#badger duo

[halo-chainsaw]

Bad: Yeah- We gotta figure out who's pla- theyve also- Pangi: Its the woke left, man. They're after us.

[spideypoolsupremacy]

One of my favorite tropes is 'tough murdery and dangerous guy being a sweetheart to kids' and Deadpool fits it really well (even if he doesn't present himself as 'scary tough dude' all the time, he can definitely be one in a heartbeat, if the situation calls it)

So, please let me introduce you to

✨️Deadpool and Honey Badger✨️

Marvel please I need more of them than these fun little cameos, I need a whole comic with at least 30 issues. AT LEAST

[apollos-boyfriend]

Speaking of Tr!purp, in yesterday's stream Pili said he might purpled if/when he is logging on because his faction needs more and better people so who knows fingers crossed possibly after holdays

why does everyone want him. no one should want that thang in their faction. he should be paying people to let him join them. why is he the world's most wanted cubito

[justanotherdrfan]

The second reunion we needed!!

Red bull doing the peoples work and bringing

everyone’s favourite honey duo back together for the

Nürburgring demo runs in the RB7 & RB8!!

♥️💙🏎️💙♥️

[badgerthethirteenth]

Love how a lot of people try to figure out why a lot of religions have similar events happening or monstrous figures running around by tracing it back to like ancient aliens or some other nonsense, when it could just as easily be groups of people having very similar ideas like "what if there was a really big guy", "what if there was a giant lizard", or "what if a lot of water happened wouldn't that be fucked up or what".

[ironmanrecords]

Freestone - Once known as Giant Redwood, the acoustic duo are returning to live performance after 23 years.

Once known as Giant Redwood, a Birmingham based acoustic duo called Freestone are returning to live performance after 23 years. The group have a lot of new music on the way.Visit https://freestone.bandcamp.com Flow River Flow by Freestone All bookings: mark@ironmanrecords.co.uk Carpets and Canopies (Demo) by Freestone

[embbarnes]

Honey Badger. | Worst L.H.

summary: You use Logan’s mask to keep him close.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Slight pining | Masturbation | Orgasm Denial | Cunnilingus | Swearing | Dirty talk

a/n: I haven't written anything for Logan in a couple months, I had an old blog for him but I haven't posted there in a while and won't be posting there anymore. I don't know if I'll write him a lot on here since this is a Bucky focused blog, but I might if it's well received. Unedited, will edit out/fix mistakes later. ;; wc: 5.5k

You weren't sure what it was.

Maybe it was Wade's stupid joke that he kept pressing on. He wouldn't let the comment die, teasing Logan as much as possible about his mask. Those blowjob handles made Logan look like the 'perfect sex toy,' Wade would say.

Then his mouth would get him three adamantium claws through his skull.

It only took him a few minutes to regenerate the damage to his brain, even though Logan was convinced he never healed his stupid mind.

You never teased Logan about it, you just didn't, it wasn't something you felt like riling him up about.

But the thought stuck in the back of your mind.

You wondered how it would feel to have his face buried between your legs, your hands tugging on those wings and pulling him even closer, feeling his tongue and rough stubble scratching your -

"Hey," Logan rose his arm from where it rested on the back of the couch and lightly tapped the back of your head, looking at you from his spot beside you on the couch. You blinked, snapping out of your train of thought and looking over at him, his eyebrow rose slightly as he observed you with an odd expression. "I asked you somethin'."

"Oh...sorry," you apologized, clearing your throat with a slight cough. "I was just...lost in thought." You waved your hand a bit, trying to push those inappropriate thoughts down. You liked him, a lot. But your relationship wasn't romantic, it was more like casual friends. Which hurt, but you didn't have the balls to let him know how you felt. Everything just felt worse when Logan seemed to regard you with a slight fondness that both thrilled and tormented you.

Wade was tolerated in Logan's eyes, even though the pair were pretty close despite Logan's repetitive denial about their relationship. Sometimes, he did what he could to avoid Wade entirely, because he just couldn't handle the man's incessant chatter and irreverent humor. The vulgarity got on his nerves after a while.

You desperately wanted to be with Logan, but the weight of his traumatic past and his obvious wariness towards romantic entanglements held you back from broaching the subject. You wondered if Logan had picked up on your feelings despite your efforts to remain indifferent, but with his enhanced senses and two centuries of life experience, you wouldn't be surprised if he had.

The thought that he might be able to detect your physical responses to his presence - the quickening of your pulse, the flush of your skin, the subtle changes in your scent - was mortifying. But, Logan's silence on the matter provided a small measure of comfort, allowing you to maintain the illusion of normalcy in your interactions.

If he had known, he kept his mouth shut.

You had been helping him in the task of cleaning his suit, you offered after seeing the state it was in. Once pristine and immaculate, the suit had endured a gauntlet of abuse when Wade grabbed him from his world and the duo decided to confront Cassandra. Their ill-advised and unnecessary altercations during their, as Wade would put it ‘bonding trip,’ had inflicted significant damage upon his attire. The suit had been unblemished, but now bore the unmistakable marks of their reckless fighting, riddled with an assortment of unsightly holes and ragged tears.

Your gaze lingered on the vibrant yellow suit sprawled across your lap, Logan remained seated beside you, his brow furrowed. "Ya nearly impaled yourself with that needle," he remarked, gesturing towards your hands with a slight nod of his head. Logan had been observing you intently as you thoroughly stitched a particularly nasty gash in his suit, not out of worry, but he was very particular with the thing and how it looked on him.

Your movements were normally very precise, but they had become increasingly erratic and shaky as you went about fixing his suit. Your steady hand that guided the needle through the fabric now wavered, your focus clearly compromised by the gradual intrusion of less than innocent thoughts of Logan’s tongue buried in your pussy, it had taken over your mind and distracted you completely like an invasive parasite.

"Impaled is an exaggeration..." You mumbled back, continuing to fix the hole in the softer fabric. You desperately tried to ignore the fact that your underwear felt especially damp, but it was getting harder to do that with his musky scent of cigars and auburn alcohol in your nose. It made you throb, you wanted to smell him closer, to breathe in his body as you both laid tangled together, nose pressing against his muscular neck while his arms kept you flush to him.

"Not from what I saw, darlin'." Logan grunted, his eyes averting back to the tv. You swallowed thickly, focusing back on the task at hand to get this done as quickly as possible so you could go take care of yourself in the bedroom. It was driving you crazy, and you kept shifting on the cushion, each little movement sending a jolt through your clit as your poor bud swelled in your panties and commanded attention.

Your work paid off, you had successfully tended to his suit and you held it up to ensure you had gotten each tear fixed and buffed out some parts of the harder armor that were on the suit. It looked as new as it could, navy and yellow shining in the dim lighting of the apartment, and you held it up for Logan's final inspection. He took a swig of the bottle of beer he had been drinking, the sweaty glass dripped onto his lap and his Adam's apple bobbed while he swallowed a mouthful of alcohol.

Logan pulled the bottle from his mouth, his tongue darted out to lick the droplet from his bottom lip while his eyes scrutinized every single inch of his suit. You held it steady, waiting for his incoming verdict.

"S'good." He stated gruffly, which was probably the most you were going to get from him. It was a relief, because you were desperate to get to your bedroom. Your legs trembled as you set his suit down over the arm of the couch. Logan watched your shaky movements, figuring you had only been a little unsteady after holding up his suit. It wasn't light after all, so he didn't think twice about it.

You finally made it to the safety of your bedroom, shutting the door and falling back onto your bed, breathing hard as you tried to fiddle with your pants and underwear. They peeled from your core, hot and wet, your panties were soaked with your embarrassing arousal.

'God damnit Logan...' You had to focus on getting out an orgasm or you were sure you'd go crazy. Your fingers brushed your sensitive clit, a soft moan breathlessly escaped through your parted lips and you fisted the sheets with your other hand. You were so sensitive, but you had been edged and teased just from his fucking presence.

Were you insane?

You laid on your bed, legs shamelessly falling open as your fingers worked your body. You teased your tender pearl, slow circles around her as you imagined it were Logan's tongue, feeling her throb beneath the pad of your index. You took a steady, deep breath, the anticipation building as you carefully aided your body to an impending orgasm.

It wouldn't take much, you could already feel that glorious wave building as your finger carefully massaged your clit. Right up until you felt your body release, you heard a knock on your door that made your body seize up. You let out a frustrated and surprised grunt, your finger tearing away from your core as you listened. Nothing, but another knock.

Frustrated, you sat up and quickly threw on some sweats, not bothering with underwear because as soon as you got rid of whomever was here to bother you, you'd make yourself cum like you had been wanting for the past hour and a half.

"Wade, I swear to god, you always knock at the worst times!" You pulled your door open, meeting a broad chest and an unamused looking honey badger.

"Do I look like that idiot?" Logan asked, his eyes flicking inside your room, then back to your face. They narrowed slightly, his nostrils flared as he took a breath. Oh god. Did he smell you? He could smell the hint of addictive compounds in rubbing alcohol when he's desperate enough for a fix, you were sure he could smell the obvious arousal coating your inner thighs.

"He always...knocks. Weirdly. Guess he got the memo from NTW not to come into a girl's room without knocking first." You crossed your arms, shifting your weight, now a bit flushed that he had come in during your self pleasure and how you had been so sexually frustrated you practically shouted in his face.

"Yeah, well...shoulda known better than to just waltz into their room, huh?" Logan scoffed a little under his breath, then looked at his hand. "I forgot to give this to ya. Mind buffin' it out too?" He handed you his mask, which wasn't nearly as beat up as his suit was. You felt your heart quicken and your core continue to throb from the edging and denial you had faced. Despite your frustration, you couldn't say no to him, especially when he looked a little apologetic for asking you to clean something else of his.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

You took the mask from his hands, inspecting it before turning to sit back on your bed. "You can come in...this won't take very long. I just have to buff it out, like you said." You grabbed a cloth from your bedside table and some compound you used on your own suit and sat crisscrossed. You had the mask in your lap as you began to carefully buff the scratches from it.

Logan stepped in slowly, like he were entering a new domain or stepping through a portal to a world he hadn't seen before. His foot gently nudged the door and closed it behind him, his eyes began a careful exploration of your bedroom, drinking in every detail with an almost reverent curiosity.

As he advanced towards you, his eyes began a careful exploration of your bedroom, drinking in every detail with an almost reverent curiosity. His gaze swept over the collection of trinkets adorning your shelves, each one a tiny glimpse into your personality and interests. He noted the color palette that dominated the room, absorbing the hues that you had chosen to surround yourself with daily.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his attention was caught by a rather grumpy-looking stuffed turtle, nestled comfortably among the pillows on your bed. The juxtaposition of its stern expression against the softness of its surroundings amused him, the frown etched onto its little face stood out amongst its soft body.

Logan's eyes inevitably fell down on the lace underwear you had hastily discarded on the floor earlier. The delicate fabric stood out against the carpet, and he couldn't help but notice the very obvious patch that stained them.

