#and the way she talks about it him is just 🫶🫶🫶

[suliigwp]

Hi! I've recently found your blog and it's amazing I really like your writing style and was wondering if you could do a rookie fic where she a completely different person around like a sibling or something? And maybe it was caught by paparazzi and the grid is a little shocked seeing rookie look human for once? Again, really great writing and I can't wait for the medieval au

-⭐

Sweet Like Butter

platonic!paddock x rookie!reader | fluff

SULI: FUCK ME HI I'm so sorry you had to wait this long but it's finally here! Km working on a lot of things rn but this has been sitting in my drafts for so long, why not post it— so based on the personality of our rookie I changed it up a little I hope you don't mind🫶 enjoy!! And also — Welcome to the family ⭐ anon, hope you stay long

Short and sweet- something I love about our rookie series, it gives me a time off from the long ass chapters I always write

Warnings: none

The rookie wasn’t like anyone they’d ever met.

She was sweet—everyone agreed on that. She always bowed when people greeted her, even after a year in the paddock. She said “thank you” to every crew member, waved politely at fans even when she was exhausted, and showed up to press conferences with her hair still a little damp because she forgot call time and had to sprint from the team hotel.

“I’m very sorry,” she said breathlessly once, cheeks pink. “I was watching baby goat videos and lost track of time.”

They forgave her immediately.

How could you not? She looked like a Studio Ghibli side character most of the time—always with a snack in hand (usually stolen from catering), legs swinging off the edge of pit wall, asking questions like:

“Do you think the tires have feelings?” “Can I put glitter on my helmet if I qualify top ten?” “What would happen if I licked the trophy?”

No one ever quite knew if she was joking.

Oscar once found her halfway under the team truck looking for her AirPod. She looked up, blinked, and said,

“Don’t tell anyone. If the engineers find me like this, I’ll get put in the toolbox.”

George caught her dragging a cone into hospitality after media day.

“What… are you doing?”

“He looked lonely. His name is Derek.”

She didn’t speak loudly, but her chaos was undeniable.

Lewis called her a “polite gremlin.”

Carlos said she was “like a tiny elf with violent potential.”

Lando just shook his head and said, “She’s got bunny eyes and raccoon energy.”

During races, she was focused—laser-focused. But outside the car, she wandered. Talked to herself. Collected little things like stickers and bottle caps. Her locker had googly eyes on it. No one put them there. When asked, she just said,

“They protect the snacks.”

In interviews, she was sunshine and stumbles.

“The car felt… like, spicy. But in a good way. Like pepper? Jalapeño? Yes. That.”

“Ah—oversteer? Yes. I met him today. Not nice man.”

People loved her. Fans adored her. She was cute, chaotic, and weird in a way that made everyone instinctively want to protect her.

“She’s the type of girl who’d apologize after overtaking you,” Oscar said once.

“She apologized to a curb,” Charles added. “Said she ‘didn’t mean to step on his feelings.’”

And somehow, despite the mess, the language confusion, the sugar crashes and trail of mystery items left in motorhomes… she was fast. She had raw talent, insane cornering instincts, and late-braking habits that made even veterans sweat.

...

It started as a quiet afternoon, just her and her older brother outside a small café near the paddock. The sun was warm, the air filled with the scent of fresh coffee and baked bread, a rare moment away from the frenzy of race weekend.

But then a paparazzo, hidden behind a bush, caught something no one in F1 had seen before.

She was talking to her brother—but not in the soft, tentative English she used for media or teammates.

No. This was her native language, and it was different.

Her voice was calm, controlled, deeper than usual—like she was suddenly the one in charge.

"You know this isn’t the best idea, right?"

Her brother smirked, shaking his head.

"Come on, just relax, I’m just joking."

She folded her arms, eyes sharp but steady.

"You always say that, but then you get yourself into trouble."

There was a pause, then a sudden, soft smile tugged at her lips.

"This time listen to me. I’m the older one."

Her brother laughed—a genuine, easy laugh—and she cracked, too, her entire face lighting up as she dropped her serious tone.

"Haha, alright, big sister. Just don’t tell anyone."

Their laughter echoed in the quiet street—warm, real, unfiltered.

The cameras caught it all.

The grid, watching the clips later, was stunned. That calm, mature voice was so unlike the soft, polite rookie they knew. They’d never imagined this side of her—the boss energy hidden beneath the gentle exterior.

And when she smiled at the end, the adorable girl they loved came rushing back.

The video dropped late Saturday afternoon — just a few minutes of her calmly putting her older brother in check, followed by that warm, infectious laugh at the end.

Within hours, it was everywhere.

Social media exploded:

“Wait… is that our shy rookie? She sounds so bossy! 😂”

“I’m obsessed with this new ‘older sister’ energy 🔥”

“She’s lowkey running the paddock from behind the scenes and we didn’t know.”

“This video just made my day. So cute but don’t mess with her brother!”

On the paddock, drivers couldn’t believe their eyes.

Oscar showed Lando the clip between sessions.

“Dude, she’s got power in that voice.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head.

“I thought she was a soft bunny but nah, she’s a whole CEO.”

Carlos pulled out his phone at the next team meeting.

“Have you guys seen this? Rookie’s got that serious ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe. I’m impressed.”

Even the media caught on.

“From sweet and shy to mature and commanding — rookie driver surprises everyone. #BossBunny"

Back in the garage, her team was both proud and a little overwhelmed.

Her race engineer joked,

“Guess we’re dealing with the silent boss now.”

She just smiled quietly, already half-forgetting the chaos she’d unleashed.

Because to her, this was just normal talk with her brother.

But to the rest of the grid?

She was officially unpredictable — and everyone loved it.

vroom vroom taglist: @miniaturedreamchild @nishimura-mimura @faithxyu @pookynknowntranger @elliott-calls @nemo-fish @sadprimrose @sagestack

Taglist, comment to be added; @angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa @multifans-things @woderfulkawaii @azrinableuet @mayax2o07 @everyday-is-sunday365 @devilacot @faithxyu @freyathehuntress make sure you can be tagged!

[en1gma-of-vix]

ৎ HOW SQUID GAME CHARACTERS WOULD REACT IF YOU GAVE THEM A COOKIE (S2&3)

- Contains almost all Squid Game season 2&3 characters and a whole lot of crack !!

Content: super unserious piece of literary fiction (CRACK GALORE); mentions of the Lorax; mentions of 'Crumbl Cookies' (I never had one of these a day in my life.); mentions of therapy in Gi-hun's part; Seon-nyeo calls you a fatass; indirect mentions of maybe-canon-maybe-not PTSD in Dae-ho's part (food for thought tbh)

Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

A/n: honestly I've been inspired to write this literally after watching a 'squid game s3 rant' by koreancomics on YouTube and it was the line he said about Jun ho at (timestamp) that made me inspired to write this ♥️♥️ not edited btw, wrote this all in one sitting

GI-HUN'S TEAM

Gi Hun / Player 456

"Hi sir! I noticed that you were sitting there kinda just zoning out into space so I tho-"

"FREEZE!"

"🧍‍♀️🍪❓"

"I HAVE PLAYED THESE GAMES BEFORE‼️‼️"

You walk home that day confused and finding yourself flippantly dialing the contact number of your therapist.

Young-il / Frontman / Player 001

It depends on how you meet him.

If you're in the games with him as Player 001, then he'd probably respectfully think you're ludicrous before genuinely thanking you for the treat.

If you meet him as the Frontman? It's either a genuine 'good luck for the next games, I'll be watching you' or an elimination on the spot for even GETTING to his HQ.

If you meet him as both in that same order, then he'd probably donate some CGI baby to your house along with 46.5 billion won, idk.

Jung-bae / Player 390

Reminisces about how he remembers buying the exact same cookies back in his childhood days, and then you guys sorta got each others backs the rest of the games.

At some point, maybe even in a melancholic tone, you'd ask him, "What was that cookie place called? The one that you mentioned two days ago?"

And he'd eye around nothing in particular with a slight shake in his voice: "Crumbl. I got those cookies off of crumble..."

Dae-ho / Player 388

don't even talk to me.

*ahem* I mean uhh yeah! Cookie-lover Dae-ho is so canon haha!

Would probably ask if you have more but not in a forceful way, my guy just loves a good snack... I wondering if chewing on food was one of his coping mechanisms.....

(please give him nine more cookies, I as the author am begging you to give this man more cookies.)

Kim Jun-hee / Player 222

Refuses refuses refuses but then you give a pep talk about how it's good for the baby while Geum-ja rubs her back in agreement and so she accepts it while staring down Player 333 from far away like a hawk.

HYUN-JU'S TEAM

Hyun-ju / Player 120

You DID NOT JUST GIVE HER A COOKIE SHE DESERVES THE ENTIRE BAKERY SHE OWNS THE DAMN BAKERY DKABSHLAGSKAHUAJAH

*sobs* my queen </3

Anyways I think that after that moment onwards she protects you like a monk protects his shrine 🙏🙏🙏🙏 you'd be winning EVERY game for sure with her on your side

Young-mi / Player 095

You guys became best friends that day and attended each other's wedding days and drivers test days and even traded dogs once without ever returning them back.

Yong-sik / Player 007

Gives it to his mom. (Because he loves his mom but he's probably also lactose intolerant)

Jang Geum-ja / Player 149

Gives it to her son.

Wait, actually, no, she'd give it to Jun-hee.

"Cookies are good for pregnant women because pregnant women need to eat, purr 💅💅"

Seon-nyeo / Player 044

"the gods of heaven and earth did not plan for me to get high blood sugar at age 53."

"🧍‍♀️... 🍪....?..❓..?"

"Fatass, be gone."

And she leaves you wondering if that comment was meant for you or herself.

TEAM THANOS

Thanos / Player 230

"WHOA THIS IS SO F⭐ING AWESOME MANNN, I OWE YOU MY WHOLE LIFE MY BRO!"

Proceeds to hesitantly enlighten you with the newest gummy called 'special edition The Lorax jellybelly collaboration'.

Nam-gyu / Player 124

Nahhh cuz why do I think this dude would either scoff, chuckle at yo goofy ass and eat it anyways or secretly develop a feeling so strong it defeats the tension between whatever's going on with Semi and Minsu in Minsu's head.

Semi / Player 038

Low-key develops into this soft gl on the side if you're her type, otherwise would completely ignore you afterwards unless it is needed by the game for you guys to stick to each other (example being mingle)

Minsu / Player 125

Starts hyperventilating about a girl he just met 3 days ago that may or may not have accepted a cookie from a stranger whom she may or may not like more than him (ESPECIALLY after mingle.)

Gyeong-su / Player 256

My chillest homeboy 🤟🤟

Would ask if it's oat-free before continuing to eat it anyway

OTHERS

Myung-gi / Player 333

Refuse the cookie 100%

You think he's got time to eat a cookie?

You think he's gonna spare you a chance at a FREE cookie?

No

Nonononono he's got two eyes and two eyes only, one of which is for the money, the other for the money, and a mouth to yap about MONEY with his baby mama JUN-HEE

You wouldn't even have the time to offer him a cookie dawg

Turn away for one second and he's in the other corner of the room all like "Jun hee think about the MONEY for the babyyyyy 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩"

The Salesman

You didn't offer him a cookie.

He offered you a cookie.

And you refused.

So he takes that cookie out in a near by park and smashes it on the ground for the birds and maggots to feast on

Oh how caring he is 💖💖

Kang No-eul / Guard 011

Hesitantly begrudgingly takes the cookie from you as she nibbles down the finest culinary craftsmanship only a work of god can suffice to

but would never admit it

Probably forgets about it the next day ✋😭

Park Gyeong-seok / Player 246

Gives it straight to his daughter and even offers you a 20% discount for a mugshot portrait to which you kindly decline and offer to pay full price

Jeong-dae / Player 100

"You have a good head on your shoulders" ahh grandpa LETS BE FR HE'D PROLLY YAP MONEY-HUNGRY NONSENSE TO YOUR FACE EITHER WAY

Would probably steal more from you like the weasel he is.

Either don't give him at all or give him just enough to keep that yappinator mouth of his ziplocked shut.

Hwang In-ho

He firmly trusts you on his next year-long mission to find his missing first born child

and when people think he's nuts for trusting some rando like you, his very reasonable morally complex sense of reasoning is "pff, no way! That person gave me a cookie, there's no way they're evil, not in a bajillion years."

Mr Choi

FINDS OUT YOU'RE THE REASON BEHIND THE FOOD POISONING OF CRUMBL COOKIES IN 1987 AND WAS THE FORMER CEO OF JELLYBELLY AND THE VOICE ACTOR OF THE LORAX FROM THE LORAX WITHIN THE SPAN OF 2 AND A HALF DAYS

[fireside-fanfics]

Thank you for the stories you’ve been putting out, especially that last one with Joaquin and Cami! 🫶🏾

For a request, Manny (The Last of Us) tries to do something special for his girlfriend’s birthday even though they don’t have much as they’re constantly moving and trying to just make it through the day 😊

Thanks for sending another request. I enjoy writing requests.

Still Choosing You

Sidney and Manny had been together forever. Not just in the way people meant after the world fell apart and you clung to whoever made you feel less alone. No, not even close. They were bound long before the outbreak ever happened. Their mothers waddled through Lamaze class together. Their dads built a joint treehouse between their yards when they were five. From the start, it was always Manny y Sidney—Spanish and English blurring together, meals shared between both families, matching outfits and scraped knees, summers spent chasing fireflies, their names always called out in tandem: ¡Manny y Sidney, vengan a comer!

By the time they were fifteen, all of that was gone. Her parents were killed during a riot in a collapsing QZ. His parents were taken by infection. And suddenly, it really was just the two of them. They never talked about the worst parts. About how she once gave up her portion of rations to keep him alive through a bad winter. About the time he killed a man with a shovel because he had gotten too rough with her when she ignored his advances. In the silence between those moments, something grew—something quiet and steady and true. They didn’t fall in love with a bang. It was gradual, natural. It was like breathing. 

By eighteen, they were a couple in everything but name. And then she kissed him one night in an abandoned library during a thunderstorm, and he kissed her back like he’d been waiting his whole life. Now they were twenty-four, still alive, still choosing each other, every day.

The night before her birthday, they camped in a small clearing just off an old service road. Their shelter was a battered tent flap strung between two downed trees and the fire was tiny, just enough for warmth, but it was theirs. Sidney was curled under the blankets beside him, fast asleep, dark curls a mess across her cheek and nose. Manny watched her breathe, chest rising and falling, arms tucked close like he was dreaming something safe.

He hadn’t forgotten the date; he never did. Manny reached for the notebook he kept folded under his pack—full of old notes and scraps of memories—and flipped to the page he’d marked weeks ago. Plan: Sid’s Birthday. Something good. Anything. Manny tapped the pen against his knee and smiled to himself. He placed the notebook back in his bag and crawled under the blankets next to her. Sidney scooted closer to him, which made him smile because, even in her sleep, Sidney sought his presence. He hooked an arm around her waist and nestled in beside her, dozing off quickly as his heart rate matched hers.

The next morning she woke to the scent of something vaguely sweet and a soft humming. Blinking groggily, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Her curls were wild from sleep, flattened on one side and puffed out on the other.

Her voice was scratchy when she asked, “¿Qué hora es?”

“Temprano,” Manny said with a grin, crouched over the little fire. “But it’s your birthday, so get up.”

“Liar,” Sidney groaned and flopped back down. “We don’t have birthdays anymore. It’s not allowed.”

“Too bad, mi amor,” he laughed, “I’m breaking the rules.”

She finally sat up, frowning sleepily at him. “There better be food.”

“Oh, there is,” he said, turning with a dramatic flourish.

He held out a battered metal plate, on which rested two lumpy, slightly burnt pancakes made from flour, a few crushed nut bar crumbs, and melted bits of chocolate. The best he could do with what they had.

She blinked again and laughed. “You baked for me?”

“It’s survival cooking,” he said proudly. “Fancy, right?”

Sidney took one, still warm from the pan, and bit into it. Her eyes widened and she gasped, “Manny! This is actually kind of good?”

“I told you—I’m a culinary genius.”

She ate both in silence, a small smile playing on her lips the whole time. When she finished, she looked at him more seriously. “You really remembered.”

Manny nodded with a wide smile. He took the plate and placed it on the kitchen counter. Cleaning could wait until later. He walked back over to Sidney who smiled sweetly up at him. 

Manny offered her a hand and said, “Come with me. I’ve got one more thing.”

“If you’re taking me into the woods to murder me…” Sidney narrowed her eyes.

“You’re too pretty to murder,” he laughed. “I’d never forgive myself.”

She snorted and took his hand anyway.

The walk took almost an hour. He’d found the place days ago, while scouting ahead for a safe spot to rest. And he’d quietly marked the path—bent branches, scraped bark, rocks turned just slightly the wrong way. Sidney didn’t notice; she trusted him wholeheartedly, without question. When they finally pushed through the underbrush, the broken cabin came into view. It sagged to one side, half the roof caved in, moss creeping down one wall. But the front door still stood, and sunlight filtered through the broken beams, catching on the dust like glitter in the air.

Sidney paused at the threshold and asked, “What is this?”

Manny nudged the door open and gestured for her to step inside. On the floor, carefully laid out on a tattered old blanket, was the surprise:

✸ A jar of wildflowers, loosely tied with twine. ✸ A sealed chocolate protein bar—one he’d been hiding for weeks. ✸ Two dented tin cups, still warm from where he’d filled them with melted ration cocoa. ✸ A hoodie—a little oversized, clean, only slightly patched, the soft kind of fabric no one saw anymore. ✸ And a folded piece of paper with her name scrawled on the front.

Sidney didn’t say anything, too stunned to speak. She stepped forward slowly, as if the floor might collapse, and knelt beside the spread. Her fingers brushed the flowers. Then the hoodie. Then the note, which she opened slowly

ꜰᴇʟɪᴢ ᴄᴜᴍᴘʟᴇᴀɴᴏs, ᴍɪ ᴀᴍᴏʀ. ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ. ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴀs ᴘᴏʀ sᴇʀ ᴍɪ ʜᴏɢᴀʀ. –ᴍᴀɴɴʏ

“Manny…” she gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth and she knelt down slowly to take a closer look at the items in front of her.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s not much. But I wanted it to feel like a real day. A good one.”

