#how do i talk to my teammate i constantly make out with about why we keep making out

[pucksandpower]

I’m Not Jealous!

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: you’re definitely not jealous of how your boyfriend and his teammate are eye-fucking each other … nope

Note: thank you to the brilliant @struggling-with-drivers for this amazing idea, I love you so much ❤️

You can’t take your eyes off Lando and Oscar as they chat animatedly in the McLaren motorhome after qualifying. The way they lean towards each other, the spark of energy crackling between them, the bright gleam in their eyes — it makes your chest tighten with a strange jealousy.

They’re so wrapped up in their conversation, casually touching each other’s arms for emphasis, that they don’t even notice you approaching. You clear your throat pointedly.

“Oh, hey babe!” Lando glances up with a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s still buzzing from the adrenaline of the session, and you know how much he lives for these intense post-qualifying debriefs with his teammate.

Oscar throws you an acknowledging nod but doesn’t break his intense eye contact with Lando. “We were just going over the data from ...”

You cut him off with an impatient wave of your hand. “I don’t care about the data. Can I talk to my boyfriend for two seconds?”

Lando blinks in surprise at your curt tone but recovers quickly with a teasing grin. “Someone’s feeling jealous.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side with a gentle squeeze.

You stiffen, hating how easily he can read you sometimes. “I am not jealous.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Lando rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Then why are you pouting like a petulant child?”

“I’m not pouting!” You protest, very much aware that your lower lip has surged into an exaggerated protrusion. You shoot Oscar a venomous glare when he fails to stifle a snort of laughter.

Lando laughs too, that bright, infectious giggle that somehow simultaneously melts and irritates you. “Aww, baby, you don’t have to be jealous of Oscar. We both have girlfriends, remember? You’re my one and only.”

He kisses your cheek with an audible smacking sound, as if to emphasize his point. But the reassurance doesn’t land — if anything, it makes you more prickly.

“Doesn’t feel like it when you two are constantly eye-fucking each other,” you grumble petulantly.

Lando blinks, his smile faltering briefly into an almost comically exaggerated expression of surprise. Then he exchanges a loaded glance with Oscar, the two of them breaking into wide grins.

“What?” You demand, feeling your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment and irritation. Did you really just say that out loud?

“Nothing, nothing,” Lando says quickly, still grinning wolfishly. “It’s just … eye-fucking, huh? Is that what you think we’re doing?”

“Well it certainly looks like it!” You retort, frantically trying to backpedal. “With all the intense staring and lingering touches and private jokes ...”

Lando’s grin stretches even wider, if that’s possible. “You’re just jealous because you want my undivided attention, aren’t you?”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized by his blunt words despite how accurate they are. “I … no!”

The protest rings pathetically hollow, even to your own ears. Lando sees right through you, as always. He cups your burning cheek, tsking softly.

“Aww, baby, you’re all needy and flustered now, aren’t you?” His tone is warm, almost purred, sending a shiver rippling through you. “It’s okay, I get it. Who could resist wanting every second of my time?”

You huff out a petulant breath, but it’s impossible to stay irritated when he’s gazing at you with such open affection. “You’re an ass.”

“Maybe.” Lando shrugs cheerfully. “But I’m your ass.” He leans in until his lips are brushing your ear, voice dropping to a hushed murmur. “And tonight, I’ll be giving you every second of my undivided attention.”

A full-body shiver races through you at the heated promise in his tone. You’re abruptly, acutely aware of Oscar watching this whole exchange with a smirk.

“Get a room, you two,” he drawls, not even trying to hide his amusement.

Lando barks out a laugh, pulling back just enough to wink roguishly at you. “Don’t mind if we do.”

“Wait, here? Now?” You squeak out, suddenly flustered all over again as he takes your hand and starts tugging you toward the back of the motorhome.

“Why not?” Lando flashes you a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “I told you, baby — I’m all yours tonight. No more sharing me with anyone else. Just you and me.”

He pauses with his hand on the doorknob to the private room, giving you a slow once-over that makes your skin prickle with delicious heat.

“And I plan to give you my complete … undivided … attention.”

The husky emphasis he puts on those last few words sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You can’t resist stealing a quick glance over at Oscar, who has the decency to look away with a badly concealed smirk.

Then Lando is hauling you through the door and slamming it shut behind you, pressing you up against it as his mouth instantly finds yours in a searing kiss. You melt against him with a breathless moan, all thoughts of jealousy evaporating like mist as his hands roam hungrily over your body.

When you finally break for air, Lando’s eyes are dark with a blazing intensity usually reserved for the racetrack. He brushes a few stray strands of hair from your flushed face with uncharacteristic tenderness.

“You have nothing to be jealous of, you know,” he murmurs gruffly. “Oscar’s my teammate, my rival, almost like a brother to me … but you’re the love of my life. You’ll always come first.”

The raw sincerity in his words steals your breath. You can only nod mutely, suddenly blinking back stupid, overwhelming tears of relief and adoration.

Lando seems to understand. He just smiles that heart-melting smile and guides you toward the small sofa, settling you onto his lap and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap snugly around you, holding you close, making you feel deliciously secure and wanted.

“I’m sorry I got jealous and petty,” you mumble, tentatively running your fingers through his sweat-damp curls. “I know how intense your connection with Oscar is on the track. I was just being stupid ...”

“No, no.” Lando cuts you off firmly, pulling back to meet your gaze. “Your feelings are never stupid, baby. If I made you feel like you had to compete for my attention, that’s on me.”

He punctuates his words with a soft, lingering kiss that deepens into something hungrier and needier when you clutch at the back of his neck, wanting him closer, closer ...

Some indeterminable time later, you reluctantly break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both pant for breath. Lando brushes his nose against yours, his eyes practically glowing with devotion.

“I really do love you, you know,” he murmurs, almost shyly. As if he hasn’t already made that abundantly clear a million times over. “More than anything. Or anyone.”

You hum contentedly, snuggling deeper into his embrace. You can feel the steadiness of his heartbeat, a reassuring counterpoint to the pleasant ache of desire still thrumming through your veins.

“I know. And I love you too.” You pause, tracing the line of his jaw tenderly. “Even when I’m being jealous and ridiculous.”

Lando throws his head back with a rich peal of laughter that warms you all the way to your toes.

“Good thing I love you even more when you’re being jealous and ridiculous, then,” he quips, sticking his tongue out impishly.

You swat at his shoulder with a scowl that quickly melts into a reluctant grin, unable to stay annoyed in the face of his boyish charm and unabashed affection.

You know, deep down, that you really don’t have anything to be jealous of — not with the way Lando holds you close and gazes at you like you’re the only person in the world. Still, it’s reassuring having the confirmation out in the open.

You snuggle deeper into his chest, basking in the comfortable silence and closeness. Lando’s fingers idly trace patterns across your back as you breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp tang of adrenaline.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs eventually, breaking the peaceful quiet. There’s a rare vulnerability in his voice that makes your heart squeeze. “This life … the racing, the fame, the constant pressure … it would all be meaningless if I didn’t have you by my side.”

You tilt your head back to study his earnest expression, struck by the depth of emotion simmering in his warm multi-colored eyes. Impulsively, you reach up to cup his cheek, marveling at how easily he leans into your touch.

In these unguarded moments, it’s hard to reconcile this open, sensitive soul with the fierce, single-minded racer who commands a global spotlight. You feel extraordinarily privileged to be one of the few people who gets to see Lando like this — soft, devoted, his heart laid bare.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whisper back fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere, Lando. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

His smile is blinding, making your breath catch. Then his lips are on yours again, kiss brimming with a potent mixture of gratitude, need, and sheer adoration that steals your breath.

When you finally break apart, twin smiles of pure contentment tug at both your mouths. Lando loops his arms loosely around your waist, hands splaying across the small of your back as he simply holds you close and takes a moment to drink you in.

You watch the play of emotions flit across his expressive features — affection, longing, bone-deep satisfaction at having you here, now, anchored in his embrace. A sense of peace and belonging washes over you, chasing away any lingering shadows of jealousy or doubt.

This is where you belong. This is your heart’s home, right here in Lando’s arms, sharing his joy and success and weathering the storms alongside him. A love like this — passionate yet grounded, all-consuming yet secure — is worth fighting for.

You may occasionally get prickly twinges of irrational jealousy. You may bicker and tease and test each other’s patience to its limits. But at the end of the day, you know there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be.

Lando seems to read your mind, his grin taking on a distinctly smug edge as his fingers trace deliciously distracting patterns along your spine.

“See?” He murmurs. “Eye-fucking the teammate is all well and good … but this?” He punctuates the words by pulling you flush against him, letting you feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal. “This is what I really want. What I’ll always want, baby.”

You can’t resist rolling your eyes at his signature cockiness, even as you melt against him with a soft hum of contentment. Typical Lando — somehow managing to be both charming and infuriatingly self-satisfied at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, unable to keep the goofy smile off your face. “I get it, casanova. Now shut up and kiss me already.”

His answering laugh is pure sunshine, bright and carefree. Then he’s pulling you down into another heated kiss, effectively silencing any lingering self-doubt or jealousy.

This — the two of you, tangled up in each other with no barriers or secrets, just pure affection and insatiable desire — is what true love feels like. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

[eu-nicola]

the fastest driver part 2

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc

warnings: cheating (?), car accident

word counter: 9896

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request, thanks for the comments 🤍

tags: @ilovechickenwings @amortentiaaaa @wierdflowerpower @malvikareader @freyathehuntress

The sound of the rain softly hitting the hotel windows muffled any noise from the outside world. Inside the room, the air was thick, charged with a tension that had taken months to reach its breaking point. You were there, tangled with Max in a kiss that burned like fire, as if both of you had been waiting for this moment for far too long. His hand rested on your waist, firm yet trembling, as his lips sought yours with a mix of urgency and doubt.

You knew it was a mistake. You both knew it. But in that moment, logic and consequences seemed irrelevant.

You pulled away just a few inches, breathing heavily, and looked into his eyes. His were dark, filled with something you hadn’t seen before, a mix of desire, regret, and something else you couldn’t identify.

“We shouldn’t be doing this” you whispered, though you made no move to pull away.

Max closed his eyes, as if trying to find strength in the darkness.

“I know” he replied, his voice hoarse. “But I can’t stop.”

It had all started that same night, after the press conference in Singapore. You’d had an intense day, with endless training sessions and meetings. When the day finally ended, the team had organized a small informal dinner at the hotel. It was something routine after the toughest workdays, a way to unwind and reconnect as a group.

During dinner, Max had been sitting next to you, as always. The conversation flowed naturally between the two of you, alternating between technical topics and light jokes. But beneath the surface, you felt that tension that hadn’t faded since that conversation on the terrace. Every time your gazes met, every time your arms accidentally brushed, it was like a reminder that you were playing with fire.

After dinner, everyone started to disperse. Some engineers stayed at the hotel bar, while others decided to retire early to their rooms. You were about to do the same when Max approached you.

“One more round?,” he asked, holding a couple of water bottles in his hands. “We could go over some ideas for tomorrow.”

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to stay talking about strategies or techniques outside official hours, so you didn’t think anything was out of place. You nodded, following him to a common room in the hotel, where you sat on a couch to go over some data on his tablet.

At first, everything was strictly professional. Max showed you a replay of your fastest lap and pointed out small adjustments you could make. You listened attentively, asking questions and taking notes. But as the conversation progressed, something changed. His comments became more personal, and his eyes seemed to study you more than the screen.

“You’re amazing, you know?,” he suddenly said, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

You looked at him, surprised.

“Why do you say that?.”

“Because you are. Everything you do, how you handle all of this… It’s impressive.”

His voice was soft, and there was something in his tone that made your heart race. You tried to respond, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, you just looked at him, and he returned your gaze with an intensity that made time seem to stop.

That was when you felt it: that moment when the line between you two was about to break.

You tried to break the tension by standing up from the couch, but he did the same, stepping in front of you.

“Max…” you began, but you couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You didn’t. Instead, you stayed there, looking at him, knowing you didn’t want him to stop. It was he who took the first step, moving slowly, as if giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. When his lips finally found yours, it was as if all doubts and barriers crumbled instantly.

After that first kiss, everything became a blur. You didn’t remember exactly how you had ended up in his room, only that the elevator had gone up too slowly, and every second had felt eternal. When you crossed the door, neither of you wasted time with words.

Now, standing in the middle of the room, with his hands on your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair, you felt like you were walking on the edge of an abyss. You knew there was no turning back, but you weren’t sure you wanted to.

Max pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“This is wrong,” he said, but his hands didn’t move from your waist.

“I know,” you replied, not letting go. “But I can’t help it.”

You both stood in silence, trapped in that moment that seemed to hold everything you had been repressing for months. Finally, Max sighed and took a step back, as if he were struggling with himself.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound convinced.

“Then why are we here?,” you asked, your voice heavy with frustration.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at you as if searching for an answer in your face.

“Cause I can’t stay away from you,” he finally confessed.

Those words fell like a bomb, tearing down any walls that remained between you. Without thinking, you kissed him again, and this time, neither of you tried to stop.

As the night went on, you knew this would complicate everything, that you had crossed a line you could never undo. But in that moment, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was him, and what you felt when you were with him.

You knew that dawn would bring questions, doubts, and maybe regrets. But in that moment, you chose to stay in the room, in his embrace, letting the world wait a little longer.

Since that night in Singapore, something between you and Max had changed. Though you tried to keep things as they were, it wasn’t long before the bond you had formed became deeper and more complicated. Max, with his impulsive character and his unshakable philosophy that personal success came above all, began to influence you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

At first, you resisted admitting how much he had started to shape your way of being. But the truth was undeniable: his intensity, his ambition, and his lack of remorse started to seem attractive, even necessary. Being by his side made you feel invincible, as if the rules didn’t apply to you. And in the chaos of Formula 1, where every little mistake could cost you everything, that mentality was dangerous but intoxicating.

It was in Mexico that you first noticed how much Max was influencing you. During qualifying, your engineer suggested a conservative strategy to secure a decent grid position. But as you listened to his explanation over the radio, you felt Max’s gaze from the other side of the garage.

“Take risks,” he had told you the night before in a casual conversation while reviewing data. His voice echoed in your mind. “If you don’t, someone else will.”

So you ignored the team’s suggestion and attacked the lap aggressively, pushing the car to its limits. When you crossed the line, you had secured a better position than expected, but at the same time, you had worn the tires more than necessary. Your engineer was frustrated, but Max was pleased.

“That’s what I want to see,” he said to you afterward, with a crooked smile as the two of you reviewed your data in the paddock. “You can’t expect them to do it all for you. Sometimes you have to take control, even if that means breaking a few rules.”

You returned his smile, knowing those words were dangerous but also addictive.

As the season progressed and the end drew closer, the two of you spent more and more time together. The professional and personal aspects blended in a way you couldn’t stop. Max was your mentor, your friend, and now, your lover. It was a secret you both guarded carefully, aware of what it would mean if anyone else found out. But in private, you couldn’t stay away from each other.

After every race, no matter whether you had won or lost, he found a way to seek you out. Sometimes it was a conversation in a secluded room in the paddock, other times it was in the privacy of a hotel. There was something in the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person who mattered, that made everything else seem irrelevant.

It was in Brazil that things intensified even more. You had finished second behind Max in a tight race, and although you were proud of your result, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you could have won if the team had adjusted the strategy. After the press conference, while everyone was celebrating, Max found you in a corner of the motorhome.

“Not bad for someone who’s still learning,” he joked, with that arrogant smile that always made you roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you replied, laughing, though his words had alleviated some of your frustration.

He took one step closer, and his expression changed. The intensity in his gaze trapped you, and before you could think of the consequences, he took your hand and led you out of the motorhome, away from the noise of the party. You ended up in his room, and, as always, the tension between you two overflowed.

The line no longer existed.

That night, you realized there was no going back. Max was a whirlwind that had swept away your boundaries and doubts. In his company, you felt more powerful, more confident, but also more vulnerable. You had crossed the line between professional and personal, and it was becoming harder and harder to distinguish where your career ended and where your life with him began.

The next morning, while you watched him sleep beside you, you wondered how long you could keep this secret. You knew the truth would eventually come to light, but for now, you held on to the moment, to the feeling of being invincible by his side, even if the price was high.

Max was right about one thing: to win, sometimes you had to break the rules. And you had decided you were willing to do so, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

On the other hand, the change in your driving style quickly caught the attention of the media. What had started as an evolution in your competitive style soon became a hot topic of debate. Your more aggressive approach, your willingness to take risks, and your refusal to give up ground on the track were interpreted as a radical transformation, and not everyone was willing to accept it.

The comments started subtly, during live broadcasts.

"Looks like she's adopting a bolder style," a journalist commented after a risky maneuver you made in Las Vegas to overtake Carlos Sainz. "Although some might say she's pushing the limits of what's acceptable."

But soon, the criticism turned more personal.