Your room was enveloped in a delicate blend of lavender and cinnamon, the scents wafted through the air, intertwining with the undeniable scent of your obvious arousal. The combination was intoxicating, causing Logan's nose to twitch involuntarily as his body reacted instinctively to your scent, his cock stirring to life within the confines of his pants as he processed the sensory information.

Logan was not dumb. He knew what you were doing before he knocked on the door, hell he could smell your cunt from down the hall. Part of him hadn’t wanted to barge in and make you clean his mask, but there was a deeper desire that wanted to see if you’d actually do it. Clearing his throat, he offered you an out, his voice slightly husky as he spoke. "I can come back if you need a break." His eyes, dark with barely concealed want, locked onto your form as you continued to work diligently on his mask.

Your hands moved back and forth, buffing one of the intricate wings with practiced precision, your breasts swaying in your tank top and making things so much harder for him to keep his composure. At the sound of his voice, your gaze lifted from his mask, meeting his intense stare. A small shrug of your shoulders accompanied your reply, your tone casual despite the charged atmosphere. "It's okay, I'm almost done with this." Your fingers never ceased their movements, but the slight tremor in your hands betrayed your affected nonchalance.

"There," you handed him the mask with a satisfied smile, "All done and ready for action." Logan carefully took the mask from your outstretched hands and examined it, his eyes scanning every detail. As always it was perfect, meeting his high standards. He slipped it on briefly, testing its vision and functionality. The mask settled perfectly on his face, as if it were a second skin.

"You know," you commented as you began tidying up your workspace, setting the polishing rag and compound away in their designated spots in the bedside drawer, "The wings on that mask are actually pretty durable. I assumed they’d be more finicky with how they’re structured." You paused, a thought crossing your mind, and added with a hint of exasperation, "Is that why Wade constantly makes that joke about blowjobs?"

The comment elicited a deep, prolonged groan from Logan, his face contorting into a pronounced scowl. "He's a goddamn idiot," he muttered, his voice tinged with a combination of annoyance and resignation. "Always finding ways to turn everything into some kind of ridiculous joke."

"I have to admit, though," you replied with a casual shrug of your shoulders, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth, "His jokes do have a certain charm to them. And the one about your mask was pretty funny." You paused briefly, considering your words carefully before continuing, "I mean, I don't personally have the anatomy to fully appreciate the joke from that perspective, but...you know. I can certainly see the appeal on a conceptual level." You hadn't expected Logan to react to your comment, assuming he'd brush it off as he often did with such topics.

To your surprise, however, he did respond. He turned his gaze towards you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he huffed, briefly averting before fixing back on you with an intense stare once more.

"Is that the real reason behind you about soakin’ the couch earlier?" Logan asked, his voice low and husky, something darker dominated his tone. “You were dripping on the way back here, weren’t you? I could smell ya loud and clear the entire time those pretty hands of yours scrubbed away at my suit.”

You were taken aback and shocked when he spoke up, your eyes widening in disbelief as you struggled to process his words. With each syllable that fell from his lips, you felt an intense warmth creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks, painting them a vibrant shade of crimson. Your ears felt hot as your heart picked up rapidly.

His deep, resonant tone reverberated through your body, sending delicious shivers down your spine and intensifying the ache between your thighs, where your already sensitized clit throbbed with an urgent, almost painful need. The poor, neglected bud pulsed eagerly, silently pleading for the sweet relief of touch, desperate for even the slightest caress to ease its torment.

Logan approached the edge of your bed, his piercing gaze fixed upon you as he drew nearer. The mask he wore only served to heighten his already intimidating appearance, the deadly smirk appearing as his lips upturned and exposed his teeth. Sometimes you were certain he had sharper canines than normal, but you never really studied his teeth for long to notice a prominent difference.

You drank in the sight of him as his larger body loomed over you, your imagination running wild with filthy images and thoughts. His muscular form holding your legs open as his face nestled snugly between your soft, inviting thighs as he completely ravaged your body...

"Am I right?" He asked, his voice a husky whisper with a hint of playfulness, a subtle tease that made your heart race. His knee slowly rose up onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he leaned his entire body over yours. The warmth radiating from him was intoxicating, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

Instinctively, you found yourself laying back, your head sinking into the soft pillow beneath you, his body commanding you without the need of words. Logan's figure loomed above, his presence both thrilling and intimidating as he stared down at you through his mask. His powerful arms moved to plant themselves on either side of your head, effectively trapping you. The defined muscles in his forearms flexed as he supported his weight, so much bigger than yours, you wanted to bite his bicep so badly.

His head tilted slightly to the side, eyes roaming over your form with an intensity that made you feel utterly exposed. The way he looked at you, it was as if he was committing every detail to memory, savoring this moment of having you beneath him. "What do you want, darlin'..." he drawled, his voice thick with desire, the question hanging in the air between you.

You swallowed thickly, feeling your throat constrict as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Words have abandoned you, leaving you unable to speak with the turmoil of emotions swirling within. Logan's proximity was overwhelming, his masculine scent enveloping you, clouding your senses. That scent that made you so, utterly horny earlier that you had to come to your room and shamelessly play with yourself.

You have never been this close to him, at least not in this context. Sitting on the couch beside him, him standing close to you during missions or shielding you from harm, that was different from this…

The air between you crackled with an electric charge, years of unspoken desire finally bubbling to the surface. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps as Logan made his advance, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you ample opportunity to voice any reservations.

Logan's calloused hands found their way to the waistband of your sweatpants with a gentleness that belied his rugged exterior. His fingers hooked into the fabric, the slight pressure against your skin sending jolts of anticipation through your body. He paused, giving you plenty of time to voice any hesitation or desire not to continue this, if you had any. When no protest came, he took it as tacit approval.

Slowly, he began to remove your sweatpants. The fabric whispered against your skin as he dragged them down your legs, the cool air causing goosebumps to rise along your thighs.

Logan grinned slightly as the sweatpants came down far enough to reveal your bare sex, your pussy swollen and slightly reddened from your previous self-pleasure, your hand had rubbed her so teasingly that your clit was as swollen as a ripe berry. A low, appreciative chuckle escaped his lips as he took in the sight before him. "No underwear, huh?" he remarked, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. "That desperate? I must've interrupted you rubbin' yourself..." His words trailed off as his gaze roamed over your body, a hint of pride in his tone as he added, "You're that horny for me, hm?"

With a final tug, he removed the sweats completely from your legs, carelessly tossing them behind him. Logan's lips curled into a teasing smirk as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Y'know," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "You could've just...asked for my help."

"S-shut up, don't act like you would've actually helped me with this," you stammered out, your voice quivering with embarrassment and obvious doubt at his words. The deep blush that crept across your cheeks darkened as you averted your gaze, unable to meet his intense stare. You felt a wave of vulnerability wash over you, almost bordering on humiliation, as he unabashedly gazed at your most intimate area. Your cunt was visibly swollen as blood continued to rush into the blushed, delicate folds.

He let out a low, knowing chuckle that made you want to grab him and shove him into your pussy already. "Oh, but I would have," he replied, his voice husky with desire. "I smell this pretty thing all the time, you know. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to grab you and take you right where you stand." He leaned over you just a bit more to make you squirm un the comforter, "I've wanted to taste you for even longer."

Logan gently spread you open, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. His eyes darkened with lust as he gazed upon your ripe bud, practically begging for his attention. He couldn't help but notice how increasingly damp you became as he leaned closer, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin.

"If you could...smell me...then why didn't you do something before, huh?" you whined quietly, your voice barely above a whisper but held a hint of a challenge. You bit your lower lip, frustration building within you. Your breath hitched involuntarily in your throat as he hovered so close, his face mere inches from your core. You could feel his bot breath warming your pussy, so, so close…

"I wanted to see how long you could resist." He reasoned simply, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. His gaze swept over your form, taking in your desperation. "A game of chicken. See which one of us breaks down first." His words struck a chord deep within you, causing your stomach to clench uncomfortably. You felt annoyance at his tone, which seemed to border on condescension. Logan was clearly entertained with your current state, and considering you had already been pushing yourself to the brink through self-imposed edging and denial, you weren't in the mood for his attitude.

Fuck. You've lost.

Without warning, you reached out and grasped the back of his head and pushed downward, forcing his face towards your aching core. The sudden action caught him off guard, so his neck muscles were weak and moldable to your gesture. Initially his lips and tongue fumbled, searching for that elusive sweet spot that would send sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

However, Logan was nothing if not adaptable.

He quickly regained his composure, adjusting his position to better accommodate your forceful guidance. His lips parted, and his tongue emerged, warm and eager. He dragged it along your sensitive flesh, tracing a long, deliberately slow stripe up your slit, sending a jolt of sensation through your already overstimulated nerves.

A soft, yearning moan escaped your lips as his tongue finally drew over your sensitive clit. The sensation shot electric waves of pleasure through you, causing your head to sink deeper into the plush pillow you laid on. Your fingers instinctively sought out the wings of his mask, gripping them tightly as you pulled him closer, desperate for more of his touch.

Logan's mouth pressed firmly against your cunt, eliciting a deep chuckle from him at your obvious enthusiasm. He quickly interpreted your obvious desires, his lips enveloping that needy, throbbing bud with practiced ease.

Logan's ministrations began with a gentle suction, his lips creating a pulsing rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His skilled tongue danced inside his mouth, teasing and caressing your clit with expert precision. He alternated between swirling motions and intricate figure eights, the tip of his oral muscle exploring every sensitive nerve ending. Your hips responded of their own accord, bucking and thrusting against his face without any reservations.

Each movement he made only encouraged your body's instinctive response, creating a feedback loop of escalating pleasure. He continued to draw out movements from you. Between your ragged breaths and delicate whimpers, you managed to find your voice, "Logan...oh my god...just like that." Your parted lips released a symphony of soft moans and desperate cries as he continued his relentless, delicious assault on your sweet, aching clit, his mouth playing you like an instrument he knew by heart.

His tongue delved deeper, gliding between your folds and discovering your entrance, which was already weeping with glistening arousal for him. His tongue penetrated you without another second, his nose gently nudged your swollen, thoroughly suckled clit with each deliberate thrust of his skilled tongue.

Logan savored your essence on his palate, emitting a low, appreciative groan as he tasted your arousal, fully aware of just how desperately you had yearned for him during the few hours you had spent together earlier that day. His large hands grabbed your thighs, squeezing them and holding your legs farther open as he gained better access to you. "You taste like honey darlin'..." He groaned, muffled inside your puffy lips. "All for me. This is mine, you hear me?"

Your fingers remained firmly entwined in his mask, tugging at the wings with increasing urgency as you began grinding yourself against his face, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Stop talking and suck!" You demanded, your voice shaky as your body visibly shook with frustration at his teasing words, giving your clit just enough stimulation, but not nearly pushing you close to climax. The rough texture of his stubble against your inner thighs provided extra sensory stimulation, adding more stimulation to your body and mind. Your moans were pornographic as mewls filled the air while you tugged and bucked against him with growing fervor.