Sidney turned to look at him, eyes shining. She reached for him and beckoned him to come join her 

“This is the best thing anyone’s done for me since the world ended.”

Many moved to sit beside her, their knees touching on the blanket. 

“You remember what I told you that night in the library?” he asked her softly. “When you thought I was losing it?”

She nodded slowly and giggled, “You said, ‘If I die tomorrow, I want you to know—I’ve only ever been sure of two things in this life. That I love you … and that I always will.’”

“I meant it then,” he said. “I still do.”

Sidney reached out and grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss. It was soft, slow, full of warmth—like the kind of thing people used to do when they had a home to return to. Her curls brushed his cheek. His hand cupped her jaw like she was the most fragile thing in the world. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“You know this means you’re setting the bar,” she whispered.

“I plan to beat it every year,” he whispered back.

They stayed in the cabin all afternoon. The hoodie fit perfectly. She wore it with the sleeves pulled over her hands, the way she used to back when they were teenagers. They split the protein bar down the middle and toasted with lukewarm cocoa like it was champagne. Sidney lay on her side later, curled into him, cheek on his chest. She traced slow circles on the back of his hand.

“You think we’ll ever stop running?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Manny said. “Someday. We’ll find a place. Somewhere green. Somewhere quiet.”

“You still want that radio repair shop?”

“With the chickens,” he said with a grin.

“You don’t know shit about chickens.”

“I’ll learn. For you.”

Sidney looked up at him, those dark brown eyes so full of love it made his chest ache. She was quiet for several moments, her eyes tracing his face, neck, shoulders—like he might disappear.  

“You’ve always been home, Manny,” she whispered, finally breaking the silence, “even when everything else disappeared.”

He kissed her forehead. “And you’ve always been worth fighting for.”

They left just before sunset. Sidney carried the wildflowers in one hand and wore the hoodie like armor. Manny walked beside her, fingers brushing hers. The world was still ending. Still cruel. But for one golden day, in a ruined cabin in the woods, Manny gave Sidney a birthday the world never would have allowed otherwise. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t safe. But for one day, in a place full of ghosts, Manny and Sidney remembered what it felt like to be alive—and to be loved.

[amirawrah]

⭐︎Wifey Material

with SHARKY ⭐︎ smau

synopsis: you being wifey material to your soon to be husband. private to public relationship.

smau • face claim: Sagal Jama

a/n: might lowkey be shorter than my usual smaus but i want to see how a sharky smau would do before i make more. let me know what you think!!

@yourusernamex

liked by ajshabeel, ohnosharky, nellarose and 170K others

@yourusernamex: all love, no chill

click to view all comments

@nellarose: you did not have to do me like that!

@yourusernamex: 😘

@chunkz: You ain’t even tag him

@lullabunni: if you know him then tag him ↪@chunkz: ok ↪@yourusernamex: try it first😃 see what happens.

@ajshabeel: interesting...

@yourusernamex: bitch ↪ @ajshabeel: Don’t 'bitch' me. Just say you’re locked in and go. ↪ @yourusernamex: Locked in? More like minding my business. ↪ @ajshabeel: YOUR business is trending rn 😭 ↪ @yourusernamex: : Ok but did you zoom in or not ↪ @ajshabeel: I did and i'm still confused . ↪ @yourusernamex: good. stay confused. 🫶🏽 ↪ @butteronmars: i love this friend ship

@chaiandgold: OHHHHH this is a SOFT launch soft launch

@iluvsharks: i’m not saying it’s sharky but i AM saying i recognise those shoes and that hoodie.

@needmen224: bro its just a normal black hoodie, talk about delusional

@plainjade: idc what anyone says, this is 1000% Sharky’s hoodie in the last slide. don’t ask how i know. i just KNOW.

@dragqueen: girl if this is Sharky… i support you. i support the marriage. i support the prenup. i support it ALL

@thebetasqyadix: the way i have no proof but also every proof that this is sharky 😭

───────────────────────────────

@ohnosharky

liked by chunkz, yourusernamex, darkestman and 125K others

@ohnosharky: all glow, no chill

click to view all comments

@chunkz: my brothaaa

❤️ by ohnosharky

@ajshabeel: wtf is that

@ohnosharky: dw i'm throwing it away

@iwannabesavedd: if this isn't a confirmation idk what is

@fanhere20: well this caption looks familiar

@yourusernamex: thief

@mirageglow: what did he steal YOUR HEART!!! ↪ @yourusernamex: bro😭

@lulumango: ain't that the same hoodie

@dewdreams: The math is mathing.

@thatbetagirl: I’m not okay. They’re giving us crumbs and I’m feasting

@amptogo: You posted her and a demon plushie in the same dump?? contrast is wild

@youplusplus: aww shes with the fam

@surfnchai: we’re in the “she met the family” stage? oh this is no longer a game.

@sharksiesluv: sharky fell into the propaganda

───────────────────────────────

@chunkzpodclipz

liked by betasquids, youxshamarke, sharkyluv and 7K others

@chunkzpodclipz: Sharky was in his soulmate era this episode. He was singing 'No Chill' by PARTYNEXTDOOR, specifically the line: “My girl got diamonds on her arm, diamonds in her ear…” Kenny cuts in like, “Am I not your girl?” and the whole room bursts out laughing.

But then Chunkz asks if he believes in soulmates? Sharky doesn’t even pause, 'Absolutely' he says. “Sometimes you just meet someone and it’s like… ‘Yeah. That’s my person.’ You don’t even have to think too hard.”

Everyone starts reacting, some laughing, some yelling, but the smile on his face says it all.

Someone jokes about him proposing, and Sharky just shakes his head, still smiling.

Yeah. He’s gone. 💎🫶🏽

#chunkzpodcast #sharky #soulmatevibes #wifeymaterial #betasquadclips

click to view all comments

@sharksiesluv: i didn’t expect to be emotionally destroyed by a podcast today

@iluvsharks: that wasn’t a hypothetical answer… that was HIM TALKING ABOUT HER.

@babieonfire: i’ve never felt more single in my life. thank you sharky.

@kisskisscry: the way aj said “let’s move on” like he knew sharky was about to drop a proposal 😭😭😭

@rawrxdeex: i’m fully invested in a relationship i haven’t even seen confirmed yet.

@chilltrackz: let’s be honest… the girl with the drink and the mum in slide 6 won.

@nighthexx: the soft launch is turning into a soft marriage.

@missunbothered: so he sang HER caption. and now he’s describing HER energy. i’m not dumb.

───────────────────────────────

SHORT BLURB

It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. That a man who built a career on being loud and hilarious and chaotically brilliant could be so soft-spoken when it’s just you and him. That Sharky — YouTube king, Mr. “what’s up my people,” the guy who can’t even take a selfie without ten people clocking it — somehow belongs to you. Entirely, quietly, without ever needing to say it out loud.

You’re on the balcony again, wrapped in one of his hoodies, legs bare and cold but refusing to go inside because the light hits different at this hour. Golden and warm. Like something out of a memory you haven’t lived yet. Sharky’s sitting on the outdoor sofa, one arm behind his head, the other resting on your thigh, phone in hand, scrolling and not really looking at anything.

He keeps glancing at your hand, though. The one with the ring. He doesn’t even try to be slick about it.

"You keep looking at it," you say, soft but teasing.

"I bought it," he grins, "I’m allowed."

You hold it up, let it catch the sun. It glimmers, loud and proud. Just like the love that led to it.

The proposal wasn’t public. Just you two on a random Tuesday night in the kitchen, barefoot, post-shower, music low in the background. He had looked at you, you don’t even remember what you were laughing about, and he said, “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Then he got down on one knee.

No speech. No build-up. Just: “Marry me.”

And you had whispered, “Yes,” before your brain even caught up.

Now, the world is starting to notice. The soft-launches are becoming not-so-soft. Everyone knows something but no one knows everything.

You like it that way.

He tosses his phone onto the cushion and pulls you closer by your wrist, guiding you into his lap. You settle without needing to ask. Like muscle memory. Like instinct. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then rests his chin on your shoulder.

“They clocked the ring in that last post,” he murmurs, “Your comments are chaos.”

“Good chaos or scary chaos?”

He grins. “Funny chaos. Someone said you’re probably engaged to Niko because your ring finger pointed his direction.”

You laugh, loud and unfiltered, head falling back into his shoulder. He hugs you tighter, like your laughter is his favourite sound.

“They’re crazy,” you say.

“They’re invested,” he corrects. “Like… properly rooting for us. Kinda weird.”

You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You’re not overwhelmed by all this?”

He shrugs. “Should be asking you but i'm fine, it’s you.”

That’s the thing about him. Everyone thinks Sharky’s all jokes and punchlines, but you’ve always seen the man behind it. The one who brings you flowers for no reason. Who sends “did you eat?” texts like clockwork. Who rubs your back when you’re anxious and kisses your hand like he’s never going to see you again.

The one who looked you dead in the eye when you asked, “Are you sure you want to go public with me?” and said, “I’m not hiding the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

There’s a quiet knock from inside. One of his sisters. You call out a soft, “Come in!” and the door creaks open.

They adore you. Not because of the ring, or the matching hoodies, or the subtle posts. But because you love their brother like he’s your entire world — and it shows.

She leans out the door with her phone in hand. “Mum’s asking if you two are still coming over tonight or if you’re just gonna stay on the balcony playing house.”

Sharky groans. “We’ll be there in fifteen!”

“Mmhmm,” she smirks, clearly not believing it.

When the door closes again, you don’t move. Neither does he. You could live in this exact moment forever.

Eventually, you do get up, reluctantly. You put on sneakers while Sharky’s still getting dressed inside, talking to himself like he’s on a live stream. You watch him from the doorway — tall, dramatic, spinning in front of the mirror like, “Do I look like someone’s fiancé or do I look like someone’s DAD?”

“You look like mine,” you say.

He pauses. Blinks, Smiles and Walks over.

“You do this thing,” he says, voice low, “Say stuff like that and then expect me to function.”

“You don’t need to function. You just need to hold my hand and remember your mum’s flowers.”

“Oh shit. The flowers.”

He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a little bouquet he picked up earlier that morning. He hands them to you like a secret.

“For you to give her,” he says. “She loves you more than me.”

You two head out, casual and cozy, but the second you’re in public it’s like a low buzz starts building. Someone recognises him. Then someone else. He keeps your hand tight in his, thumb brushing your ring like a reflex. No one says anything directly. Not yet. But phones come out. Angles get angled.

At dinner, his mum hugs you like you’ve always belonged. His nieces run to you first. His sisters ask about your next brand campaign. Sharky keeps looking at you across the table like he can’t believe you’re real.

You mouth, “What?” at him, lips curled into a smile.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just… all love.”

You laugh and stab a piece of chicken. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says back, leaning over to kiss your cheek mid-bite.

Later, when you’re home again, curled up in bed, you scroll through your tagged photos and already see a blurry post from dinner. His hand holding yours. The ring slightly visible. A heart emoji in the caption.

“Should we just post it already?” you whisper.

Sharky turns to you, sleepy eyes and deep voice. “You wanna?”

You nod. Slowly. Like you’re not rushing it, just… ready.

He kisses your ring finger and then your lips. “Okay. Tomorrow. We go public. But tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“Tonight you’re mine. Just mine.”

You fall asleep with your hand pressed to his chest, your ring catching the light from the hallway. And in that moment, it’s not about the chaos. Or the fans piecing things together.

It’s about him. About the boy who fell in love with you quietly, then all at once. Who never had to say “I’m proud of you” out loud because it radiated from him every time you walked in a room.

And now you’re engaged. And everything is louder. But the love?

Still soft.

Still sacred.

Still yours.

Forever.

───────────────────────────────

@ohnosharky

liked by kingkennytv, niko, fu_izzy and 750K others

@ohnosharky: i married the love of my life — my best friend, my peace, my person.

thank you for saying yes. thank you for making every version of me better. thank you for being my wife 🤍

click to view all comments

@yourusernamex: i don’t have the words, just a full heart and a forever kind of love for you.🥹

❤️ by ohnosharky

@chunkz: my heart is actually so full. proud doesn’t even cut it. you married your person man 🤍

@ohnosharky: love you bro🤍

@kingkennytv: HUSBAND ERAAA

❤️ by ohnosharky

@darkestman: i’m so proud man. even though i was never told about the wedding. or invited. or informed. but it’s cool. congrats fam ❤️💔

@yourusernamex: huh but i have a video of you and a chocolate fountain ↪@darkestman: wallahi if that gets out ↪@harrypinaro: 😭

@wonderwoman2: I KNEWWWWW ITTTTTT 😭😭

@radioheadi: WAIT IT WAS REAL??? THE PODCAST CLIP WAS REAL??? WE WERE WATCHING A LOVE STORY THIS WHOLE TIME

@brentforprezident: now that she’s taken… i will respectfully deactivate 😔

@needforshamarke: what do you mean you’re married???

@sharkyxyn_advocate: y’all had us decoding shadows, fingers, song lyrics and YOU WERE MARRIED THE WHOLE TIME 😭😭

@yourusernamex: engaged*

@sakaslovers: from “who’s her man?” to “she’s literally MARRIED to SHARKY”

@smartgyalinlondon: everyone say THANK YOU to love. THANK YOU TO GOD. THANK YOU TO WIFEY MATERIAL.

───────────────────────────────

@yourusernamex

liked by nellarose, chunkz, iamsamirah and 675K others

@yourusernamex: so this is weird lol…

i’ve been trying to figure out what to say for hours and honestly?? i still don’t know. like… how do you even begin to caption your actual wedding??? how do you explain the moment you became someone’s wife? how it felt to look at your person — your peace, your home, your loudest hype man and softest love — and say forever out loud?

i don’t think i can. so here’s a picture of me. and our rings. and that’s it. that’s the caption 😭 to anyone who’s been here since the soft launch days, from the cryptic stories to the diamond lyrics to the soulmates podcast clip (y’all remember 😭), thank you. you let us keep our love sacred and still celebrated it from afar.

and to the man i get to love for the rest of my life — thank you for making me laugh every single day. for being patient with me. for never letting go of my hand. for calling me “wifey” like it was manifesting before it was real. and now it’s real. and i’m so, so happy.

so yeah. this is me. a little married. a lot in love. no chill. but all love 🤍

@ohnosharky: no one will ever understand how much this day meant to me. how much YOU mean to me. i would marry you every single day if i could. still can’t believe you’re actually mine forever. 🫶🏽

comments have been restricted on this post

[burtlancster]

In one scene, much of which was eventually cut into a collage, the Doolin gang play baseball with bats and balls they have stolen off the train and Plummer had to throw the first pitch. “I had to run to get the ball,” she recalled, “and pick it up and face the camera and throw it. Burt demonstrated it and…He did a Burt Lancaster thing for me. It was beautiful. He just went down for that ball and then his bum rises and then his back follows and it's turning in to go away from the camera and then surprises the camera with a forward movement towards it because you think he's going to go the other way. And then he throws it and it's just to keep the audience entranced. It was extraordinary. He understood time on film, movement and space on film. How to move and how to work in harmony with the camera so that it wasn't actor-y. He was a mover, he could do anything with his body—therefore he understood music! A lot of film actors are cut off from the head down and their bodies just repeat themselves. He made it so the camera can capture the slightest movement. He knew how to do that. This blows your mind because you work with him in front of the camera and then you see it on film and you go, “Whoa! This is a master!” All his films—Birdman—have been impeccably blocked by him.”

— Amanda Plummer on working with Burt Lancaster, excerpt from An American Life by Kate Buford.

[hauntingjasper]

We are all afraid of something...

I wonder what Prince Gumball's biggest fear would be?

There's an episode (Five short tables I think) where it shows that he's afraid of dying alone/his own mortality to some extent. I imagine that because he's long-lived and most likely has watched many people die before him, he's scared that there won't be anyone else by *his* side when it's his turn. There's no way of knowing when or how, he wouldn't be ready for it, so that's probably double scarier for him. He's an anxious fella

[prometheus-rewound]

Uh oh you flew to close to my hyper fixation now I have to talk about it XD

(tldr: It’s really important to analyze queer mythic figures in their historical context. That being said, the fact that Dionysus has faced this level of scrutiny regarding his gender and sexuality may suggest that the ways Dionysus was being depicted/worshipped could have been queer in the contemporary context.)

I think historical context when discussing figures like Dionysus is super important and really fun. You’re so right that there’s so much conflation of actual Dionysian/Orphic practices with later Christian writings that were meant to trivialize Dionysian myth. Even way older than that actually, the Athenian state did not like the cult of Dionysos bc it wasn’t registered with the government (and bc it empowered women but that’s a whole other story). I need to look into this epithet In particular though— I’ve not seen it a ton in actual sources older than the Byzantine period. I’d love for you to send me some sources to look at though.

—

I’d actually argue though that you lay out some really solid evidence for Dionysus actually being a queer figure at the time of his worship.

I would agree in saying he’s not trans, or even gay. Those are modern terms created in a western, 19th/20th century context. However, queerness is an academic term that denotes expressions of gender and sexuality that break the norms of a specific culture. (I’ll reblog this with some good articles when I get the second)

A lot of the derogatory language, that actually references real practices surrounding Dionysus, I think actually is more evidence of him being queer in the context. As long as those derogatory statements can be traced back to contemporary portrayals obv.

It’s 100% true that being in mlm relationships was not inherently queer (also this depended on the time and area.). In Athens, it wasn’t queer to be in a sexual mentorship. Being in an equal mlm relationship than would be queer. This is where you usually see the whole ‘bottom is derogatory’ language. It’s a very Athenian thing lol. This though was different than Thebes, in which sexual relationships between men on equal standing was not queer if done in the context of warfare. (I’m making generalizations obv and these things are very Classical period specific).

But like you point out, male figures depicted as playing the younger, feminine, or more bluntly “bottom” role in the relationship were commonly mocked (especially in late-classical Athens in particular, and later).

This though is queer. Dionysus is performing a gender presentation that is out of the norm (because in this case sexuality does connote a separate gender presentation. The two are tied. A modern example would be like how Butch is a specific gender presentation that also implies the person’s sexuality). Even when this is depicted in comedy etc if it’s in a contemporary time all depictions are adding the to cultural idea of a queer Dionysus.