In the weeks that followed, headlines grew more aggressive. Sports newspapers and social media were filled with comments about your "masculine attitude" on the track. Some praised you, saying you had stopped being a driver who played defensively, while others criticized you for abandoning what they considered a "more elegant" and "appropriate style for a woman."

"Is this what we want to see in Formula 1?" asked a commentator on an analysis program. "I'm not saying she shouldn't be competitive, but it seems like she's trying to imitate the more aggressive drivers instead of finding her own way."

The words hit hard. You knew exactly who they were referring to with "more aggressive drivers." It was an implicit reference to Max, and the fact that your relationship with him remained a secret didn’t help divert the suspicions.

The pressure reached a boiling point during the Qatar Grand Prix weekend. In the pre-race press conference, a journalist threw a question that seemed designed to unsettle you.

"You've been accused of adopting an 'overly aggressive' driving style. Some even say you're trying to copy Max Verstappen. What do you have to say about that?"

You took a deep breath, maintaining the calm you had practiced so many times.

"My driving style is mine," you replied firmly. "Every driver has their own way of approaching races, and what I do on the track is the result of years of work and learning. If being aggressive means fighting to win, then yes, I am aggressive."

But the journalist didn’t stop there.

"Don't you think this aggression might be considered inappropriate for a woman in a traditionally male-dominated sport?"

There was a murmur in the room, and you could feel the rage beginning to bubble inside you. Max, sitting beside you, shot you a quick glance, as if reminding you not to lose control.

"I think that question says more about the person asking it than about me," you said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "We're in 2025. Are we really still questioning whether a woman can be competitive in Formula 1?"

The response earned a discreet applause from some journalists, but you knew the damage had already been done.

That night, while you were in your room going over your notes for the race, Max appeared at the door. He didn’t say anything at first, simply sank into a chair in front of you, watching you in silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked finally.

You shook your head, but he didn’t accept your answer.

"Look, I know what they’re saying about you," he continued, his tone more serious than usual. "And I understand how it feels. I went through the same thing when I came into Formula 1. They called me irresponsible, dangerous, immature..."

"And how did you handle it?" you asked, not hiding your frustration.

Max shrugged.

"I let them talk. In the end, the only thing that matters is what you do on the track. Winning shuts everyone up."

"And what if I don’t win?" you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

Max leaned forward, fixing his eyes on yours.

"You will win."

His words, though simple, carried a weight that managed to calm some of your anxiety.

On Sunday, with the criticism still fresh in your mind, you decided you couldn’t afford to doubt yourself. The race was one of the most intense of the season, with risky overtakes and moments where it seemed like everything was about to collapse. But in the end, you crossed the finish line in second place, just behind Max.

When you got out of the car, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Although the media still questioned your style, the fans seemed to be on your side. As you climbed onto the podium, trophy in hand, you understood what Max had meant.

The comments would continue. The criticism wouldn’t disappear. But as long as you kept performing on the track, as long as you kept fighting for your place, no one could take away what you had earned.

That night, as you celebrated with the team, Max approached you and whispered something in your ear.

"I told you you’d win."

The end of the season had arrived, and with it, the culmination of a year full of triumphs, tensions, and decisions that would change the course of your life. In the final race, in Abu Dhabi, Max had secured his fifth consecutive championship with an impeccable victory, while you finished second in the overall standings. You had fought until the end, and although you didn’t take the title, you were satisfied with what you had achieved.

When you stepped off the podium, the joy of your team was palpable. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, hugs, and congratulations, but you felt something else: a deep exhaustion, a need to escape the noise and find some clarity. While Max raised his trophy under the fireworks, you looked at him and couldn’t help but wonder what would happen between you two now that the season was over.

Hours later, the Red Bull party was in full swing. Laughter and music filled the air, but you found yourself apart, in a quiet corner, holding a glass of champagne and watching your teammates. Max was surrounded by people, as always, his easy smile and magnetic energy lighting up the room.

Finally, your eyes met, and he walked over, leaving the group around him.

"What are you doing here alone?" he asked, leaning slightly so only you could hear.

"I'm just taking a moment for myself," you replied, forcing a smile. "It’s been a long year."

Max looked at you in silence for a moment, as if trying to read your thoughts. Then, he took your hand and led you away from the noise, to a private terrace.

The cool night air was a relief. You both leaned on the railing, gazing at the lights that still shone on the track.

"Congratulations, champ," you finally said, breaking the silence.

"Thanks," he replied, though his tone was softer than usual. "And congratulations to you, too. This was your strongest year."

"Not strong enough to beat you," you joked, but he didn’t laugh.

"You’re closer than you think."

The conversation turned to vacations, the break they both desperately needed. But as they spoke, you couldn’t ignore the unease that had settled in your chest. Vacations meant time away from the chaos of Formula 1, but they also meant time away from Max.

He, on the other hand, seemed carefree, talking about plans to travel, relax, and disconnect from everything. But in his gaze, there was something else, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“What are you going to do during the holidays?,” he asked, finally.

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe visit my family, spend some time at home. I need a little normalcy.”

Max nodded, but didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his tone was more serious.

“You know this... what we have... is complicated.”

Your heart tightened at his words, even though you knew it was true.

“I know,” you said, trying to maintain composure.

“I don’t want you to think that this doesn’t mean anything to me,” he continued, looking out at the horizon. “But in this world, it’s difficult...”

“Difficult...” you finished for him, feeling a lump in your throat.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned toward you, placing a hand on your cheek.

“You’re amazing, you know that? Not just as a driver, but as a person. But...”

You didn’t need him to finish the sentence. You knew that what was everything to you, for him, was a way to escape the pressure, an adventure without attachments. And yet, there was something in his gaze, the way his hand trembled slightly as he touched you, that made you think maybe it wasn’t as simple for him as he wanted it to seem.

When you finally returned to the party, neither of you said anything more about the matter. Max went back to being the center of attention, and you joined the group, pretending everything was fine. But as you watched him laugh and joke with the others, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

The holidays would be a turning point, you knew. It was a time to reflect, to decide what your relationship with him really meant and whether you were willing to stay on that tightrope.

As the night came to a close, you said goodbye to everyone and headed back to your room. You sat on the bed, staring at the trophy you had won that day, but your mind was far from the track.

Max had been your first everything. But now, as you faced weeks of uncertainty, you wondered if it was also your first great lesson on what it meant to love someone who might never love you in the same way.

You knew you’d figure it out soon. But for now, all you could do was wait.

When the holidays began, you knew that, inevitably, your paths and Max’s would cross again. Even though both of you needed space, the geographical proximity in Monaco made it almost impossible to avoid each other. And, deep down, you didn’t want to. There was something unfinished between you two, something that needed to be said.

The first time you saw him was on his yacht, where he organized a discreet meeting with a few close friends. The atmosphere was relaxed, with laughter and wine glasses, but your eyes always found his. Max acted as usual: charming, relaxed, pretending like the weight of the world never touched him. But you knew better. You knew how he hid his emotions under that facade.

The second time was more intimate. He invited you to dinner at one of his apartments, a quiet evening that ended with a palpable tension.

It all started with a seemingly harmless conversation about his plans for the rest of the holidays.

“Are you planning to travel?,” you asked as you dined, trying to keep the tone light.

Max shrugged.

“I’ll probably spend a few days in the Netherlands with my family. Maybe make a quick trip to Spain.”

“And what about us?,” you asked, almost without realizing it. The question came out before you could stop it.

Max looked up, surprised by your tone.

“Us?.”

“Yes, Max. Us. This... whatever it is we’re doing. What does it mean to you?.”

He put his fork down and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“You know I don’t like putting labels on things.”

“I’m not asking for a label,” you replied, feeling frustration bubbling inside. “I just want to know where I stand.”

Max frowned, as if trying to find the right words, but his tone was colder than you expected.

“Why do we need to define it? What we have works, right?.”

That response was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Works for who, Max?,” you spat, your voice rising slightly. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like this only works for you. I’m the one who has to hide, the one who has to accept that we’re nothing more than a distraction to you.”

He stood up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s not fair. I never promised you anything.”

“No, you didn’t!,” you admitted, standing up as well. “But you didn’t let me go either. Every time I try to put some distance, you do something that makes me stay. And I, like an idiot, keep falling for it.”

Max seemed to stagger at your words, but his pride didn’t allow him to back down.

“It’s not my fault if you expect something I can’t give you.”

“Then what am I to you, Max? A distraction? A pastime between races?,” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain.

“That’s not fair,” he repeated, but this time his tone was softer.

The room fell silent for a moment. Max looked away, unable to face you directly. You knew there were feelings behind his cold demeanor, but you also knew he wasn’t ready to admit them, not even to himself.

“Look, I don’t know what you expected,” he said finally, his tone tired. “This isn’t easy for me either. You know I have someone.”

“Oh, really?,” you said sarcastically. “Because from here it seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

“I don’t have everything under control!,” he exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time. “Do you think this doesn’t affect me? Do you think I don’t think about you more than I should?.”

You froze at his confession. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something more, something that would explain everything. But instead, Max shook his head, as if he were fighting with his own thoughts.

“But I can’t give you what you want. Not now.”

That was the statement that ended the argument. You didn’t know whether you felt more sadness or anger, but you understood that you couldn’t keep going like this.

“Then don’t ask me to stay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t ask me to keep being the one who adapts, the one who hides, the one who’s always available when you decide you need me.”

He didn’t respond. You waited, giving him one last chance to say something that would make you change your mind. But the silence was deafening.

Finally, you grabbed your things and left the apartment, leaving Max alone in his own storm.

As you walked through the quiet streets of Monaco, you felt a mix of liberation and sadness. You knew you had made the right decision, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Max had been an important part of your life, but now you understood that you couldn’t keep being a shadow in his world.

The vacation had just begun, but you already felt like you were in a new chapter. And while you didn’t know what the future held, you were determined to find your own path, even if that meant leaving Max behind.

The decision to spend your vacation in Italy wasn’t impulsive. After the emotional storm that marked the end of the season, you needed a place where you could find yourself, far from the hustle and bustle of Monaco and the ever-watchful eyes that seemed to follow you. Italy had always been a refuge for you: the peaceful hills of Tuscany, the small cafes in Rome, the calm of Lake Como. There, you felt like you could breathe.

However, what began as an attempt to find peace turned into something more. During long walks down cobblestone streets and endless nights of reflection, you began to question your place at Red Bull and in Formula 1 in general. Something didn’t fit, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to recognize it.

One afternoon, while sitting on a terrace overlooking Florence, you found yourself writing a list in a notebook. One column listed the things you liked about Red Bull: competitiveness, top-level engineering, the chance to fight for the title. The other column, however, was longer: constant pressure, the tense relationship with Max, the feeling that you were always fighting to be seen as something more than a “second driver.”

It was then that you knew. You couldn’t stay at Red Bull anymore. You had reached a point where your success didn’t fulfill you, because it always seemed to come at the cost of your happiness. You needed a change, and you knew exactly where you wanted to be.

A few days later, you found yourself on a video call with Zak Brown. The conversation started off cordial, with Zak asking how your vacation was going and casually mentioning that Piastri was considering options outside McLaren. Then, you dropped it:

—Zak, I want to talk about the possibility of joining McLaren.

There was a brief but intense silence on the other side of the screen. Then, a slow smile began to form on his face.

—Are you serious? —he asked, clearly intrigued.

—Completely. I feel like Red Bull is no longer the right place for me. I’m looking for a team where I can build something, not just adapt to what already exists. And I think McLaren can be that place.

Zak nodded, leaning back in his chair as he processed your words.

—I can’t deny it would be a big move for us. If you’re willing to take the leap, we are too.

In the following days, negotiations began. Everything was done in the strictest secrecy, far from the eyes of the media and the ears of Red Bull. You knew the news of your departure would be a bombshell, especially since Piastri was being considered as your replacement.

You didn’t tell anyone, not even Max. It wasn’t a conversation you were willing to have with him, not after how things had ended. This decision was yours alone, and you needed to keep it that way.

The news broke on the first day of the new year, as the holidays were coming to an end. While you were at the Milan airport, waiting for your flight back to Monaco, your phone started vibrating incessantly. Opening Twitter, you saw the headlines:

“Oscar Piastri joins Red Bull as Max Verstappen’s teammate” “Red Bull confirms the departure of its star driver after a successful season” “McLaren signs the star driver for 2025 in a surprising move”

You took a deep breath as you read the comments. Most fans were shocked; some criticized you for leaving such a competitive team, while others praised your decision to find a place where you could shine on your own.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out how Max would react. As soon as you landed in Monaco, you received a message from him.

Max: Is this a joke? You went to McLaren without telling me anything?

You sighed, knowing this conversation would be inevitable. After getting to your apartment, you called him.

“Hi, Max.”

“I can’t believe it,” was the first thing he said, his tone filled with disbelief. “You decided this without even mentioning it to me?.”

“Max, this decision has nothing to do with you,” you replied, trying to stay calm. “It’s something I needed to do for myself.”

“For yourself?,” he repeated, almost laughing. “You were in the best team, with the best car, fighting for titles. Why would you leave that?.”

“Because I don’t want to be just an extension of your success,” you said, feeling your voice fill with determination. “I want to build something of my own, and McLaren gives me that opportunity.”

Max fell silent for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was softer, but also colder.

“I hope you don’t regret it.”

“I won’t,” you answered, with more confidence than you felt in that moment.

Even now, with all the drama, you had flashbacks of you and Max during your early days at Red Bull, which had also been quite a whirlwind. He wasn’t just a driver: he was the driver. His confidence, almost arrogance, permeated every conversation, every strategy, every decision. But rather than intimidate you, that pushed you. You wanted to prove that you belonged at that level too.

Max respected you as a driver, but kept a clear distance. It was his way of protecting himself in an environment where emotional alliances often complicated things. You weren’t interested in anything else either. At least, not at first.

You remember everything started to change after the third race of the season. You had a difficult weekend: mechanical issues in practice, a crash in qualifying, and a minor contact in the race that left you out of the points. You were exhausted, frustrated, and harder on yourself than you should have been.

That night, while reviewing the data in the motorhome, Max walked in and sat down across from you, with a beer in hand.

“Why are you still here?,” he asked, leaning forward.

You looked up, confused.

“I’m reviewing the data. I need to understand what happened.”

Max shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.

“You already know what happened. You had bad luck. That happens to anyone. Don’t obsess over what you can’t change.”

His words surprised you. Max Verstappen, the driver known for his obsession with perfection, was telling you to let go of a bad day.

“Easy for you to say,” you replied, with a sharper tone than you intended. “You’re the World Champion.”

Max leaned back, taking a sip of his beer before answering.

“Do you think I haven’t had shitty days? What matters is how you come back. And you... you’ve got what it takes to come back.”

That small, unexpected gesture of support was the first step.

With each race, the relationship between you two grew stronger. Max started seeking you out to review strategies together or just to chat during flights. You, in turn, started seeing him as more than just a driver: someone passionate, fun on his good days, and deeply competitive.

One time, during a trip to Canada, the two of you ended up sitting next to each other on the team’s private plane. While everyone else slept, you started talking about everything and nothing: your childhoods, the races that had marked you, the sacrifices you’d made to get to Formula 1.

“Sometimes, I wonder if it’s all worth it,” you said, after a long silence.

Max looked at you with curiosity.

“Seriously?.”

You nodded.

“Of course I love this, but I also wonder what I’d be doing if I weren’t here. If I’d have a simpler life, with less pressure.”

Max thought for a moment before replying.

“I never ask myself that. Not because it’s not hard, but because I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

That comment made you see him in a new light. For Max, F1 wasn’t just his job, it was his life. And while you shared that passion, you also realized that he lived it in a way no one else could understand.

The tension between you began to become more evident in the little things. The way he would look for you with his gaze when you entered a room. The private jokes you shared during breaks. The way your hands would accidentally brush when checking data on the screen.

It was after a particularly difficult race in Austria when the tension reached its peak. You finished second behind Max, but only because the team had ordered you to hold position. You were furious, though you tried to hide it.

That night, Max came looking for you at your room. When you opened the door, you saw him with an expression you hadn't seen before: a mix of concern and something else you couldn't identify.

"Are you okay?,” he asked, though both of you knew that wasn't the case.

"Why do you care?,” you replied, tired of everything.

Instead of answering, Max took a step toward you, crossing the threshold of the door. The space between you was minimal, and you could feel the intensity in his gaze.

"I care because you're my teammate," he said at first, but then added in a lower tone. "And because... I can't help it."

That was the moment when everything changed. Nothing happened that night, but the line between you two had been erased. You both knew it, though neither of you wanted to admit it.

That tension, that undeniable connection, was what led you to cross the line later. But that was the beginning: a brush of hands, a gaze that lingered too long, a silence full of things neither of you dared to say.

After that, there was another night in Singapore where the story had started, your story.

Now that was behind you, and you were far from him and from the team.

A few weeks later, the new season had started, but not with Red Bull. Now you wore McLaren's iconic papaya orange, a decision that had taken the motorsport world by surprise. Despite Red Bull's initial resistance to letting you go, you broke the contract after unbearable tension. Now you shared a garage with Lando Norris, on a team that seemed ready to give you the spotlight you had longed for. However, leaving Red Bull behind didn’t mean leaving Max behind.

