#chico x reader

[r0nc0npasas]

Okay so, hear me out

Dick Grayson right? okay, now. Stay with me here.

Enzo Vogrincic.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE YOU GUYS SEE IT TOO RIGHT????/!;&/ PLEASE HEAR ME OUT. POR FAVOR SE LOS PIDO NO ESTOY LOCA ES PERFECTO. Hagamos al Nightwing uruguayo🙏😩

[kjiscrawlingbackformore]

Blade

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!reader

Summary: Post!Rescue Natalie comes knocking at your window like she always does every few weeks, months. This time it’s a bit more serious than for a place to stay while nursing a hangover.

Warning: Blood, wounds, trauma

A/N : small natalie blurb. idk Natalie was just on my mind tonight😭 i just feel like she deserves all the love in the entire world ☝🏼

You weren’t expecting her. You really weren’t. You were never exactly close. Maybe a few conversations here and there before the crash. Banter in between practices, flirting at parties, joking around during group hangs. Not friends but not strangers either.

Now, after the crash…that changed… over time, of course. It became something entirely different and raw, more than banter, flirting, joking around. It was need, survival, love.

And being back…home. Well, you still wouldn’t call each other friends, but now it’s more than friends. Just something less than lovers. And even though she’s reverted to this shell of the person you once knew.

You couldn’t ever hate her. Not when she was the reason you were here. Living in your shitty apartment overlooking Manny’s bodega and the NYC tourist trap gift shop. Yet you didn’t love it when she showed up unannounced the way she did every few weeks.

She came barreling into your world and would always make things messy. Always drunk, always needy, always clinging to you for something deeper. And you fucking answered every time. Every call, every doorbell ring, every emergency contact call.

You made yourself embarrassingly available for the platinum blonde.

So when she knocked on your window by the fire escape. Looking up at you with that pathetic look in her eye. You couldn’t ignore her. You opened the window and watched as she tumbled ungracefully onto the floor of your living room.

“Hi,” Natalie mumbled.

You stared at her with an unimpressed look. You were eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes, and about to put on an episode of The Amazing Race. You could hear a shuffle from the corner of the room, and you saw your cat waltz up to Natalie and begin his usual nuzzle of the girl. His purring loud as fuck from where you stood.

Natalie’s frown goes into a faint grin, petting the orange cat. You couldn’t help but sigh, trying to ignore the flip your stomach did at the sight.

You wouldn’t say you were obsessed with Natalie but that certainly didn’t extend to your cat. He was in love with her. You were sure he loved her more than you.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, Rancho. We get it, your girlfriend is here.” You mumbled, pulling him away from her, to help her stand up.

She looked paler than normal. She was sweating profusely, and her breathing was shaky. You grab her face gently, moving her head in a circular motion, your eyes scanning her face, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“M feeling no good,” Natalie slurred.

It was the only explanation you got. Her breath didn’t smell like liquor, but it did smell like smoke. You frowned and wrapped your arm around her waist to walk her to your couch. You sat her down and she collapsed into the cushions like she was dead weight.

“Holy shit Nat. What is up?” You whispered under your breath.

No answer. A frown dug deeper into your face. You start to look over her form, and that’s when you see her hand. Holding onto her lower abdomen. You peel back her jacket to find…

Blood. A lot of blood.

“Shit! Natalie what the fuck happened???” You asked, voice higher than before.

She didn’t answer, she just stared at you. Big blue eyes glassy, but intense. Silence filled the space between you two before you cursed under your breath. 

Got it. 

You take off her jacket and stand up. You sprinted to the hallway closet, yanked open the door, and tore down the red Target-brand first aid kit you kept mostly untouched. It landed on the coffee table with a thud. Gauze. Alcohol pads. Tweezers. Not nearly enough.

“Where’s the wound, Nat?” You asked kneeling down in front of her.

She takes a shaky inhale and lifts her shirt for you to see that the wound is on the left side of her, just below the ribs. You keep the shirt pulled up and hiss at the sight. A deep slash just below the ribs. Not spurting, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding with one layer of gauze. Your hands were already sticky with it.

You grabbed a clean dish towel from the kitchen, folded it into a thick pad, and pressed it down. Natalie swore, arching away instinctively. The most she’s said so far.

“I know-I know. Just don’t close your eyes.” You say sternly.

You taped it down with the last of the duct tape from under the sink, then added another towel around her waist like a makeshift compression wrap. You stuffed a clean sock under the pressure point. It wasn’t fucking textbook. But it was something. Natalie’s eyes fluttered close.

You snapped your fingers loudly in front of her face. “Keep your eyes open. No passing out.”

“M not,” Nat muttered, eyelids heavy. “Just…blinking.”

“Good. You can’t fucking die on me right before I find out who’s making it to leg three of the Amazing Race.”

She gave you a shaky smile. Bloodied, bruised, barely upright…and still smirking. You sat back on your heels, breathing hard, staring at your hands.

“What the hell happened to you?” You whispered.

Natalie looked at you then, really looked, and for the first time, there was fear behind the sarcasm. “I think I made a mistake.”

You felt dread wash over you. What the fuck did Natalie get into? And why do you already know it’s going to fuck up your entire night. You swallow dryly, beginning to stand up and your halted by Natalie’s hand grabbing your arm, it’s a death grip.

Her eyes look scared. “Wait…d-dont leave. Stay…I-I just-can you-” You place your hand on top of hers softly. Halting her string of words.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” You assure her softly. “Do you want me to hold you or just be close to you?”

She is chewing on her bottom lip in thought before she inhales sharply. “Hold.”

You nod, and wordlessly, you turn on the TV. The Amazing Race intro begins to play. Natalie looks at the TV and then at you. Before silently watching, you sit at the end of the couch. And gently guide Natalie back into your chest. Helping her settle on top of you, as you very carefully position your hands to hold onto her waist.

You feel her melt under your touch. Her eyes focused on the tv screen, as her hands hold onto yours tightly. Like if she doesn’t hold onto you, she might disappear. You frown, your face buried in her shoulder. Feeling your heart clench inside your fucking chest.

You were so scared to hear what happened. You knew it had to do with those damn drug dealers, she’s been hanging around. You knew it was dangerous. But she wasn’t hearing it when you warned her. She never does.

You wished she would just-

Natalie's hand starts to tremble in yours. The action stops your thoughts. Your eyes snap to them, and her fingers are shaky as they trace words on the palms of your hands. Same palms with her dried blood on them.

Your eyes flicker to her face to see that she has silent tears falling down. Your eyebrows raise in concern, and without thinking you kiss her shoulder gently. She leans into the touch.

“Nat, what's wrong?” You ask softly.

Natalie shakes her head. “Nothing, just feel…safe.”

You nod and decide you will swallow your questions and drop it. You didn't need to know tonight. You didn’t need to fix it. You just needed to be her safe space. Even if it felt like a blade was going through your chest.

[lacharapita]

JORGE MARAVILHA

Matias Recalt x leitora

??? - palavrões, smutizinho [sexo oral, sexo sem proteção (nem inventa), fingering...], pai da leitora não gosta de pobre, marijuanaaaa

N.A - você não goxta de mim, masss sua filha goxxxta. We love Chico Buarque. Leiam ouvindo Jorge Maravilha amém bençõe obrigada vsf tmj

          — Matias que parecia querer ser pego pelo seu pai quando ia te visitar. — "É sério, Mati! 'Cê precisa ir agora. Se meu pai acordar e ver a gente ele me deporta p'ra casa do caralho." — Você dizia, as palavras em tom baixo saiam de seus lábios mas o olhar de Matias não saía de lá.

          — "E nessa tal de "casa do caralho" eu vou poder te comer em paz?" — Seus olhos se arregalaram com o palavreado do argentino. Colocava as mãos sobre o peito dele e o empurrava pelo jardim da enorme casa em que morava.

          — "Matias, rala!" — Você disse em alguns tons mais altos do que antes. Correu de volta para dentro da casa e sorriu observando o corpo magro de Matias pulando o muro coberto de folhas verdes de alguma planta cujo o nome não fazia ideia. Na ponta dos pés, caminhou até seu quarto e se jogou na cama macia, olhando o lustre logo acima de você e sorrindo boba lembrando da formiga que tinha arrumado para te incomodar.

— Matias que era um menino simples que você conheceu quando foi "dormir na casa de uma amiga" e acabaram parando em uma pista de skate rodeadas de maconha, bebidas duvidosas e outros garotos e garotas. Estava desesperadamente procurando por um banheiro, sentia a bexiga se contorcer, caminhando com as pernas cruzadas e rezando para que encontrasse logo o que tanto queria. Lembrou claramente de quando Matias apareceu na sua frente com um cigarro de palha entre os lábios e uma cerveja na mão.

          — "Não tem banheiro aqui não, lindeza." — Ele sorriu enquanto olhava para seu rosto de desespero, quase sentiu lágrimas de formando em seus olhos quando ouviu as palavras dele. — "Tem um carro ali oh." — Ele apontou para o carro estacionado a poucos metros de distância de onde vocês estavam. — "Vai lá que eu fico de olho p'ra ninguém chegar perto." — O desespero e a dor em sua bexiga falaram mais alto, agarrou a mão do argentino de pequeno porte e o levou até que estivesse perto do carro, correu para traz do veículo e sem pensar muito puxou a calcinha pelas pernas, se agachou e suspirou alto quando finalmente pode aliviar a pressão terrível em seu ventre.

          — "Puta que pariu." — Você praticamente gemeu enquanto arrumava a calcinha preta no lugar e caminhava até o argentino. — "Obrigada mesmo, eu 'tava morrendo já." — Ele acenou com a cabeça, sorrindo para a forma como você agradecia ele.

          — "Relaxa, nena. Quer fumar um?" — Você fingiu pensar antes de responder um "sim" e seguir o moreno até um banco de pedra em que um skate estava apoiado.

          — "É seu?" — Você perguntou enquanto se sentava na rocha fria e Matias tirava o baseado do bolso na bermuda comprida, logo se sentando ao seu lado.

          — "É sim! Ele é novo, comprei não tem nem uma semana." — Ele riu, dando uma tragada enquanto admirava o brinquedo novo e te entregava o baseado.

          — Matias que naquela noite, ali naquele banco, te deu o melhor beijo da sua vida. Te colocou sentada no colo dele e passava as mãos por todas as partes do seu corpo. Quando sua amiga te chamou, avisando que já estavam indo embora, Matias te passou o número dele e fez você jurar que mandaria mensagem para ele. Entretanto o maior problema era o seu pai, um homem rico, rígido e que odiava meninos como Matias. Fez questão de proibir você de ver o rapaz quando avistou vocês dois conversando na quadra de tênis do condomínio em que você morava. Sua maior sorte era que José Carlos, um dos porteiros, era um ótimo amigo e gostava muito de Matias, então nunca contou sobre as visitas que Matias fazia a você e fazia questão de te avisar que seu pai estava voltando quando o argentino estava contigo.

          — Matias que sempre que tinha a chance provocava você sobre sua mudança de comportamento de quando estava com seu pai e de quando estava com ele. — "Tu padre não faz ideia da perrita que 'cê é hm? Gosta de levar pau até essa porra de bucetinha chorar." — O gemido que saiu de seus lábios foi abafado pela mão de Matias. Já era tarde da noite, seu pai provavelmente já estava no décimo terceiro sono e não acordava fácil, a chuva lá fora caía em gotas grossas e pesadas enquanto Matias se enterrava dentro de você devagar. — "Posso dentro?" — O argentino sussurrou no seu ouvido, as palavras sendo um bolo de letras para você.

— "Não. Goza na minha- porra Matias! Na minha boca." — O sorriso que ele te deu foi inacreditável, se retirou de dentro de você com um gemido baixo e observou seu corpo nu se ajoelhando no chão entre as pernas dele. Seu olhar bagunçado, bochechas coradas e sorriso convencido antes de abaixar a cabeça para que a ereção dolorida fizesse caminho para dentro da sua boca, fez o cérebro de Matias derreter. Jogou a cabeça para trás e apertou os olhos com força, deixou os lábios entre abertos mas nenhum som saia dali. Sentia sua garganta se contrair quando a pontinha dele chegava no fundinho da sua boca, os lábios macios se enrolavam perfeitamente na circunferência molhada. Tirava de sua boca apenas para deixar beijinhos convencidos na cabecinha latejante. A cena final para Matias foi ver você com a boca aberta, língua razoavelmente para fora e pedindo por porra com o olhar.

— "Boquinha gostosa 'cê tem hm? Porra!" — Palavras baixas que anteciparam as cordas do líquido viscoso e esbranquiçado que atingiram sua língua e bochechas quando o argentino gozou. Você riu enquanto arrastava a pontas dos dedos pelas bochechas e levava a porra dele direto para sua boca, deixando um pop suave enquanto erguia os joelhos e aproximava o rosto do de Matias. O beijo que ele te deu foi o suficiente para tudo, as mãos dele agarravam sua cintura com força e as suas se enroscavam nos fios de cabelo dele.

          — Matias que achava uma graça o seu dengo excessivo. Invadia seu quarto durante a noite e dormia com você, de vez em quando você tinha sorte e ele te deixava ser a conchinha menor. Nesses dias de sorte os lábios dele escorriam beijos pelo seu pescoço doce, as mãos te apertavam contra o corpo magro e te aqueciam nas noites frias. Assistia filmes horríveis com você porque você gostava e então tecnicamente ele também teria que gostar. Quando seu pai viajava, aproveitavam para ficarem agarradinhos na rede que ficava no quintal da casa, abraçados, trocando carícias sinceras e na maioria das vezes acabava com ele socando os dedinhos magros dentro de você, tapando sua boca com a outra mão. — "Putinha escandalosa da porra! Assim aquele boludo do seu vizinho vai te ouvir, morena." —

          — Matias que sempre fazia questão de juntar um dinheirinho suado para comprar alguma coisinha boba para você. Ele adorava ver suas bochechas coradas e seu rosto sem graça enquanto ele te entregava a caixa de bombons e o livro que você estava procurando. — "Poxa mati, não precisava vida." — Ele sorria olhando para você, parando em sua frente com o rosto tão próximo do seu que podia sentir o calor de suas bochechas.

          — "Nena, se eu pudesse eu te daria até um pai menos otário." — você deixou um tapa no braço dele e riu. Matias deitou com a cabeça nas suas coxas, olhando para você fixamente antes de continuar falando — "Mas sério, só não te dou um planeta porque não tenho grana agora, mas quando eu tiver prometo que te dou qualquer um dos sete que tem em volta do sol." — Você se sentiu em pedaços com as palavras dele. Como podia uma alma ser tão boa e tão insuportável? A mordida que o argentino deixou na sua coxa te tirou dos teus devaneios, te fazendo gemer de dor e olhar para ele com repreensão.   