I would (and have lol) argued that there are a lot of Greek figures that actually are queer because in context they are breaking gender norms that we today don’t notice. Big examples are any man who swears off women and/or marriage. This often leads to their downfall due to them breaking these norms— and then implying that that specific presentation of masculinity is wrong and likely a queer presentation. Further more, a lot of older myths that depict queer relationships (that may not have been seen as queer at the time of their origin) often get reinterpreted as being deviant later on when norms have changed, or being reimagined to fit the new norms. This is all actually one of my favorite topics actually but I’ll hold back for now.

—

I think though that part of your argument seems to be that there isn’t a ton of evidence of Dionysus having gender play as apart of his worship irregardless of the cultural acceptance (I may have interpreted you wrong, I can’t tell if you meant the epithet specifically or w/ Dionysos’ gender-queerness overall).

For one thing, almost every cult (OG Dionysian cult, Orphic practices, Eleusinian, etc) that worshipped him was super secretive so we as archeologists are particularly screwed regarding that. However, from what we do know, there is a decent amount of evidence for this being the case. Like not that Dionysus was “trans”— he wasn’t a person or even worshipped like he was a person with a specific identity (i.e hero cults). Like he’s a concept— greek gods were NOT treated as anthropomorphic deities like some other pagan pantheons despite how modern depictions describe them (this is also a way more complicated topic)

However, him having a some-what fluid gender is pretty well documented. I mean the Bacchae (Euripides) characterizes him as an effeminate and with a man (Pentheus) lusting after him. Pentheus id mocked for cross dressing though so make of that what you will. I’ve seen a decent amount of articles arguing that the Bacchae is based on actual rituals but you know Euripides is a silly guy XD. That play is definitely all about breaking gender roles but it’s hard to know if it wasn’t just Euripides commenting on stuff. He’s pretty much the oldest concrete depiction of Dionysus like that besides the Homeric Hymns which I’ll talk about.

It’s honestly really hard to find older sources about Dionysus at all ya know, mystery cults. The story that comes up the most is the one w/ Dionysus being disguised as an effeminate young man.

The earliest example of Dionysus being depicted as somewhat androgynous (I mean the adj not the epithet) is in Homeric Hymn 7. It could be older than the Bacchae actually but Euripides goes really in detail lol. Ovid (much later but still contemporary with Orphic worship) goes super into detail about how girlish Dionysos was in this story ha ha but that’s bc it’s a retelling of the Bacchae and gender is a big theme there like I mentioned.

There is also the story of Dionysos being raised as a girl. The earliest mention of that is from Apollodorus I think from the late Hellenistic period.

However, in art, there is a big swing after the Bacchae of Dionysus being depicted as androgynous and young. There seems to be some thought that Euripides was the cause of this but it’s kind of a chicken and egg scenario.

It’s very likely that the oral storytelling of these myths are obviously far older but it is true it’s hard to know how much it was influenced by that late Classical shift towards effeminate Dionysus. There is Archaic pottery of Dionysus turning pirates into dolphins, however he’s depicted as already revealing himself and at this point is depicted as a bearded man.

More generally, from what I’ve seen the more androgynous depiction of Dionysus really gets popular in the late classical period. I do think though even before this Dionysus is depicted as being primarily worshipped by or at least surrounded by women, which I think hints to a non-standard relationship to gender especially in a patriarchal society (though the extreme gender norms was really an Athenian thing specifically, so take that with a grain of salt).

Overall I think reconsidering how queerness applies to ancient culture is super fun! I’d love to know other people’s thoughts.

I have been seeing some posts for Dionysos Androgynos popping up lately with lovely prayers and offerings ! this is wonderful, but it makes me want to clarify something. His epithet Androgynos is not related to gender identity as we know it now nor was it used in worship denoting queerness. I have seen people talking about this epithet being worshiped but there isn't much tangible evidence for that (that I know of).

it generally means "man-woman" and it refers to the position a man takes during sex—"both taking and receiving penetration during sex". being a man who was in the woman's role during sex wasn't a flex back then, they were seen as naive and lesser than the older man on top. I've seen suggestions that this epithet (along with "chickpea Dionysos") may have been used more derogatorily.

Dionysos is a wonderfully queer deity in the modern age, but we have to remember Ancient Greece is an entirely different culture and ideas. we can't directly exchange values with a culture 2,000 years removed from us. It's totally fine to reclaim this epithet, but claiming it is historically a trans epithet is incorrect.

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[yukioos]

hiii, i’ve been stalking ur blog and i absolutely love ur writing ☺️☺️ may i request bakugou w a shy/introverted s/o who is a literal BADDIE but is clueless abt it 🙏 pls and thank you 🫶🫶

katsuki with an introverted s/o who’s clueless about how attractive they are

you sat at your desk writing quick notes, nothing too pretty but with handwriting readable enough to let someone borrow. entranced with what mister aizawa was writing on the whiteboard, you almost didn’t notice the whispers behind you. trying to quiet your mind, you stood silent and tried to listen in to what the boys behind you were talking about.

“dude, she’s so pretty! that lipgloss looks really good on her, you know? i’ve been thinking about it for days.” kaminari attempted to whisper, but ultimately failed. you smiled. he was probably talking about kyoka. he paused, “should i ask her out?”

a familiar voice rang in your ears, “ask her out and i’ll kill you, dunce face.” katsuki grunted, making you think maybe they weren’t talking about kyoka. hopefully, at least, considering katsuki’s your boyfriend.

you thought it’d be weird, however, for kaminari of all people to like you. you never thought you were concerningly attractive, or even ugly, just average, nothing special about you. you had an okay quirk, average grades, and a decent personality, but nothing went beyond according to you.

but to everyone else, you were better than average for almost everything. you practiced training and had amazing control over your quirk, excellent grades, and always studied, beautiful, and probably the kindest, funniest, and most comforting person someone could know.

katsuki especially agreed with all of that.

he hadn’t told many people that the two of you were dating, as you were shy and wanted privacy. he also agreed with you, as he wanted to surprise his friends with an ‘oh, i forgot to mention i’m dating y/n by the way’ just to see the expressions on their faces. not showing too much pda in front of other people was what you and katsuki both preferred, but behind closed doors, you two were so openly loving.

but even when katsuki would compliment you, whether it was in public or alone, you always seemed confused, like you thought home was lying. he wasn’t, of course, but it was odd to hear something specifically sweet from his mouth. you hadn’t gained many compliments from others as a child, but you always accepted them, even if you didn’t outwardly agree with them.

one time, the two of you were going on a walk in the park near the U.A. campus. katsuki noticed your hair, and for some reason, the words just spilled from his mouth. he complimented, “i don’t know what the hell you did, but your hair looks amazing today.”

you tilted your head as he blushed, looking at the ground as the two of you walked side by side. you asked, “huh, really? i didn’t do anything different today.” murmuring the last part.

he chuckled, “well you always look amazing. i just really noticed your hair today.”

a chuckle escaped your mouth, “you’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend, kats!”

he stared at you for a moment and looked caught off guard. he rolled his eyes, “that’s just a fact, idiot. you always look good, i’m not just saying that because we’re together. ashido was just talking about how you’re the greenest flag in the class, and during the second period, kaminari was talking to about how he wants to ask you out. i was close to exploding him right then and there.”

you raised your eyebrow with suspicion then giggled, “sureeee, they said all of that.”

“you seriously don’t believe me?” katsuki asked.

“nope!”

at least katsuki knew the truth, and when the two of you become comfortable enough to display your relationship publicly, he’ll be bragging about you left and right.

yay i loved writing this!! thank you so much for the req <3

[starktonyx]

Have you ever tried this one?

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Pairing: John Walker x reader. Word count: 5.2k

Note: Another one inspired by a Sabrina Carpenter song, this time it’s Juno. If you know, you know😉 enjoy 🫶🏼

Description: John had been away on a long mission. A month of nothing but his fist and filthy thoughts of you, edging himself to save it all for you. Every last drop. So when he catches you singing some dirty song about needing it deep? You get exactly what you asked for.

Tags/Warnings: Smut, fem!reader, John gets freaky with his super strength, oral f!rec, only the tip, piv sex, cum play, cum kink (srlsy a lot🙂‍↕️), overstimulation (he just keeps going), so much dirty talk, literally just 5k words of filth with plot.

Happens in the same universe as “Come right on me … I mean camaraderie” but can be read as a stand alone.

Masterlist / archive

It wasn't John's fault. Not really.

It wasn't his fault Bucky had sent him on a month long mission to a place so remote it didn't even show up on a map. It wasn't his fault the signal was garbage, barely enough to send a text, much less hear your voice to at least let you know just how badly he needed you.

By the second week, he was already losing his mind.

Because waking up soaked in sweat with a cock so hard it hurt wasn't the problem, it was waking up alone. Reaching out blindly for the soft heat of your body only to find cold sheets and a cruel reminder that you were only in his dreams. Nothing more than a fucking fantasy. That the version of you riding him, moaning his name in that perfect, ruined little voice of yours, was nothing but a sick joke his head kept playing on loop.

It was maddening.

So no, it wasn't his fault that the tension inside him just kept building up like he was some horny teenager. And no matter how many times his hand drifted down to try to relieve some, anything, he never let himself finish. Not once.

Because coming without you felt wrong.

He told himself the same thing every time, between gritted teeth and sweat dripping from his brow: save it for her.

Every. Single. Drop.

He wrapped up his assignment three days earlier. Fueled by the image of you on your knees, of your pretty little mouth open for him, of that wet heaven between your legs he hadn't tasted in weeks.

He barely acknowledged Yelena when she passed him in the hallway that night he arrived. She raised a brow, opening her mouth to speak.

"Not now," John snapped, already walking past her.

Yelena didn't press further, just raised an eyebrow at the direction John was headed to. Your room.

Yeah, not exactly a shock. 

It wasn't a secret you two were having ... something. The compound's walls weren't that thick, and no one here was blind either. You'd both been caught sneaking out of each other's rooms enough times that it barely qualified as "sneaking" anymore.

The whole damn compound probably had a scorecard by now.

At this point, it was honestly ridiculous you still had separate rooms at all. Maybe you liked the thrill of it ... or maybe you were just idiots.

Either way, Yelena knew one thing for sure, she'd probably end up crashing in the living room with the others from that floor, if they wanted to get some sleep that night.

But when John finally reached your door, you weren't there.

He groaned in frustration, eyes narrowing. Maybe you were in the kitchen. Maybe you'd just stepped out, the warm lamp illuminating your messed bedsheets told him so.

Fine. He could wait ... barely.

He dropped his duffel and shield in the his room and headed straight for your shower, too tense to sit still. He scrubbed off the mission, the restraint, all while ignoring the throbbing between his legs he'd been carrying for weeks now. He told himself just a little longer, just a few more minutes and he could finally bury himself in you again, where he belonged.

He was mid drying his body when he heard the door of the room open. He tracked the sound of your footsteps across the room, the gentle bounce of the mattress as you hummed a song.

"Wanna try out some freaky positions ... have you ever tried this one?"

He paused with the towel in hand, half grinning to himself. What on earth were you singing now?

It wasn't the first time he'd caught you in your room with headphones on, humming to yourself like no one else existed. He loved it, loved the way you sang so freely when you thought you were alone. It was always cute. Except this time the lyrics were far away from being “cute”.

He opened the bathroom door with anticipation, hoping to catch your surprised face when you saw him standing in your bathroom with just a towel covering his lower half. But you couldn't see him.

You were sitting cross legged on the bed, facing the headboard. Wearing nothing but one of his huge old shirts, the hem barely covering your thighs, and those noise canceling headphones Yelena and Bob gave you for your birthday.

You were swaying softly, completely oblivious to his presence. The music was loud enough that he could hear the faint echo of a girl's voice through the headphones. Your head bobbed to the beat, eyes glued to your phone.

"One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love," you sang softly, scrolling absentmindedly.

John leaned against the doorframe, one hand holding the towel around his hips, tilted head and a smirk on his face. He lost interest on the music you were humming for a moment, his gaze dropped lower.

Was there anything under that shirt?

He needed to know. He had to.

The hem of the shirt shifted with your movement, offering teasing little flashes of your bare thighs. He tried, really tried to shake those thoughts away. It was a sweet moment. He could hear the playfulness in your voice, maybe you were even thinking about him.

But then the lyrics hit again.

"Adore me, hold me and explore me

Mark your territory

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, one"

He didn't know why the words hit him like that. Maybe it was the anticipation of it all. Maybe it was because they echoed every filthy thought he'd tried to bottle up over the past month. Maybe because he barely held himself together anymore.

He hadn't even touched himself in the last few days ... hadn't dared. Just drowned in the pent up need to be inside you, so thoroughly you'd be dripping with him for days.

"Adore me, hold me and explore me

I'm so fucking horny."

The words came out of your mouth in that same casual, airy tone, like you didn't even realize you were saying them. It was almost innocent. But he shook his head, because he knew you.

Always that mouth. That filthy, sweet, open mouth.

"Jesus Christ..." he muttered to himself.

"Tell me I'm the only, only, only one"

You sighed this time, flopping back on the bed with a dramatic groan, closing your eyes while you held your phone against your chest. The movement of your legs caused the hem of his shirt to ride up your thighs just enough to answer his question.

No panties.

That was it.

He crossed the room in three strides, eyes locked on the picture of you laid out beneath him, upside down from his angle, completely unaware of his gaze fixed on you.

What a treat.

He reached for your headphones, but your eyes flew open before he could pull them off. You yelped, gasping at the sight of him looming over you.

"John?!" you gasped, scrambling upright so fast your phone bounced off the bed, headphones following.

You weren't expecting to see him there at all, at least not yet, he was supposed to arrive by the end of the week. Not that you could ever complain though, the image in front of you was something you'd been dreaming all those weeks he was gone.

His body still damp from the shower, towel barely hanging onto his hips, wet blond hair dripping all over his shoulders … and that devilishly charming grin on his face.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, nonchalantly, like he didnt almost give you a heart attack.

You blinked a few times, with a breath caught on your throat. "Did you ... did you just come out of my bathroom?"

But you didn't even wait for an answer. Your body just launched forward, wrapping around him like you needed to prove he was real. He caught you instantly with a faint laugh, one arm curling tight around your waist, the other gripping his towel.

His nose brushed your temple as he whispered, "Got back early, couldn't wait to see you."

You smiled, and couldn't wait any longer either, so you crashed your lips against his. There was no hesitation from him, his hands gripped your waist hard, like he needed to anchor himself. Your fingers clawed his chest, his shoulders, dragging him closer by the back of his neck, needing more.

Needing everything.

His body pressed into yours with no space left between, large hands roaming all over your waist, your back, you ass. It wasn't slow, it wasn't sweet. It was tongues and fingers digging into skin. His rough beard scratching against your soft skin.

You pulled back just long enough to breathe, but he chased your mouth, biting at your bottom lip, not letting you go far.

"Fuck, I missed you," you muttered against his mouth, chest heaving. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He chuckled, raising his brow, his chest vibrating against yours. "Didn't want to interrupt the show."

Your face burned. You tried to hide in his chest, but he grabbed your chin so you wouldn't.

"You gonna tell me the rest of those lyrics?" he asked, looking down at you.

You just cursed lowly, because of course he heard all that.

In one smooth motion, he spun you around so your knees hit the bed and your was back pressed to his damp chest. His arm hooked across your shoulders, keeping you upright as his mouth dragged slow, wet kisses along the side of your neck.

"Don’t be shy … I liked that little song of yours," he mumbled against your skin. "But I think I misheard the best part honey ... you said you were what?"

Your breath hitched, you knew he heard you damn right the first time. And he knew you knew. His arm gripped your hip, guiding your ass to grind against him, and that's when you felt it. Felt him. The thick press of his bulge through the towel, hot and painfully hard, in a way that made you drool in anticipation.

"I said ... you were fucking what baby? What was it again?" he growled, pressing your hip harder when you didn't reply.

Your knees suddenly felt weak. God, you had missed him so much, even if he was about to fuck every single line out of you.

"So fucking h-horny," you blurted out the lyrics, dropping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

He hummed, satisfied, slipping a hand down your shirt until he reached the mess between your thighs.

"Jesus, baby..." he rasped, your body jolting when his fingers barely brushed the slick already pooling there. "You're soaking just from that? tsk tsk tsk.”

"You were gone for so long John," you whined, instinctively pushing back against him, "can you really blame me?"

He laughed, lowly, like you've just told him something absurd.

"You think you’re horny?" he groaned, shaking his head. "I've been jerking off like some goddamn teenager for weeks, and the worst part? I couldn't even finish honey … thinking how you should be the one wringing it out of me."

You bit your lip, whimpering at the image.

"You know how fucking hard that was?" he continued. "Sleeping in a cold bed, not even being able to hear your voice while I had my cock in my hand, trying not to cum 'cause I wanted it all to be yours. Wanted to fill you up the second I got back."

He loosened his grip on you only enough to let go of the towel covering his body. He dragged your shirt higher and then he pressed his bare cock against your ass.

"Feel that, baby?" he growled in your ear. "This is what I've been carrying ... just for you."

"Then give it to me," you begged, squirming in his hold. "John, please, it's been too long..."

"Oh, I will." He chuckled darkly. “But you gotta run that dirty mouth a little bit longer.”

You whined, this is exactly where he wanted you.

"Imagine the first thing I hear when I come back is that filthy little mouth of yours ... what was it you were singin' about? some freaky positions?"

Shit.

"Hold on to me."

Before you could even process it, his arms were under your thighs. You let out a squeal as he took you off the bed, carrying you to the wall. He turned you around midair, and without even a sign of discomfort, lifted your body up until your legs instinctively wrapped around his neck.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, and your breath caught in your throat as you realized what was happening.

He was standing, fully upright. Holding you high in the air with your legs hooked over his shoulders, his hands locked under your ass. His face aligned perfectly with your dripping pussy.

"John," you gasped, gripping his wet hair when you realized your head was close to the ceiling now. "What the fuck ..."

He looked up grinning like a devil.

"What?" he asked innocently, smug as hell. "Have you ever tried this one?"

You nervously laughed, shaking your head incredulously.