Max remained a constant, though now from the other side of the paddock. The first official encounter of the season in Bahrain was everything you had expected: tense and full of silent reproaches. Although both of you tried to maintain professionalism, the media quickly picked up on the coldness between you. And with each practice, that coldness transformed into a dangerous mix of rivalry, resentment, and something that never seemed to disappear: the history you both shared.

In the first race of the season, the problems between you transferred to the asphalt. During lap 32, you were fighting for the podium with Max behind you, pressuring you on every corner. His insistence was suffocating, and in an aggressive attempt to overtake you, he made contact with your car, forcing you off track.

"This is unacceptable," you shouted over the radio, your voice full of frustration.

Although the stewards didn’t impose any penalties, the incident made it clear that Max wasn’t willing to give you any mercy. But what hurt you the most was seeing him after the race when he completely ignored you in the paddock, as if you were a stranger.

After the race, you were in your Motorhome, reviewing the replays of the incident, when someone knocked on the door. You opened it, and there he was, with a frown and arms crossed.

"What the hell was that today?,” he asked, walking in without waiting for an invitation.

"What the hell was what?,” you replied, closing the door behind him. "You're the one who knocked me off track."

Max let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Please. If you hadn't closed so much on the corner, none of this would have happened."

Your blood began to boil.

"Are you really going to blame me for this? Because I didn’t let you pass like when we were at Red Bull? I hate to break your illusion, Max, but I'm not your teammate anymore."

He turned toward you, his eyes filled with anger, but also with something you couldn’t quite identify.

"You made that clear when you left. But you know this goes beyond that."

"What are you talking about?,” you asked, crossing your arms.

Max took a step toward you, closing the distance between you two.

"About you. About us. About how you can’t handle all of this without it becoming a personal problem."

You felt your heart beat faster, but you weren’t going to let it affect you.

"This has nothing to do with 'us.' This is about racing, Max. And if you can’t handle that I’m no longer part of your little world, that’s your problem, not mine."

For a moment, Max seemed like he wanted to respond, but instead, he shook his head and walked toward the door.

"You know, I thought you were different. But it seems like everyone in this sport is the same."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water, but you refused to show it.

"And I thought you could be professional for once. Seems like we were both wrong."

Max left, slamming the door open behind him, and you collapsed on the couch, feeling exhausted.

The first days after the tension with Max passed quickly, but not for the reason you expected. You didn’t obsess over what had happened with him or the hurtful words that still echoed in your mind. What worried you most now was your integration into McLaren, especially your relationship with Lando Norris, your new teammate.

Lando was the complete opposite of Max: relaxed, fun, and with an attitude that, although professional, never lost its laid-back vibe. Instead of pressuring you or criticizing you constantly like Max did in his "mentor" version, Lando preferred to offer support without overwhelming you. He had a way of making everything seem easier, even when things on the track got complicated.

At first, you felt like a bit of an outsider. McLaren was a team with its own culture, and even though it wasn’t your first year in F1, you always carried that sense of nervousness at the start of a new chapter. Lando, however, did everything possible to make you feel welcome. At first, it was something as simple as joking about the team’s coffee, which according to him, always tasted like "hot water with a touch of desperation." After some laughs, the atmosphere started to relax, and little by little, you began to feel more comfortable with him and the rest of the team.

The first official team event, a press conference, was when things really began to change. During the interview, a journalist asked Lando how he felt about having a new teammate, and he, without losing his composure, gave a quick answer that made you smile.

"Well, the truth is it’s been an interesting experience. She brings a positive energy, and... she makes me feel like I'm still the 'young guy' on the team, even though technically I'm not. So, it’s fun having her on board!"

Everyone laughed, and, to your surprise, that broke the ice. The journalists quickly turned the focus to you, and Lando passed the ball with a mischievous smile.

"What I can say about my teammate is that, although she seems very serious, she has a good sense of humor. I can’t wait to see what happens this season."

From there on, things felt easier. It was as if, without even trying, Lando had smoothed the transition. The chemistry between you two flowed quickly, with no tension or unreachable expectations. You didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, just be yourself.

The ease with which you communicated impressed you. It wasn’t like with Max, where you always felt like you had to "prove yourself" or show something. With Lando, everything flowed naturally. If something didn’t work, you just adjusted it, with no drama or expectations. He was a teammate who truly believed in collaboration, not internal competition.

By the end of the first month at McLaren, you knew joining them had been the right decision.

Little by little, the start of the season at McLaren seemed to be going in the right direction: your relationship with Lando was strengthening, the team was improving, and, little by little, you felt like you were finding your rhythm in a car that, although not the fastest on the grid, gave you the sense of control you had lost the previous year. However, things with Max weren’t going well; in fact, they were getting even more complicated.

Although he was still racing for Red Bull, with his undeniable dominance on the track, the rivalry that had ignited the previous year seemed to intensify with every race. No matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t worth focusing on what Max was doing or not doing, he was always there, whether in interviews, in media comments, or even on the track, challenging you to prove you were still more than his shadow.

In the first lap of Australia, a circuit you both knew inside and out. In practice, Red Bull had been clearly superior, but McLaren was more competitive than ever. The chance to snatch a win from Max wasn’t impossible, but it wouldn’t be easy. During the race, Max constantly pressured you. Although he wasn’t being as aggressive as he had been in the past, his presence behind you was suffocating, his car always right next to you in the fast corners.

You remember how, at one point in the race, during an overtaking move in turn 8, Max tried to pass you on the inside, clearly with the intention to intimidate you. It was a risky maneuver, and although logic told you to give way, you decided not to. You had enough space to hold your line, and although you didn’t manage to block him completely, the resistance you offered forced him to brake a little more than expected. That small detail allowed you to keep the position, something that seemed to irritate him.

When the race ended, Max finished in second place, right behind you. As you passed through the cooling area, you could see him in his car, staring at you with that defiant look he was so good at putting on. The crowd noticed it, the journalists noticed it, and, of course, you noticed it too.

At the end of the race, while you were getting ready to leave the paddock, one of McLaren’s engineers told you that Max had requested to speak with you. You didn’t understand why he wanted to do that, and honestly, you weren’t in the mood to face him after what had happened on track. But, as always, appearances mattered, and you couldn’t just ignore him. So, you agreed, even though you knew it would be an uncomfortable encounter.

Max was waiting for you near the Red Bull hospitality, arms crossed, a typical defensive posture. He didn’t say anything at first, but when you looked at him, his face was more serious than usual.

“What’s wrong with you?” he finally said, his tone as direct and blunt as ever. “You know that if you’d let me pass, we could’ve fought more cleanly. Why do you keep acting like it’s all personal?”

You were surprised that the conversation was going in that direction, as if you weren’t racing, as if it was a matter of pride. But, you knew this was Max. It always had to be him first.

“Personal?” you repeated, letting sarcasm fill your voice. “You’re the first one to make it personal. If you’d given me space, we wouldn’t have this problem, but no, you always have to be the one to set the pace, don’t you?”

Max took a step toward you, but not enough to invade your personal space. His gaze hardened.

“It’s not about setting the pace. It’s about being competitive. You still don’t understand how this sport works. You have to go for it, not care about what others think.”

Your breath quickened, not out of fear, but from the anger that had been building up for months.

“I think the problem here isn’t that I don’t understand the sport, Max. The problem is that you’ve never learned how to be a true teammate, and now you’re trying to dictate how I should race. I’m tired of you doing this.”

Max, as expected, didn’t say anything more. He just stared at you for a couple of seconds, as if waiting for you to change your mind or apologize. But you wouldn’t. Not anymore. Not when you knew that, for him, everything had always been about ego, about being the best, the fastest, the one who wouldn’t let anyone overtake him.

The rivalry between you and Max continued to grow. Every time you saw him on track, you knew that, at least for him, it had become personal. What once was a professional competition had become something much more visceral, and every time the two teams met on the track, the tension between you was palpable. But far from being a negative thing, it motivated you to improve. You no longer just wanted to beat Max for the sake of it; now, it was a personal necessity.

The revenge came for him in Monaco. On such a tight, technical circuit, any mistake could be fatal, and Max, although he initially seemed to have the advantage, began to falter in the final laps, losing traction in the trickiest parts of the circuit. It was then, on lap 68, that you seized your opportunity.

Max was charging full throttle, but as you exited the tunnel, his car began to slide slightly. That was enough for you to pass him on the inside at Sainte-Dévote. As you passed him, you felt a mix of adrenaline and satisfaction. Finally, the competition that had defined you for so long, you had surpassed.

At the end of the race, while celebrating your podium, Max’s gaze from the other side of the garage was clear. It was no longer just a rivalry; now, it had become a personal duel.

The victory in Monaco was a milestone in your career. Not only because it had been one of the best races of your life, but because at the end of the day, you didn’t just celebrate with the McLaren team, but also felt a kind of personal vindication. You had beaten Max, done what many thought was impossible. Not just as a driver, but as someone who had constantly been underestimated for a lack of “aggressiveness” or for once being seen as Red Bull’s “perfect teammate” or “pretty girl.” But now, at this moment, you were neither of those things. Now, you were his rival.

The sense of achievement was gratifying, but deep down you knew the victory had its price. Something in you had changed during that last overtake, in the way you had faced Max, in how, when you looked at him for the last time on track, something inside you had broken. That part of you that still wanted him, that still thought maybe things could have been different, was gone, or at least overshadowed by the fierce determination to win. The relationship you once shared was buried, replaced by pure competition, an unfiltered rivalry. But at the same time, you knew it wasn’t just the competition that drove you; it was something much more personal. Max had let you go. And now, you had left him behind, though not without a certain sadness.

On the other side, Max was in his motorhome, lights off, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the mirror. The race had ended, and although he had made an effort not to show his emotions to the journalists, something inside him was consuming him. He was used to winning, he had always been the leader, the reference. But this time, in Monaco, the result made him realize something he had been avoiding for a long time.

He had lost. And not just the race. He had lost the person who had mattered most in his life.

It was ironic because he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. He had been the first to fuel the rivalry, the first to not know how to handle his own feelings, the first to ignore the boundaries between the personal and the professional. But now, when he saw your victory trophy on his phone screen, when he saw the images of you celebrating with Lando, he felt something he had never felt before: regret.

Over the years, Max had gotten used to seeing life as a series of challenges and battles he had to win. The world was black or white, no shades of gray. But with you, everything had been different. He had been your mentor, your teammate, your rival, and at some point, more than that. He had been someone who, in a way, had been the only person capable of pushing him out of his comfort zone. The relationship you shared, although never fully admitted, had been unique. Max knew that when he was with you, he felt more human, more vulnerable. But competition, the need to be the best, had led him to distance himself from what really mattered.

That night, Max couldn’t sleep. The feeling of being lost, of having destroyed something valuable, haunted him. He didn’t know how you had come to mean so much to him, or when the rivalry had stopped being just that and turned into something more complicated. But he knew it clearly: he had lost you. And the worst part was that, in his head, there were still unanswered questions. Could he have done things differently? Should he have spoken up earlier, when there was still time to explain? The answers to those questions tormented him, but what really hurt was what he didn’t know: if you felt the same way.

Weeks later, it was the Canadian Grand Prix. The combination of fast corners, technical sections, and the closeness of the walls, all contributed to the magic of that weekend. But this time, for some reason, it felt different. The tension in the air was palpable, and although Max and you hadn’t spoken for days, hadn’t exchanged more than a fleeting glance, something felt off. But you ignored it, focusing on the track, on what you did best.

The qualifying had been tough, but you had stayed in the top positions. The McLaren car had responded well, and you knew you could be fighting for a podium. Lando had qualified just behind you, both with the same motivation, knowing this race would be key for the team. However, in your mind, there was always that little thought that crept in: Max. The rivalry, that constant pressure to prove you could be better, the feeling that he was watching from a distance, waiting for you to make a mistake. And that haunted you.

The race began under the overcast sky of Montreal, with the excitement of the crowd contagious to the drivers. At first, everything seemed to be going well, although the temperatures were higher than expected, making tire control difficult. The first laps passed quickly, and you found yourself fighting wheel to wheel with Lando, in a clean and constant battle, looking for the best line to overtake some rivals. But on lap 32, everything changed.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. You reached turn 6 at a dizzying speed, trying to maintain your position, with the brakes slightly overheated. The car became unstable, and before you could react, the rear wheels lost traction. You tried to correct, but the car violently slid, and in an instant, you were crashing into the safety barriers. The sound of the crash was deafening, an explosion of metal, rubber, and carbon fiber. It was as if the world stopped for a moment, as if the air became heavy and dense.

The radio was filled with static, and the McLaren pit wall erupted into chaos. Engineers shouted orders, but everything was a distant echo. Your car had been destroyed in turn 6, one of the toughest corners of the circuit, and the impact left you unconscious for a moment. The medical staff and FIA officials arrived quickly at the scene, but in those seconds that felt like an eternity, the world felt distant and alien.

When you finally woke up, the sunlight blinded you, and the sound of fans, the buzzing of the medical teams, and the murmurs of people filtered into your head like a storm. The pain was unbearable, but the worst part was the confusion. What had happened? Why couldn’t you move your legs?

The voice of one of the doctors reached your ears, low and worried.

“Stay calm, don’t move, we’re here to help. You have a head injury, and probably a concussion. We need you to stay still until we evaluate you.”

Outside the circuit, the chaos was even greater. Journalists were already surrounding the area, television cameras focused on every detail of the accident, and the paddock was filled with people who could do nothing but watch in silence. The faces of your teammates reflected anguish. Lando, on the other side of the pit wall, had stopped focusing on his own race, and his fixed gaze on the screen showing your wrecked car said it all. He was desperate.

Max, who had seen everything from his car on the following lap, braked abruptly when the yellow flag appeared on his screen. It was as if the world had stopped for him too. Max’s face turned serious, his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he seemed to forget that, on track, he had to continue with the race. Somehow, he was searching for you on the screen, wanting to know if you were okay, if you had survived the crash. But the truth was that, in that moment, neither he nor anyone else knew what had happened.

The medical team worked quickly to stabilize you, and the doctors’ shouts became more urgent. There was worry on their faces, in the way they spoke to each other, but you could barely understand what they were saying. The noise in your head was deafening. What had happened? Why couldn’t you move? Was your body okay?

News of the crash spread quickly on social media. The media flooded the internet with photos of the wrecked car, images of the chaos at the circuit, and the medical staff surrounding you while they tried to keep you conscious. The race continued, but the world of Formula 1 had stopped for a moment. In the hospital, the first reports were arriving through television screens.

Journalists crowded around, asking everyone involved in the accident for the smallest bit of information. Cameras focused on your teammates, who were being approached by the press.

“How is she?,” they asked your mother, whose face was pale, marked by worry.

“She’s being evaluated,” she replied, her voice trembling, unable to hide the anxiety consuming her. “They’ve told us she has a concussion, but they’re doing more tests.”

At that moment, your name became a trending topic on Twitter, and reporters couldn’t stop talking about you, but all you wanted was for everything to stop, for the pain to go away, for the voices in your head to quiet.