— Matias que um dia, enquanto saia da sua casa escondido, ouviu seu pai gritando com você, falando as piores coisas possíveis para você e então resolveu acabar com a palhaçada toda. — "Ai coroa, não vale a pena ficar chorando e resmungando "não não não não"." — As palavras saíram em tom de choro, Matias claramente debochando da cara de seu pai. — "'Cê não gosta de mim mas tua filha gosta e 'tá tudo certo! Quem tem que gostar de mim é ela, não o senhor." — Matias disse firmemente. Seu pai não movia um único dedo, observando seu rosto de espanto que claramente segurava uma risada. — "Sou fodido mas não sou vagabundo não. Trato a filha do senhor muito melhor do que qualquer um desses pé de galinha que tem por aqui." — Dessa vez não se conteve e um pequeno riso escapou de você. — "E se me der licença, 'tô saindo. Beijo nena." — Matias deixou um beijo em sua testa, você sussurrou um "te vejo depois" e ele apenas acenou com a cabeça. De qualquer maneira, Chico Buarque já dizia: "Você não goxta de mim, mas sua filha goxta.".

[t0yac1d]

The eyes, Chico (R.Cameron x Fem!Reader)

The eyes, Chico. They never lie.

Request: Rafe please

Word Count: 720

Summary: Rafe noticing how differently you look at him compared to others

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Rafe Cameron who never paid any mind to you at first. He thought you were just new to Kildare Island and got invited to one of his infamous parties.

Rafe Cameron who never got the best glances from people. They always looked at him in disappointment, hatred and fear.

Rafe Cameron who ends up subconsciously searching for your eyes through the sea of kooks.

Rafe Cameron who notices your glances and longing stares. He noticed how different your look was from the others.

Rafe Cameron who decides to push you away before you could ever make the move to talk to him.

Rafe Cameron who fears that the way you're looking at him is just a facade from who you really are.

Rafe Cameron who ends up telling Barry about you. How you probably already know about his issues and crimes by now.

Rafe Cameron who caught your eye when you stepped into the huge Cameron Estate. He was the first who caught your attention.

Rafe Cameron who made you wonder what a handsome boy like him is doing around guys like Topper and Barry.

Rafe Cameron who pushes you away and leaves you wondering what you could have done.

You stopped showing up at the parties, hoping it'll make him feel better. Maybe he just didn't enjoy your presence around him.

You'd hang out with Sarah and end up third wheeling with her and Topper. You were at the Cameron home, so you decided to leave the two alone in Sarah's room. You felt like you were getting in between them anyway.

Rafe Cameron who spots you walking past his room and down the stairs. He was curious about you. Always has been. And honestly, he was kind of disappointed with himself for pushing you away.

Rafe Cameron who follows you downstairs and tries to strike up a conversation with you. Asking "How are you?" "How was your day?" "Did you enjoy the parties?"

You'd respond with little to no expression on your face, but your eyes held a different story. They said more than you could.

Rafe Cameron who excuses himself in an awkward and stuttered manner as he heads to the bathroom.

Rafe Cameron who dials a number and impatiently waits as it rings before the person on the other end picked up and answered with, "Barry speaking."

Rafe Cameron who goes into detail about your eyes and how you have been looking at him since the two of you shared a glance at the first party he spotted you at.

Rafe Cameron who is sure that words mean more than looks and actions. Which is why he's so sure that you're just not as interested as he thought you were

Barry who tells Rafe that "none of those matter". "Actions and words don't mean shit when it comes to the eyes, man."

Rafe Cameron who is evidently confused and now realizing how long he left you in the kitchen.

Rafe Cameron who asks Barry for a quick tip before he gets back to you.

Barry who tells Rafe to suck it up and "listen to what her eyes are saying. She might not be able to tell you, but her eyes will. Trust me."

Rafe Cameron who hangs up and takes multiple deep breaths before walking out of the bathroom and making his way to the kitchen.

Rafe Cameron who strikes up another conversation with you, this time putting an effort to get to know you while also taking Barry's advice and paying close attention to your eyes.

Rafe Cameron who notices just how pretty your eyes are up close. He then starts to notice how gorgeous you are up close.

Rafe Cameron who does end up seeing what Barry was talking about, you held so much emotion in your eyes even when you didn't show any on your face.

Rafe Cameron who sees how you look up at him with beautiful, wide eyes that sparkle when he makes eye contact with you.

Rafe Cameron who sees little hearts inside of your eyes when he smiles or speaks.

Rafe Cameron who learned to love your eyes.

You who loved him and learned the real him instead of the aggressive and angry kid who has gotten nothing but looks of fear, hatred and disappointment his whole lie.

[zepskies]

Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

AN: I just rewatched 9.08 and I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. 😂 But Dean and Suzy’s Casa Erotica-inspired tryst gave me an idea for this little one-shot in the Espresso-verse. I'll release this fun one ahead of "Show Me," since that one's more angsty hurt/comfort. 

Word Count: 900

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Smuttish, implied "self-care."  

This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“¿Eres un chico malo?”

You wrap the towel tighter around yourself as you get ready to leave the bathroom after a nice hot shower. But your brow quirks as a woman's lusty voice and Mariachi music reach your ears. It’s a familiar tune…

Oh my God, you think. You open the door with a quiet turn of the knob, so you can try to confirm your suspicions.

Sure enough, your boyfriend is laid out across his side of the bed. The blanket covers him up to the waist, and his laptop rests by his bent knees. The screen illuminates his face, alight with both amusement and pleasure. There’s no mistaking the languid strokes bobbing under the covers.

It’s not the first time you’ve caught Dean red-handed, as it were, but it’s the first time that actually makes you laugh.

“Babe, what’cha watching?” you ask.

Dean’s face falls quickly into mortification. He shuts his laptop, halting the sounds of feminine passion and maracas. His other hand slides out from under the covers and he sets the computer on his nightstand.

You bite your lip to stifle your grin. You pad over to his side of the bed, where he offers you a sheepish smile.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” you reply with a chuckle. You caress his stubbled cheek. “Don’t worry, Señor Smooth. I was just curious. Maybe I could’ve joined you.”

His brows raise at that. Pleasant surprise takes over his features, making his lips twitch. His hand finds your hip and squeezes lightly through your towel.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. "Up for a little movie night?"

You smirk and look over at the old DVD case on the nightstand. As you suspected, it’s Casa Erotica: Special Features Edition. You only frown when you realize Suzy Lee is the “special feature,” all blonde and blue-eyed and pouty lips.

Your more narrowed gaze turns on Dean, who notices your shift in demeanor and tenses a little himself. You take his chin between your fingers.

“My only problem is that you’re jerking off to a girl you’ve actually had sex with!” you say incredulously, brows raised. Yes, you know their tryst was long before he even met you, let alone before you two started dating, but your point stands.

“And you’re doing it in our bed,” you add.

That realization finally hits Dean as well. He grimaces, giving you an apologetic look.

“Uh, yeah…sorry,” he says. At your silent expression of irritation, he becomes even more earnest. He wraps his hand around yours. “Really, I’m sorry.”

You're still mad, but he does look sincere and contrite. Eventually, your temper begins to cool. You let out a sigh and shake your head.

You know he’s new to this whole boyfriend thing. Still, you think this is just common sense.

You pick up the DVD case with a more critical eye.

“And you know what, Suzy’s hot and all, but don’t you think they could’ve found a Latina to play Carmelita?” you gripe.

At that, Dean's lips twitch at a grin. His hand ventures under your little towel, smoothing up one leg and squeezing your thick thigh.

“You anglin’ for the job, sweetheart?” he teases.

You snort in response. Your eyes meet his, and you have a hard time tapering your smile. His salacious grin is too much.

And yet, he may be on to something. Setting down the DVD, you tilt your head at him and move in closer. You hum in contemplation, letting your fingertips graze over Dean’s lips. They travel further, down his neck, circling over his anti-possession tattoo, and down his chest.

His green eyes lock on your hand, then on the rest of you as your knee meets the edge of the bed, by his hip.

You startle him a little when you tear the blanket away from his waist, exposing the rest of him to your gaze. But you don’t give him too long to be surprised before you climb aboard to straddle his bare thighs. You hold his face in your hands, and he grips your waist to stabilize you.

His eyes roam over the hint of cleavage greeting him between ample breasts and smooth, tan skin.

“You’re not like the other guys in town, are you?” you ask, in your best attempt at smooth and sultry.

Dean eats it up. His eyes widen and his mouth parts with soft surprise as he catches onto what you're doing, but it soon melts into excitement. He plays along with the script he knows by heart.

“No I’m not, pretty girl,” he answers. You let your hands drift down his body again, less grazing this time, and more purposeful, making tingles run over his skin. You lean in close, ghosting your lips over his, across his jawline.

“¿Eres un chico malo?” you ask. Your voice sounds like black velvet in his ears, making his cock twitch against the inside of your thigh. His hold on your hips tightens.

He swallows, and manages to reply. “Sí.”

You nip at his earlobe and tease the shell of his ear with your tongue.

“Mmm. Malo, pero hermoso,” you croon.

A shiver runs down Dean’s spine, and his eyes close. He utters a low groan when you begin to grind down on his lap, feeling the hard length of him between your legs. He murmurs your name.

You pull back just enough to see his face and sink your hand into his hair, gentle but firm. You give him a smile.

“Tonight, you can call me Carmelita.”

AN: 😂 I had fun with this lmao. Hope you enjoy!! ❤️‍🔥

Spanish Translations:

“¿Eres un chico malo?”

"Are you a bad boy?" - Taken right from the episode lol.

"Malo, pero hermoso.”

"Bad, but beautiful."

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is another two-parter, "Show Me":

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

▶️ Next Story: Show Me (Part 1)

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[madame-fear]

Todavía se puede enviar asks sobre el cast de LSDLN? (no digo pedidos porque sé que están cerrados, si no más bien random thoughts). O ahora sólo escribís para House of the Dragon? Que andes bien! ✨

Hola amor! Sigo escribiendo para el cast de LSDLN! 💗 Acepto random thoughts con mucho gusto, así que sentite libre de enviarme lo que quieras! <33

[lacey-oh-lacey]

Ooooh crazy girlfriend seems fun, I like her.

Might i suggest next time she threatens to bomb the car? That’ll really get them going 🤭

F1 drivers x crazy!girlfriend texts

summary: just some texts with the drivers crazy girlfriend

[astonmartinii]

day two: i saw mommy kissing santa claus | fernando alonso social media au

pairing: fernando alonso x fem lawson reader (liam's mom)

first he tries to take him out on track and now he takes his MOM?

christmas song: i saw mommy kissing santa claus - jackson 5

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

liamlawson30

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, yukitsunoda0511 and 104,505 others

tagged: yourusername

liamlawson30: a full time f1 driver and i still can't escape the christmas duties

view all comments

user1: momma lawson is such a jumpscare every time

user1: a jumpscare in my PANTS

user1: woah why am i blocked by fernando alonso ???

yukitsunoda0511: you're so ungrateful i would decorate anything for momma lawson

yourusername: have i ever told you you're my favourite yuki ?

yukitsunoda0511: hehehehehehe

liamlawson30: huh ???

maxverstappen1: i hate to burst your bubble chicos but momma lawson told me in brazil that I'M her favourite sooooooo

liamlawson: MUM?

yourusername: i can't help my maternal urges i had to tell him i was proud of him !!!

estebanocon: she also told me she's proud of me

pierregasly: and me!

yukitsunoda0511: SHE'S OUR MUM NOW LIAM

liamlawson30: WHAT IS HAPPENING ??????

user2: the f1 grid is so weak sauce - you saw momma lawson and thought maternal figure first and not MILF

liamlawson30: can yall shut the fuck up there's too many of you to block at once

user3: don't have such a hot mum then ???

liamlawson30: HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?

user4: i'd actually be more annoyed if i were you liam because you clearly did NOT get her genes

liamlawson30: mum they're calling me ugly :(

yourusername: you're the prettiest angel in the paddock to me bub

alexalbon: i assume my invite to the lawson christmas festivities is still valid

liamlawson30: obvs and you have to bring lily, mum's rules

alexalbon: we'll bring the sangria @yourusername

yourusername: u guys are stars !!!

liamlawson30: why would we need sangria? that's not very christmassy ?

alexalbon: oh my sweet summer child

user5: what do they know 🤨

yourusername

liked by liamlawson30, fernandoalo_oficial and 82,091 others

yourusername: christmas is serious business in this house

view all comments

user6: A MAN???

user7: first of all that could just be liam

yukitsunoda0511: he's no where near that tall

user8: also y/n is a boy mom but not THAT kind of boy mom

liamlawson30: okay 1. the house looks great i can't wait for the christmas break 2. WHO THE FUCK IS THAT ?

yourusername: ummmm language?

liamlawson30: oh i am sorry - whomst is that GROSS ASS MAN WHO HAS HIS GROSS ASS PAWS ON YOU

yourusername: liam, let's not be rude online he's probably reading this

yourusername: let's make a good impression!

liamlawson30: how about we give NO IMPRESSION EVER

user9: oh liam is going through it

maxverstappen1: i for one am excited to meet our new dad

liamlawson30: BACK OFF DUTCHIE

maxverstappen1: that's not very nice liam, i'm telling dad

liamlawson30: you know what i don't want that red bull seat anymore

fernandoalo_oficial: those decorations are definietly fitting for a woman like yourself

yourusername: why thank you nando

liamlawson30: what are you doing here?

liamlawson30: is bothering me on track not enough?

fernandoalo_oficial: you have no idea

liamlawson30: huh ???

user10: my spider senses are tingling

user11: so we all know who the man is right?

liamlawson30: so tell me???

user12: bro is afraid of context cues

alexalbon: leave him it's funnier to watch him try and work it out

liamlawson30: ALEX?