Logan growled against you, knowing you were needy, otherwise he would have teased you much more than this and wouldn't have let you get away with talking like such a brat. His face and chin became thoroughly coated in your flowing juices, your much-needed and long-awaited climax rapidly approaching. You could feel that tight knot forming in your gut, the warmth spreading through your legs and to your toes as the heat in your belly began to grow.

"Eager fuckin' thing..." Logan growled against your heated flesh, his voice a low rumble of desire. He punctuated his words with a searing kiss to your slick folds before once again attaching himself to your clit with the intensity and determination of a man possessed, his mouth working tirelessly to bring you to your orgasm.

"Lo...Logan," you warned breathlessly, your voice quivering with anticipation. Greedily, even with your feeble protest, you had no intention of allowing him to retreat. Your leg wrapped tightly around his broad shoulder, effectively anchoring him in place. You used him with unbridled passion, your body responding to his ministrations like a finely tuned instrument.

Logan seemed to revel in your assertiveness and wasn’t bothered by your increasing roughness whatsoever. You could feel the curve of his lips against your sensitive skin, a smirk that spoke volumes about his enjoyment of your pleasure. He willingly let you have control, allowing you to dictate the pace and pressure that you so desperately craved.

"I'm close!" You gasped your words, barely coherent as waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm you and pull you under like sirens calling you to the edge of ecstasy. "Oh god, I'm going to..." The sentence hung unfinished in the air, your ability to form coherent thoughts rapidly diminishing.

Your head fell back once more, an eager, satisfying, almost pained cry escaping your lips as your climax finally crashed over you. It felt as though every nerve ending in your body had suddenly come alive. Your muscles tensed rapidly, your back arching dramatically off the surface beneath you. Your hips, acting on pure instinct, drove forward, pressing urgently against Logan's face as if trying to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible.

The intensity of your orgasm was overwhelming, having ruined your incoming one prior, this one felt much more intense. It felt as though liquid fire was coursing through your veins, setting every cell in your body ablaze with pleasure that seemed to short-circuit your brain.

You were in complete, blissful disorientation.

Your leg fell limply to the side and off his shoulder as he slowly withdrew from your cunt with a sloppy popping sound. His lips glistened with the evidence of your orgasm, they curved into a satisfied smile as he savored the taste of you. Logan slowly crawled over your body, dragging himself to hover once again, his eyes drinking in every inch of your flushed skin and disheveled appearance.

"Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper in a now quieted room, no longer filled with your audible filth and desperation. He lowered himself closer, his face now hovering mere inches above yours. You could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across your lips, heightening your anticipation. He grazed his lips against yours before pressing them down more firmly, sealing them together.

The kiss was a bit hesitant on his end, not because he didn't want to kiss you, but his face was still pretty much slick with your essence. His body thrummed with the urge to flip you over, to bury himself deep within you, railing his cock in and out of that slick cunt he just tasted and chase the heights of ecstasy together.

But there was that flicker of doubt in his mind that had been holding him back from forming a stronger bond with you, and he wondered if you felt the same way. The possibility of forming a deeper connection with you both thrilled and terrified him, causing him to hesitate as he tried to gauge your intentions and reactions to him. There was so much to be said, memories flashing across his mind of loss and heartache, the overwhelming pain of losing those he loved in the past almost overwhelmed him before he was brought back down to earth.

Your hand gently came up, reaching for his mask with a tender touch. You carefully pulled it off, revealing the rest of his face beneath. Your fingers immediately sought out his short hair, tangling themselves in the soft strands. You leaned in, kissing him back with a mixture of passion and gratitude. Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the moment. A soft hum escaped your lips, vibrating against his as you tasted the unique combination of yourself and him. The kiss lingered, neither of you wanting to break the connection once it was made.

After several seconds, you reluctantly pulled back with a soft smile playing on your lips, your expression still dazed from the intensity of the moment. Your hands glided over the top of his head, your fingers playfully toying with the little tufts of hair that stood up, slightly mussed from the mask. The tiny kitty ears were adorable to you, and you carefully formed them to their little points once again.

Your eyes met his in the comfortable quiet of the room, conveying more than any verbal exchange could hope to capture. The look you shared was filled with soft, gentle expressions, relief and giddiness, tired happiness.

Logan let the tip of his nose trace a delicate path over the curve of your own, his breath warm against your skin. His trailed his nose slowly, deliberately, to the spot between your eyes, where he paused for a moment, as if savoring the closeness.

His lips then replaced his nose, placing another kiss, this one soft and lingering against your skin. It was a gentle action, one that took you by surprise with its tenderness, but filled you with a comforting warmth that spread from the point of contact throughout your body. Your heightened emotional state felt so tender as he showed you a side of himself that few others ever got to see. Logan’s rough exterior and guarded nature fading for the moment to allow himself this, putting all his wariness away to savor you.

While you were busy basking in the glow, his eyes were drawn to what laid beside your head. That stuffed turtle, its shell a soft, soothing pine green and its body a gentle, earthy slate brown, adorned with intricate, unique stitching and delicate embroidery that lovingly traced the contours of its body and defined its endearing facial features.

Prominent, exaggerated eyebrows were stitched in a comically furrowed manner, giving the toy an air of perpetual concern or deep thought. Below them, a carefully sewn black frown curved downwards, completing the turtle's amusingly grumpy expression. Its face seemed to lock eyes with him, its unwavering stare intense as Logan remained on top of your half naked body.

Slowly, he reached out with his free hand and turned the turtle around, no longer feeling watched by its grumpy stare and judged by its frown.

Thanks for reading - em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

[cherry-pop-elf]

Cup Of Sugar

Deadpool x Reader x Wolverine

Authors Note: Since Yall finally see the beauty of Poolverine, you finally get some stupid fluff. Here ya go

Sum: You were neighbors with Blind Al, and that chaotic son of hers. Recently you’ve been hearing alot of noise, and figured you check on them both. Like a good neighbor. Seems to have been just the right time

Warnings: Fluff, canon typical violence, Logan and Wade being so gay in their own way, Blind Al being a total wing woman, dogpool aprecitation post, family fluff because god dammit Mama Blind Al and her sons boyfriend with their new dog domestic fluff is needed!

“Will you two knock it off! I don’t need another damn couch in this house-!” You would hear Al shout. Not the first time, but the noise seemed so much more wild as of recent. Like some kind of badger was joining the party. Couldn’t help it with your worry. She was blind after all. So, here you are. Knocking on her door.

“Get along-! Well, or like STOP GETTING ALONG-!” You heard her snapping, before yanking the door open. “The hell you want?” She asked, before you would clear your throat.

“Hey Miss Althea-!” The moment she heard your voice she had softened into that motherly state she always had for you. Not many people in the complex really enjoyed her company, or her son’s, but you always took the time to say hi to her. Not treat her any less inferior because of her blindness.

“Oh hey baby! Come on in, get in here-!” She just beamed, and laughed. Happy to have someone new to talk to. Can get lonely, after all. From many of your conversations with her, when helping her take the groceries to her apartment, her son Wade was often on business trips. Nice to have some company.

Inside was certainly a chaotic mess. You swore someone ran around like a Tasmanian Devil in there. Pictures asque, cushions everywhere, a couch shredded like it was thrown in a blender. You were wondering what the hell happened. Was it a break in? Had you worried sick, before a bark caught your attention.

“PUPPY-!” You couldn’t stop yourself from squealing, as you knelt to the floor. Right next to the dog in her dog bed. All snuggled with plushies of what you guessed were her favorite heros, and seeming to be the one area of the apartment that escaped this fire. Least whoever attacked the home had some kind of morals.

“That ugly thing? That’s ’Mary Puppins’ as the dynamic duo calls them. She that ugly kinda cute. She always knows when you need someone to cuddle, that’s for sure. I ain’t complaining. Nice having company.” Al would explain to you, as you were hypnotized by her cuteness. Had her cradled in your arms, and giving her all the belly scratches.

“She’s perfect.” You cooed, as you gave her fluffy head a kiss. Had her barking happily at your attention. Seemed said barking finally got the attention of the two rascals in the home. A bickering of panic French was held, before you turned your head. As to see what the French was going on.

“Hey-“ A burly man would wave, before seeming to shove the other person into a bedroom. In some kind of mad panic, as if to hide them from you. For some reason.

“Oh, hey. Uh, hi.” You would stand up, Pup in hand, as you registered what you were looking at. He wasn’t the tallest man around, and honestly? Might be even shorter than yourself. Didn’t take away the fact he was built like a truck. Somehow all tucked away behind a torn up wife beater and jeans. Looked like he had been fighting someone with a set of knives. On top of knives. With more knives.

“That’s Logan. My kids new boyfriend.” Al would brush off casually, as she would find herself towards the couch. Just to sit there, and most definitely keep an ear out for the drama to happen now.

“We aren’t….It’s complicated-“ He tried to explain, before said Wade popped his cheery ass out. Having been in such a rush to join the party, he was wearing his shirt backwards. You would argue his boxers to, but a puppy keeps anyone’s attention.

“Oh hey! Peanut, that’s our neighbor. About time you met the sweetheart. Don’t do anything Logany. Or do, kinda a freak. Just saying-“ He would nudge at the shorter man, as said man rolled his eyes.

“Hey Wade-! When did you get this little girl? And uh, the hell happened here?” You were pretty used to Wades insanity at this point, hence why he called you a freak (in that sweet way endearing way) so maybe there was an explanation on all this.

“Thats Mary Puppens. The sweetest shit stain around. We got her from uh….A cousin. Passed away. Terrible terrible. Can’t have her left alone.” Wade would explain, as Logan would walk over. Gave the pup a gentle scratch under her chin that made her shake her leg just right. She clearly loved her new parents dearly.

“And the mess here?” You would raise a brow, before Wade tugged at his collar. That’s when he noticed it was backwards, and kept himself busy with fixing it. Left Logan to have to bite the bullet.

“….Redecorating…..” Logan offered, as you just stared at the two. A brow raised, as you didn’t buy it for a single second. You weren’t stupid. You weren’t going to fall for the ‘put on a hat and jacket and suddenly you can’t make out a superhero from a crowd’ trope. Something suspicious was going on.

“Just be direct, will ya?! If anyone can be trusted it’s gonna be that there sugar.” Al would practically scold the two little dumbasses. Just like a mother would to her so , and his boyfriend, who were trying to dance around a topic.

“Are you two super humans of some kind? You don’t have to tell me more. Just….Dont wanna worry about little Pup here and Al. Ya know?” That seemed to make Logan pause. As if your kindness, and realness, was a shock to have. A welcomed one, but you’ll still get caught off guard if you ate trash and suddenly had a pallet cleanser of lime sherbet shoved in your mouth.