Max didn’t know how to react. As he prepared for his last lap, he felt the weight of what had happened, the weight of having been so distant, so focused only on the victory, that he had forgotten what truly mattered. Throughout the entire race, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what might be happening at that very moment. The crash had been severe, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

In the following hours, the news became clear: the crash had left consequences. The concussion was just the beginning. The impact had been so strong that doctors couldn’t yet say whether the physical and psychological effects would be temporary or if you would be left with permanent damage. The fear was palpable, and as exams and tests progressed, it was clear that everything had changed. The accident, the pain, and the uncertainty were now an inevitable part of the story. Your career, your life, everything you had built up until now, was at stake.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

“_____ happened to sae in spain” “sae and rin just need to communicate” all of these statements are ones that i agree with, but i think that there are way more to the itoshi brothers’ relationship than just the fight during the snow night and what happened to sae during spain, and now that people are theorizing that sae might be coming back, it seems like the perfect time to talk about my opinion on the itoshi family dynamic.

to start off with a quick disclaimer: i’ve always been a huge rin fan, and i’ve never been able to properly from a solid opinion on sae as my opinions on him are always changing. in short, sae reminds me of a celebrity that had never been media trained and therefore says whatever comes to their mind, which often makes them come off as dislikable. sae is a character that i think is funny because he is fictional, but would most likely hate in real life because of his attitude. despite this, i do think that sae is incredibly well written and that his character writing deserves to be talked about. okay, let’s start with the itoshi family yap.

to start off, i’d like to bring attention to the fact that every single itoshi sibling flashback we have seen in the series (as of 298) are all from rin’s pov. got that? okay. the itoshi brothers are known for their eyes, but never once in any of rin’s flashbacks have we seen his parents’ eyes. people often say that eyes are the gate to soul or truth, and yet rin can’t remember his parents’ eyes from his childhood. this isn’t hard cold proof that they’re necessarily abusive, but i just think that this proves that rin is likely very distant with his parents, or was scared of them in his childhood. this is backed up by the fact that rin always only asked sae for advice and never his parents.

not only that, but there are numerous red flags in the itoshi parents’ parenting skills. for starters, please tell me which parent thinks that it’s perfectly alright for their children of 5 and 7 years old to walk home alone at night with just enough money to only buy some ice cream. i understand that japan has a low crime rate, but that doesn’t meant that crime is nonexistent there.

additionally, why would responsible parents allow a thirteen year old (sae) to go to a whole other continent for his career? child celebrities are a tragic topic in itself, and just allowing sae to be exposed to much more paparazzi and toxicity in a country that isn’t as polite as japan (where sae already hates the media) seems like inefficient parenting to me. sae has been explicitly stated in the egoist bible to be academically lacking, so how does his parents expect that he’ll naturally be able to adapt to an entirely new continent when he doesn’t really know how to work in this one?

now let’s talk about how their parents treat rin. from flashbacks, we can see that rin grew up with no survival skills whatsoever and isn’t the most clever. this is just a personal assumption, and i am not diagnosing rin as i am not a professional psychologist or therapist, but i believe that rin has some sort of mental disorder. anyways, when rin’s parents discuss him, they seem to be nothing but stressed. im not blaming them for this; im not a parent, but if my child is constantly coming home with more injuries, id be stressed too. but they don’t talk to him about it, they don’t ask him about it. if you want to know what is going on in your child’s mind, then why don’t you, i dont know, ask them about it?

more about how they treat rin, during rin’s flashback of the snowy night when sae came back, rin is practicing in the middle of winter with scarcely anything to keep him warm. not only that, but it is extremely dark out. it is implied by his teammates that rin practices out in the dark alone often. rin is hard working and ambitious, we know that for a fact. but are his parents not concerned about rin’s health? are they not worried that he might get sick?

then when sae comes back, it is explicitly stated by rin that sae has lost weight, and it is shown that sae had dark circles underneath his eyes. if i were a parent and my underage child was in another continent by themself, i would be FaceTiming them as much as i can to check on them. based on from what we’ve already establish, i doubt sae’s parents had done that with him. but even if they did, how did they not see their child lost weight? how did they not see him have dark circles underneath his eyes? not only that, but people have to return every six months to their home country when they’re in another country. sae was in spain for 4 years, meaning that he had more than one visit back to japan. so how did his parents not notice?

and finally, my last piece of evidence that the itoshi parents are negligent and incompetent: how the fuck do they not realize their sons’ current relationship? first of all, when rin returns home from his fight with sae, he breaks all of sae’s trophies and pictures, and there are many cracks and loud noises. how do they not hear that? okay, maybe they weren’t home. i’ll give them a pass for that. but would they not see the broken pieces, or if rin had cleaned them up, would they not notice an entire shelf of trophies and pictures missing? do they really not go into their son’s room at all? sure, maybe it’s for privacy, but not going in there at all seems incompetent. who knows what he might be doing in there?

also, if every time you mention your older son’s name and your younger son is gritting his teeth and clenching his fist and is clearly upset, how are you just going to ignore that and not realize that you know, they might not be on good terms? because if their parents had noticed, then maybe they would have forced rin and sae to talk it out and at least try to make up.

so in conclusion, rin and sae’s relationship was definitely partially shattered by sae’s words, but more so by their parents. i know that there are a lot of people who beg rin and sae to communicate, but i don’t think that it will be that easy. miscommunication is something that they learned from their parents, as their parents were clearly incompetent in their childhoods, so i doubt that sae and rin will actively communicate with one another unless there is a third party (cough cough isagi) involved that might force them into talking to each other properly about the situation.

also side note: this entire “miscommunication comes from your parents” and the whole incompetence theme throughout this yap session also might be the reason for sae’s lack of knowledge of rin’s anger at him, as it was confirmed by kaneshiro that sae isn’t aware of rin’s one sided beef against him.

[formulakracing]

"you belong here" - s.v.

pairing: gf!reader x aston martin!sebastian vettel

word count: 1.5k

warnings: (slight) age gap relationship, a little bit of cursing here and there, seb being absolutely down bad for the reader, some (slight) angst, the general public being judgmental, (slight) slut shaming, the drivers being little shits (as always), yadayadayada

a/n: i am a perfectionist when it comes to writing personalities, mannerisms, cadences of words, etc. so if i happened to not do the best job with this fic, please be patient with me!!! this is my first time writing for seb!!! i am open to feedback!!! <3

"okay, from the top. how many drivers are there?"

"twenty."

"nope!" he shakes his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, "there are nineteen drivers. sorry love, but you were incorrect."

"sebastian," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "you needed to specify if you were included. because if you weren't included, there would be nineteen other drivers. if you were, there would be twenty."

"that's why it's called a trick question," his hand squeezes yours, "your hands are clammy, by the way."

"maybe because i'm nervous?" you counter, "this is my first time tagging along to a grand prix, you know."

"i know," he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, "i'm sorry for being a little pest."

"you're not a pest," your heart swells at the gesture, "i'm just anxious to meet everyone, that's all."

"oh they'll love you," confidence oozes out of his words, "i have no doubts about that."

sebastian vettel, four time world drivers' champion, was your boyfriend of the last year or so. the two of you met online, as you had slid into his dms on instagram after a very intoxicated evening out with friends.

since you had a love for formula one since you were a teenager, you admired drivers such as lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, daniel ricciardo, and well, sebastian.

you weren't quite sure where the love for the sport came from, but you could remember the sleepless nights you spent on youtube, eagerly clicking through racing highlights through various grand prixes. the sleepovers where your friends would be doing makeovers on you or painting your nails as you chattered about all of the driver drama and lore.

so, when you learned that mr. vettel was very single, and very open to the world of dating, you decided to shoot your shot. it took about six or seven drinks, but you mustered the courage to type out those fateful words.

i heard your single. we should change that.

shockingly, you received a response not too long after sending the message.

i believe it's *you're and not your. why should i take you up on your offer? you're a very beautiful woman but i need a little more information before i take you out on a date. ;)

from that message, the two of you chatted constantly, getting to know one another in-between shifts at your job, and his free time between races, press conferences, and training sessions.

eventually, he asked for your number, requesting a facetime call. you obliged, the two of you talking for hours upon hours that night. only a week or so later, he flew you out to his place in switzerland, requesting that you spend the weekend with him.

you did, falling for him the moment you met him in person. well, not like it was difficult by any means. with his charming aura and goofy persona, you felt comfortable almost immediately, letting your walls come crashing down.

nothing was too much or too out-of-pocket. you could make all of the vulgar jokes you wished, and he would laugh right along, only escalating the joke further. you could cry on his shoulder about anything, and he would happily rub your back, wiping away the tears that fell. he would hold you every night you slept together, not letting go until you wriggled away in the mornings.

and now, here you were, hand-in-hand as you entered the paddock. your heart skips a beat as your gaze falls on lance stroll, sebastian's fellow driver and teammate.

upon seeing you, his mouth curves into a bright smile, "look who it is!"

"i know you're not that excited to see me," sebastian pouts, "or did you really miss me that much?"

lance rolls his eyes at sebastian, sticking out his right hand, "good morning! i'm lance. i'm the other aston martin driver. well, you probably already know that."

"it's nice to meet you," you suppress a giggle, "i've heard a lot about you!"

"oh have you?" lance arches a brow, turning to sebastian, "have you been talking shit?"

"always pooks," sebastian chuckles, "not really. i just happen to talk a lot about racing. i'm sure she's tired of it by now."

"oh never," you flash sebastian a radiant grin, "i never get tired of all of the racing talk. i've loved formula one since i was about thirteen or so."

"that's awesome!" lance gushes, "you have yourself a keeper then, seb."

"i know i do," you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder, "should we go meet some fans? i promise they won't bite."

"fans?" you echo, a shiver running down your spine.

"well yeah," lance nods, "we have some time before we need to meet up with everyone. we usually chat with some fans, hand out some autographs. nothing too serious or glamorous."

"if you say so," you mumble, the words so quiet you were shocked you heard them.

it wasn't like you were dreading interacting with fans, it was just that you were a bit daunted by the idea.

ever since sebastian went public with you about a month ago, the reaction from the public was mixed. one half was adamant that you were too young for the driver, as there was an almost fifteen year age gap between the two of you. the plethora of negative comments that flooded the comment section of your instagram posts was almost too much to bear.

the other half, however, was very supportive, voicing that they "shipped" the two of you or that you were good for the driver. some comments even went as far to say that you were "a breath of fresh air", and that sebastian needed someone like you in his life.

yet, as the three of you stroll out of the paddock, you hoped for the latter. that the fans would be kind, welcoming you with open arms.

you could only dream, right?

"sebastian!"

"sebastian over here!"

voices flurry about, calling from all directions. everywhere all around, it was almost a sea of green, fans donning aston martin gear from head to toe. people of all ages flooded your field of vision, children hoisted on their parents shoulders to men and women in their seventies, maybe even their eighties.

"baby, can i see your purse?" his breath fans against your ear, snapping out of your trance.

"yeah," you nod, fumbling with your bag, "y-you need your sharpie, right?"

"hey," fingers find yours, intertwining them together, "it's just you and i. forget everyone else. just think about you and i."

"it's hard to-" you protest, yet you're swiftly cut off by a voice rising above the midst of the crowd.

"who invited the slut?"

sebastian's brows furrow, his eyes narrowing into slits, "what the fuck?"

more voices cut in, jeering.

"put her back in her crib! where she belongs!"

"you heard what i said! who invited that slut beside you?"

"goddamn," lance mutters under his breath, "what the fuck are they on right now?"

tears well up, threatening to spill over as you duck your head, lower lip trembling. sebastian senses your energy shift, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. he pulls you in close, pressing gentle kisses along your temple.

"come on, let's go back to the paddock. you don't deserve this."

lance flashes you a sympathetic glance before raising a hand, giving the crowd the finger, "whoever said that, this is for you!"

every aspect of the walk back is blurred as the tears fall. your lips are sealed tightly shut, suppressing the sobs rising in your chest.

you were barely here an hour and fans were already heckling you.

could you even last the weekend here?

did you even belong here?

"hey," his voice is soft, "come here."

blinking, you realize that he had taken you back to his motorhome, a private space for just the two of you. his arms are open, inviting you in. you nearly collapse into his chest, burying your head in it as he rubs your back.

"i'm so sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, "they're right. i don't belong here."

"stop that," fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head up, "you do belong here. you belong here just as much as anyone else does. i need you here."

"you promise?"

"i promise baby," sebastian tucks a few wisps of hair behind your ear, "you're irreplaceable. who cares what they think? just focus on me. it's just you and i this weekend, okay?"

"okay," you nod, sniffling slightly.

"you know what i think?" he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"what?" you inquire, the tears dissipating as he brings you in closer.

"they're just jealous that i have the most breathtaking, stunning, kindest, funniest girlfriend in the whole wide world. and no one, i mean no one, can take that away from me. you're mine baby. and nothing is ever going to change that."

you find yourself nearly crumbling into his chest once again, "you mean that?"

"of course i do. now, let's go try this again. if anyone is rude or hateful, i'll just spit on them, okay?"

[velocesainz]

Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

A/n: this was a very interesting request and it took me quite a while to really get the plot line. Hope you enjoy!

One heart broke six hands bloody

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: Charles and Lando are in a relationship with reader and they slowly stop paying attention to her and missing important events. The last straw is when they miss your birthday.

Warnings: sad, angstyy, hurt

Pairing: Charles x Lando x reader

Reader pov:

It had been nearly five months since they started acting distant to me.

I don’t know why.

We were so good all together

It was like we completed each other

But recently they’ve really started to distance themselves and ignore me.

Constantly say they have meetings and leave home when I know they don’t drive I’m in contact with their teammates

Were they both cheating on me?

I woke up in our shared bed with nobody by my side.

I went on about my day realising they both had left for some sort of meeting with their respective teams

They returned home late at night completely wasted

“Where were you two? I’ve been worried sick! I called you both so many times, why didn’t you guys pick up?” I questioned

“Oh shut up mom.” Was all Lando said before they both left to go to bed

The next day was one I would usually be excited for but maybe not this year

My birthday

I would usually celebrate it with my two boyfriends but they seem to not want to spend time with me at all

I walked into the kitchen to see them scrolling on Charles’s giggling and whispering to Lando about something. They would do that with me too but I guess not anymore.

“Hey guys, what’s for breakfast?” I asked them seeing they had made their breakfast already

“Oh..we didn’t make you any. We thought you would do it yourself” Charles said

I sighed and went upstairs to get ready, my appetite knocked out by his words

I got dressed and left the house watching them not care

I hung out around Monaco since I had no friends here, just Charles and Lando

It started raining and I was freezing on my way back to our apartment. As I walked in I found them on their game not bothering to focus on anything but that and each other

“Hey I’m back” I announced as best as I could in my feverish voice due to the intense shivering

“Yea yea whatever just make us dinner” Lando said

What is up with them?

“You can do that yourself. In fact you guys should have done it for me at least today of all days”

They looked at me and asked “What are you talking about?”

I give up on these two

“It was my birthday today and you guys didn’t even bother to wish me or spend time with me. You both have been so secretive and distant from and it feels like you have fallen out of love. I’m leaving. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer”

I walked up to my bedroom and started packing the essentials

Charles pov

How did we not realise we were hurting our dearest so much?

We were ignoring her as we were going to propose to her and knew Lando wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he started talking

We were so stressed about getting the perfect rings that we completely neglected y/n

Me and Lando looked at each other and chased after her to the bedroom to see her packing her things

“Cheri please don’t leave us we apologise for our horrible behaviour” I begged

“We were working on something very important and in that stress we completely neglected we’re extremely sorry” Lando said

“I don’t care for your explanations. My state of mind has not been good thanks to you two and I refuse to worsen it. I’m leaving and that’s final” she said

All our hearts were breaking as she said this. We ruined a beautiful relationship because we cared about materialistic things over our actual love for each other.

Now there was nothing we could do anymore.

She packed her bags and left the apartment telling us not to follow her and we’d broken her heart enough I’m sure she wouldn’t want to listen to us anymore.

One heart broke and left six hands bloody.

A/n: I’m sorry I took super long to finish this request. Hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave feedback! Kissies ✨

[asapeveryday]

The Last Time Pt3

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Brief Smut (Fingering), miscommunication

Summary: Paige’s teammates realize you might’ve been more then just casual.

You search for a way to see Paige again, reminiscing on a past night in the process.

A/n: I added some smut to make this filler a bit bearable. Next chap is the last!! It’s gonna be good!!

MINORS DNI BEYOND CUT

The UConn women’s basketball team was currently sprawled out on the gym floor, faces sweaty, water bottles in hand and shirts lifted in hopes of making contact with the cold floor. It had been a rough practice for everyone, but especially Paige. It had been almost a month since she had ended things with you and she felt out of balance, her mind would say one thing and her body would do the other. She was never uncoordinated, but her distraction had caused the team to do one too many laps across the gym as punishment.

“Paige, do you need pussy to function?” KK says out of the blue, causing the group to give each other looks.

“My guy, what??” Paige shoots up from her position on the floor and squirts water from her Gatorade bottle onto the freshmen.

KK laughs. “Hey, that’s actually refreshing! Plus I was just wondering, I mean you ghost one girl and suddenly you forget how to play ball.”

Now Nika shoots up. “Paige?? You ghosted that girl?”

“Who, the one who never texted first?” Aaliyah chimes in.

“I didn’t ghost her guys.” Paige sighs

“Did you tell her in person? Or did you text and never get a response back.” Azzi rolls her eyes.

“I actually um, went to her dorm.” Paige reluctantly says, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Oh my word, you met up to fuck and then ended it there? That’s wild.” KK tuts, sharing a look with Aaliyah.

Nika shakes her head in disappointment. “If it weren’t for the texting thing I would’ve expected you guys to get together already.”

“Why would they, weren’t they just having like, casual sex? Aaliyah asked.

Paige was now extremely uncomfortable with the girls knowing all her business, even though it was her fault for telling them all. She just wanted to stop hearing the word ‘sex’ coming out of everyone’s mouth.

“Aye, chill. You guys wanna head out orr..” She tries to change the subject.

“It didn’t seem THAT casual.” Nika shrugged, surprised at how nobody seemed aware about what she was about to say.

“I mean, did you guys not see Paige driving the girl around half the time after practice?

The group is silent.

“Or how Paige has been sleeping over at the same person’s dorm, like we don’t all have her location? Since when does she spend the night at the same girl’s dorm? Doesn’t seem casual.”

Paige can feel herself sweating. She hadn’t gone through great lengths to hide you from her teammates, in fact it seemed that she focused more energy on hiding her feelings from herself. It felt weird to no longer look forward to seeing you, to hearing your voice and anticipating your curiosity. Paige found you so enticing, constantly wanting to know more about her, to know her deeper than she knew herself. She understood why you were so smart, you had a thirst to know a topic like the back of your hand, and it felt good that at least once every week that topic was herself.

