining with a mixture of love and admiration. “That was ... wow. Just wow.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, the adrenaline of the moment starting to fade. “I’m sorry if I made a scene. I just couldn’t stand hearing him talk to you like that.”

Lando shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Are you kidding? That was incredible. I’ve never had anyone defend me like that before.”

The manager approaches your table, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that incident. Please, allow us to comp your meal and offer you a bottle of our finest champagne.”

Lando glances at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say? Fancy celebrating for a change?”

You laugh, the last of the tension leaving your body. “Absolutely. Though maybe I should stick to water from now on. I seem to have misplaced my cocktail.”

As you settle back into your seats, the other diners returning to their own conversations, Lando reaches across the table to take your hand again.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. “Not just for what you said to that guy, but for believing in me. Even when I struggle to believe in myself sometimes.”

You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with affection. “Always. You’re an incredible driver. But more than that, you’re an incredible person. That’s what I love most about you.”

Lando’s eyes soften, a warmth spreading through his chest that has nothing to do with the candlelight or the promise of champagne. “I love you too. More than I can put into words.”

As the waiter arrives with a bottle of champagne and fresh glasses, you raise your glass in a toast. “To Lando Norris,” you say, your voice full of pride, “future world champion and the best teammate anyone could ask for — on and off the track.”

Lando clinks his glass against yours, a genuine smile lighting up his face. “And to you,” he adds, “my fiercest defender and the love of my life.”

As you sip your champagne, the earlier incident fades into the background. What remains is the warmth of your love for each other, the pride in what you’ve accomplished together, and the excitement for all that’s still to come.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter, good food, and quiet moments of affection. By the time you leave the restaurant, hand-in-hand, the difficulties of the race day seem like a distant memory.

As you walk back to the hotel, Lando pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You know,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice, “I think I might need to hire you as my official defender. You’re much scarier than any PR team.”

You laugh, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “Please, as if you could afford me.”

Lando grins, his arm tightening around you. “Oh, I think I could manage. How does a lifetime contract sound? All expenses paid, of course.”

Your heart skips a beat at the implication behind his words. “A lifetime, huh? That’s a pretty long time.”

Lando stops walking, turning to face you. In the soft glow of the streetlights, his eyes are full of love and certainty. “Not nearly long enough, if you ask me.”

***

The bedside lamp casts a dim light across the hotel room. Lando’s arm is draped lazily over your waist, his breath tickling the back of your neck as you both bask in the comfortable silence. The events of the day seem far away now, eclipsed by the simple pleasure of being together.

“I think,” Lando murmurs, his voice heavy with contentment, “this might be my favorite part of race weekends.”

You turn slightly to face him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Even better than qualifying on pole?”

Lando grins, pulling you closer. “Well, maybe it’s a close second. But only because I get to do this every single night.”

You’re about to reply when Lando’s phone suddenly buzzes on the nightstand, the screen illuminating with an incoming call. Lando groans, burying his face in your shoulder. “If that’s Andrea calling to debrief again, I swear ...”

But as he reaches for the phone, his eyes widen in surprise. “That’s ... weird.”

“What is it?” You ask, curiosity piqued by his reaction.

“It’s ... it’s Seb,” Lando says, his voice a mixture of confusion and excitement. “Sebastian Vettel.”

Before you can respond, Lando fumbles with the phone, his usual dexterity deserting him in his surprise. Somehow, he manages to not only drop the phone but also lose his balance, tumbling out of the bed with a yelp.

You can’t help but laugh as Lando scrambles on the floor, trying to answer the call before it goes to voicemail. “Hello? Seb?” He says breathlessly, still tangled in the bedsheets.

“Lando?” Sebastian’s familiar voice comes through the speaker, tinged with amusement. “Are you alright? It sounded like you were wrestling a bear there for a moment.”

Lando’s face flushes as he rights himself, sitting on the edge of the bed. “No, no, I’m fine. Just, uh, dropped the phone. Bit surprised to hear from you, to be honest.”