“Do you mean super human as super human, or super human like mutant powers, or super human like experimented on, or super human like as a-“ And Logan promptly smacked the back of Wades head. Treating him like a skipping record. Had you giggle, since now you didn’t have to worry about the violence. Able to comprehend they just don’t feel pain like others.

“Super human is all that needs to be said, bub.” Logan warned him, as he held up his fist. You thought to punch, but you swore the top of his hand was twitching. Not like a muscle spasm. Way too uniformed. As if three veins were bulging. Maybe it was better not to question it.

“Now, why are you even here?” Logan would try his blunt coldness on you, but living next to the likes of Wade doesn’t really phase you. This was a world of super heros and inhumans. Can’t scare you that easy.

“Came to check on Miss Althea. Heard a ruckus, that was louder than normal, so I came to check.” That had Logan scoff. To hear you being so ‘brave’ and coming over to the source of the noise. A admiring ‘so dumb but in a brave way’ admiring.

“He’s still grumpy from the turbulence, if you will-“ Wade would jazz hands, as if knowing things that no one else shouldn’t. He always did act like that. As if he just knew how the world worked better than others. You found it more so endearing than creepy, like others did.

“Oh! New here? Well welcome! Oh, maybe I can show you around? Wade and I know some pretty cool places. Oh! There’s a dog park that’s built for dogs who need more special care than others. We can all go there with Miss Puppins!” You were rambling like Wade, but had the clarity of Logan. A beautiful combination. One that had the two men smitten.

“Fuck yeah we can go to the dog park. Get dressed, Showman, come on-!” And Wade was running off to get changed. The typical attire of hoodie, face mask, glasses. Just layering. You didn’t find his skin disgusting, but given the world’s issues with pandemic it can’t be helped.

“Great, now you got him started again-“ Logan would complain, yet was already grabbing his leather jacket. Complaining, yet clearly willingly excited all the same. Just in his own way.

“Would you like to join us, Miss Althea?” You asked her, which gave her a bit of a surprise. You wanted her to come along? She normally never tagged along on things like this. Yet, you offered. Even though most times she would say no. Not this time.

“Someone needs to make sure you assholes don’t get into more shit.” She smarted off, but was already standing. With the help of Logan, of course. Just in time for Wade to return.

“Come on disabled gang! Let’s go!” He would clap, as Logan just kept rolling his eyes. You yourself were excited, and leading the charge now. All with Miss Puppins happy in your arms. So happy to have a big family to take her on adventures.

Nothing more sweet than a happy pup.

[mumblesplash]

ohh ok i see where you’re coming from with this ty for explaining!

see i only showed up january of this year, and to me the -duo naming convention seemed like it was just How People Do Things? like a tacked-on suffix that effectively meant ‘oh btw these are mcyt personas’ and also, like you said, had the benefit of carrying no implication that they were being shipped together. and being as new as i was, i kinda liked having the first part of the name as a signifier of which specific event or series of events made that pair dynamic popular.

what’s interesting to me is that obviously the ‘duo’ convention isn’t necessary for that last part, but it *does* have the effect of p consistently focusing the name on the pairings’ origin stories? (which i guess makes sense if it’s a carry-over from plot point specific names from the dsmp)

portmanteaus or full names make it more obvious *who* is being talked about, but not *why*, and in my experience the ‘why’ was always much harder to pin down. sometimes with good reason—i haven’t encountered a duo name alternative for grumbo yet, and other than predating the dsmp i’d bet that’s because their dynamic evolved over 4 entire seasons of hermitcraft and doesn’t really revolve around anything specific other than their friendship—but in a lot of cases imo it makes sense for a pair’s name being a direct reference to their main Thing.

again, not in favor of the duo names necessarily (‘rancher duo’ doesn’t add any more context than ‘team rancher’ and personally i tend to prefer the canon team names when they exist), but i do think they caught on because they serve a purpose. and if so it’s probably worth figuring out exactly what it is, because even though the alternatives are more creative and fun the duo names aren’t going to stop until there’s something else that serves that purpose better

Guys...guys. It needs to stop.

[hugsandchaos]

I’m gonna stick my nose in the whole “Phantom being filmed by fans and bystanders during ghost fights and posted on social media” thing and suggest we combine it with “Good Plasmius/Vlad” to get videos and pictures of them being something of an uncle/nephew or student/teacher duo.

One video shows Phantom sparring with Plasmius. Specifically, Phantom accidentally freezes him in a block of ice and seems stuck between laughing his ass off and genuinely apologizing. Plasmius manages to get out eventually, but seems unhappy about Phantom laughing. It doesn’t faze the ghost boy, though.

Someone snapped and posted a picture of Phantom acting all sneaky and hiding behind Plasmius and under his cape, holding the side of the cape under his head with a mischievous smile while Plasmius seems unbothered.

Someone got a picture of Phantom stargazing with a telescope unbothered, face full of sheer excitement and wonder, while Plasmius is chasing a ghost hunter off.

Another person posted a video of Phantom flying, but Plasmius comes out of nowhere and grabs him by the back of his suit (or hood, depending how you draw him), and Phantom sort of goes limp like a cat. He smiles at Plasmius, but the older ghost seems unhappy with him. No one knows the story behind it, but it was funny.

The favorite one so far is a video of Phantom being exhausted after a particularly hard ghost fight and Plasmius showing up a bit too late to help, so he ends up carrying him somewhere else, and if you turn the volume up, you can hear Plasmius say “Get some rest, little badger.” right after Phantom seemingly falls asleep.

[halo-chainsaw]

badger duo for pangi and bad perhaps. Since they were the 2 ogs of the honey badger faction. And they like to badger people <3

THISSSSSSSSSSSS fuck ur so right. can we spread this propaganda. please

[violetarks]

megumi's parental figure, early 20s! gojo satoru, comes in to discuss with you, first year teacher as 'ms l/n', a little mishap that has occured between the young boy and someone else in your class. a fight had broke out in the midst of recess and, while on your break in the teacher's lounge, you were called to the entrance of the room with the two boys, both with their fair share of scratches and scruffed up clothes.

the office had to tell the respective parents to come in to talk after school, while you stood with the boys in the sick bay, helping the nurse clean their wounds.

megumi grunts, "don't call gojo..."

"i have to, sweetie." you retort, placing a bandaid on his cheek from the bark that scratched his face when he was pushed into the ground. megumi frowns even more. "it's the school's policy. i'm sorry."

he only nods his head, eyes pricking with tears as the kid beside him bawled his eyes out about getting in trouble with his parents

you know it's megumi's so-called 'immature, loud-mouth, waste of time and effort' guardian when he comes bursting through the hallway in some kind of uniform, glasses on his nose and fringe messily sticking to his sweaty forehead. not the man you had pictured taking care of megumi.

"megumi! megumi!" he calls, rushing up to you and the boys. they sat in the chairs outside of your classroom while the rest of yours kids were painting. megumi groaned, covering his face in embarrassment as satoru kneeled down in front of him and badgered on. "what happened? i came as soon as i got the call!"

megumi, unwilling to answer, only glares at the boy beside him, who does the same thing.

you sigh, "your son and his classmate were in a physical fight today, mr gojo."

satoru looks to you for a split second before doing a double take. his blue eyes peak over his glasses and you find yourself clearing your throat to gather your nerves again.

as soon as satoru turns back to megumi, he's worried again. "oh god... megumi, please, tell me, did you win—?"

"mr gojo!" you harshly whisper, slight chuckle in your tone at the question. he glances up at you. "please."

so now you sit with both of the boys' parents — megumi and his legal father, satoru (who hasn't stopped smiling at you since he walked in, which is a step up from his not-much-older sister coming in to fill in for their parents), and the other boy, ibuki, and his parents, mr and mrs sawamura (who were of high paying jobs).

the mother and father duo look unpleased to be there, whilst satoru just keeps sending you the warmest gaze. the boys are glaring at each other, clicking their tongues and looking away.

"i apologise for the inconvenience this has caused." you explain, hands on your lap as your sit on your chair at the head of the classroom, "but i'm afraid the school's contacted you on such short notice due to the events of today."

you begin to explain what you know from the boys and what other teachers have told you. megumi and ibuki have never been friends due to clashing ideas, but today, ibuki pushed megumi onto the floor at the playground in the middle of playing tag when megumi was 'it' and tagged ibuki. as a result, ibuki made a comment on megumi's absent parents.

the ravenette, in return, pushed ibuki back and told him to apologise, only for ibuki to throw the first punch. a minor brawl occured, with slapping, kicking, punching and bark throwing whilst other kids watched. nothing was severely damaged, but scratches and light bruises were evident on the boys.

in the end, neither of the boys wanted to apologise.

"what could my son have possibly done?" mrs sawamura questions, crossed arms. the two have been hostile since the start, but you don't react.

"mrs sawamura, ibuki put his hands on megumi and pushed him to the ground whilst insulting him." you reiterate, "i'm sorry, but all accounts state this."

"ibuki, did you do such a thing?" mr sawamura questions, glaring at his son.

ibuki, baffled and nervous, begins to sputter out, "i—well, megumi...! he—he bullied me and said i was a slow runner!”

"i wasn't making fun of you, i was stating a fact." megumi retorts, shaking his head. satoru smirks.

"if anyone should be punished, it should be that bully of a kid!" mrs sawamura exasperates, "goodness, what kind of child resorts to such hostility? children say anything these days! what are you raising?"

satoru turns to her with a roll of his eyes. "a kid with common sense. maybe the reason your kid is so jealous of megumi isn't just because he's smarter than him or cooler, but because megumi knows to cover mouth when to sneeze rather than on other kids at the christmas concert."

"it was an accident!" ibuki cries out, wiping his tears.

"you told all the boys you were gonna' do it!" megumi retaliates, rolling his eyes as well. the resembalance is uncanny.

"nonsense!" mr sawamura exclaims, standing from his chair. you rub your temple, headache ensuing. mrs sawamura only shakes her head as her son sticks her tongue out at satoru. "ibuki would never be jealous of someone like megumi!"

for the first time since he began, satoru's smile drops. he stands as well, towering over the other man. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"okay, let's dail it down, please." you say, standing up as well. you watch as the two men do as you say and seat themselves, all the while glaring at each other. "now, it is a two day suspention. no exceptions. and the kids will have to complete all assigned work i have for them. here."

you give the two boys a folder each, filled with a short workbook and other things, and you don't even allow mr and mrs sawamura to complain before you stand up and bow your head.

"both children are in trouble for participating in the fight." you explain calmly, furrowed brows, "however, this is not the first instance ibuki has been caught talking about other people's privacy. i believe this is an issue to be solved at home."

your last sentence makes satoru giggle and stare at the couple, judging them. they, in return, begin mumbling in their placesnamd crossing their arms.

"thank you for taking the time out of your day to discuss this unfortunate event. i shall see you kids on thursday. good evening." you say blankly, already grabbing your belongings and heading out the door.

satoru is quick to catch up to you before you get into your car.