Still, she was not expecting Nika to catch on.

“They was bound to know at some point, P.” Azzi chuckles, clapping Paige’s back.

KK gives an incredulous look. “WHAT! Azzi you knew?”

“Of course I knew. I mean Paige never really tried to hide it, but it was a little obvious.” Azzi says, high-fiving Nika.

The group is quiet for a bit, all looking at Paige who’s rubbing her forehead and avoiding eye contact.

“So Paige actually likes this girl and now they’re for sure not talking.” Ines states.

“Basically.” Paige sighs.

“You’ll get her back, or you’ll get another.” Aaliyah shrugs, finally getting up. “In the meantime, try not to bring us down on the court with your pussy problems.” She smirks.

“Shut up!” Paige tries to let out a laugh, getting up as well. The girls all head to the change rooms, chatting with each other. Azzi keeps an eye on Paige, who’s lost in her own thoughts.

“Did you use the basketball excuse on her?” She asks.

“Huh?”

“Oh you know, the ‘I need to focus on ball right now.’ Type thing. Is that what you told her?”

“Not the first time I’ve used that one.” Paige grumbles. “But yeah, I did. You should’ve seen the look on her face Azz, she wasn’t even mad, shawty looked disappointed or sum.”

Azzi puts an arm around Paige.”Yeah, well with all that time you spend with her she prolly knows you better than that.”

She smiles. “Hopefully this’ll be the last time you have to use that excuse again.”

-

You’re rummaging through your room, peeking into all of your storage spaces, inside shoe boxes, looking for anything Paige might’ve left at your house during your five month hookup period.

Your friend is on FaceTime with you as you search. “I definitely wouldn’t text her now, but if you see her in person she can’t avoid it. Maybe she left something in your room that you can return to her?”

So here you are ripping your tiny room apart for any trace of Paige Bueckers. Hands and knees on the floor, feeling through your carpet, you bend your head down further to look under your bed, and there it is.

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

“Lemme put you on something real quick.” Paige said, taking out a pair of wired headphones from her pocket and placing a bud into your ear. You two had been laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling and talking about music. When her hand brushed against your face to put the earbud in, you almost melted.

The two of you laid together, side by side as Paige’s best R&B playlist played. Jhene Aiko, Drake, Jaquees, Bryson Tiller. Smooth voices floating in your brain, beautiful lyrics with dirty meanings and soul touching instrumentals in the background. Glancing at her phone to see a song, you noticed the title of the playlist was your name. You couldn’t help but climb on top of her and hungrily kiss her lips the moment you felt Paige’s bright blue eyes staring at you, waiting for your reaction to the playlist she made specifically for the time you two shared together.

“Didn’t think my music would make you this horny.” She chuckled in between kisses.

“There’s no way you just made me a playlist without the intentions of getting in my pants.” You smirked, lifting Paige’s shirt over her head and throwing it to the floor, leaving her in just a Nike sports bra and sweatshorts. You could’ve made out with her for hours, skin to skin. The feeling of Paige’s heart beating against your body drove you insane. You loved the way you could feel her breath speed up as you snuck your hand in her pants, and then into her boxers.

“I don’t have to make a playlist to get into your pa-oh.” Paige let out an almost pornographic moan when your fingers entered her, then immediately slapped her hand over her mouth.

Still slowly pumping into her with one hand, you use the other to remove her’s from her face. “I want to hear you for once.” You utter, suddenly embarrassed. Paige seemed to initiate almost everything sexual, and she was rarely beneath you like this. She wasn’t always very vocal, but hearing she was capable of a noise like that and watching as her face flushes at your touch excited you more then the playlist did.

You vividly remember hovering on top of her, earbuds still connected to her phone. You remember taunting her, your breath catching as her moans gradually got louder. The music probably covered the noise of her slick, because you know she was so wet for you, her eyes staring into yours with a rare, almost pouty expression, then clenching shut as she came all over your fingers. You slowly pulled your hand out of her shorts, then licked your fingers clean. Paige watched intently before switching positions with you in a flash.

It was a good night.

PRESENT TIME

Staring at the earbuds tangled up underneath your bed, you could practically feel her hands on you again, like you did that night.

“I found something.” You call out to your phone, gently taking the wired earbuds and untangling them.

“She has a game in a couple days. Maybe you can give it to her then.” Your friend suggests. You feel your stomach pang at the thought of her eyes on yours. You didn’t follow her on social media, and you hadn’t seen her in person since she last came over. If you don’t do this now, you won’t end up seeing her again.

[aliaology]

OBSESSED

SUMMARY: you and jack had been dating for around nine months now, and recently his ex has been coming back around. this causes you to go on a social media stalking rampage, and soon you become a little obsessed with her.

PAIRINGS: jack hughes x fem!reader

WARNINGS: social media stalking, shit talking exes, use of jenna and nicole (nicole is a real person tho!!! bratters gf), use of (y/n)

if i told you how much i think about her, you’d think i was in love. and if you knew how much i looked at her pictures, you would we’re best friends.

It wasn’t hard to figure out who jack’s ex was. The way he seemed to barely look her way when one of his teammates brought up the fact she was at the game. Instead of sporting a devils jersey, like she used to, she was wearing a rangers jersey, and holding a sign for a rangers player.

it also wasn’t hard to immediately become jealous of her when jack’s teammates talked about how she used to always show up to games. it almost made you feel.. belittled. especially because you had a job, you couldn’t always make jacks games, but he understood that.

by the time the game ended and you sat on a bench, waiting for jack, you’d already find yourself scrolling through her instagram. you looked at every picture, how she was such a pretty blonde. short, tan, blonde, the stereotypical puck bunny. but she knew puck.

for the next fifteen minutes— she stayed on your mind.

‘cause i know her star sign, i know her blood type, i’ve seen every movie she’s been in and god she’s beautiful. i know you loved her, and i know i’m butt hurt— but i can’t help it, no i cant help it.

of course as soon as you and jack got home, you began to search her up online. so invested in your research, when you and jack ‘went to bed,’ you carefully snuck out of the man’s arms and back to your laptop.

she was an actress, of course she was an actress. she starred in a few movies, she was amazing. you bit your nail before quickly exiting the tabs as you heard your boyfriend’s footsteps.

“baby what are you doing up? it’s 12:44, come back to bed.” he spoke, hand rubbing his eyes.

you stood up from the stool and walked over to him, your body pressing against his as your arms wrapped around his torso.

“sorry love, i was just finishing up work.” you lied.

jack just hummed and the two of you went back to your bedroom. your mind began to cloud with thoughts, thoughts of her and jack. did jack treat her the exact same way he treated you? was anything special or was it shared? you know he loved her at one point, but now he loved you, so why stay butt hurt?

i’m so obsessed with your ex, uh huh. i know she’s been asleep on my side of your bed, and i can feel it. i’m staring at her, like i wanna get hurt. and i remember every detail you have ever told me, so be careful baby. IM SO OBSESSED WITH YOUR EX!

it was the second game against the rangers, this time and away game. the blonde was sat in the regular stands while you were in the WAGs suite. you could see her from where you sat, and your eyes burned holes in the back of her head.

thats the woman who had jacks heart before you, the woman who slept on your side of the bed, the woman who cheated on him twice. oh you knew a lot— especially from what jack told you.

“she cheated on me with some guy on the rangers— a real work of art, both of them.” jack told you.

you didn’t realize you were zoning out until nicole, one of the other WAGs, placed a hand on your shoulder.

“you alright there lovie? you seem to be staring at something down there a little too hard.” she asked.

your eyes flickered to her. “yeah im fine— just zoned out. when i get too excited it happens.”

nicole smiled. “well— hopefully our boys can kick the rangers ass. im tired of jenna constantly texting me to rub it in my face that we lost. im not even her friend.”

jenna was jacks ex. that was her name, jenna. she was still texting some of the devils girls? even after everything? you almost laughed, but instead you out on a confused look.

“jenna?” you pretended not to know her.

“oh shes jacks ex— we can’t stand her, especially after what she did to the boy.” nicole told you.

good to know.

she’s got those lips, she’s got those hips, the life of every fuckin’ party. she’s talented, she’s good with kids, she even speaks kindly about me..

the devils won, which called for a celebration in some random club. even though you were still in new york, people congratulated the team on the win. maybe they hated the rangers too, or they were islander fans. you didn’t really expect some of the rangers to show up though, and especially not jenna.

her lips popped with the bright red lip stick she adorned. her hips swayed with every step she took in that mini silver dress. in that moment, she became the life of the party. in that moment, you felt your hands wrap around your body.

that didn’t last for long though, especially not when jack was there. his body pressed against yours as you both danced to the music. his hands gripping your waist, your arms slung around his neck. the sloppy kisses he pressed to your jaw. you had this, she didn’t.

but she had to ruin it. “wow you are so pretty!” her voice rang out. this caused jack to slowly, irritatedly pull away. your hands fell down to his arms as the smile on your face slowly turned fake.

“oh thank you.. uh do i know you?” jacks hand squeezed your waist.

jenna gave a look to jack, which you caught, before looking back at you. “one of jacks exes. you are?” she spoke.

“his girlfriend.”

and i know you love me, and i know it’s crazy.. but every time you call my name, i think you mistake me for her. you both have moved on, you don’t even talk. but i can’t help it, i got issues, i can’t help it baby.

“(y/n), baby?” jacks voice rang through the apartment. your body tensed slightly as his voice, scared that maybe he said the wrong name and that maybe you were just another jenna.

“(y/n)? have you seen my shirt?” he spoke loudly.

you sighed through your nose, “which one?”

jacks footsteps padded on the floor. you hid a smile as you sat at the kitchen island. you expected him to speak, but instead his arms wrapped around you from behind, causing you to let out a laugh.

“well it seems to be right here, isn’t that right?” he pinched at the fabric that draped over your body.

you feigned a look of innocence. “oh, you meant this one?” you smiled.

“when did you put this one on, pretty girl?” he asked you.

“it was the first shirt i found this morning. i dont find it to be too endearing walking around naked.”

jacks lips met the side of your neck, as his hands ran up and under his shirt that you wore. “mm, i dont know, i think that would be pretty nice.”

you let out a laugh as your hand reached back to play with his hair. “and let some random people see me? no thank you.”

“i guess you’re right, wouldn’t want anyone to see whats for my eyes only.” he spoke.

you hummed, feeling his kisses move to your jaw and become sloppier. “lets take this shirt off you, shall we?”

your thoughts disappeared as he dragged you to your room. there was no way he didn’t love you, not after the way he just worshipped you. oh no, he was yours, but his ex was still someone who made you worry.

is she friends with your friends? is she good in bed? do you think about her? no, im fine, it doesn’t matter tell me, is she easy-going? never controlling? well-traveled? well read? oh god, she makes me so upset! im so obsessed with your ex!

as jack left for practice, you couldn’t help but wonder about his ex. the last few questions that ran through your mind. she wasn’t friends with nicole or any of the girls, but what about his friends? her and trevor followed each other, same with her and cole.

does jack think about her often? last night at the club she seemed to piss him off by coming up to you both, maybe thats all? maybe he thinks about how much he hates her? or maybe he misses her— oh god was she good in bed?

was she easy-going? you were easy-going. so who cared. never controlling? you werent that controlling, the only thing you didnt want jack doing was liking random models pictures, and that was a set boundary because he said the same thing about random male models or hockey players (besides friends of course— for the both of you).

god jenna barely did anything to you and she made you so upset. pissed— frustrated, made you wanna pull your hair out.

you were obsessed.

im unable to tag everyone!

TAGS: @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @lxnceclercs , @honethatty12 , @outrunangelss , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @lovinbarzal , @shadowsndaisies , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @Robloxlover2007 , @p3nislawd , @alexx-stancati , @queenmendes , @-eedwardss , @if-my-heart-bleeds , @love-like-woaah , @freds-slut , @sleepybesson , @love4lando , @equallyshaw , @bellstwd , @ivy-34 , @slafgoalskybaby , @hischierxx , @dancerbailey3 , @jackhughesily , @cstads-blog , @ru-kru , @sbrn0905 , @love4ldr , @loveforaugust

[fluentmoviequoter]

How to Use It

0.9k+ words of Jim Street realizing he likes SWAT!r's touch even though he isn't supposed to like you (or, you forcing him to put on sunscreen and accidentally getting him addicted to your touch)

“Street, wait up,” you call, jogging to catch up with him.

“If you’re going to taunt me, you have to get in line,” he sighs. “Tan called rights to first insults.”

“I-” You shake your head and stop talking. You and Street are the newest members of 20 squad, but you’ve been with the team for almost a year. This is more than hazing; he clearly likes being teased by Tan, but you know calling him out about it will only make it worse.

“If you want dibs to flirting, however,” Street continues.

“Please stop,” you interrupt. “I just need you to put some sunscreen on.”

Street’s eyes widen like you’ve just asked him to run through the station in his underwear.

“What?” you ask, already growing tired before the day has started. You suppose working with Street as your partner for the last two weeks of training is your fault. You have very different ideals and motivations for being on SWAT than Street; bringing that up to Hondo was not your brightest idea. Since you asked to be separated during rollouts, Hondo has put you together every chance he’s had. Working out constantly and training in the summer heat was bad enough without having Street at your side, you think.

“It’s sunscreen,” you repeat, showing him the container. “If we get sunburned today, we can’t do our best tomorrow, and the taunting becomes infinitely worse.”

“Well, you could try not being such a little goody two shoes and caring what people think about you for once,” Street says, smiling sarcastically.

“This isn’t about what they say, Street,” you argue. “It’s about us not being any more miserable than we have to be.  A little bit of sunscreen won’t damage your reputation, I promise.”

“I care about more than my reputation.”

“Clearly,” you scoff. “Your hair and your pride, right?”

“Can we just go?” Street snaps.

“Not until you put on some sunscreen,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Street looks over your shoulder, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You’re really annoying,” he mumbles after a moment. “Fine.”

You pull the tube from under your arm and offer it to him, but he squints at him like he’s worried it will burn him if he touches it.

“Aren’t you scared I’ll mess it up?” Street asks. “Because last time I tried to do something on my own, you told me that it was not just standard procedure but SWAT tradition to be part of a team-“

You shove your hands against Street’s chest. He catches himself against the edge of the sparring ring, sitting before you as he smiles.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “for once in your life.”

Street looks too pleased with himself as he tips his chin toward your face and closes his eyes. You’re briefly tempted to squirt the sunscreen directly onto his eyelids. You must prove to Hondo that you can be a team player, even if the teammate is Jim Street, so you refrain.

Standing between his knees, you open the sunscreen cap, squirt the white liquid onto your opposite palm, and then set the tube aside. After rubbing it between your hands, you lay your fingers on Street’s cheeks, spreading the sunscreen across his skin. You move your hands lightly up his face, covering his forehead and temples before patting carefully under his eyes and across his nose.

Focused on protecting Street’s face from the harsh summer sun, you don’t notice how he changes. Beneath your hands, Street stiffens. His shoulders draw up toward his ears, and his breaths grow short and shallow. But, as you continue touching him – your hands soft and caring – he softens. You run one finger along his jawline, and a shiver shoots down Street’s spine. He digs his fingers into his training pants to keep himself from reaching out and holding your hips. You’re so close to him that he can smell your perfume and feel the heat radiating off your body. Street doesn’t know why he went from trying to intimidate you to thinking about keeping you close.

“There,” you announce, stepping back. “Now you won’t be completely insufferable tomorrow.”

Street nods, unable to speak as he looks up at you. Part of him wants to grab your belt loops, pull you between his knees again, and kiss you until you forget the animosity that was between you five minutes ago.

“You’ll need to reapply it in two hours. Think you can manage that yourself or should I call the EMT you lied to just so you could flirt with her for a while longer?” you inquire, smiling sweetly.

“I think I’ve got it,” Street says, pushing against his legs as he stands. “And if you’re so jealous that I flirt with the EMTs, maybe you should think about what they have that you don’t.”

You bark a laugh and ask, “Desperation?” before you turn on your heel and move toward the door.

Street lifts his hand to his face, but it doesn't feel the same when he brushes his fingers over the still-tacky path your hands traveled. As he walks to the temporary training area, Street wonders how to get you close again. Preferably without apologizing or admitting you were right, Street thinks as he watches you laugh with Luca. Then, he realizes you cared enough to listen to what he told the EMT after a raid went wrong last week. He can use that, he decides, smiling as he approaches Hondo. The question becomes: How will he use it?

[mina-posts-nonsense]

rin & ness’s doomed unconditional love (p1 rin)

i think it’s interesting how the itoshi brothers & kainess both break up because one part of the duo puts their “person” over football:

football to rin & ness simply becomes a means to be close to someone they love, but just by doing that they’ve driven away that precious person:

this will probably be like 2 or 3 parts because of the image limit, gonna begin with rin and his love first!!

rin and that snowy night:

rin originally wanted to be the world's best striker yet limits himself to second best, because that’s what sae wants from him:

he loves sae so fiercely that even if sae is showing him the ultimate faith, and willing to support his ORIGINAL dream- he wholeheartedly rejects it.