You scoot closer, curious about this unexpected call. Sebastian rarely reached out unless he was attending a race, which had become a once-a-season occurrence since his retirement.

“I can imagine,” Sebastian chuckles. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”

“No, not at all,” Lando assures him, even as you playfully poke his side. “What’s up, Seb?”

There’s a brief pause before Sebastian speaks again, his tone becoming more serious. “I watched the race today. Quite a day you had, wasn’t it?”

Lando’s shoulders tense slightly, the memories of the race and its aftermath flooding back. “Yeah, it was ... intense.”

“I can imagine,” Sebastian says, his voice softening with understanding. “Team orders are never easy to deal with, especially when you’re fighting for the win.”

Lando nods, even though Sebastian can’t see him. “It’s just ... I don’t know. Part of me feels like I should have fought harder, you know? Maybe I gave in too easily.”

There’s a gentle sigh from Sebastian’s end. “Do you remember Multi 21?”

Lando’s brow furrows in confusion. “The incident with you and Mark Webber? At Malaysia in 2013?”

“That’s the one,” Sebastian confirms. “I was in a similar position to you today, but I made a different choice. And I want to talk to you about it, if that’s okay.”

Lando’s eyes widen, and he quickly puts the phone on speaker so you can hear too. “Of course, Seb. I’d really appreciate that.”

Sebastian’s voice fills the room, carrying the weight of experience. “Back then, I was young, hungry for success. When the team told me to hold position behind Mark, I ... well, I ignored them. I overtook him and won the race.”

“I remember watching that,” Lando says softly. “It was a big deal at the time.”

“It was,” Sebastian agrees. “And you know what? In the moment, it felt amazing. I won, I had proven I was the faster driver. But looking back now, I realize it came at a cost.”

You watch as Lando leans forward, hanging on Sebastian’s every word. “What do you mean?” He asks.

“It damaged the team’s trust in me,” Sebastian explains. “It strained my relationship with Mark, with the engineers, even with some of the fans. And more than that, it ... it wasn’t the right thing to do.”

Lando’s quiet for a moment, processing this. “But you were racing. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Fight for every position?”

Sebastian’s laugh is gentle, understanding. “That’s what I told myself at the time. But being part of a team means sometimes putting the team’s needs above your own desires. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and an even harder one to apply in the heat of the moment.”

“So you think I made the right call today?” Lando asks, a hint of hope in his voice.

“I think you showed incredible maturity and team spirit,” Sebastian says firmly. “It’s not easy to give up a potential win, especially when you’re in the position to fight for it. But by doing so, you’ve strengthened your team, shown your commitment to the bigger picture.”

You can see Lando’s shoulders relaxing as Sebastian speaks, some of the doubt from earlier melting away.

“But what about the championship?” Lando asks. “Every point counts, and I gave up quite a few today.”

Sebastian’s voice takes on a thoughtful tone. “Championships aren’t won or lost in a single race. They’re built on consistency, on the strength of the team as a whole. What you did today? That builds the kind of trust and respect within a team that can carry you through an entire season.”

Lando nods slowly, his fingers intertwining with yours as he listens. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Plus,” Sebastian adds, a smile evident in his voice, “there’s something to be said for karma in this sport. The goodwill you build up? It has a way of coming back around when you least expect it.”

“You really think so?” Lando asks, a hint of his usual optimism creeping back into his voice.

“I know so,” Sebastian assures him. “I’ve seen it happen time and time again. The drivers who put the team first, who understand the bigger picture? They’re the ones who end up with long, successful careers. They’re the ones who become true champions.”

You squeeze Lando’s hand, seeing the impact Sebastian’s words are having on him.

“Thanks, Seb,” Lando says, his voice thick with emotion. “I really appreciate you calling. It means a lot.”

“Anytime, Lando,” Sebastian replies warmly. “We’ve all been where you are. It’s important to support each other in this crazy world of Formula 1.”

There’s a brief pause before Sebastian speaks again, his tone lighter. “Now, I hope you’re not spending the whole night dwelling on this. You’re in Budapest, after all. Beautiful city. Plenty to celebrate.”