"hey, ms l/n!" he calls, holding megumi's hand as he gets dragged along in the carpark.

"mr gojo." you reply, expecting him to start explaining megumi's actions.

"thank you for standing up for megumi today." he says, making you stop, "it's good to know that he has someone looking out for him at school."

"oh... i, uh, i don't mind. he's my student, and he does very well in my classes." you explain, smiling at the kid, "how's your cheek, megumi?"

"doesn't hurt at all..." he retorts, looking to the ground. you only grin.

satoru then holds out his other hand. "you can call me 'satoru'. i want to take you out for dinner as a 'thanks' for helping out megumi."

you stop before shaking his hand. "i'm y/n. i'd love you, but..." your eyes drift to megumi, who only turns away with a pout. "i try to keep my work life and personal life separate."

satoru lets out a small chuckle before nodding his head. "i understand. thank you, ms l/n. you're megumi's favourite teacher."

"hey!" megumi grumbles, jabbing at the white-haired man's stomach, "ugh! let's just go home!"

you wave as megumi drags satoru to a nice black car, and they drive to the school gates as you enter your own vehicle.

you're incredibly surprised when you are informed by the principal that fushiguro megumi is leaving the school after only four months of being under your care. you begin to question why he was leaving. were you not a suitable teacher for him? what was wrong with your teaching style?

megumi explains to you that he's upset he's leaving because he actually doesn't want to go. he wants to stay, and he has never complained about you to satoru. you asked why he's moving schools, and he only shrugs and says satoru told him he would be.

when satoru comes to pick up megumi, you make sure to stand at his side with your arms crossed. the man is pleasantly surprised when he sees you with an annoyed expression.

"ms l/n, lovely seeing you again." he says, patting his adopted son's head. the boy scowls and pushes his hand away, stepping closer to you.

"mr gojo, i'd like to ask why you are making megumi move schools when he is perfectly fine here. is this a problem with me? is my way of teaching not up to your standards?" you begin, looking at him dead in the eye.

satoru chuckles, hands in his pockets, "not at all, y/n. megumi actually does pretty well under your care."

"so what is it?"

"i don't want him to be your student." he hums out, shrugging his shoulders, "because you don't mix work with your personal life, i figured i'd take us out of your work life. if megumi is no longer your student, then i can be your boyfriend."

your stilled, frozen as he smiles dumbly at you. any teachers or parents close enough to hear your conversation stop to giggle behind their hands, enjoying the short display of romance. you furrow your brows before uncrossing your arms, tilting your head to the side.

"i—" you begin, pursing your lips and covering your face a little. he lets out a small laugh. "satoru, you can't just..."

"if you care that much about megumi's education, you're more than welcome to come over for dinner and we can tutor him." he offers, grinning at you with such softness that you immediately hum in agreement, "that's great! c'mon, megumi, you can see ms l/n saturday night. say 'goodbye' to your friends and we'll go."

megumi then runs off to bid his friends 'goodbye', all of them crying out about never seeing each other again. in the meantime, satoru stands at your side, hands in his pockets.

"so," he begins, "can i take you out for dinner this weekend? megumi will be out of this school by then."

"i don't appreciate you taking megumi out of this school just because you wanted to ask me out." you huff out, tilting your head at him.

satoru smiles wider, bumping his hip with yours. “just imagine all the other things i’m willing to do to score a chance with you.”

“whatever.” you chuckle, looking back to him, “one date, i will give you one chance.”

“that is all i need. thank you, y/n.” he responds, winking at you. he turns back to megumi, waving his hand. “c’mon, kid! time to go home!”

as they leave, satoru shoots you one last smile and you swear you can hear your heartbeat quicken.

that was the last time megumi was ever your student and the first time satoru made you swoon.

[russellbby]

pairings: daniel ricciardo x platonic!verstappen!rb driver!reader (face claim: various girls on pinterest)

in which: daniel ricciardo and the younger verstappen are no longer teammates..

a/n: formula 1 will miss you danny ric!!💔

instagram

skysportsf1

Liked by y/n.verstappen, jensonbutton and 2,016,836 others

skysportsf1: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced. Liam Lawson will race in place of Ricciardo for the remaindering 6 races of the season.

view all 30,482 comments

username Daniel deserves better💔

username We will miss you honey badger!🍯🦡

username This is not fair, you can’t do this to us!!!

username No one is hurting more than Y/N Verstappen..

username I hate this season.

username F1 won’t be the same without you Danny!!

username No more Y/n and Danny content😭😭

username Y/n looked so sad at Singapore, she must of known it was their last one💔

//

twitter

//

instagram

y/n.verstappen

Liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 3,582,026 others

y/n.verstappen: Danny, you’ve known me ever since I was a little kid, you were there at my first race in F4/F3/F2, when I won my F2 championship, when I got a seat in formula 1, my first points, my first win and many more moments.

What is the best one of all? When we became teammates, I don’t think I have had that much fun, laughed so much, loved the battles we had on track, the shoey you made me do after my first win and just the overall joy of being your teammate. I can’t thank you enough for everything you have done for me and everything you helped me through.

You always brought a big smile, laughs and positivity to everyone. Formula 1 is going to be weird without you here, you’ll be missed by everyone (especially me). I love you like an older brother, keep your head up, you know I’ll always be here for you, until next time❤️

tagged: danielricciardo

view all 28,639 comments

username Y/n…what are u doing to us?!?😭

username Best teammates💗

username Sorry Max, love your sister and Danny’s friendship more🤣🤣

username I’m going to miss this!!

maxverstappen1 I’ll always be his favourite Verstappen!

y/n.verstappen No you aren’t??

maxverstappen1 Uhh yea I am!

danielricciardo How have I dealt with you both???

username Everyone applaud Daniel for surviving the verstappen siblings🤣

username I’m going to miss this so much!!

username No one Danny & Y/n content💔

danielricciardo Thank you lil one going to miss you too, until next time❤️

y/n.verstappen ❤️

landonorris favouritism, didn’t reply to my comment

maxverstappen1 My sister over me?! Really mate? :(

y/n.verstappen suck if losersss😚

alex_albon Don’t leave us with her ALONE

georgerussell63 menace incoming..

danielricciardo Good luck guys :)

username Omg😂😂

username Y/n is going to be brutal now as Daniel isn’t there to step in and stop her🤣

username I can’t wait to see what Y/n gets up too😭

//

instagram story

danielricciardo added to his story 15s

Seen by 2,583,926 viewers

Replies:

y/n.verstappen Thank u Dannyyy, I’ll do it for us!!🤍

username This is so cute!!!

username Live for this friendship!!

username Thanks for taking care of Y/n💗

username I’m betting so much that Max and Lando have complained about this😭

maxverstappen1 I see that you have a favourite Verstappen🙄

username I love that you either call Y/n kid or lil one !!

username I’m going to miss this duo so much..

username Like an older brother to her, thanks for taking care of our girl!

landonorris Where’s my post?

username She’s going to keep going for u both!!

username Thanks for everything Honey Badger❤️

//

twitter

[holllandtrash]

long live | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (epilogue to fragile line)

long live the walls we crashed through i had the time of my life with you long, long live the walls we crashed through how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

time passes and feelings may fade, but the memories never will word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: time jumps like always, angst and heartbreak but it's not all sad this time, or is it?

four years later

“Daniel Ricciardo, 2025 Formula 1 World Champion, The Honey Badger,” James Hinchcliffe put his arm around the fellow commentator, “Tell us what you know.”

“What I know, Hinch,” Daniel repeated, taking a dramatic look up towards the clear sky. “What do I know?”

They didn’t need to act like they were friends for the camera, James and Daniel had grown close in a short time, ever since Daniel put down the helmet and picked up a microphone, Replacing the racing overalls with a suit and tie. He had the personality to be a motorsports commentator. No one was surprised when he was announced as Sky Sports newest reporter following his Formula 1 retirement. 

And James, a fellow retired driver himself from the IndyCar side, a Canadian with the humour and the banter that could keep up with Daniel, they were truly one of the best duos when it came to motorsports broadcasting.

They weren't often together, though. Daniel stuck to Formula 1. James was a regular for IndyCar. There were only a handful of races where they came together and the Indianapolis 500 was one of them. 

They were a comedic duo last year at the 2026 running, it only made sense to bring Daniel back again this year.

“Who’s your money on?” James asked. The question was innocent enough, proposed to most people who didn’t have an association with any team.

Daniel had his answer. Before the race weekend started he had an answer. Before the season started he had an answer. 

But he hesitated. 

Or, maybe froze was a better word. Daniel froze when he dropped his gaze from the sky and looked further down the pit lane. They didn’t plan on standing a few slots away from the number 6 car of Arrow McLaren, but that's where they found themselves.

Daniel froze when he spotted the familiar face sitting on the bench in the pit wall, looking at the data on the screens and nodding along with the engineer as he spoke. Daniel froze, because even though he knew exactly who was driving that car, he still wasn’t prepared for what he would do when he saw the driver.

When he saw you. 

You guys had agreed, long ago, that there would be no more interactions. That your careers, your lives, would be better if the other stayed as far away as possible.

Daniel knew that even now, four years later, he had no right to talk to you, to talk about you. He knew that at this point, it was for the best that ties were still cut, that the conversations didn’t happen. It had been over a year since your last interaction, he was in no position to change that. 

And he tried, desperately, over the years to follow the rules you agreed on. You as well kept your distance, you had to. 

But you were only human. There had been a few slip ups over the years.

For the remainder of the season, after the Austin race, you both had stuck to your word. You stopped giving the world the moments they were waiting for. You refused to interact with each other, you forced yourself to stop caring. 

It grew easier with time. The 2024 season was challenging in itself, but with Max and Daniel fighting amongst each other in a league of their own, you knew you couldn’t fight them in a McLaren. All you could do was make the most of what you had. 

Lando and you had a strong opening those first few races. McLaren was third in the constructors for a short time until other teams started to catch up, filling in the holes of their designs. 

You quite literally didn’t have time to care about Daniel when you were so focused on the rest of the grid, your actual competition. Ferrari, Mercedes, Aston Martin even. Your upgrades were no match with theirs and by the end of the season, it was disappointing to look back without a podium to reminisce on. Lando scored two, one in Spa, the other in Singapore. You did well, but not well enough to bring home a trophy.

2025 was…different.

In many ways. Firstly, the McLarens showed consistency as the season continued. You and Lando were always top contenders for points.  

Secondly, Daniel was giving Max a run for his money. He had a bit the year prior, but this season was far more competitive. You, like everyone else, was dying to see who would pull through and score that first place trophy at the end of the day, but you had to hide your desires for it to be Daniel. 

You still hadn’t spoken. You had successfully veered away from any accidental interactions. His name stayed out of your mouth and at this point, everyone on the grid knew there was a disconnect. You both had gone out of your way, this year and in 2024, to assure there would be no media appearances together, no driver conferences, nothing that the online world could twist. 