(side note: it’s CRAZY how sae said there’s people more awesome than him, so he revised his dream, yet still had faith in RIN to be the best regardless of what he saw in spain!!!!!)

think about it, isn’t it much better for rin to be the world’s best striker rather than constantly being overshadowed by his brother in second place? isn’t it better for him if sae simply acts as support ? yet even if this is a better deal for him, sae once told him that anything less than a striker is worthless :

so by sae’s own metric, rin doesn’t want his brother to be worthless (or “less”) than him, because he loves him and treasures him above himself, he’s okay being “less” but he’ll never accept his brother being “less”.

next, sae tells him to not give up on their dream just because it’s hard without sae, which he tries reminding sae of in that same conversation:

so he doesn’t want sae to give up on himself, because again he firmly believes that sae is capable of the best, he’s just wondering why this is all happening, throughout the conversation we see him ask questions because he’s trying to understand the change he sees, like why are you suddenly putting yourself down?

why do things have to turn out like this when i did what you told me to, when i tried my best for you all these years?

like cmon everyday he trains hard, to the extent where his teammates know his habits!

he just constantly making sae aware of how much sae means to him, how much he believes in sae and he never wanted to put their dream at risk in the slightest:

so this whole scene is how rin loved sae enough to advocate better for him, it’s how rin believes that sae is the most deserving of being the best and how rin will even fight sae over that belief even if sae shows that same belief in him !

i started with night snow because it’s something that rin gets mischaracterised to hell and back for, when it’s literally an example of his devotion and unconditional love for sae, yet he’s accused of “not caring” or being wrong or disregarding sae’s feelings and causing the fight.

WHEN THROUGHOUT THE CONVERSATION ALL HE’S TRYING TO DO IS UNDERSTAND SAE, he wants to know what’s wrong with his weight loss, he wants to know why sae changed his mind, he wants sae to stop putting himself down and giving up on their dream, even after the 1v1 he tries again to bargain and reason with sae, there’s not a doubt in my mind that he would have come around to sae being a midfielder.

but sae putting himself down, sae giving up on being the best, sae coming home changed and exhausted, sae not explaining anything beyond “you don’t know the world”, it’s not anything that rin can agree with.

rin’s love for sae vs his perception of sae’s love for him:

it’s immediately clear that rin loves sae beyond football, just notice how the smile disappears from his face when he sees sae’s exhaustion

how he praises him (showing that he kept up with sae’s career) then notices AND worries about his weight loss, because he cares about him more than his football successes- what he wants to talk about is sae’s health !!! yes he’s brillant and amazing at football, but how is his health ? ( which sae sadly brushes him off ...)

here’s that same scene from the light novel:

“

“Wasn’t that shot naive?”

While he was entranced by the fluttering snow, he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Ah.” When he turned around, Sae was there. The falling snow reflects the lights on the ground and sparkles. In the snow that shimmered beautifully, as if like an illusion, Sae was standing. His heart leaps. It wasn’t an illusion. He was carrying a large suitcase, and he could tell he had come here straight from the airport.

“Nii-chan……”

He thought he would just shout out loud “I'm the best in Japan!” and hug him, but in reality, that didn't work out that way. Sae's expression was grim and looked terribly worn out. He wasn't the kind of person to smile, but even so, he had never shown this kind of face to Rin.

“Welcome… back…”

“Yeah… I’m back.”

He wonders what's wrong. Is he tired from the plane ride? Or is he not feeling well?

“It’s been four years, huh… but weren’t you supposed to return tomorrow?”

…….He wonders if he isn’t glad to see him after so long.

“Yeah. I came ahead of schedule.”

The snow continues to fall. He doesn't know why, but his brother seems so far away. It’s sad and scary.

”

so yeah, he loves sae more than football and that is the exact problem!

even after that snowy night, he STILL keeps up with sae’s news:

the first image is directly after their fight and the second is after u20, so even when he thought sae threw him away and didn’t love him (or never loved him in the first place), he STILL keeps up with him.

even crazier is that he once jumped in front of a moving car to save sae’s ticket:

so that’s why it hits so hard when he thinks sae only used him for football, because he used football for sae:

this is a crazy statement considering that rin has his own desires to play football! he has a destroyer ego that sae has nothing to do with, yet his love for sae outweighed his initial impulses to play, that’s why it’s a doomed sort of unconditional love.

love -> (supposedly) hate aka the crashout scene:

the specific trigger for it is him thinking that his entire life was a lie, that all the love his brother had for him was false and simply because he was worth using:

he’d rather not have played at all if everything was false, if he was being used, if the sae he loved simply never existed, but the thing that send him over the edge is his experiences being invalidated:

(fun fact: that specific frame he’s looking at is his favourite picture

“His favorite photo is the one taken when they won the junior competition. Rin is in the third grade and Sae is in the fifth grade. Sae is in the middle of their team, with a bored look in his face like it’s just natural to win. Next to him is Rin holding the trophy high in the air because Sae, the ace who was supposed to hold it, let Rin do so.”

mentioned in the rin light novel!!)

the sae he loved and who loved him wouldn’t have given up on their dream, that sae would never have given up on his ego or said such cruel things to him. in a weird sort of way, he’s trying to give value to their bond by destroying sae- because he’s refuting the fact that everything they had was a lie, he genuinely loved sae and he practically built his whole life around him-and that’s why he won’t forgive the fact that sae is supposedly invalidating everything.

remember because all his life he’s wanted to be by sae’s side, he’s continually bothered by how far sae is:

throughout the light novel, he basically talks to sae’s picture and it’s emphasised how lonely he was without sae and how much he struggled and also constantly worried about being left behind. yet he didn’t tell sae a thing as to not burden him with it.

remember they equate their personal relationship with football, it’s not just about “far” in terms of skill level but also emotional distance:

rin is just continually yearning for his brother, he wants to be good enough to be by his side and the reminder of how far sae is keeps sending him into despair- right after this scene, he says this:

consider the prior context- he crashed out because sae invalidated their brotherhood so here he’s stating to himself that they ARE brothers, thus he refuses to be less than sae to prove that !

you could even argue he's fighting so hard, specifically dedicating every minute to football for the purpose of defeating sae because he thinks this will repair their relationship (aka “defending their brotherhood, making sae see that everything wasn’t a lie”):

(side note: it’s almost like he’s denying any change in their relationship, because he doesn’t want to believe things have changed or that everything was a lie!)

hence why he melts immediately at recognition even if he didn't get to enact his revenge of hurting sae as much as sae hurt him:

for a second, he thought he finally proved himself enough to get his brother back.

like cmon rin scored this match and sae didn't say a word, rin was also n1 of bllk and captain and helped create chances for everyone to score, it's only fair that sae takes back his words because they clearly aren't true, yet even the most basic form of recognition makes rin soften up like that and he just gets his heartbroken again.

desire for validation:

prior to pxg vs bm football was basically a way to bond with sae and get him back, [i think we’ll see him focus on his destructive impulses now that he understands his true ego (in the light novel he uses horror movies to cope after sae leaves)] and a core part of that was looking for validation.

he changes himself so that he can stay by sae’s side, this later becomes "how can i make him approve of me"? which unfortunately translates to "im not enough unless he approves of me":

he’s quite literally haunted by not being good enough for sae, when rin finds himself lacking he uses sae’s insult of “lukewarm”, it’s most clear in pxg vs bm, he literally conjured phantoms of sae and despair at not surpassing his phantom's expectations! he only receives "pleasure" from a goal when he defeated sae's phantom (after isagi took its place)- so in a way, he's almost trying to as working to shape his destroyer ego into something that sae approves of.

rin also has this negative self image of himself, remember he was told that his worth depended on football by the person he loved the most, and he seems to have internalised this:

if his body breaks, that’s all his worth is as a football player, he doesn’t value his body it’s just a tool for him to use to prove to sae that he’s not worthless! an incredibly destructive mindset that you see later on too:

so yeah, unconditional means unconditional, he will act in practically self harming ways to get good enough for sae, even if it’s his own phantom of sae- he will do anything and everything for that validation/approval/love. it’s not that he loves sae if sae loves him (otherwise night snow would have turned out differently) but he loves sae ABOVE himself, that’s why he can easily put his body at risk and why he’s so opposed to sae being a midfielder.

abrupt conclusion:

i had more to say buuuuut i ran out of pictures🫠 so im gonna conclude this part here, i still have to talk about his destroyer mode and what sae said during night snow too, but basically the main points of this post are that:

rin loves sae selflessly and unconditionally, he is fine being lower than him even if his dream was to be the world’s best striker yet he will not allow sae to be lower than him, he believes so strongly that sae can be the best that he’s willing to fight him over it, which dooms him in a series about being an egoist and ruthlessly climbing over people to be the best. (also rin genuinely worries and tries to understand sae in night snow, just please re read the thing if you still think he was some heartless prick, because the entire time he was questioning, bargaining and always mentioning how highly he thinks of sae.)

rin used football to be close to sae, yet he believes that sae used him for football, but even after, thinking that he still keeps up with sae’s career and admires him and immediately melts when he thinks sae will recognise him 

a more destructive side to his love is how willing he is to hurt himself to evolve/beat sae(hence get him back)/train because he was told his worth to sae as a brother comes from his football skills. he literally jumps into a moving car for sae! he’s incredibly desperate for validation.

[rowdyluv]

summary: a requested prompt with trevor, trevor and y/n cuddling up sharing memories of their years together.

warnings: none, absolute pure tooth rooting sweetness, quite literally, “its so fluffy I’m going to die”

word count: 2.8+

notes: request made by @sweetestdesire - “Tell me again how you fell in love with me.” “I literally told you yesterday. “I don’t care, I wanna hear it again. Plus, I love hearing you speak.” - altered slightly but not much

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

The rare California rain gently fell against her bedroom window, carrying with it the faint echo of wind and the occasional honk of a vehicle. Trevor and Y/n lay snug in her bed, their limbs intertwined in a familiar sense of comfort. The soft rustle of their sheets joined the sounds of the weather that filled the room, a stark contrast to the joyous and thunderous cheers of Ducks fans they had just left behind at the Honda Center, a lingering memory of the game that had just concluded.

Hopefully gone were the ugly memories of watching Trevor’s team lose game after game, the Duck’s were on a hot streak currently winning the last five home games as shutouts.

Y/n's head rested on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, a rapid strumming that was slowly beginning to flow back into normal rhythm.

“I’m sorry we had to spend our 4-year anniversary at my game.” Trevor mumbled, he had apologized already at least twenty times, feeling terrible for not being able to do something for Y/n that day.

“Trevor, truly baby stop, I love going to your games!” She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with affection. “I got to see you play, and score the game winning goal! I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the whole world, plus I am taking any opportunity to show off that I’m the only female who is wearing your last name with meaning.” She grinned a cheeky smile and he just shook his head.

They had met at one of his games, she had been dragged by one of her friends who was a die-hard Ducks fan. At that point in time, Trevor had been playing the not-so best season of his career. He was constantly in the box for silly retaliation calls, starting and finishing fights, he wasn’t scoring like a previous first rounder top prospect should have been. He was trying to keep himself from being distracted by the fans in the stands, so he hadn’t noticed her right away. It was her friend’s enthusiasm that had stood out among the sea of fans drawing his teammates eyes over during warmups.

However, when Trevor cracked and his attention was finally drawn by the way her friend cheered and yelled for his attention, his eyes fell on Y/n instead. The instant connection he thought that they had made, made him feel invincible on the ice that night. Trevor ended up earning himself a hat trick accompanied by two assists for a 5-1 win over the Sharks.

Trevor was determined to find her, after the game. He didn’t spare a single second for the media, he didn’t shower either. He wasn’t risking her leaving. In record time, he slung his gear off and changed into shorts and a t-shirt to make a mad dash out in hopes to find her still sitting in the seats behind the goal.

Luckily for him, she was still there. They ended up talking for hours after that game.

“Do you remember the night we met?” He asked her after being lost in his own memories about it.

Y/n’s eyes lit up, she had told the story to her friends and family a hundred times but hearing it from his perspective was something she never tired of. She nodded eagerly, “I was so nervous, I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because your eyes had this intense look when you were on the ice that night, or maybe it was just because you were so damn hot in your gear, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

Trevor pinched her waist playfully, a smirk playing on his lips. “I looked hot eh?” He teased, his thumb stroking the skin just above her hip bone. She giggled, swatting his hand away playfully.

“Stop it! You know you do.” Her giggle fit died down before she tried to speak again. “So, if we’re starting to share our memories together,” she smiled at him whole fully.

Y/n propped herself up on her elbow, sole purpose to be able to look at him better.

“Remember that night at the beach, when we had our first kiss?” Her voice was soft, a gentle whisper that danced in the air between them, stirring up the butterflies in Trevor’s stomach like it had that very evening as if he was a schoolboy again.

Trevor’s eyes searched hers, the question in her gaze so earnest, so hopeful. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the cool sand beneath his feet, the sound of the waves crashing in the background, and the way the moon had painted the horizon in a soft silver light. The night before she made a surprise trip to the Sharks arena to watch him play, unfortunately this game didn’t work out in the Ducks favor. When Trevor received her message post game about being there he turned towards one of Ducks equipment managers giving them directions to go get her.

“The night at the beach, the day after you surprised me by showing up at the game in San Jose?” He said, his voice carrying a hint of surprise. As if he would forget about it.

“Yes, the very one. Where I just showed up and you guys had just lost….but you still took the time to see me or I guess wanted to see me, so you sent someone out to get me.”

“It wasn’t a want after I knew you were there babygirl, I needed to see you. I knew you were going to be my girl after you bought your own $100 plus ticket to come watch me play and you went by yourself. You paid, knowing I could have got you free tickets all so you could surprise me.” Trevor's voice grew softer, the memory bringing a gentle warmth to his words.

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he relived the night.

He had felt a fierce protectiveness over her as she approached the locker room full of raging hormonal men. He had almost immediately wrapped his arms around her, the smell of the generic body wash in the guest showers mingling with her perfume, something sweet and floral. The moment between the two shared in front of the locker rooms was when he had hastily asked her out to the beach later the next day.

Y/n layed back down on her stomach, her chin propped up on his chest, her eyes searching his as she spoke. "The night on the beach when you stopped suddenly when we were walking, I was scared you were bored or something," she confessed, a hint of vulnerability in her tone. She had never admitted it to him before, the small doubt that had lurked in the back of her mind that night.

Trevor stilled his motions before speaking, his eyes focused on hers, "Bored? With you? Not a chance." His voice was gentle, a warm caress that seemed to dispel any lingering shadows of doubt. "I knew right then I wanted to kiss you. I just had a moment of second guessing in case you smacked me or ran away." He laughed slightly as he smiled. “Then you turned back around and the way you looked, looked at me, I didn’t care if you smacked me. It wouldn’t hurt long. And hell, I’m a professional athlete. I'd catch up if you ran.”

Y/n felt her heart swell with affection as she laughed. "You're so dramatic," she said, her voice filled with love and amusement. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her fingertips tracing the line of his cheekbone.

Trevor's smile grew with the soft touch of affection. "Maybe, but it's all true." His voice grew husky, the emotion of the memory thick in the air.

“Hey, Y/n?” He whispered, grabbing her by the waist with both hands lifting her to lay on top of him.

Her eyes searched for him, questioning and curious of the sudden change in position. He didn’t say a word, instead he leaned in and kissed her with a tenderness that could melt an entire ice rink three times over. It was the kind of kiss that made time stand still, where every beat of his heart resonated against her own. A kiss that was sweet and gentle, like a whispered promise of forever. It was a nice and welcomed difference to the passionate, urgent kisses they often shared in the bed they were occupying, but no less powerful in its own right.

When he pulled away, she found herself breathless, a soft blush painting her cheeks. “Trev, what was that for?”

He looked into her eyes, the warmth in his gaze making her feel like she was the only person in the universe. “I just wanted to remind you how much I love you, and that every day, every moment with you, makes me love you even more than I did the last time I said it.” He spoke with such conviction, his words a sweet melody that filled her soul. “I love you more now, than I did when we got home, and I’m sure you’ll give me a reason before tomorrow to love you more than I do right now.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his declaration, a feeling that was becoming as familiar as the sound of their breath mingling together. She knew she didn’t need the reassurance, but she craved it. She craved to hear his voice tell her that he felt the same way she did. That she wasn’t just some girl he had picked out in the crowd one night who had gotten lucky to get to know him, but the love of his life.

“Trevor.” Y/n whispered, laying her head against his shoulder, still lying on top of him, Trevor’s arms wrapped securely around her waist. “Will you tell me again how you fell in love with me?”

Trevor’s chuckle was a warm rumble under her cheek, a gentle reminder of his presence, and of his affection. “You’re like your little nephew asking for a bedtime story when he stays, you know that?” He said playfully, his eyes crinkling at the corners. But the request from her, nor the little guy, didn’t annoy him.