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 562,095 others

tagged: yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial: call me santa because i found my mrs claus

view all comments

user15: i just fell to my knees in a walmart

user16: i don't know which one i'm more heartbroken about losing

user17: don't be dumb it's obvs momma lawson

liamlawson30: EH????

liamlawson30: FERNANDO ALONSO?

liamlawson30: @yourusername YOU'RE DATING FERNANDO ALONSO?

yourusername: yes! are you not happy? i thought you loved fernando?

liamlawson30: I DID?

liamlawson30: like i liked him as a driver? i thought it was cool that he's a world champion? NOT DATING MY MUM

yourusername: well i wasn't going to stay single forever bub

liamlawson30: BUT WHY HIM? EVERYONE CALLS YOU A MILF YOU COULD GET ANYONE

fernandoalo_oficial: liam i think you'll find i am a CATCH

liamlawson30: well i'm not calling him dad

fernandoalo_oficial: for now you can call me santa ;)

liamlawson30: PLEASE FUCK OFF

fernandoalo_oficial: well for that you're on the naughty list

liamlawson30: what are you gonna take me out on track again???

fernandoalo_oficial: i wasn't... but now you mention it

liamlawson30: MUM MAKE HIM STOP :(

yourusername: well that went great!

user18: let me grab my popcorn real quick

user19: this is so messy ... i love it!

user20: poor liam got a full time seat, immediately got on fernando's shit list and now has him a step dad ???

liamlawson30: idk which cosmic entity i pissed off but can they PLEASE STOP

user21: real question is what garage is y/n going to be in for the next race...

user22: oh god...

maxverstappen1: personally i think she'll be in her favourite driver's garage but that's just me...

yukitsunoda0511: both of her sons are in the RB garage?

fernandoalo_oficial: have you ever considered i am sexier than all of you

yourusername: considering they're my KIDS that's probably a good thing ???

visacashapprb

liked by maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda0511 and 329,055 others

tagged: liamlawson30, yourusername & yukitsunoda0511

visacashapprb: we won the momma lawson custody battle

view all comments

user23: the way she was never not gonna be in her SONS garage but this is cute tho!

user24: idk but sky constantly cutting to fernando standing outside of the garage blowing her kisses has cracked me up

user25: he's so down bad... ur 42 STAND UP

fernandoalo_oficial: i didn't know there was an age limit on love ???

liamlawson30: LOVE?

yourusername: obviously i would be in my baby's garage :(

visacashapprb: we didn't doubt you momma lawson but we did see you sneaking over to ... them

liamlawson30: mUM?

yourusername: you were in debrief? and the coffee at rb sucks :(

visacashapprb: but we have complementary red bull!

yourusername: do i look like i'm at the age that i can be drinking red bull all the time?

visacashapprb: yes!

fernandoalo_oficial: are you flirting with my girlfriend?

visacashapprb: NO!

yourusername: so you don't think i'm pretty?

visacashapprb: admin is going to have a breakdown i'm logging OFF

user26: even the social media admins have a crush on momma lawson?

redbullracing: well of course

scuderiaferrari: we're not blind?

mercedesamgf1: we're only human <3

fernandoalo_oficial: just how many of you do i have to fight?

astonmartinf1: you may have won the battle but you have NOT won the war

visacashapprb: it's ON

user27: they're on here fighting but do they know that both y/n and fernando are currently live on sky sports with jenson ...

visacashapprb: HUH?

user28: the way jenson roped liam in as well and brother does NOT want to be there

user29: the way fernando had his arm around y/n and liam literally pushed through it to stand between them

user30: this whole lil family are quickly become my faves

liamlawson30

liked by yukitsunoda0511, maxverstappen1 and 204,506 others

tagged: yourusername & fernandoalo_oficial

liamlawson30: her siri play i saw mommy kissing santa claus and then schedule my SUICIDE

view all comments

user32: glad to see we're keeping very cool, calm and collected

user33: liam really is the irritable queen representation on the grid

user34: i mean after the last few races if i saw fernando at the bottom of my stairs dressed as SANTA i would also be bamboozled

yourusername: my two favourite boys home for christmas, it really is the most wonderful time of the year <3

liamlawson30: i literally said i want to kill myself in the caption?

yourusername: i'm ignoring that

liamlawson30: well what you can't ignore is the fact i can see fernando putting all of MY CHRISTMAS CHEESECAKES IN HIS CAR?

fernandoalo_oficial: THERE IS NO THREATENING SUCIDE IN THIS HOUSE OVER CHRISTMAS

fernandoalo_oficial: save that for when it matters - holding it over your team!

liamlawson30: okay?

yourusername: see liam - endless advice :)

user35: this endless advice being to threaten to kill yourself anytime your team wrongs you ???

user36: @charles_leclerc please take notes

maxverstappen1: for my own peace of mind i'm going to ignore this also

liamlawson30: i'm not going to kill myself max ?

liamlawson30: i won't give fernando the satisfaction

maxverstappen1: oh i don't give a fuck about that

maxverstappen1: i was talking about momma lawson saying YOU are her favourite

liamlawson30: of course i am - it's FERNANDO WHO SHOULDN'T BE

maxverstappen1: why wouldn't fernando be a favourite, he's my favourite old guy as well

fernandoalo_oficial: why thank you max - you're invited to christmas!

liamlawson30: you can't just invite people to christmas at my house

fernandoalo_oficial: i think you'll find it's my house now

liamlawson30: i'd slash your tires but i actually do want you to leave!

user37: i love how momma lawson just lets them scrap it out in the comments

yourusername: gotta let them get it out over the internet so they're normal in person, like a dog getting their zoomies out

user38: i fear you have the patience of a saint

yourusername: i love them both so much i just got let them get through this phase

user39: how long until you actually get annoyed

yourusername: if they argue through another episode of real housewives of beverely hills the get along t-shirt is coming out

yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, alexalbon and 304,509 others

tagged: liamlawson, yourusername & fernandoalo_oficial

yukitsuonoda0511: liam may complain but i would NEVER miss a christmas with momma lawson

view all comments

user40: oh to be making gingerbread men with momma lawson

yukitsunoda0511: we made the whole grid :)

user41: wait that's so cute

yukitsunoda0511: and we recreated all the crashes this season hehehehe

user42: see this is why i wasn't shocked about her being with fernando - they're clearly just as chaoatic as each other

liamlawson30: it's not cute, she made their gingerbreadselves kiss :|

fernandoalo_oficial: why when she could have the real thing?

yourusername: hehehehehe

liamlawson30: LEAVE ME ALONE

user43: i kinda hope liam never gets over this

user44: well the way that twitter got hopeful after they were talking during the drivers parade but then liam was out there during the race blaming fernando for things lance was doing LOL

user45: convinced he could see a bright ass ferrari and still be like 'fernando is out to kill me'

yourusername: we love having you yuki <333

yukitsunoda0511: you think i'd miss your festive sushi night? over my dead body

yourusername: it's a tradition now :3

user46: she really has been momma bear for so many of the younger drivers i'm so excited to see how many she can pick up now liam has a full time drive

fernandoalo_oficial: do NOT GIVE HER IDEAS

yourusername: but nando they're all so cute

fernandoalo_oficial: i only just got you i don't want to have to share already :(

yourusername: i'm all yours baby don't worry

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm yours forever x

fernandoalo_oficial: also no adopting franco he 100% has a crush on you

francocolapinto: SORRY NOT SORRY XXX

user47: no kick off from liam after those cute comments? progress?

user48: maybe he's finally been defeated by them lol

liamlawson30: i'm tired

liamlawson30: and they don't even listen to me

fernandoalo_oficial: you're 22 years old liam i'm not gonna listen to you when you're stomping your feat in lightning mcqueen slippers

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 124,056 others

tagged: liamlawson30 & fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: my santa baby remembered i wanted a ring

view all comments

user49: holy mother that is a ROCK

user50: fernando said i'm gonna make you mine and i'm gonna make sure people KNOW and are jealous

user51: i always forget he's been an f1 driver since before liam was born and is rich AS FUCK

liamlawson30: okay i'll accept fernando now i guess

fernandoalo_oficial: finally !!! i knew you loved me really liam

liamlawson30: it's mainly because you bought me a car for christmas

fernandoalo_oficial: well i thought it was a nice gift but now i just feel like a weird sugar daddy

liamlawson30: but i guess i also like that you make my mum super happy

fernandoalo_oficial: well i love her so i'd hope so

liamlawson30: i'll still never call you dad even if you're married

fernandoalo_oficial: normal service resumed i see

user52: you know what? i'll call that progress!

yourusername: liam won't tell you guys but he did cry just as much as me

liamlawson30: i'm a tough guy !!!!!

liamlawson30: and also SORRY i am happy for you :(

yourusername: you were just going through your teenage rebellion phase in your 20s were you?

liamlawson30: yes!

fernandoalo_oficial: i have never felt love like this and can't wait to spend forever with you

yourusername: you made me the happiest girl in the world at the happiest time of the year

fernandoalo_oficial: you saying yes is the best christmas gift i could ever ask for

yourusername: there's no way i could ever say no to you

liamlawson30: i can tell - why did you get him a cat for christmas? we're a dog family :/

yourusername: LIAM???

liamlawson30: whoops! 😬 spoiler alert

fernandoalo_oficial: you got me a cat !!!! amor !!!!!

yourusername: well a proposal put my suprise of bruno to shame :( (we're going to pick him up tomorrow)

fernandoalo_oficial: don't talk about my favourite son like that - i love cats and i love you <333

liamlawson30: i was just being nice to you and now i relegated to below a CAT?

yourusername: that's bruno to you sir

liamlawson30: i actually can't win

fernandoalo_oficial: ANYWAY i love you y/n thanks for giving me a furry son and for being with me forever xxx

yourusername: i love you more xxx

user53: is it ever not a rollercoaster in this house

user54: i don't give a fuck this christmas gave us the return of cat dad fernando and y/n lawson-alonso ???

fin.

note: day twoooooooooooo enjoy for the first of december! i had a great day because chelsea won and i got my DREAM f1 podium for qatar xxxx

[piastri-fvx]

My Forever Valentine. Ollie Bearman.

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x girlfriend!reader, smau

Summary: When Ollie Bearman and a girl with a private account have matching bios and fans find out. (lowkey inspired by an instagram reel i saw w an idea for matching bios!! the song the lyrics are from is Stephanie by Nafeesisboujee)

Face Claim: Sabrina Carpenter & girls from pinterest!! (currently waiting for Short 'n Sweet Deluxe to drop 😫)

Disclaimer/s: none!!!

A/N: VALENTINES SPECIALLLLLL sad and depressed because my valentine isn't with me right now, but i'm writing this on the day before valentines day and i'll see him tomorrow sooooo 😚

✭ Masterlist. ✭

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5 and 104.384 others

f1gossip f1 rookie ollie bearman allegedly has matching bios with a mystery girl. the girl has a private account but her bio lets us know that she seems to go to Harvard

tagged: @yourusername, @olliebearman

| view all comments...

user1 HARVARD???

-> user2 he got himself a smart one

-> user3 well, he did if all of this is true

user4 OH SHE'S GORGEOUS

user5 i hope this is true

-> user6 same i'd be so happy for him

user7 she looks like a 12/10 bro

-> user8 a 12/10 dating ollie, aka another 12/10?

-> user9 it'd be perfect tbh

user10 NOOOOOO HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MINEEEE

user11 alright she's gorgeous but like what about me? 😣

user12 that's adorable though 😭

-> user13 i love when people have matching biossss

-> user14 sameee

-> user15 i wish i had someone to do that with 😩

@olliebearman

liked by yourusername, haasf1team, estebanocon, f1gossip, flavy.barla and 1.394.383 others

olliebearman ❤️🖤🤍

| view all comments...

yourusername no photo credits? 😣 liked by author

-> olliebearman my bad ☺️ photo was taken by y/n

-> user1 is anyone else seeing this?

-> user2 am i hallucinating?

-> user3 if you are, we all are

user4 why is he glowing 😩

user5 the LOVE?

-> user6 the eyes, chico 😜 they never lie

user7 okay so if y/n took the photo, i'm pretty sure he's in love with her

-> user8 no doubt

user9 cutieeeee 🥰

user10 so pookie

-> user11 wish he was mine

user12 OLLIE. do you have a valentine? (asking for a friend) 😁😁😁

-> olliebearman i do, actually ☺️

-> user13 wait who's your valentine?

-> olliebearman that's a secret 😚

-> user14 i'm telling yall right now, it's y/n

user15 Y/N IS HIS VALENTINE.

user16 ollie your valentine is so pretty

-> user17 real

user18 ollie can i pls have your valentine?

-> olliebearman respectfully, hell no

-> user19 okay you go ig?

user20 ❤️❤️❤️

@f1gossip

liked by olliebearman, yourusername, user1, user2, user3 and 593.937 others

f1gossip y/n has made her account public!!

tagged: @yourusername

| view all comments...

yourusername chat... why am i on an f1 gossip page? liked by author

-> user1 why hello ☺️

-> user2 because of ollie

-> user3 yeah because of your boyfriend 🥰

olliebearman lol

-> user4 not both of them commenting-

user5 OLLIE AND Y/N LIKED

user6 guys check out her account

-> user7 YES!! your eyes will get blessed

user8 her aesthetic is literally to die for

user9 guys she has some pics with ollie

-> user10 and the first one with him was literally her first ever post from a few years ago

user11 i feel so betrayed

user12 how long have they been dating wth???

-> user13 lmao

-> user14 not you thinking they have to tell you

@yourusername

liked by olliebearman, user1, flavy.barla, alexandrasaintmleux, user2 and 583.846 others

yourusername my forever valentine (by default 👹)

| view all comments...

user1 might as well have just tagged ollie

user2 ollie and multiple f1 wags in the likes?

-> user3 isn't that kinda suspicious...

olliebearman he looks soooo hot

-> yourusername yeah..

-> user4 okay that is 100% ollie

-> user5 yeah makes sense

user6 how ollie felt after calling himself hot: 😝😝😝

-> user7 he though he ate

-> user7 but he actually devoured

-> user8 SLAYYYYY

user9 mollie follie skibidi ollie

-> user10 poetry at its finest

-> user11 masterpiece

-> user12 literally changed my life for the better

user13 the flowers are so pretty bro 😍

user14 depressed

-> user15 even more so now

user16 the aesthetic ughhhhh

-> user17 frrrr

-> user18 TYSM for making your account public y/n

user19 y/n is actually my new favorite person lmao

@olliebearman

liked by yourusername, user1, user2, user3, niallhoran and 948.393 others

olliebearman my kind of valentines day ❤️

| view all comments...

yourusername happy 6th valentines day together 💕 liked by author

-> olliebearman happy valentines day, my loveeee ☺️

-> user1 i- wha-

user2 so they went from 'secret' to 'my love'????

user3 no valentine this year and then this, 2026 about to be my year

-> user4 i relate

user5 now i want a boyfriend 😭

user6 this i better than any romcom netflix has ever made

-> user7 they can't compete with olliey/n 😚

user8 girl, we don't care if you're dragging us. just marry him already, like please 🙏

-> user9 i will if she doesn't

-> yourusername no you won't 😍

-> user10 oopsie daisy

user11 ollie casually dropping the biggest bombshell of 2025 like it's no big deal

user12 can we talk about how he just fucking hard launched this goddess of a woman???

-> user13 my heart is beating so fast even though i'm not her

user14 my endgame

user15 😍😍😍

niallhoran big fan of whatever this is liked by author

-> user16 same

-> user17 OMG HI NIALL

user18 this shit so major that even niall is commenting???

-> user19 crazy

@yourusername

liked by olliebearman, flavy.barla, alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon, user1 and 1.386.956 others

yourusername saturday nights 💗

tagged: @olliebearman

| view all comments...

olliebearman YOU LOOK STUNNING MY LOVE 🥰🥰🥰 liked by author

-> yourusername MY BIGGEST HYPE MAN ❤️❤️❤️

-> user1 may this kind of love find me one day

user2 manifesting what they have for 2026

user3 y/n, baby, are you coming to australia???

-> yourusername yup!! are you?

-> user3 yes omg!!

-> yourusername well, see you there, then ;)

-> user4 @user3 got lucky ughhh

user5 they are literally the cutest duo i can imagine

-> user6 real fight me on it

user7 we love y/n

user8 olliey/n fan for life

-> user9 biggest ship

user10 GUYS THE SHIP HAS SAILED

-> user11 lol i think they were already dating when we even found out that they know each other

user12 how long have you been dating?