But you couldn’t do anything about still being happy for him. That would never go away. You would always want Daniel to succeed. You just couldn’t be watching the screens when he podiumed. You couldn’t go out with him and the others to celebrate. You couldn’t wish him a congrats in passing like Lando could if you were walking down the paddock. 

Daniel felt the same. While the love was gone, there was nothing he could do about those proud moments. He wanted you to make a name in this sport, to make history. He wanted you to be someone and even though he once wanted to be at your side while you planted your roots, he couldn’t.

Except that one time when he physically was at your side. 

There was a mistake in the media pen scheduling on that Thursday in Miami. From what you knew, Daniel was supposed to be in the press conference and you’d be one of the ten unlucky few that had to stand under the Miami sun in the football field, talking about how you were looking forward to this race when in reality you personally thought this was the worst race on the calendar. 

But it was too hot to complain about anything other than the heat and how you needed to change shirts as soon as the media pen segment was over because the breathable material of your papaya polo was anything but breathable.

You had barely stepped into the roped off circle to join the other drivers when you heard your name being called. Glancing over your shoulder, it took a second to realise that the call was coming from a young girl running in your direction. Her paddock lanyard flailing over her shoulder as she sprinted, one hand held onto her McLaren hat so it wouldn’t fall off.

“She can’t be here-”

“Piss off, she’s fine,” you weren’t even sure who you interrupted, but you didn’t give the risk of a reprending a second thought as you stepped forward to meet the young fan.

She was small, and you weren’t a professional when it came to guessing the ages of kids but you would put her somewhere in the range of six and eight. Maybe?

You knelt down to be more at eye level, “Hi darling, what’s your name?”

“Cara,” she answered, slightly out of breath. There was a gap in her teeth from where she must have just lost one, but it didn’t affect her grin at all. 

“Hi Cara,” you smiled at her, only then noticing she wore a shirt with your last name on it. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw an older gentleman running towards her. “Is that your dad?”

Cara looked and then nodded, but she didn’t care that she had completely abandoned him and given him a heart attack. “I saw you last year here. You finished fifth, my dad took me to watch. He says you- he says that you’re the only girl driver.”

“I am the only girl driver,” you confirmed, pouting slightly. You brushed your hand over her shoulder to smooth out the material of the shirt, “That should change soon, don’t you think? All of these boys need to be put in their place and I can’t do it alone.”

“I can join,” Cara suggested. The carefree optimism was a rare sight at one of these race weekends, but you admired it in Cara. She was too young to know the difficulties of being a female in this field and hopefully by the time she grew up, there were less walls for her to climb over, just doors to open. 

“You can join,” you nodded at the idea, laughing slightly, mostly because her dad had caught up to her and he was more out of breath than she saw. You smiled at him but looked back at Cara, “Do you race?”

“Yes!”

“No,” her dad answered, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet, at least. We’ve signed her up for karting this summer, we’ll see how it goes.”

“I can already tell you’ll be a natural,” you told Cara. Watching her face light up was probably the most rewarding feeling you’d get all weekend. 

“I want to be like you. I want to win races, I want to win a championship!”

“You know what Cara, I can’t break every record, being the first girl driver. So I’ll save the championship one for you, how about that? I want to see you become the first girl to win the championship.” You gave her arm a squeeze and then stood up, turning your focus to her dad. 

He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and although you couldn’t make assumptions that he was single, the greying hair at a fairly young age and the bags under his eyes told you that he was mostly likely the main caretaker for Cara. 

“She’s got dreams,” you said.

He nodded, but smiled proudly, “That she does.”

You didn’t want to speak negatively about this industry in front of Cara, you didn’t want to crush her dreams, but you also didn't want her to grow up and be hopelessly disappointed either.

“It’s not easy for girls in this sport,” you told him. “But if she’s serious, if both of you are, look into working with Mary from Victory Speedway, located out in Tampa. She’s got contacts with F1 Academy as well. They’re goal is to make it easier.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, holding out his hand to shake. “And thank you for talking with Cara. Both of us are big fans, you truly are inspiring.”

You chatted for a bit longer, ignoring Oliver who was at your side reminding you that you had media duties. They could wait. A photo with the girl that seemed to be your biggest fan and maybe one day your predecessor, couldn’t wait.

No one really heard what you spoke about, the other drivers had their own obligations in the media pen. 

Daniel, though, he listened. 

He was standing right near the entrance when Cara had run up. He had watched you bend down to chat with her, making her a priority opposed to the reporters. He was less than two feet away as he overheard your conversation and when you turned around, ready to get the media day over with, you met his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t look away.

Daniel wanted to tell you he admired that conversation, the hope you installed in the young fan. He wanted to tell you that you made a great role model, for not just girls but all aspiring drivers. He wanted to say a lot of things to you.

He settled on a question, “You’re not trying to win the championship?”

This was the first time you had spoken in months and it wasn’t even in private. It was quite literally in front of cameras, reporters, people with audio recording devices and microphones. You opened your mouth slightly only to lock up, giving him an apologetic look because you both knew better than to be having any sort of interaction. 

You turned to face the first reporter, ignoring Daniel’s question completely. He just nodded to himself and walked to his own spot, keeping you in the corner of his eye. 

This young reporter, though, was also curious, having overheard what Daniel asked. 

“You’re not vying for a championship? Does Zak Brown know this?” He asked with a soft chuckle.

You shrugged and gave him a smile, “I mean, every driver's dream is the championship, but it’s not my goal currently. Your goals can, and should, be different than your dreams. And yes, Zak knows this, don’t you worry.”

“Your goal then, what is it?”

You inhaled, thinking to yourself for a second, “I’ve got a few and I have a good team supporting me while I work towards them. First would be to make as much history as I can, set as many records while I have a spot in Formula 1 and then I want to help other female drivers break them.”

“You want your records to be broken?”

“If it means getting more females into Formula 1, then yes.”

Daniel, who was in the middle of trying to listen to the reporter in front of him, smiled as he heard that. It was a very you response. He leaned forward, gripping the railing a bit because he completely misheard his own question and needed him to repeat it.

“And your other goal?” The young reporter asked you. 

Your lips curved into more of a devious smile, deciding to keep that one close to your chest. “Do you have any questions about the race this weekend? Or are you trying to write a biography on my life?”

Daniel was dying to know what it was too. He spent the rest of that media session racking through the memories of you, there were a lot, trying to think if you ever had that conversation. You must have, right? So why couldn’t he remember?

When all of you made your way out and back to the paddock, Daniel ignored the voice in his head telling him to just let it go. He completely drowned it out as he jogged up to your side, refraining from reaching out and brushing his hand over your elbow to grab your attention. Instead he just said, 

“Hey.”

You glanced up, instinctively stepping to the side as you walked to put more space between your bodies. 

“Hi,” you breathed out, pulling your eyes off of him and on the Red Bull motorhome that was coming up. This conversation would be short, he’d have to go back inside. You’d be fine for ten seconds, right?

“So what-” he cleared his throat. This shouldn’t have been awkward but it was. After so long of not even glancing at each other, there were new lines painted between you. Daniel didn’t know how to navigate them, and honestly, neither did you.

“Triple Crown, Dan,” you answered, knowing that's where he was going when he opened his mouth. 

The Triple Crown. Monaco. Indy 500. 24 Hours of Le Mans. 

He took a second to process that goal, not having expected it in the slightest. When he nodded, you could see the hurt in his eyes, only there was less pain and more distance. He didn’t know you like he thought he did.

“I never knew you were aiming for the Triple Crown.”

“You never asked.”

He had trained you, helped you become the best athlete you could be. He had introduced you to the right people. He acted as a mentor, but the conversations you had about racing were limited. There was a lack of communication in that sense because why bring work home with you? 

But that was the wedge driven between you. Had you talked about racing, contracts, your futures, you would have never found yourself in that McLaren contract scandal that ultimately broke you two up. 

He nodded, because what else could he say to that? You gave him a soft smile and told yourself to keep walking, to move to the other side of the paddock as Daniel headed into the Red Bull motorhome. 

You don’t interact again until Monaco. Daniel now knew winning this race meant more to you than others. Winning this would be one third of the Triple Crown checked off and as much as he was gunning for the podium, thankful for his P2 starting position, he saw that you were starting fourth and took a breath of relief. You had a shot.

Daniel wasn’t sure what came over him when he saw you in the paddock after qualifying. Maybe it was because you not completely shutting him down in Miami gave him a strange surge of confidence to approach you again, or maybe it was because he was ignoring all the voices in his head to just keep walking. Whatever it was, Daniel saw you chatting with a member of Sky Sports and as he walked passed, patted your shoulder in a congratulatory manner.

You paused whatever it was you were saying and turned in his direction, just in time to see him give you a smile and a thumbs up as he continued on his way. You returned it, but that small interaction had you stumbling over your words for the next two hours. 

Not because you were smitten, you were past that. You didn’t look at Daniel anymore and lose your train of thought, you didn’t get lost in a daze and allow everything else to fade around you.

But he didn’t seem to let go of you completely yet, and you could work with that. You could be civil. You could be neutral during race weekends, as long as it didn’t go further than the friendly smiles and minimal chats.

It shouldn’t have been hard to keep the conversations short, you hadn’t actually had anything meaningful to say to each other in over a year. When you ran into him after the race on Sunday, after he claimed the title of Monaco Grand Prix race winner for a second time, you should have just said congratulations and kept walking.

But Daniel saw you as he was propped up against the side of the Red Bull motorhome and then he stood up straighter, almost inviting you to walk up to him. There were no cameras around anymore, the majority of the paddock had gone home so you felt safer, sort of. If the world hadn’t lost their minds at the clip of him patting your back yesterday, you could talk to him now.

The Red Bull engineer he was with said his goodbyes and smiled politely at you as you approached, stopping at a safe distance.

“Another Monaco win under your belt.”

“So it seems,” Daniel tried his best to not look too proud of himself. You could see his dimples poking through. You wanted him to not be holding back, you missed his grin but gone were the days when he didn’t have to refrain with you. 

“You deserve it,” you nodded, glancing over your shoulder out of habit. You were scared of any stragglers with iPhones, but no one around seemed to care that you and Daniel were talking. You were drivers, it shouldn’t have been a strange sight.

“You deserve it,” Daniel playfully shot back. “I mean, I couldn’t just hand it over this year though, despite your Triple Crown goal.”

“Oh but next year? You’ll let me have it then?” You asked, eyebrows raised. It was a joke, a small tease, but Daniel’s smile slipped and you caught it. You caught it and you stepped forward, hand flinching because it would be moments like this where you’d want to reach for him but you couldn’t do that anymore, could you?

Daniel tensed. Now it was his turn to look anxiously around, “I might not-” a sharp inhale passed through his lips, “Yeah I might not be here next year.”