It was quite the opposite, it reminded him of their earlier days together. Back to when he first told her he loved her, back when she would ask him almost every day just to hear him say it.

He sighs and kisses her forehead before starting his story, his eyes closed as he recounts the moments that had led up to him falling for her. "I was in love with you far before I told you I was," he starts, his voice low and earnest. "Remember that summer when we got lost on our way to the Hughes’ lake house?"

Y/n nods, a smile playing on her lips, "You were so mad at the GPS," she murmurs, the memory bringing a hint of embarrassment to her voice, “thinking that it was wrong, but I had accidentally put the address in wrong. You never showed anger to me once we realized and wouldn’t let me apologize either. You laughed with me, not at me.”

Trevor’s arms tighten around her slightly. That summer had been one of the best of his life. It was the summer he had realized she was more than just the girl who had stolen his attention at the game. She was the girl who was breaking down every wall. Walls that he had no idea existed until she was in his life, because no other girl had ever managed to reach them.

"I was in love with you before I knew I was," he repeats in a caressing whisper. "It was the way you'd laugh at my terrible jokes, the way you not only cheer me on, but the entire team. It’s how even when I was playing like shit, you were still right there by my side. You see me for me I know that if I don’t or can’t play, you’ll still be here. You’re not here for the hockey side of me. It was the way you looked at me in a room full of people, like I was the only person in the room that mattered." His voice grew softer with each word, each memory weaving a tapestry of emotion in the air.

She’s heard the explanation a few hundred times over the four years, each time it fills her with so many emotions that she can’t help but tear up a little. She had never experienced such a love before Trevor, she never wants to experience anyone else’s but his.

“I knew it, when I had to pull over and ask that old man with his pet llama if you could pet it. You were so embarrassed I actually did it but you talked about petting the llama all day.” Trevor laughed remembering that specifically odd encounter.

“I still can’t believe I got to pet a llama because of you, that was pretty amazing.”

The warmth in her voice brought a grin to his face as he leaned further back into the pillows. She was so much more than he had ever hoped for in a partner.

"Every time I saw you, every moment we spent together, it was like you were throwing little glances of light into the darkest parts of me." Trevor's voice grew softer, his eyes still closed as if he could feel the moments more deeply that way. "You had this way of making everything feel right, even when everything was so wrong." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, his grip on her waist tightening slightly as the weight of his feelings pressed against his chest.

“The first time I told you that I love you that New Year’s Eve, when I flew back early to surprise you, during our first year together. I was so anxious. I had never felt this way about anyone before. And when I saw your face light up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center when you opened the door to your apartment when I knocked, I had to tell you, right then and there. I blurted it out right in your face like the idiot goofball that I am. But whenever you feel so in love with someone the way I do, the kind that makes you want to jump out of airplanes to see if it matches the way they make your heart race or fight your way through the crazy mob of media instead of taking the interviews just to take a chance at meeting them.”

Trevor unwrapped his arms from her waist, only to move his hand to tilt her head to look up at him.

“Y/n, every day since then, that love has only grown and grown until it’s all I can think about, no you’re all I can think about. To the point I know that I want to marry you one day." His voice was steady, filled with certainty that had been growing in his heart for months, waiting for the perfect moment to tell her.

Y/n popped up with renewed energy, elated with the words that fell from his lips. “One day? Why not elope tomorrow? I have been waiting for you to say that for, forever. I don’t need big and fancy, I just need you.” She was beaming at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Trevor shook his head in amazement, his eyes filled with love and amusement. "You're something else, you know that?" He replied, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "But no, not tomorrow, I want to do it right. Meaning I am going to ask you, not you ask me. I also know that you do want some type of ceremony, I’ve seen you scroll through Pinterest.” He stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the small tear that had fallen. The smile she wore let him know she wasn’t crying from him saying no. “I have always been one to rush into everything. I want us to take our time and make sure that when we do get married, it's a day neither of us will ever forget."

Her heart fluttered at his words, feeling the love between them grow stronger with each shared memory, and his confession. The room grew quiet once again, their breaths mingling together in a soft dance of contentment.

"I can't wait for that day," she whispered with a yawn taking over her words, her second wind of energy vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "But until then, I'm happy being with you just like this." Her eyes fluttered shut and reopened slowly.

“It’s okay to go to sleep, I will be here tomorrow. I can always talk about whatever it is you have ready to ask me then.” Trevor assured here pressing a kiss to her head from an awkward position. “Close your eyes and go to sleep, babygirl.”

tag list: @thedevilrisen @luke-hughes43

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[kykyonthemoon]

7 Days the mini-series

About this series: ✈️

Day 05: Sunshower

I was used to just him and me, always together. However, as we grew older, our own worlds expanded, and more people came.

I didn't think about it until one day.

That day, I headed to Caleb's school after class. We went to school and returned home together day by day. There was going to be a volleyball tournament between high schools in the district, so he often had to stay after class to practice. I chose a good spot in the grandstand, and finding him among the players on the field was not a problem to me at all.

Whether it was studying or playing sports, I loved seeing him putting all his mind into it. Occasionally, he would glance towards the stands, then smile when he saw me there. When he scored, I wouldn’t hesitate to stand up and scream: “YAYYY!!! CALEB YOU'RE SO COOL!!!” And every time, his teammates would constantly make fun of him till his ears turned crimson.  While in the stands, the girls in the upper grades would glance and me and whispered:

“Who is that girl?”

“I don’t know. She must be crazy about Caleb…”

“Who wouldn’t like him? Caleb is so handsome, and kind!”

“OMG!!! He’s staring at us!!!”

A few seats ahead of me, the females began to conceal their faces and laugh among themselves. I had no idea why my stomach felt uneasy. I sat down and remained silent throughout the practice that day.

Of course, Caleb didn't understand what upset me so much. Even I could not know what it was. I was too young to start dating, yet old enough to acknowledge the most beautiful emotions of my youth were blossoming. Every afternoon, I waited for Caleb at the sports court before we came home together. And every afternoon, I caught him surrounded by so many other girls.

There was no doubt how popular he was at school. I should be happy for him, since he was everyone's favorite. Yet why could I not get rid of this uncomfortable feeling in my heart? Was it because I was used to being the only one by his side? Was it because I disliked the idea of sharing him with anyone else?

That day, after his practice, I saw Caleb talking to a classmate. She was proposing that they take a stroll home together, it seemed. My fists clenched, head bowed, I walked away. There was a tint of soreness on my nose.

After a while, I heard Caleb calling my name. My feet didn't stop, they wanted to go even faster. He caught up with me and took hold of my wrist.

"Pip-squeak? You didn't wait for me today?"

His naïve expression infuriated me even more. I pulled my hand away from him and replied:

"Go home with her."

Every step I made now vented the path that had done nothing wrong. Caleb casually strolled beside me and said:

"Who? Is there anyone else other than the two of us?"

He took notice of my silence, then pulled my hand to stop me. “Come on. Tell me, what have I done wrong?”

The radiant smile on his lips forced me into the situation where I failed to keep my poker face. I pouted and gave him an unkind cheek squeeze, saying:

“Stop smiling.”

“On't ou ike it en I ile?" (Don't you like it when I smile?)

Caleb said as I rubbed his cheeks to let out my sulking though he did not do anything wrong. That very moment, it began to rain, even though the golden sun was still shining brightly.

“Oh, a sunshower?…”

“This is also known as fox rain. Legend has it that when it’s both sunny and raining, it’s the time for the fox to welcome his bride. But our Gran said that this type of weather indicates a quarrel between the Sun God and the Rain God.” Caleb explained and turned to face me. “It seems that you are mad at me too, pip-squeak. I'm not sure what I did wrong, but... could you kindly forgive me??”

I didn’t answer right away, yet the smile on my lips gave him the answer. I held his hand in mine and we continued walking on the long path.

“Caleb… Will you… date someone else in the future?”

“Huh? Dating? Why are you curious about it?”

“Well… I was just thinking… When I grow up a little more and you’re not with anyone, I… I will be your date... Is that alright?”

Our hand squeezed, he grinned, as bright as the sun and the rainbow in the rain in front of our path home.

[moneymartin]

PLEASE PLEASE do a kate martin fic where the reader is her ex and they cannot stay away from each other. like “uh oh” by tate mcrae PLEASE

・❥・- favorite bad decision

summary: you see kate at a practice after the two of you split

warnings: nfsw mdni. 18+ as fawk! but the smut is kinda short sozzzz

rpf. don’t read it if you don’t feel comfortable

a/n: i’m negl all my kate fics are fluffy cause i cannot see myself writing smut. (but i try to deliver so this sucks cuz i got a lil uncomfy) 😭 also i’m sorry for lacking on my writing im so stressed w all these exams im taking and some family problems. this also might go off track cause i wrote this half asleep 😕 didn’t know how to end this one too

stars are the skips :)

it’s been 5 months. 5 stupid months since that relationship you refused to let go ended. you couldn’t believe it either when your girlfriend suddenly said “we need to breakup.”. she never told you why, despite the multiple calls and texts you sent when she left the morning after that were begging for her to come back or at least explain why she felt that way.

you felt like absolute shit.

it was a long relationship, your longest one too. it was the fact you believed it would last forever. you wished for it to last when you saw those repeated numbers and whenever a star dotted across the sky. you believed in those silly little things, but you only believed in them for this stupid 1.5 year period.

everything felt like it had been going your way during those times. you felt alive again after meeting kate. she was the definition of a literal ball of sunshine when it came to you. constantly bringing you to her basketball games, showing you off to her friends and teammates, introducing you to her family. things were great. the feeling was refreshing, especially after being in probably the worst relationship of your life.

a guy played you behind your back so many times and you were unable to figure out yourself. the second you did, you didn’t even know why or what to do. you struggled with school from the thought of never finding out what he thought was weird about you or why he even considered doing that in the first place. you treated him like he was the best boyfriend in the world!

then kate had dug you out of a hole you thought you’d never have the guts or the fucking courage to get out of.

“there’s nothing wrong with you trying to get your mind off of it y’know.” jada says. shes been helping you cope with this thing even though her and kate are the closest people ever. she’d never tell a single soul anything you always talk to her about. “coming to our last game in carver won’t be that bad!”

“yeah, not so bad until i see kate! you know how i feel about her, jades. it hurts.” you murmur and swipe the back of your hand against your face. there’s a painful feeling at the bottom of your stomach and it makes your skin crawl uncomfortably. “i’m not going and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

jada’s face contorts into a half smile when she hears the way you talk about the whole shebang. she knows you that still can’t let it go, and she wishes so badly that you could let kate go. “right.” she breathes out and grinds her teeth together. “you don’t need to come.”

but you do anyways.

you sat there at court side awkwardly, watching the hawkeyes train before their final home game. you only saw caitlin, hannah, gabbie, syd, and kylie. jada was sitting next to you and cheering on her teammates. thankfully, you didn’t spot kate anywhere close or on the court at all.

until you fucking did.

kate walked in through the tunnel and dropped her gym bag on the floor, a loud thud echoing through the arena. she had her hair up in that same stupid braid, that same stupid smirk on her face, and that same stupid look in her eyes. you hated her so fucking much and you hated the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about her no matter how hard you tried to.

that churn in the stomach made you feel like you had level 1000 cramps, but it was just that feeling you got when you felt absolutely sick to the core. sick because you didn’t know what, or how to feel after seeing kate again. it was the shitty feeling of not knowing why she even chose to leave you in the first place. it was the feeling of frustration when you saw her smile again. the feeling of confusion rushing back to you. you felt like a small child getting yelled at when she broke up with you, it was when nothing made sense at all to you. when you didn’t get the answer you wanted after multiple tries of begging for it.

you didn’t understand it, and you still don’t.

“you alright?” jada snaps you out of whatever the hell you were thinking about and you jump slightly, eyes diverting away from kate. “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” you huff and smile with your teeth out. your body starts to grow numb and you feel as if you can’t breathe as well as you normally would, which jada notices. she grabs your shoulders tightly and places her palm on the side of your face to move your head towards hers. she knows you’re staring at kate. “you’re not fine.”

thanks captain obvious.

“yeah, obviously not!!!” you blurt out way too loud. it makes everything and everyone around you stop. the sound of the balls dribbling against the floor and the continuous chatter around you just stops. everything is silent and you know that its because of you. your face flushes at the embarrassment you feel and you step off onto the court, walking towards the exit. the sound of footsteps follow you and you don’t even have the guts to turn around. it seriously feels like you’re about to get completely flamed for acting out at a clear statement about what you felt.

but it’s not jada. or caitlin. it’s fucking kate.

a wave of anger and bitterness rushes through you like no other, and you can’t tell whether to be upset or nervous about this little interaction. you still love kate and you know that. “you like to yell, huh?” she chuckles and pushes your shoulder lightly. when her hand touches you, you don’t move away and just let her do it.

“lighten up, will ya?” kate’s lips curl up into the damn smirk again and she looks at you with those eyes. the eyes that she knows you can’t say no to, the eyes that got you hooked in the first place. “i missed when you acted up like that, to be honest.”

you’ve missed her touch so badly, but you just can’t admit it.

there’s a lot of things you acknowledge in life. things that you know. you know whats right and wrong when it comes to decisions and when it comes to certain things like seeing people you know you aren’t supposed to.

but you know that this is right. it always has been.

promises are always broken too, and this was one you swore you’d never break. it was hard, especially because kate was the hottest fucking person on the planet. saying ‘no’ to her was practically impossible. she asked you to come over after the game and you happily complied. which was a horrible idea.

“you’re such a fuckin’… asshole.” you whine out and let out a bated breath. your body shivers when kate’s fingers run up and down underneath your shirt and when her breath hits your sopping core. she’s in between your legs and eating you out like a madwoman. your head falls back into her pillows, fingers gripping tight at the roots of her hair and the bedsheets on the side of your body. “am i?” she mumbles, sending vibrations through your body that you haven’t felt in months.

that feeling is so good. and you know it. you missed it when kate acted up too. seeing her all tough on the court made something reignite in your stomach again, and it exploded when you saw her in the locker rooms. you literally dragged her out of there while she was in the middle of a conversation with addi and into your car. you couldn’t even wait before your lips were eagerly on hers and her hands were roaming in all the right places.

“yeah, you are. you fucking bitch…..” your voice goes up an octave the moment kate licks a stripe up your pussy and starts leaving hickeys around your thighs and stomach. “i tried ignoring you when i saw you at the club last week. all i wanted to do was jump into your arms and kiss your face off.” you admit awkwardly and let out a quiet cry the moment your stomach turns into knots. you’re close and she can feel it, her head diving down again while you absentmindedly hump at her face.

“shit!” you whimper and prop your head up, watching kate lap up every last drop of your cum. “i got you, baby,” she breathes out heavily onto your stomach. her breath is warm and she presses her cheek up against it when she feels your legs shake. her thumb rubs your sides and she looks up at you, rising up slightly and keeping herself steady with her hands. yours grabbing at her shoulders. when she keeps herself up you can feel her arms bulging underneath her shirt and she leans in. “mmf.. that’s my girl.”

her tongue swirls around yours, making you taste yourself all the way before the moment turns over quickly. “mhm..” you hum and slide your hands down her arms to get a feel again. the second you pull away, kate’s eyes go from feral to soft. she leans back and searches around on her floor, picking up your undergarments and sliding them on for you. “it’s okay.” she smiles and moves her head towards you. kate rests her head on your chest, chin in between and her arms around your stomach while your fingers cup her face.

you’re never gonna be able to stop forgiving her if she keeps doing this to you. and you know it.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

snow angel - track four

series masterlist // previous // next

DECEMBER 2022

JANUARY 2023

EARLY MARCH 2023

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, mickschumacher and others

rheareynolds the council sending me off for filming.

tagged: lilymhe

view all comments

user1 somehow all three are very grumpy about rhea leaving.

↳ rheareynolds they were. although the boyfriend has no place to be complaining. he's constantly travelling.

user2 the boyfriend is hot.

↳ user3 you can only see his hair and arms?

↳ user2 and?

vancityreynolds stop lying, i bet they're thrilled.

↳ rheareynolds just because blake always throws a party when you leave doesn't mean my friends and boyfriend do.

lilymhe you couldn't have found a better picture of me?

↳ rheareynolds i think you look very cute

↳ alex_albon that's my girlfriend!

↳ rheareynolds what's your point? she's literally my wife

charles_leclerc have fun but not too much fun!

user4 okay but her cat is literally the prettiest cat i've ever seen.

user5 see i personally love that rhea met lily and the other drivers through lando but they still picked her over him

↳ user6 to be fair they are friendly with lando but you can tell it's not the same as it was.

↳ user7 well lando cheated on his girlfriend and not the other way around.