"Don't worry, baby," he winked, bunching the shirt around your waist, exposing you completely to his greedy eyes. "I got you."

It was like like the serum was created just to give him the strength to hold you like this.

You gasped when his mouth latched on your pussy like he'd been dying of thirst. Obscene sounds filled the room, from your wetness, from the mess he was painting all over his beard, from your pleads. His grip was unshakable, anchoring you in place while his mouth worked like he was trying to make up for every second he'd been gone.

Your chest began rising up and down quickly, one hand desperately tugging his hair while the other traveled up for some sort of leverage, slapping blindly at the ceiling above you as your body trembled.

"John ... fuck–yes," you panted, vision blurring from the intensity.

He groaned against your pussy, the vibration shooting up your spine. It was too much. The strength in his arms, the way he held you there without even faltering, while dragging his tongue through every slick inch of you.

It felt worshipful.

"You're doing it so good, baby," You praised, tugging his hair harder.

He hummed against your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth in a way only he knew how to make you see stars, and then looked up at you with those unfair baby blue eyes.

You almost came at the sight of him under you, beard all soaked, looking at you like he was getting drunk from your taste alone.

It wasn't long until your whole body began shaking, legs trembling where they were draped over his shoulders, the heels of your feet digging into his back like it would somehow ground you. But nothing could.

You were so high up the wall, so completely suspended by him, only your back touching anything solid, that your vision started to white out.

"J-John I can't ... I'm gonna–“

"Yeah?" he grunted. "Go on then, sweetheart ... mark your territory."

His fingers dug deeper into your ass, holding you in place as he moaned against your cunt, the vibrations sent you crashing over the edge.

Your thighs clenched around his head, body trembling as you reached your high. He didn't stop, not when you came, not when your back arched off the wall, not even when you whimpered his name.

He kept eating, drinking down every twitch of your orgasm, tongue flicking your clit until your thighs shook violently and you tried to push him away.

Your hands ran all over his hair, desperate.

"Too much ... John, baby, please–"

That's when he finally pulled back.

You blinked a few times at him, your juices glistening on his lips, running down his bearded chin. He looked wrecked. His wet hair all wild, jaw flexing, chest rising and falling like he'd been the one coming.

You twitched one more time, and he grinned satisfied.

"You taste even better than I remembered." His voice was raspy, so fucking sexy.

You barely had time to recover before he lowered you just enough to cradle you in his arms, still against the wall, but now your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms locked behind his neck.

He was the one you kissed you this time, making sure you tasted every drop of yourself on his lips. You could feel his hard cock trapped between you, hot and slick, leaking against your stomach.

"Still singin' that song in your head, sweetheart?" he asked as soon as you came apart, in that devilishly teasing tone.

"Huh?" You blurted out, dizzy from the haze.

He shook his head amused, he was barely getting started with you.

He adjusted his grip on you, before taking you off the wall. Your arms tightened around his neck, eyes wide as he carried you through the room, toward the bed. He lowered you on the mattress, spreading your legs with his knees as he hovered over you.

He didn't have patience for you to be covered anymore, even if seeing you in his shirt drove him insane. But he just needed you naked when he came all over you. So he easily ripped his shirt off from you, throwing it somewhere in the room. His eyes dragged down your body, pausing at the mess between your thighs, at the way your chest heaved, at the way your eyes pleaded.

"You look like a fuckin' dream," he muttered, voice rough. This is all he'd been waiting for, all he’d been fantasizing about.

Before you could say anything, hell, before you could even breathe, he grabbed his cock in his hand, slapping the fat head of it against your soaked pussy.

Once. Twice. Again.

You jolt with each wet hit, little shocked gasps slipping from your lips as your sensitive clit twitched under the weight of his cock.

"Too much?" he asked, grinning as he slapped your folds again, harder this time. "You're twitching so pretty for me, sweetheart."

"John ... fuck–please," you whined, head rolling back on the mattress.

He just grinned, treating himself to a few more heavy wet slaps. You looked so pretty when you shivered, when you begged.

You gasped when you felt him pressing in your entrance with no warning. Head shooting up, eyes going wide just in time to see how he only pushed the tip in. Just that goddamn massive tip, splitting you open with a stretch that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You couldn’t help but throw your head back again.

"I know, baby," he groaned at the feeling of your pussy around him. "You're so tight and so full already … look at you, it's not even halfway in," he praised, breath coming short.

He didn't go deeper. Just pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, in and out. Driving you wild.

And my god, he was so vocal. The grunting, the low growling. The slow movement of his hips like he was holding himself back from slamming balls deep inside you. You knew he has.

You whimpered, clutching the sheets, your hips rolled up to chase more, deeper, but he pinned you down, his chest tensing as he held himself back with a growl.

"Just the tip for now, baby."

He wanted to take his time. Make you go as many rounds as he'd saved his cum for the time he was away. But when you clenched your pussy around the head of his cock, he almost almost bursted right there. He kept pressing in, just the swollen crown stretching you wide.

“God … John,” you whimper, grabbing the sheets. “I love the way you fit.”

“I know,” he hisses, eyes glued to where your bodies met. “Feels so fucking good like this.”

He didn’t thrust deep, just moved in short, devastating rolls of his hips that drove that thick tip over your sweetest spot again and again, attempting to drag another orgasm right back out of you.

“You gonna cum again, baby? tip’s too much for you already?”

That cockiness, that smug grin on his face, the way he keep pushing just a part of himself in that teasing pace, made you unravel, his name came out between gasps, body spasming with the pressure.

“Just like that baby, taking me so well, and I haven’t even fucked you properly yet.”

No he hadn’t, still made you see white as you rode your second high on the night. He groaned at the sight, feeling himself closer and closer.

"You want me to cum like this?" he gritted, hips grinding. "Been saving it, my sweet fucking cum ...all yours. You want it?"

You just nodded, eyes still seeing stars, breathless.

"Then sing it for me.”

Your brows furrowed. "W-What?"

"Sing the fuckin' lyric." He growled this time, leaning closer. "The part that got you all worked up. Let's hear it again sweetheart, just the good part"

Your cheeks flushed, brain fuzzing. "John—"

He slammed forward, just an inch deeper, but so hard it knocked a cry out of your throat. You swallowed hard, while he waited expectantly without moving, making you ache for the friction.

"...Adore me..." you mumbled, barely singing.

“Louder."

“Adore me... hold me... and explore me..."

You noticed the way he was becoming undone to your shaky voice, breathing caught in his throat as he began fucking you again his leaking tip, exploring your entire body with his hands. His eyes glistened with anticipation. He needed you to say it, he was so close.

"Go on, what’s next?” He growled between gritted teeth, hips dragging faster his tip in and out of your entrance, hands pinching your nipples.

"...Mark your territory..." you whispered, nearly choking on your words.

"Yeah," he breathed, voice feral. "That's the one."

He let out a guttural sound, hips slamming forward, his body locking up as he finally let himself spill into you, tip buried, grinding into your clenching pussy while his cum rushed out desperate, like it's been waiting to drip out of you.

"Fuck– ugh baby, fuck..."

You felt it before you even saw it. The first hot pulses inside you, so thick and warm. But he’d dreamed about you covered in him, so he pulled out, his cum leaking out behind him in thick drips as he poured the rest of himself on you. You felt it spill all over your body, one spurt. Then another. And another.

And another.

"Oh my –shit, baby," you gasped , eyes flying wide as he poured into you. "That's so much, John ... holy fuck–"

He kept going while he grunted, kept spilling, holding the base of his cock tight as he came all over you. Your clenching walls pushed what was left inside you out, dripping down your pussy, pooling on the sheets.

"Shit–can't stop," he panted, all flushed, watching with hooded eyes as his cum kept painting your body. "Fuck, look at you ... you're soaked."

You glanced down, and your jaw dropped.

It was everywhere. Your belly, your thighs, the curve of your hips. Sticky, thick white streaks all over your chest, a faint drop on your neck. And even more dripping out your pussy like he never pulled out.

And it had been just with the tip.

"John... it’s so much..." you panted, voice barely above a whisper.

"Told you I was saving it up, honey," he grinned, breathless yet still smug, proud ... asshole.

He leaned down, dragging two fingers through the mess on your belly, gathering a thick strand of it, and then smearing it right back onto your skin, lazier, messier, spreading it even more.

"You're not getting cleaned up," he mumbled, voice rough. "Not yet. I want you to feel it. I want you to lie here soaking in it."

You whimpered as his fingers trailed lower, collecting more where it was pooling between your thighs. He spread it around your folds, deliberately pushing it over your sensitive clit, and you jolted, hips twitching.

"Still twitchy," he smirked, loving the way you squirmed. "So damn pretty when you're sensitive."

Then he dragged his fingers back up and smeared more of it across your chest, rubbing his release into your skin like he wanted it to stay there.

His territory marked. Owned.

You were trying to catch your breath, your limbs heavy, skin flushed and sticky, brain barely holding onto thoughts.

But then, the weight of him moved over you again. His hand gripped your wet thigh hard, pushing it up and out. His cock, hard again, sliding right through the mess between your legs, thick and wet from your arousal and his white paint.

Your eyes flew open. "John ... just give me a minute–"

"It's okay baby, I got you."

He grabbed your limp body and flipped it over, chest against the mattress, ass low, while he crossed your arms behind your back so he could raise your back to him. His cock pressed against your ass, and you suddenly needed him more than before.

"Need you ... all of it … please"

This time he didn't say anything, he just thrusted. He buried himself deep, all the way this time, no more teasing with the tip. The sudden stretch made your whole body arch, back curling away from him but he tightened his grip on your arms, as a helpless cry ripped from your throat.

"Shit, you're so tight," he growled, voice rough with need.

He set a brutal rhythm instantly, hips snapping against your ass, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and filthy in the room. You were too sensitive, too full, too overstimulated, but you couldn't stop moaning. Your body could take it. Needed it.

One large hand gripped yours on your lower back, the other landing a smack in your ass as he fucked into you, panting, wild, relentless.

"You're so fucking perfect," he leaned down, teeth grazing your shoulder. "I'm gonna come inside this time. So deep you'll feel it for days."

Your mind was gone. Words were gone. You were just whimpering, relying on his grip to hold you up while he ruined you for the third time.

This is how he needed you. Overstimulated, a moaning mess, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you. You clenched around his whole length this time, tighter, he looked down at you and smirked.

"Cum on my cock, baby. That's what it's for, all yours."

His deep voice sent you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his cock, your back arched as you came again while he fucked you through it, clenching around him with a strangled cry. He slammed in deeper, his cock twitching for release.

"Take it, baby … so pretty how your take it."

He growled seeing you become undone again, losing his last thread of restraint.

"Oh fuck..."

"Come on John, I know you still have more for me.”

You felt it the moment he started to lose control, his rhythm stuttering, jaw almost snapping, breath hot and shaky against your skin.

"Gonna fill you up again," he growled, hips slamming into you one last time.

And then he crashed again, deep inside you, seed thick and hot, spilling into your pussy in those long, creamy strings. Your body jolted under him, back arching, but he didn't pull out this time.

He kept himself buried balls deep, cock twitching inside you, his hands tight still holding your arms behind your back.

"Jesus," he groaned, dazed. "You're fuckin' milking me."

You hummed, overstimulated and trembling, feeling every drop of him, filling you up until it began leaking back out.

A slow, thick stream of cum slipped out around his cock, trickling between your thighs, dripping down your leg as John just watched. Mesmerized. Smirking.

He let his grip on you go, gently letting your chest fall back on the mattress, cock still inside you. He looked down.

"Look at that," he mumbled. "Can't even hold it all." He pulled his cock back a little, just enough to make it spill faster. "Fucked you so full I can feel it spilling out of you."

You moaned, all weak, breathless. "Saved all that sweet cum just for me Johnny."

"It's all I thought about baby," he gritted, dragging his thumb to smear the mess around.

He finally pulled out, a gasp escaping your mouth when you felt all his love dripping out of you.

"Look how pretty you are when you're leaking my cum..."

You thought he would give you a minute this time. A little break to remember how to breathe again, when he helped you turn around so you laid your back on the bed, facing him now.

You could feel it against your leg, he was hardening again. Like your whole body wasn't already covered in all of him.

You felt the weight of his cock, thick, flushed, and heavy against your overstimulated pussy, you whimpered when he pressed the head back to your folds.

"John," you breathed, head rolling back. "You already ... fuck, you came so much baby."

"I know," he growled, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath was hot against your cheek. "I know. But look at me, baby."

He grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the tip through the slick, tender mess between your legs, your whole body reacting. "Still fuckin' hard."

It wasn't his fault. The serum had enhanced everything. Every fucking thing. And he'd been gone, for too damn long.

You barely had time to recover. You were still twitching, body too sensitive, soaked and overstimulated. But your hands still reached to his back, to push him into you one more time.

"Greedy little thing." He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t even hold yourself up but you keep reaching for more.”

So he complied, slow at first, like he could still tease after all he’d done to you by now. His hips rolled forward, pushing his previous loads deeper. You gasped, legs trembling, nails digging into his back as you shook your head and whimpered, "John, I can't–"

"Yes, you can," he growled. "You're gonna take every drop. Again."

Then he snaps his hips forward, hard.

Your whole body bounces as he fucked it into you one more time, his cock slamming through the mess he already left inside, making it gush out in slick, tiny splashes with every thrust.

"Fuck, listen to that," he snarled, going feral at the obscene sounds. "So messy for me. You love this."

And the worst part? He was right.

Because even through the overstimulation, the ache, the stretch, you were clenching around him again, your body greedy, desperate, obeying every filthy command he made without question.

He was relentless. Gripping your hips, fucked into you like he was trying to imprint himself into your core, cock pounding the mess deeper while more of it leaked out down your ass and thighs.

"Still sensitive, sweetheart?" He was smug as sin, one hand spreading you open while the other pressed your lower belly. "You can take it … just a little more."

You didn’t take long to come again, nearly sobbing, legs shaking uncontrollably, and he groaned as you cried out his name, squeezing him tight.

He was there, almost there. But he wanted this one somewhere else.

He pulled out of your shaking pussy, and climbed over your body on the bed, straddling your chest as he guided his cock to your face.

"Open for me, sweetheart ... yeah that's it"

He shoved his cock in your mouth, and you gladly took it, all of it. In twitches it spilled down your throat. Salty, thick warmth overflowed your mouth as he grunted, coming all over your tongue.

You hit his thigh when you couldn't breathe anymore from how much it was, so he put a hand behind your neck to lift your head, and raised you to sit on the bed as he panted beside you, mesmerized by the view of you choking in it.

His hand ran comforting strokes down your back, as you tried to swallow as much as you could. Like you always did.

Like the good fucking girl you were for him.

"Look at you," he whistled in a growl. "Covered in me. Stuffed full of me. Choking on me … and I still see some untouched parts."

His thumb found your chin, smearing what had leaked out your mouth down your neck, and tilted your face toward his.

"How many times is that, baby?" he taunted, pushing the hair out of your sweaty face. "Two, three loads? … doesn't even matter, you always take ‘em all.”

You just whimpered to his praise, couldn't trust your voice when you still felt his warmth going down your throat.

You both go quiet.

The kind of quiet that only happened after John was finally satisfied with how many times you came on his cock, with the way you twitched from the sheer exhaustion, when you didn’t even know how to speak anymore.

He pressed kiss to your temple, his lips soft, lingering. The sharp edge of his voice from earlier was gone, replaced by a low raspy whisper as his fingers brushed over your spine.

“Hey… you still with me, baby?”

You nod weakly.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “You did so good for me. So damn good.”

As you regained your breath, he just held you for a moment with his hand on your back, and stared. At you. At the mess all over your body. At what he did.

At what you let him do.

“C’mere” He whispered, while he pulled you into his lap, and settled you down on his wet cock.

You moan out, body going limp and stuffed beyond reason as he held you there, not moving, just filling you up for the last time. You clung to him with the last bits of strength you had left, while he wiped the sweat and hair out of your face.

“Just sit here sweetheart, you’re okay” he breathed against your hair, rubbing soothing circles on your body. “Keep me warm while you recover baby, don’t spill another drop.”

He wrapped his arms around you, possessive, smug but with tenderness now, he kissed your shoulder like it was the softest thing in the world. He could feel the stickiness of your body on him, a sweet reminder that you were in fact, the only only only one for him.

“We’ll cleanup later, baby” He cooed and you just nodded weakly, placing a kiss on his pec.

He leaned slightly to see your face, to catch a glimpse of that blissed out, weak smile on your lips. He smiled adoringly, with that softness that only came after he wrecked you.

But then, without even a doubt, a harsh chuckle left his throat.

“Have I marked my territory enough?”

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🖤

[littlegrapejuice]

Grid Mum 6 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: The European triple header - or: a poor attempt at flirting, a jealous boyfriend, mother's day, a Cars screening at home, and some cuddles.

Author's Note: obvious enough from the summary, but here is the imola/monaco/barcelona chap! I really enjoyed writing this one so i hope you'll enjoy reading it🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

Franco had been given one rule when he had hung out with the other rookies ahead of the Imola Grand Prix.

“Please, don’t flirt with Max’s girlfriend.” Ollie’s tone was stern, indicating that it was a serious matter.

“Why?” Franco hadn’t met you when he had replaced Logan last year, and he wasn’t even sure of what you looked like. So why were you important now?

“Because she’s nice to us,” Kimi explained.

“Literally the nicest”, Liam added with a nod.

“Yeah, and she takes care of us during race weekends. Even Max hangs out with us, and it’s so fun to spend time with them. So if you flirt with her, then Max will be mad. And we don’t want to be blamed for your fuck-up because we’re all part of the same group,” Gabriel concluded.

“Wow… okay, mate. I won’t do anything so we’re good, don’t worry. I’ll behave”, Franco assured.

After this conversation, the rest of the rookies really thought that Franco had gotten the message.

One rule. Just one tiny little rule.

And Franco broke it on Friday, barely a day later.

In his defence, it wasn’t his fault. Why? Because no one had actually shown him a picture of you, and Franco hadn’t thought of looking you up. So he still didn’t know that it was you he was talking to when he walked up to you with a charming smile on his face.