Lando chuckles, some of his usual cheerfulness returning. “Don’t worry, we’ve been making the most of it. Even had a bit of excitement at dinner.”

“Oh?” Sebastian’s curiosity is piqued. “Do tell.”

Lando glances at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Let’s just say my girlfriend has a mean cocktail toss.”

You can’t help but laugh as Lando recounts the incident at the restaurant, Sebastian’s warm laughter joining yours through the phone.

“Sounds like you’ve found yourself a keeper there,” Sebastian says, his voice full of amusement and approval. “Don’t let that one go.”

Lando’s eyes meet yours. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to.”

As the call winds down, Sebastian’s tone becomes serious once more. “Remember, Lando. What you did today? That’s the mark of a true champion. Keep that spirit, that integrity, and you’ll go far in this sport. And in life.”

“Thanks, Seb,” Lando says softly. “Really, thank you.”

After they say their goodbyes and Lando hangs up, he sits there for a moment, still processing the conversation. You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“You okay?” You ask gently.

Lando nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Actually, I’m better than okay. That was ... wow. I can’t believe Seb called just to talk about that.”

“He clearly thinks highly of you,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “And he’s right, you know. What you did today? It was pretty amazing.”

Lando turns to face you, his eyes shining with renewed confidence. “You know what? It was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still want to win. But maybe ... maybe there’s more than one way to be a champion.”

You smile, your heart swelling with pride. “That’s my Lando.”

As you both settle back into bed, Lando pulls you close, his voice soft in the darkness. “Thank you for being here through all of this. For defending me, for supporting me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You snuggle closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. “You’d probably still be on the floor after falling out of bed,” you tease gently.

Lando’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “Probably. Good thing I’ve got you to keep me grounded, then.”

***

The early morning sunlight streams through the large windows of the hotel’s breakfast area, shining over the scattered tables. The room buzzes with the quiet chatter of guests and the clink of cutlery against plates. At a corner table, a group of McLaren team members are huddled together, their conversation animated despite the early hour.

You spot them as you enter, your eyes immediately drawn to Will Joseph, Lando’s race engineer. He’s gesturing with a piece of toast, apparently deep in discussion about yesterday’s race. For a moment, you consider joining Lando for breakfast in your room, but the memory of Will’s voice over the team radio, pushing Lando to give up his position, makes you change course.

With a bright smile fixed on your face, you approach the table. “Good morning, everyone!” You say cheerfully, your voice causing the group to look up in surprise.

Will’s eyebrows raise slightly as he recognizes you. “Oh, good morning,” he replies, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “Lando not with you?”

You shake your head, your smile never wavering. “He’s still getting ready. I thought I’d come down and grab us some coffee.” Your eyes lock onto Will’s. “Mind if I borrow you for a moment? I’d love to chat about yesterday’s race.”

The other team members exchange glances, sensing the underlying tension despite your cheerful demeanor. Will hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Of course, no problem.”

As Will stands to follow you to a nearby empty table, you turn to the others. “I promise I’ll return him in one piece,” you say with a wink, eliciting nervous chuckles from the group.

Once seated at the new table, you lean forward, your elbows resting on the surface, fingers interlaced. Your smile remains, but there’s a steely glint in your eyes that makes Will shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“So, Will,” you begin, your voice light and conversational, “quite a race yesterday, wasn’t it?”

Will nods, his posture stiff. “Yes, it was. A great result for the team, all things considered.”

“Mmm, indeed,” you agree, your head tilting slightly to one side. “A double podium. That’s certainly something to celebrate.” You pause, your smile growing a fraction wider. “Of course, it could have been even better, couldn’t it?”

Will’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Well, in racing, there’s always room for improvement, but-”

“Oh, I’m not talking about the racing, Will,” you interrupt smoothly. “I’m talking about your performance.”

Confusion flickers across Will’s face. “My performance?”

You nod, your expression one of exaggerated sympathy. “Your radio communications, to be specific. You know, I couldn’t help but notice how ... persistent you were with Lando yesterday.”