-> yourusername 6 & 1/2 years ☺️

user13 bro ollie hid this from us for 6 YEARS???

user14 AHHHH THEY ARE SO CUTE

-> user15 I'M SCREAMING

user16 GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET

user17 the cat is so cuteeee liked by author

-> user18 yesssss

user19 wdym they're this perfect??

-> user20 and they LIVE TOGETHER???

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: yayyy!! i enjoyed writing this soooooo much!! alsooo, feel free to comment! let me know if you have requests or want to be added to my permanent tag list <333 hope u enjoyed and had or have a great valentines day, my loves :)))))

tags!

@freyathehuntress

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

felix and his gf being at saltburn and felix noticed ollie acting weird towards her and gets upset at him!!!!!!

The eyes, Chico. || Felix Catton x reader

A/n: YAY TY FOR THE REQUEST! PLS SEND THRU MORE

Warnings: fem!reader, Oliver being a creep, swearing, smoking, if there’s anything else lmk!

Wc: 826

Felix Catton Masterlist

Feeling Felix’s thumb rub circles on your back, you flutter your eyes open and are met with his smile. "Mornin', baby," he greets you, and you respond with a lazy smile, relishing the comforting embrace of his body. His chuckle resonates through his chest, a gentle vibration against you. "It's too early, Felix," you murmur softly, wanting to fall back into slumber.

"Breakfast starts soon, aren't you hungry?" Felix questions, a playful tone lacing his words. You shake your head. "Yes, you are. Don't lie. I can hear your stomach," he asserts with a laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile in response. "Fine," you concede.

You and Felix make your way to the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast awaits. You greet everyone good morning, almost forgetting that Oliver is here at Saltburn too.

You don’t understand why Felix invited him over; they barely know each other. Even when you confront your boyfriend about it, he just says that he feels bad for him, that he's going through some things at home.

Honestly, he's sort of a strange guy. You always catch him looking away from you when you look at him, around school, his eyes widen the slightest when he sees you walking down the corridors, and then he focuses his gaze on the ground. One time, he even bumped into a pole because he wasn't looking where he was going.

But today, he seems even more odd. The unease is palpable as you sit down at the table. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting a warm glow on the scene.

As you and Felix engage in light morning banter, you catch Oliver staring at you. His gaze is intense, lingering longer than is comfortable. At first, you dismiss it, thinking maybe he's just lost in thought. However, the oddity of his behavior becomes more apparent as the meal progresses.

Oliver’s eyes follow your every move, and you feel an unsettling awareness of his gaze on you. It’s as if his attention is fixated solely on you. You exchange a glance with Felix, who seems oblivious to Oliver’s strange behavior at first.

You try to focus on your plate, on the conversation with Felix, but the weight of Oliver’s gaze is distracting. It’s not the kind of attention you want or need, especially coming from a guy who's already odd enough.

You try to enjoy breakfast, but the uneasy feeling persists. Oliver’s eyes seem to follow you, and you sense a strange tension in the air. However, as the minutes pass, even Felix begins to sense the unease in the air.

“You alright, Ollie?” Felix's timely interjection is a relief. Oliver shifts his focus from you to Felix and responds with a casual, "Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm good." A smile graces his face as he savors a spoonful of breakfast as your eyes flicker between the two, watching the interaction. You can't help but wonder if Venetia or Farleigh picked up on the awkward tension in the air.

As breakfast concludes, you can’t shake off the lingering discomfort. “Remind me why you brought Oliver to Saltburn again?” You question your boyfriend beside you as you continue your skincare routine.

Felix, sensing the need for discretion, swiftly moves to the door leading to Oliver's room. "Shh, don't be so loud," he cautions in a hushed tone, closing the door behind him with a sense of urgency.

"Darling, I know he's been acting weird—" Felix begins, coming up behind you, but you swiftly cut him off. "Oh, he's been acting more than weird. I could barely focus at breakfast with his eyes on me," you huff, applying sunscreen to your face, preparing for a day out in the sun by the lake. The tension in the air is palpable as you address the unease surrounding Oliver's peculiar behavior.

"I know, I know. He just has a... tendency to stare. He's probably admiring how gorgeous you are. Aren't you used to the stares?" He bends down to kiss your cheek, and you roll your eyes in response.

"He should know it's rude to stare," you say in a sing-song voice as you pack up your skincare products. "Don't mind him," Felix adds, his large hands wrapping around your bare stomach, giving your hips a slight squeeze.

The hot temperature outside and the high UV ray lead you, Venetia, Farleigh, Felix, and Oliver outside to lounge by the lake. As you settle on the blanket, the odd tension with Oliver becomes more pronounced. He positions himself nearby, and you catch him stealing glances at you.

It’s not the casual glances friends share; they're lingering, intense stares that make you uneasy. You exchange puzzled glances with Venetia, both of you trying to make sense of Oliver’s peculiar behavior.

“That Oliver has a staring problem, doesn’t he?” Venetia comments, readjusting her sunglasses that sit on her nose. “You saw the stares this morning right?” You turn your head towards her as she does the same. “I think everyone could sense the awkwardness between you two.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and turning your head back. “He’s so strange. I still can’t wrap my head around why Felix invited him here.” You try to focus on the conversation with Venetia, hoping to ignore Oliver’s odd glances. However, his behavior persists.

As you and Venetia engage in conversation by the lounge chairs, Oliver’s attention seems solely fixed on you. It’s as if he’s not present in the moment, lost in his own thoughts. The picturesque surroundings lose their charm as the atmosphere becomes charged with an unspoken tension.

“Is he looking,” You say lowly to Venetia, who discreetly looks behind you before humming. “Fucks sake,” You groan, turning your head only to find his eyes looking at his hands. Rolling your eyes, you gravitate your gaze to Felix right beside you.

Felix, sensing the unease, stands up to move his chair closer to yours, a protective gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed, especially when he places his large hand on your thigh. You appreciate his presence, but the situation with Oliver casts a shadow over what should have been a carefree day by the lake.

The discomfort peaks when you decide to take a break and lie down on the blanket, soaking up the sun’s warmth. Venetia joins you, and you both close your eyes, attempting to find solace in the peaceful surroundings.

However, Oliver’s peculiar behavior doesn’t wane. As you lie there, eyes closed, you sense his eyes on you, a prickling awareness that mars the tranquility of the moment. You open your eyes to find Oliver glancing at you again, a furtive gaze that makes you uneasy.

Venetia, too, notices the strange dynamic and shoots you a concerned look. You spot Farleigh and Felix in deep conversation, Farleigh glancing at Oliver from time to time before giving you a look, silently communicating the shared discomfort.

“Fuck this, I’m going to take a bath,” You mutter annoyed as everyone watches you get up from your towel. Perching your sunglasses on your head, you walk over to Felix. “I’m going to take a bath,” You lean down to kiss him as he hums.

“I’ll come join you in a sec,” He says, his hands toying with the strings on your bikini bottoms. With a brief exchange of nods, you make your way back to Saltburn and to Felix’s bathroom, which connected to Oliver’s room.

The cold water is already calling your name, promising respite from the tension that clings to the air. Closing the door behind you, you take a deep breath, hoping the solitude of the bath will provide the sanctuary you need.

Little do you know that the shadows of unease follow you into the bathroom. As you start to run the water, the events of the morning replay in your mind. The odd glances, the tension at breakfast—all of it weaves into a disconcerting tapestry.

Stripping off your bikini-clad body, you let out a moan of relief when your warm body makes contact with the cold water. Lighting up a cigarette, another sigh of relief escapes you.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix decides to retrieve something from Oliver’s room. As he opens the door, the scene before him freezes him in his tracks. Oliver, standing too close, is peering through the crack of the bathroom door, watching you in the bath.

Felix’s initial surprise gives way to a flash of anger. “What the fuck, Ollie?” he exclaims, his voice cutting through the silence. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the commotion outside. You hear Felix yelling as you quickly get out the tub, wrapping a robe around your naked body before emerging from the bathroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams as Oliver stammers, caught red-handed, unable to form a coherent response. You move beside Felix, rubbing your hand up and down his arm, trying to ease him down.

“You can’t just invade someone’s privacy like that,” Felix continues, his tone sharp. “What were you thinking, watching through the door like some creep?” His eyes were blown out, his face red as Oliver just stood there distressed.

“That’s so fucked up, Oliver.” You say quietly, though your tone and glare were ice cold. Oliver, looking sheepish and guilty, attempts to explain himself. “I-I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

Felix’s frustration deepens, and he points out, “Sorry is going to cut it, mate. What’s been going on with you? The staring, the weird glances—it’s not normal, man. We’re supposed to be friends. She’s my girlfriend, and you’ve been creeping her the fuck out!”

The room is charged with tension as the two friends face off. Felix, normally calm and collected, is visibly shaken by the breach of trust. You stand there, wrapped in a towel, feeling a mixture of concern and disgust for Oliver and an urge to comfort Felix.

Oliver, fumbling for words, finally admits, “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I messed up, and I completely understand if you’re mad.” Felix lets out a dark laugh, throwing his head back as Oliver gulps.

“Mate, we’re more than just mad. What you did is so fucking wrong,” Felix spat as Oliver says nothing but nods his head lightly. "I think it’s best if you leave, Ollie," you tighten the robe around your body as Felix lets out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair as Ollie nods, his gaze on the ground.

“Of course. I’m sorry again,” he apologizes as you give him one final look, grabbing Felix’s arm and pulling him with you back into the bathroom. Felix looks over his shoulder at Oliver, slamming the door shut and locking it.

[nerokoma]

press start!

after spending a whole year on academic probation, you’re finally allowed to start your position as a manager for the nekoma boys volleyball team. you’re determined to stay focused on your team and academics, but things get a bit difficult when a certain middle blocker makes his way into your life

contains: tsukishima kei x fem!nekoma manager!reader, older brother!kenma, sns au, comedy, fluff, swearing, kinda ooc main cast, set one year after the events of main hq timeline*

*set in the same universe as heads up! but can be read separately

taglist: closed

start date: january 20 2025

end date: february 17 2025

main masterlist | series tag | playlist

nekoma | karasuno

prologue

part one: what, like it’s hard?

part two: they’re siblings, your honour

part three: shonen characters

part four: behave

part five: zero survival instincts

part six: touch grass?

part seven: what are the odds

part eight: cursed bird app

part nine: damn that sucks

part ten: i’m gonna lose it

part eleven: no from bleach

part twelve: good luck

part thirteen: TAKE IT BACK

part fourteen: what is this feeling

part fifteen: the eyes, chico

part sixteen: i’ve played these games before

part seventeen: back again!

part eighteen: from stardew

part nineteen: GET BACK HERE

part twenty: pop off shoyo

part twenty-one: all to action

part twenty-two: together

epilogue

bonus #1

bonus #2

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hola dulce!! Me encanta lo que escribes, por eso pensé en enviarte este video donde las chicas latinas responden “you too, papi” a sus novios/esposos.

Me detuve a pensar cómo reaccionarían los chicos de COD.

Disculpa el español!! Gracias por leer, espero no molestarte. 🩷

Hola chica! I know you sent this in a while back (and I'm so sorry for the wait). I did play around with the prompt a little bit, expanded it slightly beyond just boyfriend/husband, and kept the "you too, papi" both literally and in spirit. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Latina!Fem!Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, flirting, banter, brief alcohol use, suggestive themes, pregnancy mention, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John smooths the front of his suit jacket. It’s a formal occasion, and it’s clear that he’s completely uncomfortable. This isn’t his sort of scene.

You turn your body toward him, replacing his hands with yours, smoothing out the wrinkles and adjusting the lapels. John sighs, his brow softening as his gaze focuses on you. Your wedding ring sparkles under the light, shimmering with each movement.

“You look dashing,” you murmur.

John chuckles, and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Behave yourself tonight.”

“I always behave,” you say with as much innocence as you can muster.

This time, John cracks a genuine smile.

“I mean it,” he whispers. “Be good.”

“I will,” you insist. “And you be good too, papi.”

John groans. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Call me papi. Not here. You know how it makes me.”

That’s you, always on your worst behavior.

“Whatever you say,” you murmur. Then, after a beat, “papi.”

“Bloody hell, woman,” he growls under his breath. “One more time and I’m finding the nearest broom closet.”

Just to be a tease, just to cause a little stir, you playfully push off from his chest. “Papi,” you mouth silently, winking.

John "Soap" MacTavish

A hazy smoke lingers overhead. The air is thick with humidity. Music blares from speakers.

Tonight is a night for celebration, of dancing and drinking and flirting, of going home with someone. But you’re parked behind the bar, serving shots and watching from afar.

Los Vaqueros.

They’re out tonight, celebrating. Those faces you recognize, but you don’t know who the quartet are sitting next to their leader, Alejandro Vargas. They’re a mystery.

Until one of them approaches.

“Have anything other than tequila?”

His accent is thick. British—no. Scottish. He’s cute. Has a charm about him.

“Course we do, papi,” you grin, leaning on the bar, and forcing your breasts a bit higher.

His eyes immediately fall there before quickly snapping up.

“Papi?” he repeats, and you laugh.

Instead of whiskey, you present this stranger a few other options. “Whisky? Vodka?”

He licks his lips. “Whiskey. Please.”

You wink, and pour him the whiskey. “On the house, papi.”

Those cheeks of his darken into a lovely shade of pink. As if catching himself, he coughs, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” He glances around. “Enjoy yourself.”

You raise your hand, and wiggle your fingers as he backs up. “You too, papi.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Leaving is always bittersweet.

Simon drops his packed duffle bag next to the front door. He’s dressed, ready to head to work to prepare for another mission. He hasn’t been briefed yet, and Price didn’t say much over the phone. He only said to come.

“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out to you.

You melt into his arms, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. Simon takes this moment to admire you, to remember your features, to lean in for a few gentle kisses.

“Love you,” he says.

“Love you,” you reply.

Simon grins, going in for one last kiss.

“Be good,” he chuckles. “No misbehaving.”

“You behave too, papi,” you croon, head titling in invitation.

Simon accepts, leaving you momentarily breathless.

“Say that again. I liked it.”

“What?” you ask innocently.

Shifting his arm downward, Simon grasps a portion of your upper thigh and the curve of your ass.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

You lick your lips. “Papi.”

“Again,” he growls.

You do, and Simon hooks is arm at your waist, pressing you against the wall.

“One more.”

“Papi.”

Groaning, Simon looks at his watch, and shrugs. “Price won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“No. No.”

Kyle places a hand against the wall, leaning against it as he stares you down. You blatantly ignore him, remaining on the steep stool.

“You don’t need to do this,” he says.

“Dios mío!” You shake your head, the hammer poised to come down on the nail in the wall. “I told you to hang the picture!”

Kyle takes a deep breath. “I said I would do it.”

“That means now.”

“And here I am,” he replies. His tone is calm, but you hear the strain in it. You’re always testing his patience.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why?” you snap. “Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re pregnant,” he says, deadpan.