“Hey,” he simply said. “Red Bull fan?” He pointed to his head in reference to the cap you were wearing.

This was courtesy of Max, who hadn’t wanted you to wear a Mercedes one. Kimi had offered you one of the signed caps that had been amongst those he had given to his classmates, hoping that you would support him at his home race. With a scoff, Max had quickly removed the cap from your head when you had come back to his garage and he had then exchanged it for the one he had been wearing.

“Yeah”, you confirmed with a nod as you readjusted your cap. You were about to introduce yourself to Franco due you two having never met, but you didn’t have time.

“Any chance I could turn you into an Alpine fan?” Franco raised an eyebrow at you, his tone teasing. “I could even give you a tour of my garage if you want.”

It took you a few seconds to process Franco’s words, as well as his attitude, before you realised that he was trying to flirt with you. You kind of wanted to laugh, finding the situation quite funny. You hadn’t imagined that Franco out of all people would try and flirt with you, but then you realised he might actually be completely clueless about who you were.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you but I already know what an F1 garage looks like.” You gave him your best friendly-but-rejecting smile, and hoped he would get the message. “I practically live in them at this point.”

“Even if I’d be your personal tour guide?”

“This isn’t a really convincing argument”, you told him. “Jack put the bar high enough, if I’m being honest.”

“Shit, you’re friends with Jack?” Franco was now unsure on how to keep the conversation going, thinking that you would be one of those blaming him for what happened to the Aussie driver.

“I’d say more than friends, but yeah that tracks.” Sensing Franco’s nervousness, you tried to reassure him. “I’m not mad at you by the way. If anything, it’s Alpine that I want to burn to the ground.”

“Cool… yeah, that’s cool… So he wouldn’t be mad if I tried to ask his friend out?”

“Jack probably won’t be, but my boyfriend might not like that.” The innocent smile on your face felt more like a warning than anything else, due to the sharper tone in your voice.

“My bad, I didn’t know. Sorry about that, then.” Franco was being genuine. He was a charmer through and through, but he wasn’t about to keep trying to pursue you now that he knew you were taken. “He’s a lucky guy, that’s for sure.”

“Who’s a lucky guy?”

Turning to where the voice had come, Franco and you saw that Max had come to stand beside you.

“Her boyfriend”, Franco honestly explained. “It seems like I was unfortunately–” His voice kind of died down when he noticed that Max’s arm had made its way around your waist. Clearing his throat, Franco was now more nervous than ever. “I was unfortunately flirting with a woman who’s got a boyfriend, which is you I guess…”

“You’re guessing well”, Max confirmed as his grip on your waist slightly tightened. “No need to introduce you to my girlfriend anymore, then?”

“Nope, all good. I– I need to go to my garage so… see you later, yeah.” And with that, Franco awkwardly left the conversation. He knew he had fucked up the only thing that his fellow rookies had asked of him, and he really hoped they wouldn’t hear about it.

“More like ‘see you never’”, Max mumbled under his breath once Franco was out of earshot.

“You scared the poor guy, Max.”

“Shouldn’t have flirted with my girl,” Max replied as if it was obvious.

“He didn’t even know who I was!” You tried to advocate for Franco, but in vain.

“Well, now he knows!” Max argued.

You let out a sigh at Max’s jealous attitude, although there was a smile on your face showing that you had a hard time actually being annoyed by your boyfriend.

“Go drive your little car and stop terrorising kids, Max.”

“He will not become our kid, by the way. He’ll stay a regular kid, we already have enough.”

“Just because of him flirting?”

“Trying to flirt,” Max clarified. “Clearly, he was never succeeding.”

“You’re being so mean, he was actually sweet and respectful.”

“He can be sweet and respectful, but far from you. Like… the opposite side of the paddock from where you are.”

“You’re pushing it.” But despite your complaints, you had to admit that jealous and possessive Max was cute. He was never this dramatic when you interacted with other men, so this was actually kind of funny to witness. “I’ll stay very very far away from him if you want, is that alright?” You wouldn’t actually go out of your way to avoid Franco, but what Max didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Yeah, perfect.” Max had a proud grin on his face. “I’ll see you after FP1?”

“Might have lunch with the rookies while we watch the F3 and F2 qualis”, you notified Max. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“No problem, sounds good.” He then kissed you goodbye, before making his way to his garage while you made yours to hospitality.

…..

Following FP1, you met with Gabriel. He had crashed at the end of the session, bringing out a red flag, but was thankfully alright.

“You were doing great out there”, you told the rookie. “P9 in FP1 is promising.”

“It’s practice,” Gabriel pointed out. “Only the first of the weekend so…”

“But that means you’re starting the weekend well!” You wanted to encourage him, genuinely believing that he was improving with every grand prix. “I’m sure you’ll keep this up.”

“Thanks for the support. But now I’m starving, so please let’s get something to eat.”

“Lead the way.”

While you and Gabriel were eating, you watched the F3 qualifying session and discussed upcoming talents. Gabriel teased you about soon becoming the grid mum of every young driver, due to you already noticing them from the lower categories.

When the session was over, there was a small break before the F2 qualifying would start so you and Gabriel just stayed together. It was only the two of you for another half hour, until Gabriel noticed a fellow rookie walking by and called out for him.

“Franco, mate!” Gabriel waved at the Argentinian, hoping to introduce the two of you.

“Hey.” Franco hesitantly approached, giving you a small nod as a sign of greeting.

“This is Max’s girlfriend,” Gabriel said. He held Franco’s gaze for a bit, as a warning for him to remember what the rookies had told him the day before.

“Oh, we actually met earlier!” Unaware of what you would be causing, you thought it would be fine to share the information. “I got offered a private tour of Alpine, can you believe how lucky I am?” Chuckling at the memory, you had no idea that Franco was now wanting to escape the conversation due to Gabriel threateningly looking at him.

“That’s so nice of Franco, yeah”. Gabriel’s tone was far from nice, his eyes now throwing daggers at his fellow rookie. “I hope he didn’t bother you, did he?” Gabriel needed to make sure that what he was thinking – Franco having broken the only rule he had been given – was unfortunately true.

“No worries about him,” you reassured him. “Max actually used the ‘scary boyfriend’ persona on him – sorry about that, Franco.”

“Oh… hmm, it’s fine. No worries,” he told you with a nervous smile. “I think I’ll let you two enjoy your time together. I gotta meet with my team to discuss… stuff, yeah… just stuff.”

“Sure, okay! We’ll probably see each other later in the triple header anyways.”

“Yeah, the triple header. That’s great, super great.” Franco waved as he slowly began to walk away from you and Gabriel, now knowing that he wouldn’t hear the end of it once all the rookies would be aware of the situation from earlier.

“See you later, Franco. Enjoy the weekend, while you can.” Gabriel had an innocent smile on his face, but his eyes were definitely not matching it. He was ready to share the story to his friends as soon as he would have the opportunity, ready to gang up on Franco for his mistake.

Completely oblivious to the tension between the two drivers, you then brought back the topic that you and Gabriel were talking about before Franco had been there. Until it was time for FP2, you stayed with Gabriel as you watched the F2 qualifying session together. You wished the rookie luck, hoping that Italy would be good to him.

And despite only getting P16 in the other two practice sessions, it seems like you had been right to encourage Gabriel as he managed to reach his first Q2 of the season on Saturday – which was unfortunately at the expense of Ollie not getting further than P19, due to a red flag caused as the Brit was crossing the line.

Thankfully, there was no bad blood between the two of them and they honestly both knew that neither of them would be fighting for points on the next day.

You would still be rooting for them to have a nice and safe race, but your focus would mainly be on Max. He would start P2, next to Oscar’s McLaren on the front row, and you were certain that he was ready to do anything in order to secure a fourth win in a row here.

…..

You could only stop breathing as you watched the drivers reaching the first corner. Oscar was forced to brake early in order to keep George behind him, which gave Max the opportunity to overtake him. It was a clean and precise move, which made you sigh of relief when your boyfriend had successfully taken the lead of the race.

And that was all he had needed to do in order to claim a win here in Imola, for Red Bull’s four hundredth grand prix.

Max found you as soon as he got out of the car and removed his helmet, running to where you were standing with his team in parc fermé. As usual, he hugged you first. You couldn’t quite catch what he was saying due to the cheers around you, but you managed to understand a few words:

“This one’s for my girlfriend”, he bragged before hugging you tighter.

You could literally hear his smirk, which you then felt when he kissed you.

“Congrats, champ. That was beautiful”, you told him before he removed his arms from around you to go interact with his team.

You watched him hug his team principal, his engineers, his mechanics. They were responsible for most of it, but Max was the real star today. A star that you could only admire as your eyes never left him, even when he gave his interview as one of the top three finishers.

Max then disappeared for the cooldown room, before your eyes found him again when he went to stand on the podium. Victory always looked good on him, especially when he was so deserving of it.

It was in those moments that the world had to remember that Max Verstappen was a four-times world champion. Maybe the two McLaren drivers next to him on the podium were leading both drivers’ and constructors' championships, but Max wasn’t far behind and he was definitely not going out without a fight for a fifth consecutive title.

_________________________________________________

Although Monaco wasn’t your favourite race of the year, you loved being able to spend a week at home. And you knew Max was glad for that too. You didn’t have to come back to a hotel room every night, and you could wake up with the familiarity of your routine.

Except that there was a new variable in your routine this year, thanks to some rookies whom you had adopted along the way.

When you arrived at the paddock on race day, you hadn’t been surprised to see your six grid kids waiting near the entrance. They seemed to be discussing something important, hushed voices overlapping each other.

Ollie was the first one to notice you, and he nudged the other rookies to notify them of your approaching. And that was when you thought things were a bit weird.

“Hi boys, everything alright?”

They all seemed to suddenly be nervous at your presence, straightening up and looking at each other with unsure glances. You noticed that a couple of them were hiding something, which you would very soon discover what it was.

“It’s… hmm, not much… but…” Kimi had decided to be the spokesperson of the group, but he had somehow forgotten his lines. He thought about winging it, and went straight to the point. “Happy Mother's day!”

And that was the cue for Isack to reveal a beautiful bouquet filled with your favourite flowers – they had to thank Max for the information – while Jack was holding a box of chocolates with a card on top of it in your direction.

“Oh!” Was the only word you could manage to get out before you choked up. You wanted to cry. You wanted to sob here and there – not caring about the people that might be watching. The gesture was so pure and kind, you didn’t feel like you deserved it. And with the way that their smiles brightened in anticipation of your reaction, showing how proud they were of themselves for doing that? Yeah, you were done for. “I– sorry, I’m just emotional…”

Noticing that some tears were rolling down your cheeks, the rookies were suddenly panicking and they thought you didn’t like their surprise.

“Sorry, was it wrong to do that?” Liam asked, worry evident in his voice.

“It was supposed to make you happy,” Gabriel stated.

“Yeah! Not sad,” Ollie added.

“We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”, Kimi said.

Seeing how their mood shifted was enough to make you now properly react to their change in attitude, especially when you saw that their smiles were starting to drop.

“Oh my God, no! Please don’t apologise!” You got closer to them, hoping to be able to show them your gratitude by taking their gifts into your hands. “This is just… like super really nice of you. And I wasn’t expecting that at all, so it took me by surprise. But that is truly so sweet of you. Thank you all so much for this, I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do!” Isack claimed.

“Yeah!” The other rookies agreed with a nod.

Chuckling at their enthusiasm, you now wanted to hug them to thank them for the gifts. You barely had time to put down the bouquet and chocolates before the rookies were the ones engulfing you in a hug first. It was certainly not practical to hug six people at the same time, but you tried to make it work until you decided to hug them all individually.

“Are you still crying? Jack wondered, when he heard you sniff in his arms.

“It’s happy tears, shut up. I’m blaming you for that,” you told him before tightening your grip around him.

It meant a lot to you that Jack had been involved with this. Despite him not really being part of the current rookies on the grid, he was still one when Max and you had adopted the group. So it had made sense for the other drivers to include him – they didn’t even think about not including him, it was just obvious to do so.

One by one, you hugged the six of them with a smile so wide that your cheeks were starting to hurt. You thanked them once again, telling them how grateful you were to have them.

“We’re the lucky ones there”, Ollie said. “We don’t care that you’re not like our real mum or shit like that.”

“We did honour our mums, by the way. We’re not bad sons”, Liam assured.

“True. But yeah, we needed to thank you for being there for us during race weekends. Because even if our parents are also there most of the time, it’s super cool to hang out with you because you’re real fun to be around. You’re more than a grid mum,” Isack affirmed. “You’ve become a friend as well.”

“Okay, shit. You’re gonna make me cry again and I don’t have any spare makeup with me”, you joked as you tried to keep your tears in.

They laughed with you as you kept thanking them – it seemed like the only thing you could do. In this moment, you really felt loved and cherished. You wouldn’t trade those kids for anything else in the world; and if someone were to ask them, they would definitely say the same.

…..

You hadn’t expected a journalist to approach you after the race, given that you were usually invisible in the paddock. Not that you were fully transparent either, but you were never the WAG that people focused on.

“Isn’t it weird that you’re getting so much attention from the rookies? Especially on a day like today.”

You had certainly not expected that question, and were definitely confused regarding the point the journalist was trying to make. The man had not even said ‘hello’ nor introduced himself, and that was probably all you needed to know about him to assess his personality.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch the full question. Could you repeat it, please?” You did your best to stay polite, even though you could already feel like the man was about to deal with something that you wouldn’t like.

“Well, we’ve seen you interact a lot with the rookies in the past few weeks – which most people could overlook. However, today is Mother’s Day and it seems like they have been acting as if you were deserving of as much attention as their real mothers earlier today. Anything to say about wanting to replace them?”

To say you were surprised by the man’s claim would be an understatement. Was he accusing you of stealing the rookies from their mothers? When have you ever tried to do that?

“I’m not sure where you found that information.” You tried to be diplomatic, not wanting to cause a scene, and plastered your face with your best fake smile. “I can assure you that I have done nothing to ever make it seem like I wanted to replace – as you’ve said – the kids’ mothers. And–”

“But you have been strangely close to them, right?” He interrupted you. He then did not even leave you time to answer before he kept going with his more-than-false ‘facts’. “Some people even claim that you have invited them to your home, can you confirm or deny? Are you doing all of this because Max does not want to have an actual family with you? Is there any trouble between the two of you?”

Now overwhelmed, you were having a really hard time listening to everything the journalist was saying. People hadn’t seemed to care about the exchange – probably due to the fact that the man wasn’t a well-known reporter and you were just a WAG. Still, the pressure you were currently feeling from his accusations was making you more nervous than ever and you were afraid that you would soon need to excuse yourself – which might make things worse if the man thought you were escaping because his assumptions were right.

Thankfully, someone decided to come save you.

“Is everything okay here?” Liam asked, his tone suspicious, as he came to stand beside you. He had heard the last couple of questions that the man asked you, and he immediately knew to intervene.

“Yeah, we’re fine. She’s just refusing to answer my questions,” the journalist explained. “Is she always this rude?”

“Well, maybe she’s not answering because you’re just spitting bullshit and assuming wrong stuff about her.” Liam shifted closer to you and glared at the man in front of him. “I don’t know who made up all this, but they’re dumb as hell. And if it’s you, then it’s no surprise I’ve never seen you before because your work is probably too mediocre to be read by actual drivers.”

“I will not allow you to speak to me like that!” The journalist was now fuming, overlooking the fact that he was talking to F1 driver Liam Lawson and focusing on how a ‘kid’ was insulting his work.

“Or what?” Liam snickered at the man’s anger.

“I’ll write about you, and I’ll have lots of things to say about how rude you both are to journalists who just wanna do their job. It’s no wonder Red Bull sacked you with an attitude like that,” he said with venom in his voice.

“How the hell are you talking to them?” Ollie, having heard the journalist’ voice get louder from afar, had come to see what the commotion was about. He hadn’t expected to see you and Liam, now wondering what was happening. The only thing he was sure of for now, was that the journalist had no right to yell at you nor Liam.

Now that two drivers were around you, people were starting to notice the little gathering and some of them stopped for a second to see what was going on.

“I talk to them however I want. I am appalled at how rude the youth is nowadays! I am simply trying to write my article, but everyone is really disrespectful around here.”

“If you weren’t the one asking dumb shit to her, then I would be way nicer to you.” Liam crossed his arms, fed up with the man’s attitude.

“My questions are far from dumb! You cannot tell me that it’s not bizarre and creepy from her to spend so much time around the younger drivers. I’m just wanting to know the truth here”, the man claimed.

“Listen, man.” Gabriel was the third driver to join the conversation, and he was definitely not glad with what he had heard so far. The noise had caught his attention, and he hadn’t hesitated in getting closer as the journalist kept getting angrier. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are – and I probably don’t care – but you’re gonna have to tone it down, please. This is a public space, and your very loud irritating voice is bothering the people who actually work here.”

“And if you wanna talk about us hanging out with her, then I’ll give you something to write about.” Ollie, without a care in the world, took the journalist’s notebook and pen before he scribbled down some words. “Reason number one: she’s genuine, kind, and polite – definitely the opposite from you. Reason number two: we share the same passion that’s racing – and maybe you would be a better person if you had it too. Reason number three–”

“That’s enough!” The journalist interrupted as he violently grabbed his notebook back from Ollie’s hands. “I will not let myself be ridiculed by arrogant drivers like you for one more second.” And with that, he angrily stormed away from the conversation.

What you felt was an awkward silence settled between the drivers and you, as you were now embarrassed to have indirectly dragged them in this situation. However, it seemed like they didn’t care about it and were more worried about your well-being.

“Are you alright?” Ollie eventually asked, a soothing hand rubbing your shoulder.

“Did he do anything else to you before I arrived?” Liam wondered, not having been there from the beginning.

“I’m fine, guys. Don’t worry about me,” you reassured them. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, he was…”

“Being a bitch?” Gabriel suggested.

“An absolute arsehole?” Ollie added.

“Fucking pathetic that’s for sure,” Liam stated.

“I wanted to say a bit rude, but yeah those work as well.” You chuckled a bit at your own downplay of the situation. “He was kinda right, though… I don’t know, am I spending too much time with my boyfriend’s colleagues?”

“Please don’t think that man was right.”