You scoffed because that idea was preposterous, “Oh shut up.”

“No it’s true,” Daniel said, but his smile told you that he wasn’t sad about it. “You know how your goal is the Triple Crown?”

“Yes.”

“Mine’s the championship, sweets.”

You weren’t given an opportunity to react to the nickname because he continued on explaining without missing a beat. Either he didn’t see the way saying sweets affected you or he didn’t even notice he said it because even after all this time, it still came naturally to him. 

“There’s a clause in my contract,” he said. “If I win the championship this year, we can renegotiate. I can leave, I can- I can retire. The way I want to.”

You didn’t know how to process this. 

Daniel belonged in Formula 1. He fought so hard for his seat, he was a mess when he was left without one and now there was a chance he’d be gone? 

And even though you were only eight races in, already he was leading the driver standings over Max, not by much, but he was. There was a strong possibility Daniel could take the championship home at the end of the season.

You couldn’t say what was on your mind. You couldn’t say, selfishly, I hope you lose the championship. You couldn’t say that it was impossible to imagine the paddock without him because even those few months when he wasn’t racing, he was still there. 

“We’ve still got a few months to go,” Daniel’s voice broke you from your thoughts, trying to move to a brighter note because that’s just who he was. “But this could be good for you. You’ll have a real shot at winning Monaco next year. But I mean- you technically already won Monaco.”

“That was F2.”

“I think it still counts.”

“I think I’ll win it again, just to be safe.”

Daniel liked that response, he liked how confident you were that the win was coming. He nodded and he really would have liked to talk to you more about this, about his potential leave, about your success, but when he was called from across the paddock you didn’t hesitate before saying goodbye. The conversation was long enough.

Things seemed lighter between you after that. 

You didn’t stop yourself from being visibly happy when he was doing well. You laughed if you overheard the stupid shit he said in the paddock. You didn’t make a big deal about it when you two were signed up for the same press conference session. Granted, you still sat on complete opposite ends of the couch, but you sat there with a smile because you liked hearing Daniel talk about the lead he still carried in the standings.

Spa was the turning point for you two.

While you hadn’t taken any more steps beyond paddock conversations and friendly interactions, what was Daniel supposed to do when you both ended up on the podium together? Him on top, claiming first, you right next to him on the second step?

You both held back when you climbed out of the cars. He opted for a friendly pat on the back even though he wanted nothing more than to bring you in for an embrace. You had podiumed once already this season, but not with Daniel. You stood between the two Mercedes drivers back in Austria but now you were there, with Daniel at your side, both of you beaming. 

You were proud of yourselves. You were proud of each other. 

Both of you had dreamt of this moment, standing next to each other on the podium. You still remembered that conversation years ago, trying to imagine what it would be like to hear the cheers for both of you.

‘You’ll have to do a shoey.’

‘Only if you win. I’m not doing one if I win.’

You had shared this dream when you were in love and even though that wasn’t the case anymore, the dream was still very much alive. Because of that, it almost didn’t feel right. 

It felt sort of unfulfilling, despite you being handed a heavy trophy. 

But this was a moment that you would remember for the rest of your life. All of your accomplishments were held very close to your heart but this one meant more than you could put into words. 

Hands shaking, crowd going wild, you were on top of the world and you were standing next to the man you used to be in love with. You glanced to the side to watch him, not able to stop yourself from smiling wide and then wider still as he held his head high like a hero. 

Daniel was larger than life. 

He always would be. 

You tried not to let yourself think that this might be the only chance you’d get to stand here with him. This win only pushed him further ahead in the championship and you were, seemingly, the only one who knew this year would be his last if he ended up winning. 

You had to hold onto this moment. It wouldn’t come again. 

To everyone watching at home, this was the start of a new age with you and Daniel. Fans could see the way you two interacted, the sheer joy you had for each other, something they hadn’t seen since you still raced in F2. 

To you, this was the beginning of the end. 

Finally, you and Daniel were getting to a place where things could be good and in a few short months, he’d be gone.

You couldn’t think about it more, not when you felt champagne being sprayed in your direction. You were late to the game and popped yours after Daniel and Max had, but you still joined in with the celebration. 

You laughed when Daniel took his shoe off and poured some of the bubbly liquid into the sole. He laughed when you refused to drink it, both of you ignoring the fact that if you were still in love, if you were still together, you would have done the shoey with him. 

Daniel was content with the nod. He knew you were happy for him, the same way he was happy for you. But neither of you could show it the way you wanted to. 

The championship win was decided at the second last race of the season, Qatar.

You didn’t have a good weekend, and you knew this. You took responsibility for the poor qualifying, the bad performance, for all of it. But you were distracted, unable to keep yourself from thinking about Daniel because if he won this race, he won it all. 

And then he’d walk away.

You were conflicted. You wanted to see Daniel take home the win but selfishly, you wanted him in Formula 1. You always wanted him in Formula 1. 

So when he crossed that line, ahead of Max, ahead of the rest of the grid, when he did celebratory donuts and stood on the podium with his chin held high, you stood on the sidelines and ignored how you used to wish for a day like this, wished for a day where he would be crowned the Championship Winner.

Daniel Ricciardo. 2025 Formula 1 World Champion. 

It had a nice ring to it. 

That’s what you told him that night when you were out at dinner and saw him sitting with a few members from his team just a few feet away. You weren’t surprised to see him at the establishment, it was exclusive, it was way overpriced and it was where many drivers went prior to going out and partying. 

You avoided his eyes that evening, scared that if you’d meet them you’d be forced to accept the reality that he really was leaving. At least, you know, if you didn’t look at him, you could live in your own little world where he wasn’t gone just yet.

You were genuinely annoyed when you bumped into him after leaving the toilets. The hall was dim, narrow and there was quite literally nowhere for you to go when he turned the corner and stopped walking when he saw you. 

“Hi,” you swallowed, anxiously smoothing out the skirt you wore, even more anxiously trying to avoid his eyes.

“Hi,” Daniel slid his hands into his pockets. His Enchante shirt clung to his skin due to the heat, but you told yourself you weren’t allowed to look at the way his little curls stuck to his forehead. 

“You, um-” you held your hand out. “Congratulations, really. Daniel Ricciardo. 2025 Formula 1 World Champion. It’s got a nice ring to it.”

He laughed and nodded along, “Yeah, yeah, thank you.”

When he leaned against the wall, you realised you were stuck. There was no getting out of this conversation. No escaping this reality. 

It didn’t help that the rest of the dining room faded behind him. The people, the sounds, the light, it was just Daniel. 

Just Daniel and just you.

How it always should have been.

How it would never be again.

You opened your mouth, intent on saying something else about his win but all that came out was a shaky breath and a choked back sob that triggered the tears you didn’t even know were building. It was quiet, but it was desperate and it was painful and Daniel didn’t hesitate before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. Your cries were muffled against his shirt and Daniel stroked your back and then your hair, holding you tight against him.

You were happy for him, really. If anyone deserved this win, it was him but god you were devastated because up until now, you didn’t realise you still held this much love for him. Up until now, you didn’t realise that even after everything, you still needed him.

You needed him.

“What am I going to do without you on the grid?” You asked, your voice was already quiet but it was even more so muffled as you spoke directly into his body.

Daniel chuckled, it vibrated through his chest. “What you’ve been doing this whole time, sweets. You’ll make history. You’ll put the rest of the guys in their places. You’ll be the driver I know you to be.”

It took a few seconds, maybe a few minutes actually, of just standing there and crying into his chest until you snapped out of it. You weren’t dating anymore, your conversations now didn’t last longer than five minutes, it was embarrassing to be losing it in front of him, because of him.

You stepped back and wiped your eyes, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t- I just-”

“I’ll miss you too, Y/N,” he breathed out. 

You nodded, because if you tried to say anything else you would be crying again. Daniel held his finger up and walked into the toilets to grab some tissue for you. It took another minute for you to be able to trust your voice again.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” you dabbed at your cheeks, knowing you’d have to go back to the hotel to fix your make up before going out again. 

“I’ve got things lined up,” Daniel shrugged.

“Care to share?”

He tried to hide his smile and failed miserably, “Just don’t be surprised if I show up at the track next year with a microphone instead of a helmet.”

That was about as much he would say as his deal with Sky Sports wasn’t yet official. 

But now you felt more like an idiot for crying about him leaving if he wasn’t even actually leaving. You’d still see him. He’d still be around. You could work with that.

Daniel could still be proud of your accomplishments, even if he was on the sidelines. 

He was, however, a little conflicted when you won the last race of the 2025 season.

You made history in Abu Dhabi. The first female driver to win a race. This was a wall you had spent years trying to crash through and now there you were. On top of the podium, on top of the world as confetti fell to the ground around you, champagne sprayed in all directions. 

This was your moment.

Your win, your first win and all you wanted was Daniel up on that podium with you. As happy as you were to celebrate with Max and George, you couldn’t deny something was missing. 

Because you really could never cut yourself off from Daniel completely, could you? You could try, you could attempt to distance yourself, you could stop the interactions and you could tell yourself you didn’t care but you were right that day you told Lando that Daniel was your missing piece.

So it made sense that you were at a bit of a loss for words when he showed up at your hotel room that next morning. 

You invited him in, despite being slightly hungover. He didn’t care that your clothes were spread all throughout the room, but he did smile at the sight of your trophy on proud display on the table before you had to give it to your engineer for safe travels.

“So this is it,” you sighed, sitting down on the far side of the couch. Daniel sat down as well, the opposite side, arm stretched along the back of it.

“This is it,” he agreed. 

“When does the news drop?”

He clicked his tongue, “Tomorrow.”

“Who’s replacing you?”

“Not sure,” he scratched the stubble along his jaw. “My guess is Lawson or possibly Palou.”

You sat in silence for a while, thankful that it wasn’t uncomfortable because it easily could have been. 

But you both grew this season.

You could both admit now, being in love and being drivers was an unattainable dream.

But you could be drivers and you could still have love for each other. 

You reached across the couch, a gentle smirk playing on your lips as you nudged his arm, “So what are you going to say about me?”

Daniel dipped his head back and laughed, “What do you mean?”

“You know,” you shrugged. “Like when you talk about us drivers on Sky Sports. What are you going to say about me?”

“I’m going to say that not only did you steal my seat, but you stole the glory of my last race by winning.”

You rolled your eyes, recognizing the sarcasm but you were thankful his words weren’t malicious anymore, “I thought we were past this. I didn’t steal your seat, Dan.”

“No, but I don’t think I can joke about it on air so this is my last chance.”

You reached behind you and grabbed one of the throw pillows, smacking it against his chest. You chose to look at this playfully, instead of it as the inevitable end. 

And Daniel needed a second to think about your question anyway, so the joke was just a way to stall. Honestly, he was a little surprised that he hadn’t already thought about it considering you were on his mind more than you should have been. 