The two of you stare each other down. Kyle cocks his head and then nods at your rounded belly that touches the wall.

Without speaking, you descend and offer up the hammer. Kyle takes it.

“I love you,” he says. “But sometimes you make my heartrate spike.”

“Back at you, papi,” you mutter under your breath.

Though your back is to him, you hear the exasperated sigh. “Go have a snack.” Kyle brings the hammer down on the nail. “Or maybe a nap.”

[paucubarsisimp]

Heyy queen, not sure if your taking requests atm but would you be open to doing the ‘current boyfriend’ tik tok trend with the Barca boys??

Love your work xx

current boyfriend

pairings: pablo gavi x reader,, pedri x reader ferran torres x reader, pau cubarsi x reader, hector fort x reader, alejandro balde x reader, lamine yamal x reader, marc bernal x reader

summary: in which you do the current boyfriend trend on your boyfriend

warnings: none!

pablo gavi

you’re tucked against pablo’s side on a rainy afternoon in barcelona, his hoodie drowning you, your legs tangled with his under the blankets. the soft hum of the tv plays in the background, some old barça match he keeps watching like he doesn’t know how it ends.

he’s got his phone resting on his stomach, barely paying attention. you, on the other hand, are holding yours up sneakily — recording already.

you glance at him, then at the camera, trying not to smile.

“vale,” you whisper to yourself, clearing your throat dramatically. “hi everyone! so today we will be seeing how well my current boyfriend knows me.”

pablo’s head turns so fast you nearly drop the phone.

“¿cómo que novio actual?” he says, brows furrowing, voice full of dramatic offense. “perdona?”

you can’t help it — you burst into laughter.

he sits up, pushing the blanket off his chest like he’s ready to fight an invisible threat.

“actual? like… like i’m temporary?” he blinks, eyes wide. “so what am i? a trial version?”

you’re giggling uncontrollably now, clutching your stomach as he starts pacing the end of the bed like a man betrayed.

“ah, i see. this is why you didn’t want me to meet your tía at easter. you were planning my expiration date.”

“pablo!” you squeal, still laughing, “it’s a tiktok trend!”

he stops mid-step and looks at you, dead serious. “you think trends will save you when i’m heartbroken? huh?”

you fall back onto the bed in tears (from laughing), and he finally cracks a grin. crawling back over, he snatches your phone and flips the camera around.

“listen,” he says, addressing the imaginary audience with one hand around your waist, “i am not her current boyfriend. i am her only. su único. por siempre.”

you try to roll your eyes but he kisses your cheek dramatically, then mumbles into your skin:

“y si algún día dice que me va a dejar… no va a poder. porque ya la puse en el grupo familiar.”

“you added me to the family whatsapp, pablo. that doesn’t make us married.”

“sí que sí. you’ve seen the memes. it’s forever now.”

you look at him, still flushed from laughter, and suddenly he’s soft. less chaotic. just him. warm brown eyes, a slightly crooked smile, and the way his thumb brushes against your hip like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

“oye,” he says, quieter now, “if i was actually your current boyfriend… would you tell me if you were planning to replace me?”

you blink. he’s joking, but also kind of not. there’s a flash of real feeling behind his teasing.

you lean in and kiss him, slow and certain.

“you’re not my current anything, pablo,” you murmur against his lips. “you’re my always.”

he exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.

then — with zero warning — he grabs the phone again.

“and that’s how you win, chicos. take notes.”

pedri

you’re curled up on pedri’s bed, face half-buried in his pillow, phone in one hand, feet nudging at his side. he’s sitting up next to you, back against the headboard, scrolling aimlessly through some article about barça tactics like it’s the most thrilling novel on earth.

he doesn’t notice you start recording. not at first.

you turn the camera toward the two of you, face blank, voice casual.

“hola chicos,” you whisper. “today im here with my current boyfriend.”

his head turns so fast it’s like he heard a whistle blow.

“¿qué?” pedri says, blinking. “current boyfriend?!”

you turn to him, eyebrows raised like you’ve just been asked what 2+2 is. “yeah?”

his mouth opens. closes. opens again. he looks genuinely stunned. like he’s been called offside while standing still.

“‘current boyfriend’?” he repeats slowly, like he’s trying to translate it into something that makes sense. “me estás vacilando, ¿no?”

you furrow your brow, all wide-eyed innocence. “what? that’s just… what people say.”

“no, it’s not,” he says, staring at you like you’ve personally rewritten the dictionary. “that’s what you say when you’re... i don’t know. rotating the squad.”

you blink. “rotating the squad?”

“like you’ve got backups. a bench.”

you gasp. “you think i have backup boyfriends?”

pedri folds his arms across his chest, staring you down. “well. apparently i’m the current one, so.”

“pedri,” you giggle, crawling over to him. “you’re being silly.”

“am i?” he says, fake offended. “who’s next, then? ferran? ansu? don’t lie.”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “hmm. héctor.”

“wow,” he says. “so you’re into the young guys now. okay.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, still recording. he stays frozen, arms crossed, pretending to be emotionally wounded.

you poke his cheek. “you know i’m joking, right?”

“don’t talk to me,” he mutters, nose scrunching as he hides his smile. “i need to reevaluate my relationship status.”

you kiss his jaw softly. “you’re not my current boyfriend.”

he perks up slightly. “no?”

you shake your head sweetly. “you’re my favorite one.”

his face drops again. “that’s worse.”

you laugh, full-on now, as he reaches over and tries to snatch your phone.

“delete it,” he says, but he’s grinning. “delete it or i’m telling your mom you bullied me.”

ferran torres

you didn’t mean to prank him.

well. okay. you kind of did.

you’d seen the “current boyfriend” videos all over tiktok lately—girls casually calling their long-term boyfriends “my current boyfriend” and capturing their reactions. most of them blinked. some looked offended. some acted like it was the end of the world.

you had a strong feeling ferran would fall into the last category.

he was in your kitchen now, quietly snacking on cereal out of the box, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, hair still messy from his post-training nap.

you turned your phone to selfie mode and whispered, “okay guys... this is my current boyfriend.”

you angled the camera toward him.

ferran looked up, mid-chew. smiled automatically—then blinked.

“…wait.”

he squinted.

“current?”

you bit your lip, trying not to smile.

he slowly lowered the cereal box like it was suddenly very heavy. “what do you mean current, cariño?”

“you know,” you say, way too casually, “like… my boyfriend for now.”

he tilted his head, fully confused.

“for now??? am i... am i on a trial period or something?” he blinked. “is there a deadline?? did i miss a meeting???”

you cracked, laughing into your sleeve.

ferran pouted. properly pouted. full lips pulled down, forehead creased, arms crossed loosely in front of him like a kicked puppy.

“wow. i was gonna share the cereal with you,” he muttered.

“you never share cereal with me.”

“yeah well. current me was about to.” he glanced at your phone. “are you recording this?? oh my god.”

you put your phone down and walked over, wrapping your arms around him lightly. he didn’t hug you back immediately. just stood there, all soft and betrayed.

“you know you’re not just my current boyfriend, right?” you said into his hoodie.

he was quiet for a second. then—

“…okay but like. just to be clear. i’m the final boyfriend? like. endgame? credits roll?”

you smiled into his chest. “final boss.”

he let out a tiny sigh of relief, rested his chin on your head, and mumbled, “okay. but no more ‘current’. i almost had a heart attack. i thought i got dumped mid-cheerio.”

pau cubarsi

you were half sprawled on the couch, bored, lazy, and dangerously close to falling asleep, when your phone buzzed with yet another “current boyfriend prank” video.

you’d seen like six today, and every time, the boyfriend's reaction made you giggle. confused, dramatic, sometimes genuinely offended.

and now you were eyeing pau, who was across the room trying very seriously to fold laundry—his tongue poking out slightly as he focused on folding a t-shirt into a perfect square.

too perfect an opportunity.

you opened your front camera, hit record, and called out in your sweetest voice, “hey guys, just wanted to introduce you to my current boyfriend…”

pau looked up instantly, soft brown eyes lighting up—until he processed the words.

“...your what?”

you tried not to laugh. “my current boyfriend.”

he blinked. once. twice. his whole expression shifted—eyebrows furrowing, nose scrunching, lips forming the tiniest pout.

“current?” he stood there holding your hoodie like it had personally betrayed him. “what do you mean current, amor?”

you bit your lip, pretending to stay casual. “you know… the boyfriend i have right now.”

he dropped the hoodie. full-on stared at you. “so i’m just a phase now? like… like a monthly subscription?”

you snorted.

“pau—”

“no no. don’t even,” he cut in, arms now crossed over his chest. “what happens after me? is there a waitlist? auditions?”

you couldn’t stop giggling now. he was so serious about it, even as his pout deepened and he looked away like the most offended golden retriever alive.

“i folded your clothes,” he added quietly. “i was gonna make you toast.”

“and i love you for it,” you grinned, putting your phone down and padding over to him. you wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned into his chest. “you know i’m joking. you’re not just my current boyfriend, you’re my forever boyfriend.”

pau looked down at you, still pretending to be mad but already melting. “you can’t just call me current and then snuggle your way out of it.”

“i can if you like snuggles.”

he let out a dramatic sigh. “…i do.”

you reached up to boop his nose. “thought so.”

he finally smiled—barely—but then buried his face in your hair and mumbled, “i’m unfollowing you on tiktok.”

“no you’re not.”

“okay but only because you smell nice.”

hector fort

you’d been meaning to try the “current boyfriend” prank on héctor for days... héctor is chill. confident. annoyingly hard to rattle. but you knew if you caught him off guard, you’d get something out of him.

and today felt like the right day.

he was lying on your bed, arms behind his head, scrolling through something on his phone with his usual “i’m bored but also deeply unbothered” expression. he was wearing grey sweats, socks half on, one of his training shirts, and just existing in your space like it was his second home.

you hit record quietly.

“hey guys,” you said, voice sweet. “just wanted to show you my current boyfriend.”

his eyes immediately flicked over to you.

“...sorry?” he raised an eyebrow. “current?”

you blinked innocently. “yeah. my boyfriend at the moment.”

he let out a small laugh. one of those “you’re not serious” kinds of laughs.

“nah. no way you just said that.” he sat up slightly, resting on one elbow. “you really called me your current boyfriend? that’s crazy.”

you bit back a smile. “what? you are.”

he gave you a look. “babe. be serious. i’ve met your mom. i have a drawer here. i help you parallel park. we’re past current.”

you snorted. “parallel parking makes you permanent?”

“yes.” he leaned forward, still smirking. “also you kissed me this morning and said ‘i’m obsessed with you’ so...”

“i don’t recall—”

“i do. you were wearing my hoodie. looked very in love. kinda embarrassing for you.”

you groaned. “you’re so cocky.”

he shrugged, smug as ever. “i’m your forever boyfriend. you said it, not me.”

alejandro balde

you’d been scrolling through tiktok all day, watching all these “current boyfriend” prank videos where girls called their boyfriends “current” and got hilariously confused or offended reactions.

and then you caught alejandro just chilling on the couch, sneakers off, socks barely hanging on, flicking through his phone with that lazy grin of his.

you smirked.

“okay, let’s see what happens.”

you grabbed your phone, hit record, and with your sweetest, most casual voice said, “hey guys, this is my current boyfriend.”

alejandro looked up instantly, eyebrow twitching. “wait, current?”

you smiled, trying to keep it innocent. “yeah, like, the boyfriend i have right now.”

he blinked, then gave you a mock scandalized look. “current? so like… i’m temporary? a loaner? what’s the deal?”

you laughed. “no! it’s just a prank, chill.”

he threw his head back dramatically. “ay nooo, you’re breaking my heart over here.” then he wiggled closer and poked your side, grinning. “but if i’m just current, does that mean you might get a better one next week?”

you rolled your eyes but smiled. “no one’s better than you, ale.”

he smirked, looking all confident but his eyes softening. “good answer. because i’m staying.”

then he reached over and stole a quick kiss, still grinning. “current? nah. i’m forever.”

lamine yamal

you and lamine had been hanging out all afternoon — just snacks, music, and lazily throwing popcorn at each other while you argued over who had the better spotify taste. (spoiler: it was you, obviously.)

he was lying across your bed now, halfway on his stomach, hoodie sleeves all bunched up, phone in one hand while his other reached for snacks he wasn’t even looking at.

you sat down at the edge of the bed, grabbed your phone, and pressed record quietly.

“hey guys,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice level. “just wanted to show you my current boyfriend.”

you angled the camera to show lamine, still flopped on the bed. he turned his head slowly.

“…your what?” he blinked. sat up slightly. “nah. say that again.”

you smiled innocently. “my current boyfriend.”

he made a face — somewhere between “wtf” and “am i being pranked.”

“current is wild,” he muttered, sitting all the way up now. “you sayin’ there’s, what, a next one coming soon? someone on the bench or what?”

you laughed, trying to stay in character. “i’m just saying… things change, you know?”

“nah nah nah,” he said, holding up a hand, clearly fighting a smile but also a little bit serious now. “you can’t say stuff like that. i do math homework with you. i let you put your makeup on me last week. i carried your tote bag.”

“and i appreciate it, current boyfriend.”

he gasped. dramatic.

“don’t call me that. take it back.”

“you’re so offended.”

“i am offended,” he said, half-laughing. “i thought i was him. i thought i was ‘final boss boyfriend’. this is crazy.”

you giggled and finally leaned in to stop recording, flopping onto the bed beside him. “baby, i’m joking.”

he rolled his eyes but you could tell he was smiling for real now.

“you better be. ‘cause i already planned our next 5 dates and i’m not deleting them.”

you turned to look at him. “you planned five?”

“yes. and one of them includes gelato. you’d regret losing me.”

you laughed again, pressing your face into his hoodie. “you’re ridiculous.”

he smirked, brushing a crumb off your forehead.

“and permanent. don’t forget that part.”

marc bernal

you were sitting on your bedroom floor, half-folding laundry, half-pretending to be productive, while marc lay stretched out on your bed — arms behind his head, legs crossed, watching you with that small, steady smile he always had around you.

he wasn’t saying much, just watching. you knew that look. it was the “i like being here” look. the “i’m too comfortable to move” look. the “you’re my peace” look.

you smirked to yourself and grabbed your phone.

“okay,” you whispered into the mic, “so i just wanted to show you guys my current boyfriend.”

marc blinked. slowly sat up.

“…your what?”

you kept a straight face. “my current boyfriend.”

he just stared for a second, head tilted slightly, his expression somewhere between confused and mildly offended.

“current?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “like... as in, temporary?”

“mhm,” you said, pretending to focus on folding a hoodie. “he’s great for now.”

he let out a short breath, then slowly got off the bed and walked over, sitting down next to you on the floor.

“so when does my contract expire?” he asked, teasingly calm. “or do i get to renegotiate?”

you smiled, finally meeting his eyes. “depends. you offering long-term?”

marc gave a soft little huff of a laugh, then leaned his shoulder against yours.