Will’s shoulders tense visibly. “I was just relaying the team’s strategy-”

“Were you?” You ask, your voice dripping with false innocence. “Because from where I was standing, it sounded an awful lot like emotional manipulation.”

Will’s eyes widen, a flush creeping up his neck. “ I... that wasn’t my intention at all. I was just doing my job.”

You lean back in your chair, your smile never faltering. “Your job is to support Lando, to help him perform at his best. Not to badger him into submission when he’s fighting for a win.”

“The team decision was-” Will starts, but you cut him off again.

“The team decision is one thing, Will. How you communicate that decision is another entirely.” Your voice drops lower, the cheerfulness giving way to a steely edge. “Do you have any idea what it does to Lando when you push him like that? When you make him doubt himself in the middle of a race?”

Will shifts uncomfortably, his breakfast forgotten. “I never meant to-”

“Of course you didn’t,” you say, your smile returning full force. “Which is why we’re having this little chat. So you can make sure it never happens again.”

Will’s brow furrows. “Are you ... are you threatening me?”

You laugh, the sound light and airy, completely at odds with the intensity of your gaze. “Threatening? Oh, Will, don’t be silly. I’m just having a friendly conversation with my boyfriend’s colleague. I’m simply pointing out that if I ever hear you speaking to Lando like that again, well ...” You pause, your smile widening to show teeth. “Let’s just say I can be very creative when it comes to protecting the people I love.”

Will swallows hard, his face pale. “I ... I understand.”

You clap your hands together, the sound making Will jump slightly. “Wonderful! I’m so glad we had this chat. It’s so important for the team to be on the same page, don’t you think?”

Before Will can respond, you stand up, your cheerful demeanor back in full force. “Well, I should get back to Lando. He’ll be wondering where his coffee is. Have a great day, Will!”

As you turn to leave, you pause, looking back over your shoulder. “Oh, and Will? Remember, Lando’s not just a driver. He’s a person. A brilliant, talented person who deserves respect and support. I trust you’ll keep that in mind next time you’re on the radio with him.”

With a final, dazzling smile, you walk away, leaving a stunned Will staring after you.

As you make your way to the coffee station, you can’t help but overhear snippets of conversation from the McLaren table.

“What was that about?” One of the engineers asks Will as he returns, looking slightly shell-shocked.

Will shakes his head, reaching for his water glass with a slightly trembling hand. “Just a friendly chat,” he mutters, his voice lacking conviction.

You smile to yourself as you pour two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar to Lando’s just the way he likes it. As you head back to your room, you can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It might have been a bit dramatic, but if it means Lando gets the support he deserves on track, it’s worth it.

When you enter the room, Lando’s just finishing getting dressed, his hair still damp from the shower. He looks up as you enter, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“There you are,” he says, crossing the room to take one of the coffee cups from you. “I was starting to think you’d got lost on the way to the breakfast buffet.”

You laugh, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just ran into some of the team downstairs. Thought I’d say good morning.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “Oh yeah? Anyone in particular?”

You shrug, your expression innocent. “Oh, you know, just the usual suspects. Will was there.”

Lando’s eyes narrow slightly. “Will, huh? And how was that?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just a friendly chat. Nothing to worry about.”

Lando studies you for a moment, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this story?”

You set your coffee down and wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Because you know me too well. But trust me, it’s nothing bad. I just ... may have had a little talk with Will about how he communicates with you during races.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “You didn’t ...”

“I did,” you confirm, your tone unapologetic. “Someone needed to say something. The way he was pushing you yesterday, it wasn’t right.”

For a moment, Lando looks torn between embarrassment and gratitude. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “You really are my fiercest defender, aren’t you?”

You grin, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of his hair. “Someone’s got to look out for you out there.”

Lando shakes his head, but his eyes are soft with affection. “You know I can fight my own battles, right?”

“Of course you can,” you agree. “But that doesn’t mean you have to fight them alone. We’re a team, remember?”

Lando pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, we are. The best team.”