“Yeah, Gabi’s right. And we’re not just your boyfriend’s colleagues,” Ollie claimed. “We’re literally your kids, thought we established that this morning”

“Grid mum? Grid kids?” Liam reminded you with a smile. “Ringing a bell?”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance the rookies were providing you. You thought that you truly didn’t deserve them, and that maybe they were the ones actually taking more care of you than you did of them. But it felt normal to them: you were usually the one mothering. And if for once they could help you by being your knights in shining armour, then they were glad to do so.

Still, it would later seem that they wouldn’t stop needing to count on you when it mattered. And you knew as much as they did that you wouldn’t say no to them, no matter the situation.

…..

Are you asleep?

The text had come from Isack. Looking at the time, you noticed that it was quite late and you wondered if he needed anything. You told him that no, you were still awake and asked him there was something wrong. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was definitely not this reply:

I’m in front of your building, can i come up?

I understand if you’ll say no

Now kind of worried, you wasted no time ringing Isack in. It only took a couple minutes before he was at the door, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Sorry to bother you”, he shyly apologised.

“You’re not bothering me at all,” you reassured him. “Is everything alright? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am. I just– I was out with some friends et… j’sais pas… kinda tried to go clubbing but it wasn’t really my scene anymore at one point and I left.” Isack ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration obvious. “Next thing I know, I’m walking to yours et me voilà.” He nervously chuckled, still unsure of how you’d react.

“Okay,” you simply replied with a nod. “Well, for starters I’m glad you’re alright. Can I get you anything to drink or eat?”

“Hmm, yes please.” Isack finally entered your home before you closed the door behind him. “Just some water is fine, thanks.”

“No problem. Just go sit and I’ll be back.” You walked to the kitchen, getting a glass for Isack, before going to the living-room where Isack had made his way already. “There you go,” you said as you handed him the glass.

A silence then settled between the two of you, as Isack almost gulped down the drink while you debated asking him more questions about his evening.

“Can I spend some time here? Just for a bit, I won’t stay long and bother you much.”

“You can stay as long as you want, Isack.” You offered him a gentle smile, reassuring him. “Wanna do anything? We got video games, lots of films…” You thought of other ideas as you kept listing things. “We can just chill in silence if you want some peace and quiet. Hmm, we can bake? I have some paint somewhere, or I can teach you how to knit. Choices are endless here.”

“A film sounds nice,” Isack decided.

“Something in mind?”

“Maybe one we might have both watched,” Isack suggested.

“Wait a second”, you told Isack before standing up and going to look at your DVD shelf. Your eyes caught a familiar box, and you smiled knowing that the driver wouldn’t refuse to watch it. “Cars?”

As you had guessed, Isack’s face lit up at the offer and he immediately nodded with a grin.

“Knew you would like that”, you teased as you turned the TV on and put the DVD in the player. You then went back to sit next to Isack on the couch, ready to start watching his favourite film.

You hadn’t thought about how fun it would be to watch Cars with a big fan like Isack, but it was probably the most you had ever laughed while watching a film with someone other than Max. Isack knew every line. He gave you some fun facts about characters, and told you all his favourite things about them.

It was definitely a moment you would cherish forever.

Isack didn’t even notice when Max joined the two of you for the second half of the film, too focused on continuing to show you his knowledge. Meanwhile, Max was softly smiling at the scene. Your eyes met his after a bit, and he raised an eyebrow at you as if to ask if you were having fun. Quickly glancing at Isack, you then looked back at Max and gave him a nod along with a bright smile before going back to listen to the rookie next to you.

Safe to say, you definitely wouldn’t mind watching the rest of the trilogy with Isack one day if it meant that you could relive a similar moment as tonight.

_________________________________________________

By Barcelona, Max was over it. From his team putting him on hard tyres for the last laps of the race to the incident with George, Max was just done and he didn’t hesitate showing it to everyone watching.

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that everyone would be looking for him, whether it was his team or interviewers. He just wanted some peace and quiet. So as soon as he came back to his garage, his only goal was to find you. And when he did, he simply took your hand to drag you to his driver’s room.

When he locked the door, you almost thought that he wanted to let out his frustration with some less-than-family-friendly actions and you were ready to indulge him. But he actually just sat on the couch with a sigh, before he motioned for you to come closer. And you realised that Max just needed emotional rather than physical intimacy.

Max waited for you to sit down next to him before he laid back on the couch, his arms going around your waist to pull you closer until you were both lying on your side. Your hand went to take one of Max’s, acting as a sign of comfort. His grip tightened around you, while he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

No words were needed between you. It was easy to understand what Max was going through. You obviously couldn’t fully relate to it, but you understood.

Throughout the years, you had witnessed Max’s highs and lows. You could read him like no one else, and you knew right now how he was feeling. It wasn’t the same kind of disappointment that Max felt after a DNF. This one didn’t hit as hard; it was just an accumulation of small mistakes that had piled up until now before eventually being too much.

And right now, you knew that the only thing you could do for Max was this: just being there for him. Your presence was more than enough for him, and simply holding you close to him was enough for Max to stay grounded.

Slowly lifting his head from where it has been resting on your shoulder, Max gave you a loving kiss on your forehead. A silent ‘thank you for being there for me’. An acknowledgement of your limitless and eternal support, which he wouldn’t trade for anything else.

Max had you, and you had him. The two of you having each other in this world was the only thing that you would both ever need.

…..

Max eventually apologised the next day, on his Instagram account, and you also knew that he had sent a text to George as well.

If someone were to ask you, it was almost like those two brought the worst in each other. But at the end of the day, it was a racing incident that did not deserve to impact whatever relation they had off track – were they even friends? Colleagues harbouring some weird unresolved tension? Sometimes even you didn’t know the exact way Max considered some of his fellow drivers, but there was for sure no pure hatred for any of them and it wouldn’t change.

Everything that had happened on track was fortunately not affecting them off track. You got proof of that when you and Max randomly met George at the Nice airport. The Brit was on his way to Paris to watch the Roland-Garros final – which you were extremely jealous of – and it was like nothing had ever happened between the two drivers as the atmosphere between them was nothing but respectful.

“So, you’re back to being besties again now?” You teased Max once George had left.

“Let’s not push it”, Max replied with a sigh. “You’re just saying that because you want us to join him in Paris.”

“What?” You tried to act innocent as you dragged out the syllable. “Me, wanting to go see what will probably be the most iconic final of this generation? No way,” you tried to deny in vain.

“Sorry, I’ll take you next year.”

“Yeah you better, Verstappen.” You nudged him with your shoulder, showing that you weren’t mad.

“You know, one day you won’t be able to call me by my last name if we both have it.”

“What?”

“What?” He repeated with a smirk. “Didn’t say anything.”

“I–” You were dumbfounded. You watched as Max began walking again, leaving you to stand in the middle of the airport by yourself. Were you crazy? Did you mishear him? No way, you thought. But still, you had to eventually accept that maybe you had misunderstood him because it would be impossible to make Max repeat himself if you had indeed heard him right.

While you were internally debating the conversation that had happened, Max was smiling at himself. His little plan was far from perfect for now, but it was nicely taking shape. He would eventually need some help – perhaps from some rookies that would do anything for their grid mum’s happiness, but right now it was just fun for him to make you go a bit crazy with his cryptic comments. After all, he had to make sure you wouldn’t say no once the moment would happen

..........

Taglist: @umm-i-love-u @callsign-mirage @freyathehuntress @elieanana @suns3treading @fastandcurious16 @l3thal-l0lita @urmomsgirlfriend1 @guacala

Ok so i fr thought i would never be done w this chap lol😭 i loved the ideas i had for it but idk it took me so long to acc write them

Hope y'all are still enjoying the fic!! I'm always looking forward to knowing your thoughts🫶🏻

I've begun writing the canada chap but I'll probs wait till next week to post it bc i wanna see what happens during the lil break in case there's anything worth mentioning (and if not, I'll let my brain imagine smth)

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

PAIRING | Robert “Bob” Reynolds x f!Reader

TAGS/WARNINGS | angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy/nudity, Bob’s sadness and self-deprecating thoughts.

SUMMARY | Four times Bob lets his true feelings for you go unaddressed, and the one time he doesn’t.

WORD COUNT | 3.3k

NOTES | You know, I was actually gonna take a break from writing (again, I know, I’m sorry) but I somehow managed to bang this out today at work so here you go, my first ever Bob fic 🫶🏻 Happy Wednesday!

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚ NAVIGATION | | BOB REYNOLDS M.LIST ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

I do not do taglists. Please follow my sideblog @ficsbyjane for notifications whenever I post.

✧.* Truth Be Told

The first time he touches you, he does it almost without hesitation.

Normally, Bob makes a point to keep a respectable distance. He doesn’t touch anyone or anything without the most careful of considerations first—even though he wants it, craves it.

But when you’re this close, when you’re leaning into him instead of away, when you’re looking at him like he’s just Bob and not the same guy who almost let the Void inside him swallow New York whole, his hands can’t help but ache for you.

He’s restless with it, his palms itching as though something was missing. He wants to know what your skin would feel like under his fingertips, whether your eyelashes would flutter under his touch, and if you’d sigh just the way he would whenever he imagined closing the distance between you.

So before he knows it, Bob’s already reaching for you.

His heart leaps to his throat the moment he makes contact, turning his hand over, using the blade of his finger to brush away the crumbs at the corner of your mouth.

You look up from your plate, the box of pastries you’d bought for the entire team as an early afternoon pick-me-up still laying open on the table, your eyes widening a fraction when they meet his.

“You’ve got a little bit of…” he trails off, not really caring or even knowing what it is. Bob’s never had much of a sweet tooth, but right now, you smell like almonds and raspberry jam and a touch of something that’s uniquely you… and he suddenly wants nothing more than to taste.

“Oh,” is all you say, staying still as he lets his hand linger instead, his knuckles brushing along the curve of your jaw. You smile, your eyes softening, and for a fraction of a second Bob swears you lean into his touch. “Thanks, Bob.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice or the temptation of your name on his lips, before very reluctantly breaking the connection. His fingers are already twitching with the need to touch you again by the time he puts it back down onto the dining table.

And although you never talk about it, there is an easing of invisible barriers after that. Now that he’s had a taste, Bob can no longer resist the warmth of your skin against his—no matter how chaste or innocent the contact is.

“You’ve got an eyelash,” he’d say, pointing to his own face, his lips twitching with the fib, and you’d simply lean forward at the same time he did, allowing him to swipe the tip of his finger down your cheek. Trusting, unsuspecting, and oblivious to the yearning expanding like a balloon in his chest.

What if, one day, he could lean in just like this and let his lips find their way to yours?

Impossible, but a man could dream.

But sometimes there isn’t anything there at all, but he still dips slightly at the waist, beckoning you with his hand before removing the imaginary thing from your cheek, your nose, or the aching perfection that is your cupid’s bow.

And when you smile up at him expectantly, even when Yelena catches him in his little white lies one day, lifting a skeptical brow when she meets his eye over your head, Bob just carries on.

Truth be told, he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it.

—

The first time he ever holds your hand is on a Thursday.

It’s unseasonably cold for the time of year, and Bob’s shivering under his sweater. You have been sent out on an errand to restock the Tower with food and supplies, and Bucky insisted that Bob go with you.

“Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out there,” Bucky said to you, slapping a hand down onto Bob’s shoulder before turning towards him, “Right?”

“Right,” Bob mumbled, feeling his cheeks going red because evidently his feelings were written all over his face, and now even Bucky, of all people, was taking it upon himself to nudge things along.

“Plus Bob can help carry your bags,” Yelena joined in, not looking up from the game of Scrabble she was playing with Alexei. “Dad, that is not a word!”

“Says who?” He said, gesturing to the gibberish he’d placed on the board, full of X’s, M’s, C’s, and V’s, but not a single vowel in sight.

Ava scoffed, her face scrunching up in both confusion and annoyance. “She can take care of herself. Just last week she kicked John’s ass—”

But then John nudged her, maybe a little too hard, almost sending her tumbling out of her chair. She glared up at him, before she caught the meaningful look on his face.

“Oh… yeah… erm, nighttime in New York is practically the Purge. Might as well take him with you.”

You gave them all looks of thinly veiled suspicion, but then you just shook your head and turned to Bob as you were winding a scarf around your neck. Smiling, you asked him, “Do you mind, Bob?”

As if he would.

Venturing outdoors is still rather daunting, which is probably another reason why the team’s been so eager to get him out of the Tower. The thought that someone might recognize him makes him sweat, despite the mid-morning chill.

And then the two of you approach a particularly crowded spot on the sidewalk, and Bob’s footsteps falter slightly. You stop as if you sense his hesitation, turning to him just before disappearing into the throng of New Yorkers. As naturally as breathing, you hold out a hand.

“Come on,” you prompt with a shake of your hand when he just stares for a few seconds.

Bob holds on quickly before you can change your mind. You tug him along, squeezing his hand tighter as you reach the thick of the crowd. Bob emerges on the other side of it with pink cheeks that should be almost numb from the biting wind, but instead they are warm with something else.

And even as the horde dissipates, the sidewalk opening up with more than enough space for the two of you to walk side by side, you don’t let go.

He catches your reflections in the glass windows of the nearby shops, you with your head turned away to admire the displays of a flower shop, but your hands still joined together.

Bob wonders what others think you are to him.

He wants them to know you’re special.

He hopes you know, too.

—

The first time he falls asleep next to you starts with him sitting in the dark of his room, his shoulders slumping a little further forward with each passing minute. The others have left on another mission without him, and Bob just wishes he could do something to help.

But he still can’t control his powers well enough yet; it’d be too dangerous for him to be out in the field with them. He understands this better than anyone—the last time he tried tapping into full extent of his Sentry powers, he almost murdered somebody (even if Alexei would argue that that person, Valentina, had deserved it), that god-like sense of superiority leeching ominously into his mind.

He is hopeful when Yelena says he’s improving, slowly but surely, tries to believe it when Bucky tells him that it will happen soon. He just needs a little more time.

But Bob can’t help but feel like a burden, someone they have to take care of rather than a part of the team. The voice in the back of his mind comes back, a few notes lower than his own, that slight taunting lilt of it latching onto the edges of his subconscious.

You’re worthless, Bobby.

You think they care about you?

You will always be alone.

It will always be just you and me.

He doesn’t know how long he's sat there like that, but the room remains dark now even though someone draws the curtains. Bob shrinks back, as though the beam of moonlight spreading across his lap hurts him, doesn’t even look up when someone calls his name.

“Bob?”

He sighs, closes his eyes against the habitual burn of shame, that familiar heat creeping up his neck. Because he’s never wanted you to see him like this—so sad, so pathetic, wallowing in his own self-pity.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask carefully, and he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse when he hears you kneeling on the carpet in front of him.

He shakes his head.

“Okay,” you tell him gently, patiently, so kindly, “do you want me to leave?”

Please don’t. Don’t ever leave me alone, he wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he just shakes his head again. Despite himself, he’s somehow relieved when he feels the mattress dip slightly next to him, the warmth of your thigh dangerously close to his.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees in the periphery of his vision is your hand, lying face up on your lap. It’s an invitation that’s too sweet for him to deny, and he slides his hand into yours, watching with a strange mixture of disbelief and euphoria as your fingers close around him.

That you would still want to touch him after seeing him like this. That he would find such comfort in the simple meeting of your palms.

His chin lifts when you turn, your other hand coming up to tuck a curtain of his hair behind his ear.

“Is this okay?” You whisper.

Bob nods, and for one treacherous moment he lets himself believe that you unconsciously seek him out too, that your hands itch to touch him just as his own do for you. And then you’re gathering him into your arms, and he follows without hesitation, falling into your embrace and burying his face into your shoulder.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep but when he wakes, you’re still there.

“Hi,” you breathe, as though afraid you’ll disturb this peace if you speak any louder. Bob doesn’t tell you that he thinks he’ll only find peace if you’re around.

“Hi,” he whispers back, a smile lifting his lips as though you’re breathing life back into him. “Thank you.”

You don’t even hesitate. “Anytime.”

—

The first time you undress in front of him is, well, it’s not like that.

Because the entire time, Bob is furious. He wants to break something, feels the frustration crowding his lungs and resists the urge to just scream it out.

The whole team had frozen when he appeared in the doorway when they got home, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you. One of your arms was slung around Ava’s shoulders as she propped you up, and your other hand was pressed gingerly to your ribcage.

There was a bruise blooming along your temple. Your lip had split in two places, and there was dried blood along your hairline. He could smell fresh blood in the air, even though he couldn’t see any open wounds.

John took a step toward him, one hand up in what seemed to be a placating gesture. “She’s okay, Bobby.”

“Okay?” Bob asked shakily, “she can barely stand.”

“She made it home alive, that’s all that matters,” Yelena reminded him, and while it was somewhat reassuring, it did little to quell the fire in his throat.

“She just needs to rest now,” Bucky told him, inhaling sharply when Bob’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack under the pressure.

“I’ll be fine, Bob,” you said quickly, smiling at him through your pain.

That was somehow worse than your physical injuries. Bob wanted to know then and there who did this to you, because he would unleash the full and unrestrained wrath of his powers if it meant avenging you, consequences be damned.

For the first time, he wanted to see something burn.

Ava cursed under her breath when Bob’s eyes flashed gold, but then you were asking him, “Help me to my room?”

Just like that, his eyes returned to their natural blue, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

And now, as he stands in your room, his hands are shaking as he pulls a clean set of clothes from your dresser. You limp toward the en-suite bathroom, leaning one hand on the counter and breathing deeply through your nose as you try to peel off your soiled tact-suit.

The second you let out a hiss of pain when the movement tugs at your stitches, Bob is at your side in an instant. He pushes down the panic clawing at his throat, the one that won’t quite settle down even though you’re right here, alive and breathing.

But he can spiral later; you need him now.

Bob gently, so gently, brushes your hand away so he can reach for your zipper. You make eye contact with him in the mirror, nodding, and he swallows the lump in his throat as he slowly helps you out of your bloody clothes.

“I’m going to be fine, okay?” You repeat and he just nods, his hands skimming over your shoulder blades, down your arms, as he helps you undress. His breath hitches as your suit falls into a heap around your feet, when he finds the square of gauze taped over your midsection with a spot of dreaded crimson seeping through. There’s a matching one on your opposite side. “It was a through and through. Missed all vital organs, the doctor said. It’s basically a flesh wound.”