“preciosa. i already signed for forever.”

you laughed under your breath. “you sure?”

he nodded. “one hundred percent.” then, just a little pouty, added, “but it did hurt. hearing you say current. like i’m on loan or something.”

you nudged his arm. “i was just messing with you. you’re my one and only, bernal.”

he gave a small, quiet grin, and you could tell he’d already forgiven you.

“…still rude, though.”

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted, @landoslutmeout , @meganesanchez, @linnygirl09, @spidybaby,, @vicolette, @bernalswifeyy lmk if you want to be added/removed!

[leclercloml]

Shameless | PG8

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x reader

Summary: where Pedri's girlfriend have 0 filter on and love saying freaky things on social media.

Genre: SMAU

Warnings: suggestive

Author's note; this is something...

Twitter

Instagram

Pedri

liked by yourinstagram, pablogavi and 7,784,628 others

pedri Noche muy feliz porque siempre es especial marcar, y más si son los primeros goles con @/sefutbol. Gracias Palma por tanto cariño. ❤️ Con más ganas que nunca de que la #Euro2024 empiece!! #VamosEspaña

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seen by yourinstagram, pablogavi and 2,638,799 others

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liked by pedri, sophiaamelia and 856,739 others

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view comments

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[sydwritess]

Group Chats With Y/n Pt. 2

F1 grid x fem!reader

Summary: texts in the F1 group chat with y/n

Notes: requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05 06 07

Lanlikesfish

Are you all going to the premier tonight?

Georgie

Yeah

Roscoe's dad

Yeah

Carlos 🌶

Si

Alexandria

Yeah

Bearman #1

Yes.

Charlie

Yeah

Roscoe's dad

Y/n, what about you?

Y/n

No, I'm good.

Lanlikesfish

Hehe

Pastry 🥐

The fuck?

Lanlikesfish

We ALL should know why

Georgie

Because she doesn't feel like it?

Kimi Kardashian

Because she's not feeling good?

Maxine✨️

Because it's stupid?

Y/n

......................................................................................................

Charlie

What- what is that supposed to mean?

Maxine✨️

She thinks it's to much drama and excitement for it, so she's staying home and playing COD all night, eating junk food and rotting on the couch.

Georgie

How do you know all of this?

Y/n

Damn... he's right.

Maxine✨️

Because she's just that type. And even so, she has told us many of times (annoyingly) that she doesn't like half of the people there. So rather than starting a fight with someone, she'd rather rot at home for the night

Y/n

First, don't call me annoying. Second, I hope you crash in the next race. ✨️LiTtLe BiTcH✨️

Lanlikesfish

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Kimi Kardashian

Wow, what the hell lmao

Y/n

Kimi?

Kimi Kardashian

Yeah?

Y/n

So now that you are a Kardashian... do you own your own business to? Let's hopefully say you don't do playboy, cause that's weird.

Kimi Kardashian

I'm only 18...

Georgie

Don't worry, she's just playing around. Cause that's y/n

Y/n

George, fucking say shit to me again, and I'll have you seated next to Max at the next group dinner.

Georgie

God don't he's so absurd

Y/n

I SERIOUSLY want to know how y'all got into F1. Y'all are so immature some days it blows my mind.

Bearman #1

So do I

Alexandria

Same.

Lanlikesfish

Y/n are you on your period?

Pastry 🥐

Oh he's fucked

Charlie

Bye Lando, I'll start looking for Oscar's new teammate

Roscoe's dad

Mate you NEVER say that to a girl

Lanlikesfish

Yeah... she's not answering. #scared

Y/n

No. I'm not. But I can make you have one if you'd like.

Lanlikesfish

I- okay

Y/n

Lando, if only you could see what girls go through. Oh, and also, YES never say that to a girl, or you'd be thrown off a cliff... IN SECONDS

Kimi Kardashian

haha.

Bearman #1

Wow

Red Bull #1

Wow, uhm okay. I guess... at least she was telling us and not... showing us.

Y/n

My three rookie babies. Scarred because some papaya dumbass has to butt in all the time.

Maxine✨️

Hey, Yuki and Kimi are already mine.

Y/n

Fight me for custody bitch. Take me court ⚖️

Charlie

Uh oh, divorced parents going at it.

Maxine✨️

Sorry that your in pain.

Y/n

Oh I'm sorry that you, four time world champion, that you lost ONE race and now it's the end of the world for everyone.

Georgie

Yeah, didn't your dad leave you at a gas station or something? He's bitchy.

Y/n

You definitely don't need to leave your child at a gas station to teach him that he lost but go off I guess.

Roscoe's dad

Guys let's not, that must have been hard for Max alright?

Y/n

Okay dad. Sorry Maxine. See you in court?

Kimi Kardashian

Y/n's actually pretty cool

Y/n

Thx Kimi. Hey, I've been looking for the right person to cook me some pasta, and Olive Garden is just getting to expensive, you up for it?

Kimi Kardashian

Olive Garden is a disgrace to this society.

Carlos 🌶

Chico OG is sooooooo good!

Kimi Kardashian

And Taco Bell is the best!

Carlos 🌶

¡No puedo creer que acabas de decir eso! ¡Taco Bell es una maldita amenaza! ¡Es como si el diablo hubiera venido a servir tacos del infierno! Taco Bell... ¡malditos tacos del infierno!

Kimi Kardashian

........ translate?

Y/n

He said 'I can't believe you just said that! Taco Bell is a fucking menace! It's like the devil came to serve tacos from hell! Taco Bell… fucking taco hell!'

Kimi Kardashian

Well that is how I feel about Olive Garden.

Y/n

Y'all are weird.

Georgie

Alright 'Y'all'

Y/n changed Georgie to Max's best friend

Max's best friend

Oi! No, you change that back!

Y/n

Oi, no. Mate

Max's best friend

Your using it wrong. Mate

Y/n

Alright. Mate.

Max's best friend

Ugh

Y/n

#f1 driver George russell being problematic as always.... put that on a headline bitch

Lanlikesfish

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOUR FUCKING HAILARIOUS.

Pastry 🥐

It's true. I can hear him laughing through the wall of our hotel rooms.

Y/n

Glad I can help 😌

Carlos 🌶

Who calling my shit?

Lanlikesfish

What?

Carlos 🌶

Who's calling that shit? Who who?

Y/n

Oh yeah I know this shit!!!

Carlos 🌶

Who who?

Y/n

Babygurlll let me see you do your dance, let me see you twirllll

Lanlikesfish

What the actual fuc-

Hey loves! Hope you like this one! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@mimisweetz @latay7

[julietsf1]

A Technical Mistake - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: peaceful paddock mornings of stocking caps and shirts are flipped upside down when Franco Colapinto, a charming stranger she assumes is part of the AV crew, comes into her store and gives her weekend an unexpected turn. (7k words)

content: big misunderstanding; cute Franco; reader is a normal working girl

AN: I am such a sucker for stories with a little cinderella vibe! I was thinking of buying the blue Williams jacket on track in Brazil but it was so spenny! send me ur sugar daddies pls!

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

The paddock was eerily quiet, an almost sacred calm before the storm of engines roaring, fans screaming, and journalists scrambling for the latest drama. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rubber—a smell I’d grown oddly fond of over the years.

This was my favorite time of the weekend. Before the rush, before the chaos of customers demanding sizes and colors we didn’t have, I could take a moment to breathe, to organize the merchandise store in peace.

“Me bajé del avión, voy corriendo para verte…” I sang softly, shimmying a little as I balanced a stack of Williams caps. The sound of Duki was the perfect soundtrack to my morning. The melody took over, and before I knew it, I was halfway moonwalking back to the Ferrari section, twirling a hanger between my fingers like I was starring in some kind of musical.

The song’s beat was about to drop when a voice cut through my impromptu performance.

“¿Y siempre bailás así mientras laburás, o es solo un show privado?” (Do you always dance like this while working, or is it just a private show?)

I froze mid-step, almost dropping the caps in my hands. Whipping around, my heart racing, I found myself face-to-face with a guy leaning against the doorframe. He had this ridiculous grin plastered across his face, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“¡Ah!” I yelped, clutching my chest. “Perdón, I didn’t—uh… ¿qué?” (Sorry, I didn’t—uh… what?)

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. “Te pregunté si siempre bailás así mientras laburás.” (I asked if you always dance like that while working.)

Heat crept up my neck, and I scrambled to pull myself together. “Oh, uh… sí. Quiero decir, no. Bueno, depende…” (Yes. I mean, no. Well, it depends…)

His grin widened. “No pensé que alguien en el paddock también escuchara a Duki. ¿Sabías que el último álbum es una obra maestra? La forma en que mezcla el trap con el reguetón es una locura—” (! I didn’t think anyone in the paddock listened to Duki too. Did you know his latest album is a masterpiece? The way he mixes trap with reggaeton is insane—)

“Eh, pará,” (Wait, hold up,), I interrupted, holding up a hand, feeling my brain short-circuit as I tried to keep up with his rapid Spanish. “Hablo un poco español… pero no muy bien.” (I speak a little spanish… but not very well.)

That gave him half a second of pause before he broke into laughter. “¿No muy bien? Pero me contestaste perfecto.” (Not very well? But you answered me perfectly.) His tone was teasing, but there was no malice—just genuine warmth. “Igual, perdón. A veces hablo mucho. Es que me emocioné.” (Sorry. Sometimes I talk too much. I just got excited.)

I blinked, thrown off by his sudden shift to sincerity. “No, no, está bien. Me gusta Duki también.” (No, no, it’s okay. I like Duki too.)

“¡Ah, viste!” (Ah, see!), he said, throwing his hands up in delight. “¿Cuál es tu canción favorita? Mirá, ‘Goteo’ siempre me pone de buen humor, pero ‘She Don’t Give a Fo’ es un clásico. Y si me decís que ‘Chico Estrella’ no te gusta, no sé si podemos ser amigos.” (What’s your favorite song? Look, ‘Goteo’ always puts me in a good mood, but ‘She Don’t Give a Fo’ is a classic. And if you tell me you don’t like ‘Chico Estrella,’ I don’t know if we can be friends.)

I stared at him, trying to decipher his rapid enthusiasm. I caught about half of what he said, but his energy was infectious. “Uh… ‘Chico Estrella’ es muy buena,” (‘Chico Estrella’ is very good,), I ventured cautiously, hoping I wasn’t completely misinterpreting him.

His hand went to his chest like I’d just said something profound. “Sabía que eras de las mías. Esto es destino.” (I knew you were one of mine. This is destiny.)

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “¿Siempre hablás tanto con gente que no conocés?” (Do you always talk this much to people you don’t know?)

“Solo con la gente que escucha buena música,” (Only with people who listen to good music,), he replied smoothly, then added with a wink, “Soy Franco, por cierto. Mucho gusto.” (I’m Franco, by the way. Nice to meet you.)

“Oh, eh… Y/N,” I said, shaking his outstretched hand briefly. “Mucho gusto.” (Nice to meet you.)

“Y/N,” he repeated, like he was savoring the sound of it. “Bueno, ¿qué estás haciendo? ¿Preparando todo para el gran finde?” (So, what are you doing? Getting everything ready for the big weekend?)

“Sí.” I nodded, switching back to English because I knew I was about to run out of Spanish confidence. “I’m setting up the store. It’s… not super exciting.”

“¡Claro que sí!” (Of course it is!) he replied, not missing a beat. “Look at this—hats, shirts, models of cars. Very exciting.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Right. And what about you?”

“I’m here for the soundcheck,” he replied with a grin.

“Soundcheck?” I frowned. “Oh, like for the AV stuff?”

“Exactly.” His lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh. “The audio visual stuff. Very technical, very important. You know how it is.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “So why are you hanging out here instead of being ‘very technical’?”

“Because,” he said, his grin widening, “I heard someone singing Duki and thought, wow.”

“Oh my God.” I groaned, turning back to my work. “I wasn’t singing.”

“You were definitely singing.”

“And I wasn’t dancing,” I added quickly.

“Sure,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “That little move you did with your feet? Totally not dancing.”

“Okay, fine!” I laughed, throwing my hands up. “I was dancing. But you’re not supposed to be here yet, so technically, you shouldn’t have seen it.”

“Technically, I shouldn’t be here at all,” he said with a shrug, “but aren’t you glad I am?”

“No, actually,” I deadpanned, though my grin gave me away.

Franco laughed, glancing at the pile of caps balanced precariously on the counter. “You’re doing heavy lifting, huh? Don’t knock over anything else.”

“That was an accident!” I protested. “The shelves are wobbly.”

“Right. The shelves are wobbly,” he nodded sagely. “Not because you panicked when someone caught you salsa dancing.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Oh my God, just go do your soundcheck!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going. But seriously, next time I’m back, I expect a full choreography.”

Peeking through my fingers, I saw him give me a playful wave before stepping out. For a moment, I just stood there, trying—and failing—to fight the smile creeping onto my face.

…

The paddock was already alive with early risers: engineers carrying coffee cups larger than their heads, journalists muttering into their phones, and the occasional VIP wandering too close to restricted areas before being politely redirected. I tightened my jacket against the crisp morning air, balancing a tray of new Williams caps as I unlocked the shop.

Friday had been a whirlwind of chaos—overwhelming, exhausting, but honestly kind of fun. The memory of my unexpected visitor lingered, his laughter and that unmistakable grin replaying in my mind. Franco. I didn’t know why he stuck out so much.

I hummed as I worked, letting my playlist fill the silence of the shop. I was halfway through adjusting a tower of Ferrari shirts when his voice rang out again.

“Bizarrap now? Y/N where have you been all this time”

I jumped, narrowly avoiding knocking over the display. “Oh my God, you really need to stop sneaking up on me!”

Franco leaned casually against the doorframe, thermos in hand, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s not my fault you’re always in the middle of a dance routine when I show up.”

“Maybe if you showed up at a normal time, I wouldn’t be,” I shot back, though I couldn’t hide my grin.

“Nah, that’d be boring,” he said with a shrug, stepping inside like he belonged there. “And anyway, I was just passing by. Thought I’d check if my favorite shop manager was still here.”

“You mean the shop manager,” I corrected, setting the shirts down. “Unless you’re making house calls for all the merch shops on track now.”

Franco chuckled, unscrewing the lid of his thermos. “Only the best ones.”

My eyes flicked to the thermos, curiosity piqued. “Is that… for maté?”

“Yeah!” His face lit up like I’d just asked if he wanted to talk about his favorite thing in the world. “Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it,” I admitted. “Isn’t it like… tea?”

“Like tea?” He clutched his chest in mock offense. “You’re killing me. It’s more than tea. It’s life itself. It’s tradition. It’s community. It’s—”

“Okay, okay!” I laughed, holding up my hands. “So it is better than tea, I assume?”

Franco grinned, pulling out the gourd and bombilla. “I’m about to change your life. Want to try?”

“Sure,” I said, hesitating only briefly before taking the gourd he offered. I sipped cautiously, my expression shifting from surprise to delight. “Oh! This is actually really good.”

“See!” Franco said, looking far too pleased with himself. “I knew I liked you.”