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you can’t help but feel a surge of love and protectiveness. You know Lando is more than capable of handling himself, both on and off the track. But if you can make things even a little bit easier for him, if you can ensure he gets the support and respect he deserves, then you’ll do whatever it takes.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what love is. It’s standing up for each other, supporting each other, and facing the world together — whether that world is the circuits of Formula 1 or the quiet moments in a hotel room.

And as Lando looks at you, his eyes full of love and gratitude, you know you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Because he’s worth it. He’s worth everything.

[lev1hei1chou]

When their child wants a sibling

Dad!Gojo x reader, Dad!Nanami x reader Genre: Fluff Masterlist Requests open!

GOJO SATORU

"Mommy, can I have a sibling?" your five-year-old daughter, Hikari, asked as she plopped down next to you on the couch, her eyes wide and hopeful. You were in the middle of reading a book, and the sudden question caught you off guard.

Gojo, who was lounging on the other end of the couch, immediately perked up. "A sibling, huh?" he mused, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "That sounds like a great idea."

You shot him a look. "Satoru, we need to talk about this first."

"But Mommy," Hikari interrupted, "all my friends at kindergarten have siblings. I'm the only one who doesn't."

You sighed, closing your book and putting it aside. "It's not that simple, sweetheart. Having a sibling is a big responsibility."

Satoru scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "She's right, Hikari. It means sharing your toys, your room, and your parents' attention. Are you ready for that?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes! I promise I'll be the best big sister ever. I can even help take care of the baby!"

You looked at Gojo, who was trying to not laugh. "Well, I suppose we can think about it."

"Yay!" Hikari cheered, jumping off the couch and running around the living room in excitement.

Gojo leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Looks like we're in for some fun times ahead."

Later that evening, after Hikari had been put to bed, you and Gojo sat in the kitchen, sipping tea. "Do you really think we can handle another kid?" you asked, looking over at him.

"Of course we can," he replied confidently. "We're a great team, and besides, Hikari will make an awesome big sister."

You smiled, feeling reassured by his words. "I guess we could start trying."

Gojo's grin widened. "That's the spirit! And, you know, the trying part is the most fun."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help laughing. "You're impossible, Satoru."

A few weeks later, you found yourself in the same spot on the couch, Hikari sitting on your lap this time, telling you all about her day at kindergarten. Your husband was, as usual, lounging next to you, pretending to be deeply interested in a magazine.

"Mommy, did you and Daddy think about what we talked about?" Hikari asked suddenly, looking up at you with her big, innocent eyes.

You exchanged a glance with Gojo, who gave you a slight nod. "Yes, we did," you said. "And we decided that we're going to try to give you a sibling."

Her face lit up with joy. "Really? When?"

"Well," Gojo began, putting down his magazine, "it might take some time. Making a baby is a little complicated."

Hikari frowned, clearly not understanding. "But you can do it, right?"

Gojo chuckled. "Yes, we can do it. You just have to be patient, okay?"

"Okay!" she agreed, and then ran off to play with her toys.

You turned to Gojo, who was trying to suppress his laughter. "You're enjoying this way too much," you said.

"I can't help it," he replied. "It's just so cute seeing her so excited."

Days passed, and Hikari kept asking every now and then about her future sibling. Every time, her dad would give her some humorous yet evasive answer, like "We're working on it," or "These things take time."

One day, you and Gojo sat Hikari down for a serious talk. "Baby, we have some news for you," you began, holding her small hands in yours.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Mommy is going to have a baby," you announced, watching her reaction closely.

She gasped, her face lighting up with excitement. "Really? I'm going to be a big sister?"

"Yes, you are," Gojo confirmed, ruffling her hair. "But remember, it means you'll have to be very patient and very helpful."

"I will! I promise!" Hikari declared, hugging both of you tightly.

As the months went by, she was true to her word. She helped pick out baby clothes, decorated the nursery, and even tried to learn how to change diapers on her dolls. Gojo, ever the doting husband and father, made sure you were comfortable and happy, always ready with a joke or a warm hug.