“I should have been there,” Bob finally says when he finds his voice.

“Hey…” you turn to face him, “this happens. It’s part of the job.”

“I can help,” he almost pleads. He presses your hand to the side of his face, trying to hide the sting of tears. “If I’d been there, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. None of you ever would.”

He hates it, that feeling of helplessness as he’s forced to stay behind in the Tower. But what he hates even more is the thought that one day, you or Yelena or any one of the team could die out there—and he’d be here, safe and sound even though he was the strongest out of all of you, twiddling his thumbs waiting for you to come back.

“Don’t say I’m not ready,” Bob bites back a sob as he drops his forehead to your bare shoulder, “I’m ready. I’ll always be ready to protect you.”

He’s just found you.

He can’t lose you now.

“I know,” you turn around and your eyes shining just as brightly as his are. “And we’ll protect you, too. I promise.”

Bob’s never doubted you before.

He won’t doubt you now, either.

—

The team never leaves Bob behind after that, and when he first tells you what’s in his heart, it’s a quiet, almost unassuming thing.

He hadn’t intended to, although he’s always wanted to.

He wanted to tell you when you all boarded the jet, full of nervous but cautiously optimistic energy now that Bob was with you. He found his spot next to you, ignoring John’s teasing quip and Alexei’s beaming smile, his arm pressed to yours on the armrest between your seats.

He wanted to tell you just before stepping off the plane, when you gave him a reassuring smile and a confident nod, like you were saying you’ve got this. He wanted to call it after you as you rushed into the fray, weapons raised and ready, the others following closely behind you.

He wanted to tell you when he stepped in front of you, absorbing the impact of a bullet aimed straight at your forehead. It bounced harmlessly off him with a high-pitched ping, didn’t even leave a single dent or red mark on his skin, but you still gasped behind him and cried out his name.

But he couldn’t think straight in that moment, could only think about eliminating anything and anyone who’d try to take you from him.

He wanted to tell it to you on the plane ride home, when you brushed his hair back to double and triple check the spot where he’d been hit, undeterred by the splatters of someone else’s blood on his suit.

Bob thought about the man it belonged to. He hadn’t set out to kill anybody, but if that was the price he had to pay to keep you alive… well then, he’d pay it again and again.

“It didn’t hurt at all?” You asked. “Are you sure?”

He smiled, full of affection, exhaling on something of a laugh, “I’m invincible, remember?”

“That we know of,” you didn’t return his smile, “please, don’t do that again.”

Bob didn’t answer, because he knew he couldn’t promise that. Even if he could, it’s not like he ever would.

He wants to tell it to you when you pull him into your room the second you get home, standing close enough that he can count the stars reflected in your eyes.

He wants to tell you everything right now, everything he’s held onto so tightly all this time because he didn’t think that he ever deserved this.

Bob’s been made his whole life to think that this was never in the stars for him. The Void in his chest, the one that he manages somehow to keep at bay most days, still whispers it to him. Still sneers at him for even entertaining the idea he could ever have it, let alone with someone as good as you.

Then you kiss him. Just a peck, the briefest meeting of lips at first. You look up at him searchingly, waiting for him to push you away or say this is a mistake, but he would never. So long as you want it, he’d give you anything.

He’s the one to initiate your second kiss, more firmly this time, with the reverence of a man who believes he would never get to do this again. You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pull him closer and closer until your chests are touching.

“Invincible, maybe,” you whisper once you pull away, your voice wobbly as you breathe the words into the quiet space between you, “but not replaceable. Not to me.”

Bob feels something crack open inside him then. He buries his nose in the junction of where your neck and shoulder met, hot tears dripping down the delicate curve there and soaking into your shirt.

He wants more, to let his body tell you what he can’t yet bring himself to say, but finds himself almost afraid of it. It has been a while since he’s been this close, this intimate, with someone he genuinely cares about. Maybe even longer since he’s done it with a clear head.

But you seem content to just hold him, like that first time, as though it doesn’t make him near desperate with want and weak with affection all at the same time. And later, before sleep can claim the both of you, he carries you to the bathroom to wash up. The two of you stay in the tub long after you are clean.

Steam curls into the air, hot water rippling as Bob sits behind you, caging you between his arms as you lean back comfortably against the sturdy planes of his chest.

He says it to you then, murmurs into your skin that he’s found love here.

Bob almost can’t believe it when you say it back.

That night, he falls asleep in your arms again, the side of his head pressed to your chest, listening to the steady beating of your heart against his ear.

The darkness in his own begins to recede that much further with each reassuring thump, as though chased away by the dawning of the morning sun.

And you.

Always you.

FIN.

Notes: There’s been a lot of discourse lately about how Bob’s character is or has been written since Thunderbolts* came out. I only hope I did him justice somewhat; there’s so much we still don’t know about him. Choose kindness when interacting with each other. (I will not budge on the stutter thing, though. Note that having a stutter and the occasional nervous stammer in high-tension situations are not the same thing.)

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. Do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. No part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. Minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. Blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[kookooluvr]

MADE OF HONOR | JJK (fic announcement)

you gained a lot from university; a law degree catching dust in your attic, countless arguments with your roommate about laundry schedules, and a best friend whose biggest fear in life is commitment. in essence, jungkook's world gets flipped upside down when you take a trip to london and he finally realizes his feelings for you...only to find out you've come back with a fiancé.

pairing: jungkook x (fem) reader x namjoon

genre: fluff, angst, smut, f2l au, love triangle au, bestfriend!jungkook, fuckboy!jungkook, baker!reader, photographer!namjoon

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w/c: tbc

warnings: tbc

a/n: my first one-shot woop woop !!!! i'm soooo excited to share this one with you guys because moh!jk is a menace and namjoon makes me swoon 😩😩 i didn't want to give too much away with the teaser so it's just jk and oc's meet cute (my namjoonie isn't in the picture yet). pleeease let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist and i hope you are as excited as i am !! love you cuties 🫶🏼

main masterlist jungkook moodboard oc moodboard

namjoon moodboard spotify playlist

[Teaser]

It's Halloween night on campus, which means three things: a really loud, obnoxious party filled with really loud, obnoxious people, drunk hookups that no one will remember in the morning, and you've locked yourself in your room to avoid all of the above.

The entire university is pulsating with the energy of drunk frat boys in capes, girls dressed in skimpy lingerie calling it their costume, and at least three professors who are far too old to be dressed up amongst the students. You, however, are in your true element: a large hoodie, fuzzy socks, a half-eaten Snickers bar on your nightstand, and a thick law textbook open in front of you.

Parties aren't your thing. You'd rather be sued than make small talk with a guy dressed as a ketchup bottle. While your roommate, Jieun, spent hours hot-gluing rhinestones onto her platform space boots for her "sexy astronaut" outfit, you politely declined all invitations and instead declared war on your midterm readings. The only spooky thing in your life right now is the growing realization that you don't actually want to be a lawyer, the thought that you'll probably die single, and knowing you'll be buried in student debt by the time you graduate.

And honestly? That's still more appealing than the campus party.

You take a break from studying around 2am and finally decide to turn off the light and get some rest.

Until the door of your dorm room creaks open.

You pause, blinking your eyes open in the darkness of your room. Maybe Jieun forgot her phone. Maybe she brought back a stray alien from the party. Either way, you don't move, not until the unmistakable dip of the mattress under your legs almost sends your soul flying from your body.

Someone just climbed into your bed.

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your heart racing in your chest. It's pitch black, the only light coming from the little slit under the door.

"Jieunieee," the voice whispers, smooth and far too seductive. "Are you ready for the best dick of your life?"

That's it.

You scream as loud as you can, springing straight up. You grab the bottle of Channel perfume on your nightstand and spray it directly into his eyes.

"AHHH—WHAT THE F—!"

The stranger falls out of your bed with a loud thud, hitting the floor dramatically like he's been shot in a Western.

"What the hell?!" he groans, writhing on the floor with a hand covering his eyes and the other holding his head. "You maced me!"

"That was perfume!" you yell, feeling your heart in your throat, the perfume clutched tightly in your hand, holding it out in case you have to spray him again. "And why are you in my bed, you psychopath?!"

"I was looking for Jieun!"

"You can't just crawl into beds like a raccoon in the night!"

"I thought this was her bed!"

"Do I sound like Jieun?!"

He blinks rapidly on the floor, his voice strained through his agony. "I don't know, it's dark and I was promised a sexy astronaut!"

You switch on the bedside lamp with the force of a woman ready to kill.

And there he is.

Black leather pants. Tight black shirt. Fake bruises and cuts on his face, presumably made with makeup. An eyebrow piercing. Messy hair. Ridiculously attractive even while clutching at his eyes like he's just been gassed in battle.

Your brain fills in the blanks before he even says it.

"You're Jeon Jungkook, aren't you?"

He lowers his hand just enough to smirk at you. "And you're ___. The infamous roommate l've heard so much about."

You sigh, flopping back against your headboard in disbelief. "Of course she's hooking up with you of all people."

Jungkook is a campus legend. The boy whose reputation includes at least two streaking incidents, three girls who dropped out of the university due to their heartbreak, and a tongue that's done unspeakable things according to the word on the street.

And now he's on your floor, still very much looking like the kind of man your mother warned you about even after being sprayed in the eyes with perfume.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "For the record, l've had a lot of entrances, but that was definitely my worst."

"You scared the crap out of me!" you exclaim, tossing your pillow at him. "Who just walks into a dorm and climbs into an unfamiliar bed?!"

"I didn't walk," he scoffs, catching the pillow with an insufferable grin. "I strode."

You glare at him.

He grins wider. "Come on, that was funny!"

"You have a concussion, don't you?"

He wipes his eyes with the heels of his palms, settling on the edge of your bed. "Honestly? If you weren't so terrifying, I'd be impressed."

"Excuse me?"

"You're terrifying," he deadpans. "You sprayed me in the eyes and insulted me all within five minutes. That's worse than most of my Tinder dates. Not by much, but still."

You fold your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. "Maybe don't go crawling into beds with strangers."

"Technically, you're the stranger," he quips, pointing a finger at you. "And you've maced and verbally abused me. That's a lot for a first impression."

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Unbelievable. Are you always this irritating?"

"I like to think of myself as…persistently charming," he smiles.

You give him a dry look, your eyes narrowing. "You're the human equivalent of an unsolicited dick pic."

"Oof," he winces, placing his hand over his heart. "Okay, that one hurt. But also...kinda hot that you're this mean."

You blink at him. "Do girls actually fall for this crap?"

"Usually," he shrugs.

"Well, congratulations," you scoff. "You've officially found the girl who's immune to your bullshit."

He holds up his hands in surrender, laughing softly. "Okay, you've made your point. I'm sorry I invaded your bed. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I apologize."

Your face softens ever so slightly, giving him a curt nod. "Thank you."

"But also," he adds, leaning back on his hands, "you're hilarious. And clearly not afraid to defend your space. We should be friends."

You stare at him. "What?"

"Friends," he repeats, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "You and me. I'm serious."

You narrow your eyes once more. "You literally came here to hook up with my roommate."

"Which clearly isn't happening anymore," he sighs, lounging on your bed like he's at the beach. "But now l've met you. And I like you."

You scoff. "You don't know me."

"I know you don't care about going to a hot party and hooking up on Halloween night, and would absolutely tase someone if you had the chance. Right?"

You pause. That...is not incorrect.

"I also know that girls like you usually avoid guys like me. Which is fair. But still.." He swings his legs off the bed, standing up. "I want to be friends."

"Why would we do that?" you ask, genuinely curious.

He grins. "Because you're the first girl who's actually told me I'm full of shit to my face."

You open your mouth, then close it again, and he takes that as a win.

"Anyway, I'll see you around," he smiles, walking toward the door. "If Jieun asks, tell her I tested positive for an STD or something."

You roll your eyes. "Get out!"

He's halfway out when he turns back and winks.

"Nice meeting you, ___."

"Likewise, Satan," you grumble, gesturing for him to shut the door.

He laughs, loud and boyish, and disappears down the hall. And just like that, your quiet Halloween night turned into something totally unexpected.

You met Jeon Jungkook. And he wants to be your friend.

God help you.

[suliigwp]

Hiii, im sorry if there is any mistake english is not my first language. But I have a request? Or idea??

So kimi bringing reader to paddock for imolia but she is a classmate so no one knows they are dating. So it's just random times when the media and other drivers are wondering if kimi and reader are dating.

Thanks🫶

(Can I be 🦕 anon?)

CLASSMATE? YEAH RIGHT.

Kimi Antonelli x reader

SULI: Hi 🦕 Anon! Oh it's so exciting to have a named anon! Thank you for being here and for requesting a very cute scenario.

Warnings: texts, Twitter posts

The classroom buzzed with low energy. It was late in the day, and the teacher’s voice was beginning to blur into background noise. You were doodling in the margin of your notebook when the door creaked open and Kimi walked in, late as always, a soft nod to the professor as he slid into his seat near the back.

Nothing about him stood out—plain hoodie, notebook closed, no effort to catch up on what he missed. But when the teacher called for the end-of-class announcements, Kimi suddenly raised his hand.

Everyone turned.

The teacher blinked. “Yes, Kimi?”

He stood, stuffing one hand into his jacket pocket. “I have something.”

You raised your eyes, curious. Kimi didn’t talk much in class. Actually, Kimi didn’t talk much—period.

He cleared his throat. “The Imola Grand Prix is this weekend. I talked to my team. I got passes for everyone.”

Silence.

People looked around, unsure if he was joking.

Kimi gave a half-shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “If you want to come. Full paddock access. You’ll get to see the garages, meet the team. Everything is covered. Just let me know by tomorrow.”

“Wait—what?” someone whispered.

Another classmate laughed, “You serious, dude?”

Kimi nodded. “Yeah.”

The teacher looked stunned. “Kimi… are you saying the entire class is invited to Imola?"

“Yeah,” he said again, like he was offering snacks, not a world-class motorsport experience. “It’s a good track. You’ll like it.”

The room exploded with chatter.

“No way—”

“Do we get to meet Hamilton?”

“Do I need to bring anything?”

“I don’t even like racing, but I’m going—”

You sat frozen in your seat. He hadn’t looked your way, hadn’t singled you out. Just kept his gaze steady toward the board.

But you knew what this really was.

Not a flex.

Not a PR stunt.

Not just for the class.

It was the only way he could invite you—without anyone asking why.

And when the bell rang, and people gathered around him in a mix of awe and excitement, he finally glanced at you, the smallest flick of his gaze, quiet and deliberate.

...

...

The bus hissed as it came to a stop just outside the security gates. Your classmates practically jumped out of their seats, crowding toward the front. Excitement buzzed in the air like electricity.

You glanced out the window.

There he was.

Kimi stood just past the gates, flanked by two Mercedes staff. His team polo was tucked neatly into black slacks, lanyard around his neck, hair messy like he hadn’t bothered with it much since morning warm-ups. He looked calm—quiet—but even from the bus, you could tell his gaze was scanning the vehicle.

Looking for someone.

He found you.

Just a flick of his eyes. Just a second. Then he looked away.

No one else seemed to notice.

When the doors opened, the class spilled out, voices overlapping.

“Holy crap, that’s really the paddock!”

“Is that Ferraris motorhome? It’s huge.”

“Wait—is that Charles Leclerc?!"

You stepped down, slower than the others, keeping your eyes shaded behind sunglasses. Kimi didn’t move, but his hand shifted slightly, thumb tapping once against his leg—a subtle tic you recognized.

“Welcome,” said the Mercedes rep, a woman in her thirties with a polite smile. “You’ve all been cleared for full access this weekend. Please stay together for the initial walkthrough.”

Your professor clapped Kimi on the back. “Very generous of you, Antonelli. I imagine you’re the first student in school history to hand out paddock passes to their whole class.”

Kimi shrugged, voice low. “Better than doing a presentation.”

There were chuckles from the class, but a few people started whispering as eyes shifted to you.

As the group moved toward the paddock, Kimi stayed behind, just enough to walk near you but not beside you. When the rest of the class turned a corner, Kimi slowed.

He didn’t look at you—just spoke quietly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You?”

“Bit of a risk inviting everyone.”

“You did it to cover for me.”

You walked for a moment in silence before he added, voice quieter, “They’re already talking.”

“They always do. Don’t listen.”

You glanced at him. “Do you?”

Now he looked at you. Just briefly.

“Only to you.”

The moment passed. A photographer called his name. Kimi stepped forward again, already slipping back into the poised, untouchable driver everyone thought he was.

But he glanced back once, just to make sure you were still there.

...

The paddock was alive. Engineers rolled tires across the concrete, media crews weaved through with cameras, and somewhere in the background, the roar of an engine cracked through the sky like thunder.

Your class had been split into two smaller groups, each assigned a team liaison to walk them through the technical side of the weekend. You stuck with the group heading toward the Mercedes garage, but Kimi wasn’t there.

Not visibly, anyway.

“So this is where the cars are prepped before sessions,” said the engineer guiding you. “The driver debriefs happen over there, behind that glass. You probably won’t see Kimi right now—he’s in a strategy meeting with the engineers.”

You nodded along like the others, but you knew better.

He wasn’t in a meeting.

He was watching.

You felt it.

And you were right.

When the group stopped in front of a spare chassis and the engineer got pulled aside by a call, you wandered toward a cooler, supposedly reaching for water. The others were too busy snapping selfies to notice the door behind you crack open.

“Kimi,” you whispered without turning.

“Hi.” His voice was soft, lazy.

You turned, pretending to walk away, hand tightening around the water bottle. The moment had already been too close, too risky. Someone could’ve seen.

But you only made it two steps.

Grip.

Fingers closed gently around your wrist and tugged — not hard, but firm enough to stop you. You turned just as the door behind you opened wider, and Kimi pulled you in with practiced precision.

The door clicked shut.

The room wasn’t what you expected. Not the open garage floor, but a smaller prep room off to the side — dark, quiet, the kind of space people only passed through, not stayed in. A table with data sheets. A wall of monitors blinking gently.

And Kimi.