“Right,” I said with a laugh. “Glad to have passed the test.”

“So, how was yesterday? Did the paddock treat you well?”

I groaned, leaning against the counter. “If you consider someone asking if I had Ferrari shirts in passionfruit purple treating me well, then sure.”

Franco choked on his sip, coughing through his laughter. “Passionfruit purple? What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up. “I tried to tell him we only have red, black, and white, and he told me that wasn’t his problem and I should go find some elsewhere.”

“Classic paddock VIP,” Franco said, shaking his head. “What else?”

“Oh, then there was this woman who wanted me to bedazzle her Red Bull polo. While she waited.”

“She expected you to add rhinestones? To a team shirt?” Franco asked, looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“That’s exactly what she thought,” I said, laughed. “When I said we can’t do that, she asked if I at least had Swarovski crystals on hand for her to do it herself, because she wasn’t going to her after party without extra sparkle.”

Franco joined in, leaning against the counter and shaking his head. “I don’t know how you put up with this.”

“And what about you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any exciting AV work today?”

Franco paused, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You could say that. It’s a little more... hands-on today, you know?”

“Right,” I said, nodding as if I understood. “Lots of wires and soundboards, I bet. Very technical.”

“What can I say?” Franco replied, his grin widening. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Clearly.” I gestured to the thermos. “Like carrying around fancy tea and converting clueless shop managers into maté fans.”

“Fancy tea again? Y/N, you’re killing me,” he said, clutching his chest.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Alright, alright. I’ll respect the maté. But only because it’s actually pretty good.”

“Good answer,” he said, giving me a wink.

For a moment, we just stood there, the comfortable silence punctuated by the distant hum of the paddock coming to life.

“You know,” Franco said finally, glancing at his watch, “I should probably get going. Qualifying’s not going to prepare itself.”

“Oh, right. Your very important AV duties,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Exactly.” He lingered for a second longer before turning toward the door. “Don’t let anyone ask you for passionfruit purple hats today.”

“No promises,” I called after him.

As the door swung shut behind him, I found myself smiling again. There was something about Franco—something easy and infectious—that made my day feel a little lighter.

…

In the evening the paddock got quiet, the hum of activity winding down as the sun dipped below the horizon. Most of the crowd had dispersed, leaving behind the faint sounds of tools clinking in garages and muted laughter from hospitality suites above.

I finished wiping down the counter, my eyes scanning the shelves for anything out of place. There was still inventory to complete, but for now, the stillness felt like a small victory.

I was halfway through adjusting a rack of shirts when a voice broke the silence.

“You haven’t closed the shop yet?”

I turned, heart skipping a beat, to see Franco leaning against the doorframe. His hoodie and cap cast his face in partial shadow, but his green eyes were unmistakable, glinting with mischief.

“You again?” I said, a laugh bubbling up despite my surprise. “What is this, your evening shift?”

“Exactly,” he said, stepping inside like he owned the place. “Someone’s gotta make sure everything’s in order.”

“Right,” I replied, crossing my arms. “Because you’re clearly the expert on retail management.”

Franco grinned, brushing past me to inspect the hats on display. “You’re doing a great job, by the way. Everything looks very... symmetrical.”

“Thanks for the expert feedback,” I said, laughing. “Shouldn’t you be doing something important right now? Like, I don’t know, AV things?”

“Done for the day,” he said, casually flipping a hat onto its stand. “And anyway, I couldn’t just walk by without saying hi.”

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed, though the warmth creeping into my cheeks betrayed me.

Franco leaned against the counter, his gaze sweeping over my setup. “So, how’s it going? Any more requests for glitter shirts?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” I said, laughing. “Someone asked if I had a distressed Mercedes hoodie for them. ‘Rick Owens’ vibe was what they said, I believe.”

Franco snorted, shaking his head. “And what did you say?”

“I told them I didn’t think team-approved merch came pre-ripped,” I replied. “They asked if I had scissors.”

He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “You’re a stronger person than me. I’d have handed them the scissors and said, ‘Go for it.’”

“Don’t tempt me,” I said, grinning.

As we talked, the tension of the day melted away, replaced by the effortless rhythm of our banter. He had this way of making me feel at ease, even when I was convinced he was only here to tease me.

Eventually, I glanced at the clock. “Alright, I need to lock up.”

“Let me help,” Franco offered, already moving to grab a stray box of caps.

“You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he said, flashing me a playful grin. “What kind of company would I be if I didn’t pitch in?”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, watching as he stacked the box neatly against the wall.

“Thanks,” I said as I double-checked the locks.

“No problem,” he replied, leaning casually against the door. “So... do you ever get to enjoy the race, or are you always stuck in here?”

I shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I can hear the cars and feel the atmosphere, which is cool, but I’m usually too busy to watch.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Wanna change that?”

“What?”

“Come with me,” he said, gesturing toward the staircase. “The garage should still be open.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “The garage? I don’t think I’m allowed over there. Are you even allowed there?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, his grin widening. “You’re with me. No one’s going to stop us.”

“Franco…”

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Live a little.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I sighed and followed him, my heart racing as we crossed the paddock.

The Williams garage was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling paddock outside. The bright fluorescent lights highlighted every polished surface, and the sleek car sat in the middle of the space like a centerpiece in a gallery. It felt strangely intimate, with no engineers or team members left. I hesitated just outside the entrance, my nerves catching up with me now that we were here.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, clutching my bag tightly. “It’s... empty.”

“That’s the best part,” Franco replied, his grin widening as he gestured for me to follow him inside. “No one to stop us.”

I paused, glancing around the pristine space. “I don’t know... This feels like trespassing.”

“It’s not trespassing if I’m the one who brought you,” he said, walking backward as if to coax me forward. “Come on. Live a little.”

I sighed but couldn’t fight back my smile as I followed him in, my sneakers squeaking faintly against the shiny floor. The atmosphere was surreal, and the closer we got to the car, the more my awe grew. I’d seen Formula 1 cars on TV, in pictures, even on the paddock screens—but standing next to one was an entirely different experience.

Franco smirked, gesturing toward the car. “Look here,” he said, crouching slightly to point out the edge of the floorboard. “See how the side pods curve in? That’s for cooling. Air flows through there to keep the engine temperature stable. Without it, you’re toast by lap ten.”

I leaned closer, my brow furrowing as I followed his line of sight. “So... it’s like a high-tech air conditioner for the car?”

“Exactly,” he said, his grin widening. “Though we call it aero. Sounds cooler, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure. Very fancy.”

Franco stood and walked toward the rear wing, beckoning me to follow. “And this—this is where all the magic happens.”

I trailed after him, folding my arms as he gestured to the intricate structure of the wing. “Let me guess. It’s, uh, what keeps the car from flying off the track?”

“Close,” Franco said, clearly enjoying my attempt. “It’s all about downforce. The rear wing pushes the car into the track so we can go faster through corners. Too little, and you’re skidding all over the place. Too much, and you’re slower on the straights. It’s a balancing act.”

My eyes flicked to the faintly scuffed surface of the wing. “Is that why it looks so... fragile? Like one bump and it’ll fall apart?”

Franco chuckled. “It’s tougher than it looks. But yeah, you don’t want to crash into someone—or something. The engineers would cry.”

I laughed, picturing an entire team of engineers in despair over a dented wing. “So, you actually know what all this stuff does?”

“Of course,” Franco said, his tone almost offended but playful.

“I mean, for an AV guy, you’re awfully... knowledgeable,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

He paused, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Let’s just say I pay attention.”

“This is insane,” I whispered, taking in all the intricate details of the car again. “It’s... beautiful.”

Franco chuckled. “That’s one way to describe it. Most people just say, ‘Fast.’”

“Well, it’s that too,” I said, shooting him a look. “But seriously... It’s like art.”

“Art that goes over 300 kilometers per hour,” he said, his grin softening. “Wanna sit in it?”

I froze, turning to him with wide eyes. “What? No. I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can,” Franco said, already moving toward the cockpit. “Come on, it’s not going to bite.”

I hesitated, glancing between him and the car. There was something in his expression—playful, but also genuinely encouraging—that made me relent. “Fine. But if anyone finds out, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal,” he said, helping me climb in.

The cockpit was snug—far tighter than I’d expected—and I felt awkward as I tried to maneuver my legs into position. Once I was settled, I placed my hands on the steering wheel cautiously, my heart racing.

“This feels... surreal,” I said, staring at the wheel.

“You look like a pro already,” Franco said, crouching beside the car with his phone in hand.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned, catching the gleam in his eyes.

“Too late,” he said, snapping a picture before I could protest.

“Franco!”

“What?” he said innocently, holding up the photo for me to see. “Look, it’s a good angle. Very Instagram-worthy.”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help laughing. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look cool,” he corrected, saving the photo. “But don’t worry—I’ll send it to you. For your mom, obviously.”

I laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Oh yeah, because my mom’s dying to see me breaking rules in the paddock.”

“She’ll be proud,” Franco said, standing up. “Here, try this.”

He handed me a helmet, which I reluctantly placed on my head. It was far too big, wobbling precariously as I adjusted the strap.

“Okay, this is worse,” I said, my voice muffled by the helmet. “I look like a bobblehead.”

Franco burst out laughing, doubling over as he tried to steady himself. “You’re not wrong, but it’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes.

“Definitely,” he said, snapping another picture before I could stop him.

“You’re actually the worst, you know that?” I said, reaching to swat the phone from his hand, but he dodged easily.

“Admit it,” he teased, slipping the phone into his pocket. “You’re having fun.”

I paused, the weight of the helmet making me grin. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” Franco said, setting the phone down. “That’s the point.”

As we wandered back toward the front of the garage, I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder at the car one last time. It felt like I’d just stepped into another universe, one far removed from the chaos of my usual day.

“Thanks for this,” I said quietly. “It was... unexpected. In a good way.”

“Anytime,” Franco said, his smile genuine. “Next time, we’ll take it for a spin.”

I snorted. “Yeah, no thanks. I like having a license.”

…

My phone buzzed in my pocket as we reached the door to the paddock’s outer corridor. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen: my colleague’s name lighting up in bold letters.

“Oh shoot,” I said, answering quickly. “Hey, yeah, sorry! I’m on my way now.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently as I finished the call.

“Forgot I’m carpooling,” I explained as I tucked my phone away. “I’m supposed to meet my colleague Alicia in the parking lot, like... five minutes ago.”

“Lucky for you, I know the way,” Franco said with a grin. “Come on. I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, even as I fell into step beside him.

“I insist,” he said, slipping his hands into his hoodie pockets. “It’s dangerous out there. You might get mobbed by someone asking for sapphire-blue polos again.”

I laughed. “Good point. Better bring backup.”

We walked together through the quiet paddock, the sounds of the race weekend fading into the background. Franco’s pace was unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world, and I found myself relaxing despite the mild panic of running late.

“So,” Franco said after a beat, “what’s the plan? Dinner, sleep, and back to the chaos tomorrow?”

“Pretty much,” I replied. “I’ll probably be dreaming about misplaced hats and impossible customer requests.”

“Sounds thrilling,” he teased, glancing over at me.

“Oh, it’s a dream come true,” I joked.

When we reached the parking lot, I slowed, turning toward him. “Thanks for walking me. You didn’t have to, but... it was nice.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said easily, his grin softening. “Oh, before you go—what’s your Instagram?”

“My Instagram?” I repeated, blinking.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll send you the pictures. Besides, it’s a nice excuse to text you later.”

His tone was casual, but the glint in his eyes gave away the playful intent.

“Smooth,” I said, smiling as I typed my handle into his phone.

“What can I say?” he replied, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve got my moments.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I turned to leave. But before I’d even made it to Alicia’s car, my phone buzzed again.

I glanced down at the screen, expecting a message, but instead, I saw a follow request. Franco Colapinto.

Curious, I tapped on his profile—and froze.

There it was, plain as day: Williams Racing Driver.

My jaw dropped. I turned back toward him, still standing where we’d parted, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught me staring.

“You’re a driver?” I asked, loud enough for him to hear across the lot.

He sauntered closer, his grin widening. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“No!” I said, my cheeks warming. “You let me think you were just—”

“Just what?” he asked, his voice full of teasing amusement. “The AV guy?”

“Yes!”

Franco laughed, the sound warm and easy. “I never said that. You just assumed. I wasn’t about to ruin the fun.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped, caught off guard by the way he was looking at me—not smug, but something softer.

“You’re enjoying yourself way too much right now.”

“Can you blame me?” he said, his grin widening.

I felt my cheeks warm and quickly looked away, fiddling with a stray cap on the counter. “Well, excuse me for not keeping tabs on every random person who shows up in the paddock.”

“Random?” he gasped dramatically, leaning closer. “You wound me, Y/N.”

I tried to suppress a smile, focusing hard on arranging the caps. “You know what I mean.”

Franco’s teasing softened, and his voice lowered just enough to make my pulse quicken. “Don’t worry. I get it. I joined mid-season—no merch, no big fuss. Kind of nice, actually.”

I shook my head, biting back a smile as Alicia honked the car horn, impatient. I glanced over my shoulder, then back at Franco.

“Well, good luck tomorrow, driver,” I said, emphasizing the word with a playful grin.

“Thanks,” he said, stepping closer, his tone dipping into something more deliberate. “And if I score points, you’ll come celebrate, right?”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know... What kind of celebration are we talking about?”

“The fun kind,” he said, his green eyes glinting. “Drinks, music... Maybe even some dancing, if you’re up for it.”

My cheeks warmed again, but this time I didn’t shy away. “Alright. If you score points, I’m in.”

“Good,” he said, stepping back with a wink. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I turned and headed to Alicia’s car, my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the hurried pace. As I slid into the passenger seat, my phone buzzed again—a message from Franco.

You’re going to have fun tomorrow. Trust me. ;)

I couldn’t help but smile as I replied: You better deliver, Colapinto.

…

Franco had just wrapped up his post-race interviews, a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion coursing through him. Eighth place—points for Williams. It wasn’t a podium, but it felt like a win. The team’s hospitality suite loomed just ahead, buzzing with the chatter of staff, sponsors, and VIP guests waiting to congratulate him.

The Williams event manager was already gesturing for him to join the group. “Franco, let’s keep moving. You’re late for the team celebration.”

But Franco barely slowed his stride. His gaze flicked across the paddock and landed on the merchandise store. His grin widened.

“Give me a minute,” he said, waving her off.

“Franco—” she started, exasperated, but he was already heading toward the shop.

…

I was busy ringing up yet another Charles Leclerc cap when I felt the store’s energy shift. A hush swept over the customers, quickly replaced by murmurs.

“Is that...?” one whispered loudly.

“Oh my God, it’s Franco Colapinto!” another exclaimed.

I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as Franco strolled in, still wearing his race suit, unzipped to reveal the Williams-branded undershirt beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, and he had that unmistakable post-race glow—the combination of effort and adrenaline that made him look annoyingly good. His green eyes scanned the shop before locking onto me.

He ignored the sudden buzz of whispers and phones being whipped out, walking straight to the counter with that easy confidence.