One evening, as you all sat together in the nursery, she looked up at you and Gojo and said, "Thank you, Mommy and Daddy, for giving me a sibling. I can't wait to meet them."

You smiled, tears of joy in your eyes, and pulled her close. "You're going to be the best big sister ever, Hikari."

Gojo wrapped his arms around both of you, his voice soft and full of love. "And we're going to be the best family ever."

NANAMI KENTO

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room where Nanami and you lay snuggled in bed on a lazy Sunday morning. The peace was interrupted by a small figure bouncing into the room with unmatched enthusiasm.

"Mama! Papa! Wake up!" Your energetic four-year-old, Haruto, exclaimed, jumping onto the bed.

Nanami groaned playfully, his arm draped over his eyes. "Haruto, it's too early for this much energy."

You chuckled, sitting up and ruffling Haruto's messy bedhead. "Good morning, champ! What's got you so excited?"

Haruto grinned widely, his eyes sparkling. "I want a little brother or sister!"

Nanami lifted his arm and squinted at Haruto. "What?"

Haruto nodded enthusiastically, his hands gesturing wildly. "Yeah! I want someone to play with!"

You exchanged a surprised glance with Nanami before bursting into laughter. "Oh, sweetheart, where did that come from?"

Nanami sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Haruto, having a sibling is a big responsibility. Are you sure about this?"

Haruto nodded again, his determination unwavering. "Yes! Like in the storybooks!"

Nanami looked at you, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face. "Well, I suppose we should consider it."

You smiled at Nanami, silently agreeing that it was a discussion worth having later. "How about we start with breakfast, and then we can talk more about it, okay?"

Haruto nodded eagerly, already bouncing off the bed and heading towards the kitchen, his request seemingly forgotten in the excitement of pancakes.

As you all gathered around the table, Haruto dug into his pancakes with fervor, occasionally pausing to chatter about his favorite cartoon or his adventures with his friends at preschool. Nanami sipped his coffee, occasionally interjecting with a question or a gentle reminder to eat properly and slowly.

After breakfast, while Nanami tidied up the kitchen, you took Haruto to the living room where his toys were scattered about. Sitting down among the stuffed animals and building blocks, you leaned in closer to Haruto.

"Hey, buddy, about what you said earlier..."

Haruto looked up from his toys, eyes wide with anticipation. "Yes, Mama?"

You smiled warmly, trying to find the right words. "Having a brother or sister is a big decision for us grown-ups too. It's something we need to think about carefully."

Haruto nodded seriously, his brows furrowed in thought. "But Mama, Papa, I promise I'll be a good big brother! I'll share my toys and teach them everything!"

Your heart melted at his earnestness. "I'm sure you would be, sweetheart. We'll talk more about it, okay? Papa and I will figure out what's best for our family."

Haruto nodded again, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and resumed playing with his toys. You watched him for a moment, marveling at how quickly he was growing up. Glancing over at Nanami, who had finished cleaning and was now watching the two of you with a soft smile, you knew you were on the same page.

Later when Haruto was napping after lunch, you and Nanami spoke about what your son had started.

"I never thought we'd be having this conversation so soon," Nanami mused, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your knee.

You chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. "Kids have a way of surprising you, don't they?"

Nanami nodded, his gaze warm and fond as he looked at you. "I think Haruto would make a wonderful big brother."

You smiled, feeling a swell of love for both your husband and your son. "He really would."

One day, after putting your child to bed, you found yourselves lingering at the kitchen table, a stack of pamphlets and notes scattered between cups of cooling tea. Nanami glanced up from a particularly detailed chart of baby essentials, his expression thoughtful.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked quietly, his eyes meeting yours over the rim of his glasses.

You nodded, reaching across to take his hand. "I think so. Our little one is growing up so fast. It feels like we have so much love to give."

He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. "I agree. And he's already so excited about the idea of a sibling."

You smiled, thinking back to the countless times your child had brought up the topic, from drawing pictures of a baby with their older sibling to asking if you could name the new addition after their favorite cartoon character.