He cleared his throat and adjusted himself on the couch cushion. You could see that he was struggling to come up with a good response and you didn’t mean for this. You didn’t want him to think he had to choose his words carefully. 

“Hey,” you whispered, shifting closer to him, “Promise me something.”

You met his eyes, his dark brown eyes that once had such a strong hold over you. You looked at him and remembered why you fell in love with him in the first place. In this moment, it was hard to remember why you ever wanted to stop loving him.

Had you stopped loving him? Did that day really come?

You could have love for someone and not be in love with him anymore, but you didn’t think you’d find yourself in a position where you had to differentiate between the two. You thought, you knew, you would always be in love with Daniel that to sit here and think that maybe, possibly, you didn’t anymore, felt like a betrayal. 

He was supposed to be the one that stood by you through it all. The good, the bad, the wins, the losses. It wasn’t supposed to end with you two sitting on the couch and admitting that this truly was over. 

It wasn’t supposed to end like this, but you always knew it would. 

Fate stepped in and whether you liked it or not, it was forcing you into a goodbye, into an acceptance that your lives would no longer be intertwined, that you couldn’t go back to the way things were. 

“Anything,” Daniel spoke softly. Maybe one day he would have said, I’d promise you the world, if you asked, but that seemed a little too forward for the moment.

“Be honest, Dan,” you told him, your hand finding his over the edge of the couch. Your thumb brushed against his fingers and both of you fought the urge to just connect them further. “Tell them my name, but tell them how I got to Formula 1. Tell them it was you, that you helped me pave the way, that you helped me make a name in this sport. Don’t just point to the pictures of me, point to the ones of us. Now that you’re done with racing, I don’t care about the assumptions, the rumours, any of it. Tell people how it really was you and I, how we were the team that should have been, that never was, please,  because even though I know-” 

You paused, taking a second to swallow the lump at the back of your throat. You glanced at your hand and maybe it was you or maybe it was him, but your fingers started to interlock. Your eyes stayed glued to the touch as your last admittance filled the air between you.

“I know I could have made it to Formula 1 without you, but I can’t put into words how thankful I am that I didn’t have to.”

Daniel nodded, because he agreed with you. He knew you could have gotten here without him but he too was grateful he was by your side for the start of it. He agreed that you two really were the team that never was but should have been. He nodded and agreed that he would say all of those things.

But you knew that he wouldn’t.

Those words were for him, not the rest of the world. 

He would tell people that you shined on top of the podium. He would say that the crowds went wild, louder for you than any other driver.

And he would never say that he had any part of shaping your career. Despite you knowing he did, despite the whole world knowing he played a detrimental part, Daniel didn’t hold onto those connections when you went on to race in 2026 and he stood in the commentators box. 

He stayed neutral, surprisingly. 

It helped that he didn’t interact with many drivers or if he did, it was never you. He did talk about you, but only about your performance on the track. His colleagues knew not to bring up your past, not when the only thing that mattered was how well you were doing in the present.

He had some thoughts when you announced you were making the switch to IndyCar at the end of this season, but mostly because you made that announcement before the Monaco Grand Prix, before you claimed the win you were chasing, before you could check off one third of the Triple Crown.

He wanted to pull you aside and question why you were making this choice but he couldn’t. He also couldn’t call you out publicly on air like other reporters had. 

All he could do was hold his breath after you qualified P2 in Monaco. He sat on the edge of his seat, struggling to do his job, struggling to commentate on the race because the second you made the move to overtake Max and it worked, Daniel had to leave the room. 

He had to leave because he knew that if you kept the lead, if you won, he couldn’t celebrate the way he wanted to with cameras on him. Instead, he watched from the privacy of a separate media suite. The broadcast was a few seconds delayed but at least he was able to cheer and be visibly proud of you and not have to hold back when you crossed the line ahead of Max.

You won the Monaco Grand Prix, in a McLaren of all cars, and now he knew what you were gunning for next.

The Indy 500. 

Signing that Arrow McLaren deal ended up being the right move after all.

“Who’s your money on?” James Hinchcliffe asked him as they stood on the pit lane where the teams were preparing for the greatest spectacle in racing. The question was innocent enough, proposed to most people who didn’t have an association with any team.

Daniel had his answer. Before the race weekend started he had an answer. Before the season started, he had an answer. Despite knowing you were still far from winning the Indy 500, his money would always be on you. 

You looked up from where you sat on the Arrow McLaren bench and you smiled at him.

You were having a pretty good season, for a rookie. With O’Ward and Rossi as your teammates, you knew you couldn’t compare, but they were good people to have on your team, in your corner. They helped you, guided you through the shift from Formula 1 to Indy and you could be proud that in a grid of 26 drivers, you were 11th in the standings. 

“Not betting on anyone, James,” Daniel answered, but his eyes were still locked on you and his smirk said otherwise. “It’ll be a good race.”

He could say your name, he wanted to. But Daniel stayed as far away from your life as he could because you decided on it a long time ago and nothing that happened since told him that you’d be going back on that decision, that you wanted him back in your life.

He might not have been a driver anymore, but you still were. So he was content with being civil, neutral. He was fine with the friendly smiles and if an old photo of the two of you circulated every now and again, well, he didn’t hate it. 

He sat with the rest of the Indy commentators during the race. He shared his honest opinions throughout and he, along with the other reporters, praised Alexander Rossi for taking home his second Indy 500 victory, eleven years after his first. 

But that was not the Arrow McLaren driver he wished was celebrating in Victory Lane.

Daniel waited until his job was done, but he knew he had to find you before the day ended. He wanted to congratulate you on finishing twelfth. That was something he was proud of and he hoped you were as well. 

It would only go up from there. The Indy 500 was still an achievable goal. 

He found you in the paddock. It wasn’t hard. You stood out, even in the crowd of people. He waited off to the side and watched you take photos with young girls, young fans that resembled that one girl in Miami, all of them looking up to you and thanking you for paving the way for them, for other females in motorsport.

It was by chance that you looked over your shoulder and saw Daniel standing there. He nodded, wordlessly assuring you that he could wait, to take your time with the fans. 

He ended up waiting almost fifteen minutes. 

Eventually, you started to approach him. Daniel stood up straighter, having been leaning against the Penske trailers until you were done. You still had your racing overalls on, but unzipped and hanging loosely on your hips. The black fireproofs under the papaya looked good on you, but Daniel hadn’t let himself appreciate your appearance for years, he couldn’t start now, even if he really wanted to.

“Hey,” you called out when you were only a few steps away.

“Hey yourself,” Daniel chuckled. When you finally stood in front of him, he was sort of expecting to see a sliver of defeat, but you were happy. You may not have won the 500, but you had a good run and there was always next year. Plus, you still had the rest of the season to finish. The season wasn’t over, you could still make history in this sport. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and glanced around, jaw clenched until you finally worked up the courage to meet his eyes. 

“So,” you inhaled a breath. “You’ve got some time on your hands now that you’re retired, right?”

Daniel wasn’t sure where this was going but he laughed and nodded, “Somewhat, yes, but I do still work race weekends.”

“But Monday through Wednesday?”

He pondered it for a second, just for dramatic effect. “I’m fairly open.”

You nodded, hoping for that answer. 

If you were being honest with yourself, this was a conversation you wanted to have with Daniel since he announced his retirement almost two years ago, you just never knew what the outcome would be.

You felt a bit safer now, knowing that he was based out of the UK and your races were only North American. If he hated where you were going with this, well, it was rare you’d be crossing paths so soon afterwards. 

You just had to blurt it out.

“Ever thought about being a trainer?” You asked. “Or a manager? Mentor even? You know- my last mentor walked out on me-”

Daniel cut you off with a booming laugh, “Walked out? Really? Is that what you tell people?”

Him playing along with your humour felt like a weight off your shoulders, “Only if they ask.”

Daniel, finally, didn’t have to refrain himself anymore. He felt confident enough to drape his arm over your shoulders and walk with you down the paddock. For once, he didn’t care if people looked or recorded and secretly, he hoped they did. 

All he wanted was to be at your side. All he wanted was for the world to know he was proud of you, that, if you asked, he’d be back in your corner.

And you were asking.

“So you need a mentor?” He repeated. “A trainer?”

Your hand slipped around his waist. It was natural, comforting, right.

“Well, I need to win the 500 eventually and then I need to get into Le Mans. I can’t do it alone.”

Daniel looked at you, wearing that stupid grin you missed so much even if you had memorised it the first day you met. You missed him, despite hearing his voice on the broadcasts and seeing him in the paddock. You missed him, he was your missing piece after all.

Daniel looked at you, and you knew, you weren’t alone.

__________________

the end ♡

taglist: @torossosebs@whatthefuckerr@jspitwall@oconso@tsarinablogs@landowecanbewc@somanyfandomsbruh@christianpulisic10@storminacloud@sunnytkm23@formula1mount@azxulaa@icarus-nex@spideyspeaches @moonvr @destourtereaux @baw-sixteen @cinderellawithashoe @love4lando @alesainz @blueanfield @itsmeempar @vellicora @simple-soul-searcher

for some reason im struggling to add people to the taglist, i deeply apologise

[sebscore]

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS | DANIEL VER.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

warnings: none (?)

author’s note: time for the honey badger 💛 another headcanons post for our lovely daniel this time!

headcanons masterlist

• • • • • • •

:: older brother x younger sister duo

:: but he’s also her weird uncle at the same time.

:: She met Daniel for the first time in 2014 when Sebastian invited her and her family to one of the GP’s.

:: He swears he remembers it, but Y/N is confident that he doesn’t.

:: They’re the chaotic sunshines of the paddock.

:: He send her a box of his wine and she opened it on Instagram Live, and got drunk in front of thousands of people.

:: He was freaking out in the comments.

:: They can also have deep talks with each other.

:: They are there for each other and reach when either one of them is visibly having a hard time.

:: Y/N felt very disappointed when it was confirmed that Daniel wouldn’t be on the grid anymore.

:: She still sees him often, but it doesn’t feel the same anymore.

:: okay more positive now, it’s getting sad :(

:: Daniel encourages her unhinged behaviour, because it makes him look normal next to her.

:: But often she includes him in the chaos.

:: Have they started fake arguing in the middle of a driver’s briefing because it was boring?

:: …

:: maybe.

:: He once convinced her to do a shoey on the podium.

:: She threw up afterwards.

:: He paid for her medicine.

:: Just like Lando’s jpg account, Daniel’s is practically a fanaccount for the female driver.

:: Overall, they’re comedic chaos and the duo that just puts a smile on your face cause you can’t help but love them :)

taglist :: @lorarri @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

@mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1

[sparklingcid3r]

johnny and darry connection too that when they reunite at the hospital darry also explains to the doctor that he is the closest to a responsible parent johnny has so the doctor will tell them abt his condition. and this after like having just cried to pony and scaring off the reporters who were badgering them

johnny and darry underrated duo? more likely than u think. i need someone to clutch up and drop fics abt them pls🙏