He stood in front of you now, a little breathless like he hadn’t fully thought this through, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes on you with that steady, unreadable look he always wore before a race.

“Kimi,” you whispered, glancing toward the door, “if anyone saw—”

“No one saw,” he cut in. “They’re all by the car.”

Silence fell between you. The kind that hummed with something more dangerous than noise.

He looked at you for a long second. “You looked like you were going to disappear.”

“I was. Because we said—”

“We said we’d be careful,” he murmured. “Not distant.”

You didn’t answer.

His hand found your wrist again — slower this time. Warmer. He ran his thumb across the inside of it, where your pulse beat a little too fast.

“I hate not being able to talk to you,” he muttered.

You let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “You invited the whole class.”

“Because I couldn’t invite just you,” he said again, this time quieter. “I wanted to.”

The words were so quiet they barely reached you. For a second, it was just your breathing and the dull buzz of electricity from the monitors.

Then he leaned forward, forehead brushing yours, voice nothing more than a whisper.

“You looked bored out there.”

You closed your eyes, just for a moment. Let yourself feel the soft press of his hoodie against your arm. The way he was still holding your wrist like it meant something.

“I wasn’t bored,” you whispered. “I was looking for you.”

He pulled back slightly, eyes on yours, and for a flicker of a second, his face softened as he smiled.

And then—

A knock at the main garage door. Loud. Startling.

Both of you jumped.

“Group’s moving!” a voice called.

You jolted upright, brushing your hands against your jeans, your heartbeat now racing. Kimi stepped back into the shadows.

“You go first,” he murmured. “I’ll wait a minute.”

You hesitated, then reached for the door handle.

Before you left, you turned back once more. “Kimi?”

“Yeah?”

You tried to smile, even as your heart pounded in your throat. “You’re worth getting in trouble for.”

His gaze softened — something small and real in the corner of his mouth.

“So are you.”

You slipped out, closing the door behind you, and jogged back to the group just as they were rounding the corner.

But your pulse was still racing, and your wrist still burned where he had touched you.

...

The post-session haze hadn’t worn off yet — Kimi’s race suit was half-zipped, chest rising and falling under his white shirt as he sat on the edge of the padded bench, sipping on electrolyte water. His hair was slightly damp from the helmet. The door creaked open and George strolled in, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

“Solid lap,” George offered, flopping into the seat across from him.

"Thanks."

George leaned back, glancing toward the tinted glass that looked out into the paddock below.

“You’ve got some fans today,” he said lightly.

Kimi didn’t look up. “Media?”

“Nope.” George grinned. “School group.”

That made Kimi glance up for a half-second.

George caught it.

“Didn’t know we were doing career day,” he teased, voice easy. “Or… was that your idea?”

Kimi’s face gave nothing away, but his grip on the bottle tightened just slightly. “Everyone got invited.”

“Everyone,” George echoed, feigning a thoughtful nod. “Right. Even that girl in flared jeans who keeps standing near the ropes by the garage? Real subtle.”

Kimi looked at him now, but his voice was calm. “Her name’s Y/N.”

George gave a lopsided smile, one eyebrow raised. “Of course you know who I'm talking about. Everyone was wearing jeans."

Kimi didn’t answer right away. Just turned back to the water bottle, rolling it between his palms.

“She likes the engineering side,” he said finally. “It made sense.”

George watched him for a moment, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Mate,” he said quietly, “I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend or your lab partner. But the way you were looking at her by the pit wall earlier…”

Kimi stiffened.

“…was not the way I looked at my lab partner.”

Silence.

George clapped him on the shoulder, playful again. “Just don’t get caught sneaking her into the sim. You’ll start a rumor faster than Toto can shut it down.”

Kimi rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth — not quite a smile.

George stood and headed for the shower, tossing the towel into the hamper. But just before he stepped out, he called back:

“She’s cute, by the way. Good taste.”

Kimi said nothing, but when the door clicked shut, he pulled out his phone.

...

...

Sunday Night

The Italian night was warm and buzzing, a light hum of engines still lingering in the air from earlier that day. Below, Imola had already begun winding down. Above, on the rooftop of the hotel where the team had booked rooms, the air was quieter.

You found Kimi sitting alone near the edge, his team jacket still on, his cap pulled low. His phone was face-down beside him, untouched.

He didn’t look up when you sat next to him.

You didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at the dark sky with him. There was a slight breeze, tugging at your sleeves.

“They called it a ‘learning weekend,’” he muttered finally, voice flat.

You glanced over. His jaw was tight.

“I think that’s their way of saying it sucked without actually saying it sucked.”

You nudged his knee with yours. “It wasn’t a disaster.”

He huffed a short laugh, but it was dry. “P11. I missed points. I locked up twice. I made mistakes.”

“You’re eighteen,” you said gently.

“I’m not allowed to make rookie mistakes anymore,” he snapped. Then his tone softened. “Not here. Not in that car.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, frustration radiating off him like heat.

You watched him for a moment, then leaned over and rested your head lightly on his shoulder. He tensed — not because of you, but because he was so used to being on all the time. Then, slowly, he let himself breathe.

“You know what?” you said after a pause. “I think you’re allowed one bad weekend.”

“One,” he repeated.

“Maybe two. But don’t push it,” you teased softly.

He finally looked down at you, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

You pulled back just enough to see his face, but stayed close. “Also, how did we get away with it again? The whole class was here and literally no one clocked us.”

Kimi raised an eyebrow. “George asked.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Yesterday. Said, ‘So, is there something going on with you and the girl with flared jeans?’ I said you were just ‘a classmate.’” He smirked. “Worked again.”

You snorted. “Unbelievable.”

He nudged your side. “You’re the one who bolted every time someone looked our way.”

“Maybe because your idea of being subtle is pulling me into a storage room.”

“...They didn’t catch us.”

You both laughed quietly, the kind that bubbled from relief and affection and the thrill of a secret well-kept.

Then you leaned your head back on his shoulder.

“You’re still my favorite driver,” you whispered.

Kimi didn’t say anything, but you felt the way his arm brushed against yours, his pinky finger barely grazing your hand like a silent thank you.

For now, that was enough.

[landoughnut]

Obsessed - MV1

masterlist - request

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: when the tough, harsh, four-time world champion is in love

w/c & a/n: smau | im thirsty for max smaus

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lando, and 4,682,561 others maxverstappen1 how is she real (she's prettier than every sunset)

view all comments

user1 I actually cantttt 🥹 the way the only thing max posts besides f1 stuff is her

user2 the way he's not even IN the pictures

user3 we literally get appreciation posts of her like every other day

user4 max give me your game card

maxverstappen1 no.

lando why is she with you

maxverstappen1 I ask myself that every day tbh

yourusername lando well... 😏 ♥︎ by author

lando yourusername I take back my question. you are disgusting

danielricciardo mate you might as well change your username to her name atp, it's just pictures of her ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 my favorite job is being her personal photographer 😄

redbullracing maxverstappen1 ..... 🤨

yourusername redbullracing stole your driver 😛 ♥︎ by author

user5 why is no one talking about she looks like a real life angel ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 trust me I know

carlossainz55 who knew you were such a sap with captions like that

maxverstappen1 what can I say 🤷🏼‍♂️ she gets it out of me

user6 max is so obsessed with her I need my bf to be like him fr 😩

pierregasly you need to stop with these posts man you're making me look bad

yourusername #justiceforkika

maxverstappen1 pierregasly never

kikagomes yourusername I love you babe marry me

maxverstappen1 kikagomes I think the fuck not 🙂

user7 maxverstappen1 tsk tsk max more community service hours for you

yourusername kikagomes babe ignore max I'm already planning our elope 🤭

danielricciardo yourusername 👀

maxverstappen1 danielricciardo i will kill you.

yourusername danielricciardo maxverstappen1 what are you two hiding 😑

danielricciardo yourusername 🤐

lando maxverstappen1 HEYYY TELL ME TOO

maxverstappen1 lando no you're a blabber mouth

lando maxverstappen1 I'm telling my mum 😾

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, lando, charles_leclerc, redbullracing, and 5,429,630 others maxverstappen1 the ducks are us

view all comments

yourusername MAXXX OMG YOU ARE SO CUTE I MIGHT CRY 🥹 I LOVE YOU ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 ik hou meer van jou, mijn mooie meisje 🫶

user8 guys this isn't funny anymore when will I find a guy who takes pretty pictures of me and says that we are two adorable ducks

user9 real

user10 they are sooooo grumpy sunshine but with him having the softest soft spot for her

lando okay thats enough you guys are making me feel lonely

yourusername go kiss carlos or something ♥︎ by author

user10 yourusername clocked him

redbullracing our favorites 💙 ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri aesthetic max 🔓 ♥︎ by author

alex_albon lily would like me to ask if you are ever up for... a... double... date

yourusername YES YES YES YES YES YES

maxverstappen1 well since my lady is so keen on the idea, sure

user11 "my lady" SCREAMINGGG AWWW

danielricciardo I love you guys ♥︎ by author

yourusername we love you too Danny 🥰

charles_leclerc what... what does this mean for us 🥺

maxverstappen1 don't you have a girlfriend? go cry to her

user12 maxverstappen1 CLOCKED HIM

user13 forget max I need HER

maxverstappen1 blocked 😍

user14 who cares about him ma'am please give me one chance

maxverstappen1 and are you a four time world champion?

user15 maxverstappen1 CLOCKED HIMMMMMMM

yourusername damn it I knew we should have kept the ducks ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 liefde how would we take care of them while traveling

yourusername maxverstappen1 you underestimate me.. I can be a very good mother duck 😇 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername I'm sure you could be, maybe next time 😁

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, victoriaverstappen, danielricciardo, and 9,246,348 others maxverstappen1 soon to be mrs verstappen 💙

view all comments

victoriaverstappen AHHHHHH SCREAMING RIGHT NOW CONGRATULATIONS GUYS OMG ♥︎ by author

yourusername THANK YOU VIC I LOVE YOU SMMMM

danielricciardo AYYYYY FINALLY CONGRATS GUYS I HELPED HIM MAKE THE RING ♥︎ by author

yourusername I can't believe you were able to hide this from me for so long

danielricciardo yourusername well your boyfriend, or now fiancé, threatened me too many times to count so I had to for my own safety

yourusername danielricciardo how romantic 💝

lando WHATATATTATATATTTTT YOU GUYS DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT THIS ⁉️⁉️

charles_leclerc NOOOOO LESTAPPENNNNNN

yourusername just put the fries in the bag already bro

charles_leclerc I'm just joking congratulations guys ❤️

maxverstappen1 thank you 🙂

sophiekumpen omg!! so so so happy for you guys ❤️ I love and miss you both so much! ♥︎ by author

yourusername 🥹 thank you so much! we will visit soon 💗

maxverstappen1 bedankt mam ik hou van je

user16 MAX IS GOING TO BE MARRIED??!?!??!?!?

user17 and the hottest couple award goes to them 😫

alex_albon congrats! you guys are adorable ♥︎ by author

kikagomes MY GIRL IS ENGAGED OMGGG

kikagomes the middle pic 😍

yourusername MWAHHHHH XXXX

user18 HELLO??? IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE ABSOLUTE ROCK ON HER FINGER??

user19 sis that ain't a rock thats a whole boulder

user20 the way it literally doesn't even dent his bank

francolapinto congratulations! ♥︎ by author

yourusername gracias francoooo 🥳

carlossainz55 felicitaciones a la pareja más hermosa 🙌 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 thanks carlos 😊

user21 max using emojis is uncanny

yourusername carlossainz55 GRACIASSSS CARLITOSSSSS

lando I better be at this wedding.

yourusername sorry no kids invited ♥︎ by author

user22 yourusername CLOCKEDDDDD HIMMMMMMM

lando yourusername YOU AND MAX ARE SUCH BULLIES OH MY GOSH ♥︎ by author

user23 what is up with them recently 😭 they're so feisty I love it

user24 max is a lucky lucky man

maxverstappen1 I know ☺️

schecoperez FELICIDADES AMIGOS ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 thank you checo 😁

yourusername you are too handsome for your own good, you know that? ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 nahhh you're the one who's too ethereal

lando maxverstappen1 sid 🦥

lando WHO SAID THATTTTTTT

yourusername lando don't do my man dirty like that 😭 he's the prettiest sloth there is ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername so now I'm sid the sloth....

yourusername maxverstappen1 don't worry love, your title will be upgraded to husband soon enough 💕 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that 😍

[xazse]

please can i request hybrid kitten reader being taken in by snow leopard Satoru and panther Suguru. could be something like they both assimilated into regular society while living together and they found reader fending for themselves on the street after being abandoned and kicked out by their owner for misbehaving and being mischievous (she's just playful and needs company it was the owner's fault for leaving her alone at home all the time). could you include brat taming and a threesome between them?

its my first time requesting i love your hybrid works sm 🫶🏻 it scratches an itch i didnt know i had and i even read the ones im not into

Warnings: Hybrids + BratTaming + threesome + smut + manhandling + pussy-spanking + crying + orgasm denial + cumming inside + mentions of pregnancy + SatoSugu are a bit mean in this one. + hybrids

Pairings: CatHybrid!Reader x SnowLeopard!Satoru x PantherHybrid!Suguru

Notes: I hope you enjoy! I apologize for this taking so long! I had fun writing this 😈 I’m so happy to be your first request I really do hope you see this! Please give me a message or something if you do!!

You didn’t expect to be picked up one day, showered, clothed and fed till it looked like your stomach could pop out but it had happened. You went from trudging down the street in dirty garments garnering dirty looks from humans who didn’t understand your predicament, you hated the way they looked at you like you were gum on their shoe. A disgusting spec on the world.

It wasn’t until you met Suguru who found you digging through a trash can in some random alleyway, it was like an angel extending its hand, A very beautiful one, one who probably knew the hardships you had suffered though.

He had listened to your story in that alleyway, spared you his ear and eyes with not a hint of malice or some ulterior motive.

He also shared his story of being a “predator” in this unfair unbalanced world, Suguru held himself in such a way that you couldn’t believe people had even thought he was anything but the kindest man to grace this earth.

Satoru you learn, has his ups and downs but besides he also treated with the utmost respect and care, taking care of you in his own funny ways. Satoru being a Leopard made things easier for you they’re usually upbeat in some way so it wasn’t hard for you to get comfortable in their warm home.

You adjusted very well to the both of them, adapted to their lives and sunk into their company. They think it worked a little too well.

Suguru had asked you to do something very simple, something small, he never really asks you to do much around the house so he doesn’t think anything of it, what he doesn’t expect is you huffing under your breath and waving him off, simply telling him to “get Satoru to do it.” He’s stunned where he stands in the kitchen.

The next issue arises when you’re playing with Satoru, something you do on the regular because you know how much he loves the chase. When he pins you down you take the opportunity to bite him, you’ve already had Suguru and Satoru talk to you about your biting habits, so you know you’re not meant to do that, Satoru is the one left staring at the glaring mark on his arm and when he tries to scold you, you’re already walking into your shared bedroom and plopping on that game. Not even bothering with an apology.

You destroy expensive vases, plates all in the name of fun, scolding you and telling you to stop doesn’t work anymore. It just seems to make your behavior even more annoying.

Suguru is the more calmer one between him and Satoru, he had let the biting incident go rather easily, but Suguru hadn’t, he thinks he’s the calm and level headed one but apparently not. He comes home from a stressful exhausting day he wants to do nothing more than cuddle up with you and Satoru in bed.

When hes a few steps into the apartment, he’s greeted by his couches, his expensive personally manufactured couches scratched up, not light scratches either those were made there with a bad intent, and he sees you laying on that same couch, facing the ceiling, sleeping without a care in the world, he’s fucking livid.

He drops his office gear and beelines straight for the couch, straight for you, he yanks you off of his couch and a sleepy you is extremely confused.

He doesn’t spare you any words, all you see is his broad back dragging you to your shared bedroom, he throws you down in the middle of the bed with a thud and now do you get to see his angry expression, there’s not an ounce of forgiveness in there, it burns red. You know what you’ve done and yet all you want to do is push him further.

You tiptoe over that already small line and innocently ask him what’s got him so worked up.

Satoru unlocks the door and is greeted by noises, noises he can’t quite makeout yet but stepping his clothed foot further into the home he senses it’s you, he makes his way to the bedroom and slowly opens the door.

It’s like it’s straight from a porno, you’re spread out on the bed in all your glory: naked and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Suguru is sat leaned against the headboard as he abuses your poor cunt with a dildo, you’re holding onto his thick arm begging him to slow down just a little, your eyes are filled to the brim with tears and tears that are already dried up on your face.

“s’too much guru… ple-“ you can’t even finish your plead for release because Suguru is slamming the dildo right against your spot directly. Satoru can see bite marks decorating Suguru’s arms, you’ve been uselessly doing that to no avail. Still acting so bratty even during your punishment.

You see Satoru and try to call out for him in the sweetest voice you can muster, you know the leopard has a soft spot for you but in this moment it goes in one ear and out the other. Suguru spanks your swollen clit and scolds you for even thinking Satoru could help you.

Suguru doesn’t notice but Satoru sees the way your cute hole clenches, oh?

You’ve clearly been waiting for one of them to break and Suguru was the first to fold.

Satoru can no longer stare, he’s been grabbing and pawing with his cock ever since he’d seen the way your pussy swallows the dildo with not much fight. The way your wet cunt is practically soaking and dripping onto the bed.

He makes his way towards the bed, discarding his clothes on the way till he’s only in his boxers, his ears stand at full attention, listening to every squelch and nasty noise you and your pussy make.

He knows in the end you probably want cock but looking at an ever so serious Suguru he knows that’s not what you will be getting tonight, so Satoru latches onto your nipples, swirling the buds in his mouth, popping off of them just to slurp them right back into his mouth.

He swirls his long fingers around your clit, furthering your torture.

It’s not until about three hours later, you cockdrunk on the two cocks that sit nicely in your pussy, it wasn’t easy but you’d find it, you’d expected to be praised for such an achievement but nothing from either man had come out, their poor kitty left mewling in pleasure but no release just yet.

You beg to just cum once, just once but they ignore you, they chase their orgasms multiple times that night, filling your already full cunt with more of them, potentially even their little babies, that should settle you down for a while.