“Well?” he said, leaning on the counter with a grin.

“Well, what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady even as my heart raced.

“I delivered,” he said casually, though the pride in his voice was unmistakable.

“Congratulations,” I said warmly, matching his grin despite myself. “Eighth place, right?”

“That’s right.” He leaned closer, his grin softening into something a little more intimate. “And now I’m here to confirm our deal.”

“Our deal?” I asked, feigning ignorance just to tease him.

Franco let out a mock groan, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You promised to celebrate if I scored points.”

“Did I?” I asked, my eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to send a flutter through my chest. “Don’t make me beg.”

Behind him, a small group of customers was watching the interaction with barely-contained excitement. One braver fan held up a notebook. “Franco! Can you sign this?”

Without even looking back, Franco waved a hand in polite dismissal. “Not now, amigo.”

Another fan piped up, “Are you actually in here to buy something?”

Franco turned his head slightly, smirking. “Nah, just confirming plans. Way more important.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as the customers exchanged incredulous looks. Turning my attention back to him, I tilted my head. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep my word. What’s the plan?”

“I’ll send you the details later,” Franco said, standing up straight. His voice softened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “No backing out. You owe me one for carrying all those hats yesterday.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, my cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Good,” Franco said, stepping back with a wink.

Just as he turned to leave, the sharply-dressed Williams event manager appeared in the doorway, clipboard clutched tightly. “Franco! There you are. Hospitality, now. You’re already late.”

“On my way,” he said, before glancing back at me one last time. “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

“See you,” I replied, my voice light but sincere.

With one final wink, he spun on his heel and strode out of the store, leaving a trail of astonished fans and a flustered me in his wake. As the door swung shut behind him, I caught sight of him being hurried across the paddock by the event manager, his confident stride unshaken.

…

The rooftop lounge was bathed in golden light, the glittering city skyline providing a stunning backdrop. The hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and bursts of laughter filled the air, creating the perfect atmosphere for celebration. Franco had done it—points for Williams, a solid achievement for the team and a personal milestone for him.

I hesitated as I stepped onto the terrace, smoothing down my black dress. The outfit wasn’t anything too fancy, but it felt a world apart from my usual paddock uniform. My nerves buzzed, not because of the party but because of who had insisted I come.

I spotted Franco near the balcony, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a drink in hand as he nodded politely at something a sponsor was saying. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes flicked over the crowd with purpose. When his gaze landed on me, his grin spread instantly, bright and unmistakably boyish.

“Excuse me,” he said abruptly to the group around him, his voice cutting through their chatter. Without waiting for their response, he made his way toward me, weaving through the crowd with ease.

“You made it,” he said, stopping in front of me, his green eyes scanning me like he was committing every detail to memory.

“I did,” I replied, my voice light. “And you’re not exactly hard to find.”

“I try to be memorable,” he teased, though his grin softened into something warmer. He took a step back, his gaze lingering. “You look... wow.”

“Wow?” I raised an eyebrow, though my cheeks warmed under his scrutiny.

“Yeah, wow,” he said earnestly, as if the word itself wasn’t enough. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Is that your way of saying I usually look terrible?” I joked, tilting my head.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I mean—no. You always look great, but this is... different. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed even more, and I let out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“I clean up when I have to,” he replied, his grin widening.

We stood near the edge of the terrace, the noise of the party fading into the background. Franco didn’t seem to notice the occasional glances or murmurs from other guests. His focus was entirely on me, his posture relaxed yet intent.

“So, what’s the verdict on this party?” I asked, gesturing slightly to the scene around us.

“Not bad,” he said with a shrug. “But it just got better.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re too much.”

Before he could reply, someone called his name from across the terrace. Franco turned briefly, offering a polite wave, but his attention snapped back to me almost instantly.

“Busy man,” I teased, my eyes sparkling.

“Not tonight,” he replied firmly.

But the interruptions kept coming. A Williams team member approached with a clipboard, another guest hovered nearby with a congratulatory drink in hand, and a photographer gestured for Franco to join a group photo. Each time, he handled it quickly, his attention darting back to me as soon as he could.

“Sorry,” he said after the third interruption, shaking his head. “That’s the last one. I swear.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, my tone teasing but understanding.

“Not really,” he admitted, his grin sheepish. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

My chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone, but before I could respond, another call of his name rang out. Franco sighed, glancing briefly toward the source.

“Want a drink?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost intimate amidst the bustling terrace.

“Sure,” I said, nodding.

Franco led me to the bar, keeping close as we moved through the crowd. He ordered for both of us without hesitation, handing me a glass of sparkling water when I mentioned I wasn’t drinking.

“To today,” he said, raising his glass.

“To eighth place,” I replied, clinking mine lightly against his.

“And to making this the best part of the night,” he added, his grin softening as he looked at me over the rim of his glass.

As we lingered by the bar, the interruptions became harder to ignore. A sponsor insisted on pulling Franco into another photo, while a team member gestured impatiently for him to join a group near the balcony. He handled each one politely but quickly, his focus always returning to me.

“You know,” I said after a particularly persistent interruption, “you’re kind of in demand tonight.”

“Let them wait,” he replied, his voice steady.

“They don’t seem like the waiting type,” I teased.

“Too bad,” he said, his grin unwavering. “I’ve got better company.”

My heart skipped at the conviction in his tone, but before I could respond, yet another call of his name rang out. This time, Franco sighed audibly, shaking his head.

“I think that’s my cue,” he said, glancing back at me. “To suggest we sneak out.”

“Sneak out of your own party?” I repeated, my brow lifting slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, his grin returning. “Somewhere quieter. Just us.”

I hesitated, glancing around the bustling terrace. “Won’t people notice?”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I don’t really care.”

The quiet certainty in his voice made me smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

…

Franco led me toward a side exit at the edge of the terrace, his hand lightly brushing my back as we weaved through the thinning crowd. The rooftop celebrations carried on without a hitch, the laughter and clinking of glasses fading into the background as we slipped through the door.

“This way,” he said, holding the door open for me with a mischievous grin.

I stepped into a narrow stairwell, the dim emergency lights casting soft shadows on the walls. “We’re really doing this?”

“Of course,” Franco said, closing the door behind us. “What’s a celebration without a little adventure?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “This feels so dramatic. What, no rooftop helicopter getaway?”

“Next time,” he quipped, his grin widening as he started down the stairs.

The faint creak of the metal staircase echoed with each step, the quiet amplifying the flutter in my chest. By the time we reached the fire escape at ground level, the cool night air rushed in, refreshing and grounding.

“This is... a little ridiculous,” I said, glancing around at the empty alleyway we’d stepped into.

“Ridiculously fun,” Franco corrected, offering me his hand to help me down the last step.

I rolled my eyes but took it, his grip warm and steady. “Alright, what now?”

“Trust me,” he said, his green eyes glinting in the dim light. “I know the perfect spot.”

…

The city streets were quieter than I’d expected, the buzz of the race weekend giving way to a more subdued hum of nightlife. Franco walked beside me, his hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried.

“Any preferences?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.

I shrugged, smiling. “Surprise me.”

He led me down a narrow side street, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the cobblestones. We stopped in front of a small, cozy shop with large windows and shelves of colorful bottles displayed inside.

“This place,” Franco said, nodding toward the door. “Best snacks and drinks you’ll find this late.”

The warm scent of freshly fried food greeted us as we stepped inside. Franco approached the counter like a man on a mission, ordering two plates of dumplings and two bottles of Ramune without hesitation.

I watched as he expertly popped the marble stopper on one of the sodas, the sound crisp and satisfying. He handed it to me with a grin. “Here. Best part of the whole drink.”

“You make it sound like magic,” I said, laughing as I took the bottle.

“It kind of is,” he replied, popping the second bottle for himself.

We carried our food and drinks outside, settling on a low wall just across the street. The city lights sparkled in the distance, the occasional hum of a passing car filling the quiet.

I picked up a dumpling, steam curling from its surface. “You really know how to celebrate, huh?”

“Hey, who needs champagne when you’ve got gyoza and Ramune?” Franco said, holding up his bottle in a mock toast.

I laughed, clinking my bottle lightly against his. “Cheers to that.”

The quiet of the street wrapped around us, a comforting hum of distant city life providing a soft backdrop as we lingered outside the noodle shop. Our conversation had slowed, dipping into a comfortable silence as we finished our meal. Franco turned his soda bottle in his hand, the faint clink of the marble stopper breaking the stillness.

He glanced at me, his gaze lingering a little too long. When I met his eyes, there was something unspoken there—warmth, maybe, or a kind of vulnerability that caught me off guard.

“What?” I asked softly, tilting my head.

“Nothing,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But then he hesitated, his fingers tightening around the bottle before he set it down beside him. “Actually... not nothing.”

My brow furrowed slightly as I waited, the weight of his pause pulling my attention fully to him.

“You ever feel like...” He trailed off, letting out a soft laugh, almost like he was laughing at himself. “Like you’re doing something incredible, something people would kill to do, but... it still feels like something’s missing?”

His words hit me with unexpected bluntness, the rawness in his tone making my chest tighten. I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do. It’s like... you’re proud of it, but it’s not the whole picture. It’s not everything.”

“Exactly,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “Don’t get me wrong, I love driving. It’s my dream, always has been. But...” He exhaled, his eyes dropping briefly before flicking back to mine. “It can be... lonely sometimes. You’re surrounded by people, always moving, but you don’t really get to... connect. Not like this.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his words. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, his gaze steady on mine. “This. Talking to someone who isn’t asking about lap times or tire strategy. Someone who actually listens. It’s... rare.”

My chest tightened at his words, and I shifted slightly, my fingers toying with the edge of my sleeve. “It’s not just you,” I admitted, my voice quiet but steady. “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. Like you’re doing something amazing, but... it’s still missing something.”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the soda bottle in my hand. “I love working in F1. I really do. But... I miss my friends back home sometimes. Even though my colleagues are nice, it’s not the same. It’s hard to meet people you really connect with when you’re constantly on the move.”

Franco tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening. “Yeah. That’s it exactly.”

“I guess I never really expected to meet someone here...” I paused, searching for the right words. “...who it suddenly feels so easy with.”

He didn’t look away, his expression steady as if he understood exactly what I meant. “I get it,” he said softly. “More than you know.”

The air between us felt heavier now, thick with unspoken understanding. I met his eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. There was something grounding in the way he looked at me, like he wasn’t just hearing me but seeing me completely.

…

When we reached the hotel, I slowed to a stop, turning to face Franco just outside the entrance. He mirrored me, his hands slipping from his pockets as he stood a little closer than before.

“Well,” I said, tilting my head slightly, “this is me.”

“So it is,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

There was a beat of silence, the soft hum of the city filling the space between us. He looked at me, his green eyes studying my face like he was memorizing every detail.

“I wish I didn’t have to say goodnight,” he said quietly, his voice dropping to something softer, almost vulnerable.

My breath caught, the simplicity of his words hitting me harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to respond, but the look in his eyes—the way his usual teasing warmth had melted into something so unguarded—rendered me speechless.

“I mean it,” he continued, his lips twitching into a small, self-deprecating smile. “This... tonight... I don’t want it to end.”

My chest tightened, a warmth spreading through me that I couldn’t quite name. “Franco...”

“I know,” he said, cutting me off gently. His grin softened as he glanced down for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “It’s just... it’s been a while since I felt this way. Since someone made me feel this way.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavy and unfiltered. My cheeks flushed, my heart pounding as the distance between us suddenly felt too much. I took a small step closer, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to say goodnight just yet.”

The tension in the air thickened, the playful energy we’d carried through the evening now replaced by something deeper, heavier, and undeniable. Franco’s hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing against my cheek as though he was afraid to break the moment. His touch was light, tentative, but the warmth of it sent a shiver down my spine.

He closed the remaining distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was soft at first, careful, like he was savoring a moment he didn’t want to rush. The hesitation melted away almost instantly, replaced by something warmer, deeper.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as his other hand rested lightly on my waist. The kiss deepened, unhurried but intense, a perfect balance of passion and tenderness. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my palms as my hands rested against his chest.

Franco tilted his head slightly, his lips moving against mine with a certainty that made my knees feel unsteady. Every movement felt deliberate, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every emotion he couldn’t quite articulate, into the kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, the world felt quieter, as though the night had paused just for us.

Franco’s thumb brushed against my cheek as he studied my face, his green eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name but didn’t need to.

“See you at the next race?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with hope and certainty all at once.

“For sure,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper but steady.

His lips curved into a slow, almost disbelieving smile, his hand lingering on my waist for a moment longer before he stepped back.

As I turned and stepped inside the hotel, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down, my cheeks still warm. A message from Franco lit up my screen:

You’ve completely ruined me, you know that? Best night ever.

I smiled to myself, my heart still racing as the elevator doors closed.

…

I groggily blinked awake, the sunlight peeking through the hotel curtains. My head felt heavy, and for a moment, I debated rolling over and falling right back asleep. But then my phone buzzed on the nightstand, the faint vibration pulling me from the haze of sleep. I reached over, squinting at the screen as I unlocked it.

Three missed calls. A text from Alicia, my colleague, stood out at the top of the notifications.

Why the hell are you on Franco Colapinto’s Instagram story eating dumplings with him on the pavement???

I frowned, propping myself up slightly against the headboard. What?

My thumb hovered over the message before tapping it, and an attached screenshot filled the screen. I blinked at it, then blinked again, sitting up straighter.

There it was, in all its glory: a grainy yet oddly endearing photo of Franco and me, still dressed from last night, sitting on the street outside the noodle shop. Plates of gyoza were scattered between us, the remnants of our late-night feast. My laughter was frozen mid-moment, one hand holding one of the little snacks while the other gestured animatedly. Franco was grinning at me, his green eyes glinting under the dim streetlights.

The caption read: Late-night dining, five stars. 

I groaned, half in disbelief, half in embarrassment, as I clicked out of the screenshot and into Instagram itself. Sure enough, Franco’s story was still live. I stared at it for a moment, heat rising to my cheeks, before my phone buzzed again.

Another text from Alicia.

Is this what you do when you “stay late to lock up”? GIRL. DETAILS. NOW.

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as I set the phone down. The embarrassment I’d expected to feel never fully settled in. Instead, a warmth bloomed in my chest, the memory of last night—the dumplings, the laughter, the kiss—playing back in my mind.

I sat back against the pillows, staring at the sunlight filtering through the curtains. My phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t a notification or a frantic message from Alicia. It was Franco.

Hope you’re not mad about the dumpling photo. Just wanted to remember the best night I’ve had in a while.

I smiled, the warmth in my chest spreading as I typed out a reply.

Not mad. But you owe me breakfast for making me Instagram famous.

The three dots appeared almost instantly.

Deal. I’ll pick you up in 30.

I laughed softly, setting my phone down on the bedside table. Outside, the city was waking up, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was rushing to keep up with it. Instead, I let myself sink into the quiet, a lingering sense of joy wrapping around me like a blanket.