LATE MARCH 2023

lilymhe and rheareynolds posted new stories

breakfast with the prettiest girl ever.

prettiest surprise visit ever.

charles leclerc rhea come home the children (me and lily) miss you

lily muni he please come back!

max verstappen added two people

logan sargeant bonjour!

logan sargeant i don't speak french

oscar piastri hello?

charles leclerc piastri i swear to seb if you tell nowins about this i will crash into you. alex albon jeez give the kid a chance to breathe sharl

rhea reynolds i wrap filming in may!

rhea reynolds oh hello. oscar piastri and?

logan sargeant i'm logan sargeant, alex's teammate. when will we be getting new music?

yuki tsunoda yes, when can i get new material to further torment norizz?

rhea reynolds july.

lance stroll BOOO!!

rhea reynolds but a single in june

pierre gasly IT'S BARELY APRIL?? THAT'S TWO WHOLE MONTHS AWAY?? mick schumacher sucks to suck charles leclerc YOU LET HIM HEAR IT BEFORE US?? YOUR BEST FRIENDS?? charles leclerc WHAT HAPPENED TO BROS BEFORE HOES?

george russell GIVE US THE TRACKLIST TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR SINS!!

rhea reynolds talk too much, i hate boston, poison poison, gemini moon, snow angel, so what now, the wedding song, pretty girls, tummy hurts, i wish, willow, 23.

charles leclerc claiming snow angel lily muni he claiming pretty girls max verstappen you two are too much sometimes. but i claim so what now.

rhea reynolds his ass is grass. trust.

oscar piastri trust i will be playing this in my drivers room.

MAY 2023

rheareynolds posted new stories

💞💞

i just woke up why the fuck is everyone blowing up my phone? did my nudes get leaked, not that i have any, or some shit? worse, what the fuck did ryan do now?

mick schumacher who fucking spilled??

esteban ocon i spilled milk earlier, why are you asking?? and how do you know??

rhea reynolds how the fuck did some spanish paper find out that i was dating mick??

charles leclerc oh no.

max verstappen YOU TOLD CARLOS??

charles leclerc HE PROMISED ME HE WOULDN'T SAY ANYTHING!!

pierre gasly HE'S FRIENDS WITH NO BITCHES!! WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE KEEP IT A SECRET??!!

oscar piastri this is bad. so bad.

lily muni he OH COME ON!! SERIOUSLY CHARLES??

charles leclerc I FUCKED UP OKAY?! I GET IT! I WILL SPEAK TO CARLOS!

george russell NO! NO MORE TALKING TO CARLOS!!

charles leclerc HE PROMISED!!

max verstappen HIS PROMISES MEAN SHIT! WE BOTH KNOW THAT!

rhea reynolds WHAT THE FUCK CHARLES??

charles leclerc I WAS ALSO DRUNK AND I TRUSTED HIM!!

pierre gasly i thought we learned our lesson after last time?

alex albon this is bad. this is so fucking bad.

rhea reynolds yeah no shit alex.

alex albon you didn't read the article did you?

lily muni he i swear to sebastian that i will be castarating both sainz and norris for what's being said. rhea reynolds oh fuck me.

are you dating mick schumacher?

rhea?

i know you're seeing these

are you seriously dating mick? my friend?

that's rich coming from the guy who cheated on me with a friend.

and if i am i don't think i owe you an explanation.

i also wasn't aware you guys were friends. you take one picture with a guy and suddenly you're friends.

are you fucking kidding me reynolds?

you're dating him?

him of all people

literally fuck you norris.

tell carlos to pull the fucking article or i'm suing his ass for defamation.

for what? telling the truth?

you and i both fucking know that article is straight bullshit. i never did anything to you. i was committed to our relationship more than you ever fucking were.

either he pulls the article or i swear i'll sue him.

fuck you and i hope you choke.

taglist: @emilyval @ihateyougunthersteiner @lesliiieeeee @firetruckstuckley @cashtons-wife @landonorizzz @yoremins @nikfigueiredo @badassturtle13 @cataf1 @silentreader128 @taylorsatl @alessioayla @greeneyesandsunshine @wisteriafence @mrscharlesleclerc @sesamepancakes @localwhoore @vettelsebastianvettel @Pinksstrawberry @yourbane @bborra @aandreea2005 @nichmeddar @asparklysoul @landossainz @scarletwidow3000 @cha-hot @ssararuffoni @cherry-piee @vroomvroommuppett @shineforever19 @kissesandmartinis

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¡leclerc-s speaks! i do know that the mick quote in the grill the grid video is in reference to seb, but the opportunity was right there so i had to go with it!! if i had a nickel for everytime i made carlos out to be an asshole i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice. I PROMISE I DON'T HATE HIM!! I ACTUALLY LIKE HIM BUT HE'S LIKE BESTIES WITH LANDO AND IT WORKS OUT SO WELL.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[flemingsfreckles]

Be a Good Teammate pt. 2

Jessie Fleming x USWNT!Reader (also Seattle!Reader)

Read Part 1

Warnings: none, this is a pretty relaxed chapter

WC: 2.8k

A/N: thank you so much for the support on what is now Part 1. Due to how many people requested a continuation of this fic, I figured I’d go for it! This is more of a filler/plot mover part of the story. There will be at least one more part that will be a lot more interesting but if there’s enough interest and I have the ideas, maybe it’ll be many more parts.

It had been a couple weeks since you had talked with Jessie on the field in San Diego. You haven't heard anything from her, not that you were expecting to after she had told you she had a lot on her plate. Not hearing from her had bothered you a bit in the beginning, thoughts of her constantly popping up in your mind. She was a minor distraction. As time went on and you didn’t hear from her you went back to the way you had been before you had seen her. You were able to brush off the thoughts of her easily, getting back into your routine as if you hadn’t even seen her.

Something deep down hoped you’d wake up to a text from her. That hope diminished as the days passed. It wasn't until the week before your team was supposed to take the trip to Portland to play that you heard from her.

Unknown: Hey, this is well overdue but I just wanted to apologize, I was rude to you after the gold cup game. Not an excuse but I was in a pretty rough state. Thanks for what you said too.

Unknown: by the way this is Jessie, I had to get a new number to use in the US. Feel free to delete my UK number. Keep the Canada one, I still use that.

Unknown: I got your number from Coffey.

Unknown: Hope that’s okay. You can just delete this number if you’d rather.

Reading her texts made you smile and let out a small laugh, she texted exactly how she would talk. You can practically hear her voice while reading through the texts, how she probably sat there overthinking each text only to then feel guilty for not just double or triple but quadruple texting you. You clicked on her number, changing her name in your phone to Jessie (USA).

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you thought about responding. Deciding against replying at the moment, you lock your phone again and climb out of bed. You throw on your clothes for training then head to your kitchen to make a quick breakfast and coffee.

Training was rough. It was less that the physical workout was hard, it had actually been a lighter day being only 2 days away from game day. It was rough because you couldn't focus.

Your mind kept drifting to the few texts you had received from Jessie. Had she been thinking about you all these weeks? Why did she wait so long? Maybe she was only thinking about you since you would be seeing her this weekend. But maybe she was thinking of you for other reasons. Maybe she was ready to start being friends? Maybe you could end up as more? All the thoughts related to her were swarming around your head, leading you to be in a fog at practice.

It was embarrassing to say the least, missing touches, overpowering or underpowering your passes, even tripping over your own feet a couple times. After you had fallen to your knees while doing individual dribbling drills, for the third time that day at practice Quinn stepped over to you extending their hand.

“Are you good?” Concern in their eyes as they pulled you up.

“Yeah, just in my own head today.” trying to give a convincing smile shaking your head at your own behavior. You had managed to push Jessie so far back in your mind for years, why was she messing with you now.

“Alright, if you need to talk let me know, or go see the psychologist. The team has them for a reason. We need you to stay on your feet Saturday.” They pat you on the back and go back to finish their dribbling drill.

“Thanks.” You gave Quinn a smile, knowing damn well you wouldn't bring yourself to talk with them. They were one of the best listeners on the team and had heard out your other issues, anxieties and just general venting. There was no way you were going to talk to Quinn about their own national team teammate. You didn’t need it coming back to Jessie that she was on your mind.

You were so thankful when you were called to huddle up and end practice. Heading back to the locker room you peeled your sweaty jersey off, throwing a sweatshirt on instead, grabbing your phone and heading to the trainer’s room. You greeted the staff, walking over to the ice bath and hopping in. The icy water causes goosebumps to appear across your skin. It felt good, you knew it would, you often would use a cold shower to clear your mind, but this counted as your recovery as well so it was a bonus. You stripped off your sweatshirt leaving you standing shivering in your sports bra. You took a deep breath and let your knees give, sinking your whole body under the water.

Under the water was peaceful, quiet, the freezing water causing your brain to go blank, no thoughts of the bad training, no thoughts of Jessie, no thoughts of what to make for dinner tonight, nothing. So you waited, sitting on the bottom of the tub prolonging your peace. Running out of air, you resurfaced to find a few teammates and members of the training staff to be looking at you. Feeling suddenly self conscious you grabbed your sweatshirt throwing it back on. “What?” you harshly asked in the general direction of your teammates. None of them responding, shaking their heads or just looking away.

Before you could make it out of the locker room you heard your name called and saw your coach standing behind you.

“Can you come to my office before you head out?” She asked.

“Yeah no problem, just give me a second to change my shorts, I’ll be right up.” You tried to appear calm on the outside. On the inside you were stressing. Why did she need to talk to you, maybe you were being traded and you'd be able to dodge Jessie longer. Maybe she was taking you off the travel roster, maybe she was going to yell at you for your performance today. You quickly changed into some dry pants and walked over and into the coaching office.

“Go ahead and shut the door.” She pointed behind you when you walked in. Her words make your stomach sink. You sat down, not saying anything, just looking at her across the desk. She finishes up something on the computer, hitting the power button and turning back to face you. She taps her hands on the desk and starts talking. “Look, I’m going to tread lightly here, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Your best attempt at a smile comes across your face.

“You realize why I have to ask, right?” you just nod at her question. “I don't mean to be crass but that was the worst practice you've had since you started here. I get it, everyone has an off day, but that to me looked like a lot more than just an off day.”

“I’m good, I just had a bit on my mind.” She wasn't telling you anything you didn't know but hearing her criticism of your performance hurt, you didn't want to disappoint her.

“Do I need to take you off of our roster for this weekend's game?”

“No!” You're quick to protest her offer. “I promise, I’ll have it sorted by then.” Not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or your coach at this point you keep talking. “You can count on me.”

“I want to believe that, I do. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one, I’ll leave you on the roster, we really need you for this game, but I’d rather not put you out there if your performance is going to look like it did today.”

“Yes Coach, I understand. I’ll be good.”

She turns back to a stack of papers, grabbing off a small slip from the top. She hands it to you, you look at it recognizing the name and contact information of the team’s sports psychologist and the team’s standard psychologist. “Take this, I’m not saying you need to talk to anyone, but it's good information to always have.”

You look up from the paper, thinking it's silly how now two people had recommended that you needed professional help, all over the fact that you had a silly little crush on an old teammate.

“Thanks Coach, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You stood up pushing in the chair behind you, leaving her office. You walked down the hallway back toward the locker room to grab your bag. Before you head out you quickly pack your travel back, throwing in your boots, shin pads, extra socks, tape before dropping the bag at the front of the room where your teammates had placed theirs. You moved back

Part of you cursed Jessie for reaching out, you had been able to push your thoughts of her back in your mind after you had talked but now that she had reached out she was back in the forefront. Opening your phone as you walked out of the training facility, you opened your messages and clicked on Jessie’s name. You opened her contact, frustrated from your performance at practice and causing your coach to consider benching you, you wanted to blame it on her. You hover your finger over the delete button. You then moved your thumb to where it read Block This Number. Before you could think twice you pressed it, the messages from her disappearing, no trace of her new number on your phone. While you were at it you proceeded to delete her number from the UK. You left her Canadian number, she never used that one to talk to you, no harm in it staying. You were hoping blocking her new number would also block the thoughts of her.

You learned very quickly though the night that if anything, blocking her number made Jessie more prominent in your mind. She was in your mind while you drove home. You thought about her while you stood under the cold water of your shower, she was in your mind while you cooked. Trying to distract yourself you grabbed a book and the book worked. It kept Jessie out of your mind until you realized how much you liked the book, one of the best ones you had read in a while. You decided to open GoodReads, immediately closing it when the first thing you saw upon opening the app was Jessie’s name, she had recently rated a book. You had forgotten that you were even friends on the app, you hadn't read or rated a book in a long time. Deciding you’ve had enough, you pull yourself off the couch and into the bedroom to try and get some sleep.

Setting your alarm for the next morning, you climbed into bed, deciding to count sheep to prevent your mind from wandering. It took many minutes of tossing and turning before you were able to fall asleep. Despite the long day you had mentally and physically, sleep did not come easy. Unfortunately, once you were asleep, you didn’t stay asleep long, feeling restless when you woke up for the fourth time that night, the sky was still dark outside. You roll over checking the time 3:18am. Still half asleep you reach for your phone, sliding it open. Squinting at the bright light you find your settings, opening your list of blocked numbers, finding Jessie’s you click unblock. You open your messages, type in her name and then a message.

You: No problem, see you Saturday.

You're not sure what you're saying no problem to, if it's because she apologized, if it's because she thanked you for talking to her or if it's to the fact that she had asked Sam for your number. Sleep is still fogging your brain. You hit send, shut off your phone and roll over hoping you can get some more sleep before your alarm wakes you.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm. You gave yourself an extra hour in the morning to pack before you had to meet at the stadium to travel. You threw on your travel sweats and shirt before throwing an assortment of sweatpants, t-shirts, and shorts into a bag, not caring what you packed for the 3 day trip. Moving into the bathroom you packed your toiletries, before heading back to your bedroom to grab your phone and the charger.

Jessie (USA): See you Saturday.

You do a double take at the message, last remembering that you had blocked her number. You open it, seeing that you, in fact, had not blocked her but instead you had texted her at 3 in the morning. “Oh you idiot,” you insulted yourself. You threw your phone in your pocket while packing your charger in your bag.

It wasn't long until you were sitting on the bus, stretching your body across two seats, trying to get comfortable. The buses had to be one of the most uncomfortable parts of playing, unfortunately Portland was considered too close to justify a plane ride. You were reading over the itinerary that had been handed out. You were scheduled for a light practice this evening followed by designated stretching and recovery time, then it was dinner and lights out. Looking to Saturday you saw the early arrival time, the game starting at Noon, pitch walk just before that, and time to warm up. After the game you had recovery for an hour followed by the words “Free Time” It wasn't uncommon for you to get freetime after game days when you were traveling, it was nice to explore where you were playing or just getting to hang out, unregulated, with your teammates. Sunday consisted of a practice in the morning, then more free time, followed by the bus ride back in the evening. The large amount of free time on this trip caught your eye, giving you an idea as you dig your phone out from your pocket. You open it to Jessie’s messages again and start typing.

You: If you're up for it, dinner Saturday night?

You realize that feels a bit forward, adding a second message.

You: You can bring a teammate too if you want, it doesn't just have to be us.

Seconds after you send it you see the bubble indicating Jessie is typing pop up, you lock your phone and toss it as if it's on fire into the seat that your legs are resting on. You feel it vibrate against your calf, indicating she had responded. Instead of reaching for your phone you remain still, staring at it. It’s only once the phone vibrates again reminding you that you had a text that you reach and pick it up. Involuntarily you hold your breath and turn on the screen.

Jessie (USA): That would be nice.

The gray bubble appears again.

Jessie (USA): just us

You let the air out of your chest, feeling relieved at her response. She wanted to see you. She wanted to see you, just the two of you. A smile grows on your face as you read over her messages again and again.

You: sounds good, may need some recommendations on dinner locations

This time when you see her typing you hold onto your phone. Watching as the bubble appears for a few seconds before disappearing and reappearing

Jessie (USA): I’ll figure something out and let you know

You begin to type out “sounds like a date” before deciding that it’s a little too forward, against it, deleting it and changing it.

You: perfect!

You waited, seeing if she would respond, not that there was much to respond to but part of you hoped she’d say something else. When she doesn't you shut off your phone. You lean your head back so it rests against the window and you're looking at the ceiling of the bus. You let out a sigh of relief. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest for the first time in two days. You now knew she didn't completely hate you, you knew she was willing to let you talk with her again.

Feeling last night's lack of sleep catches up with you, your eyes close and you’re able to drift peacefully asleep, your brain no longer filled with anxieties or concerns about Jessie, you remain asleep until the bus stops and you hear your teammates gathering their belongings to get off the bus. You were finally in Portland.

[bitchinbarzal]

I’ve been mad at the world | M Estapa

“Ever since you passed away I’ve been mad at the world”

warnings: mentions of death, being drugged, mentions of sexual assault and vulnerability of women

-

“Come on!”

“Mark I said no!” You whine from under your blanket “I am tired and I don’t want to go to the stupid party”

Mark throws himself down on your bed next to you and gives you pleading eyes “Please, for me?”

You hum for a moment in contemplation before you nod “Fine! Get out so I can change”

Mark knew you hated these parties but you always agreed because it was Mark, you couldn’t say no to him.

At the party, you’d lost him as soon as you entered with Mark drifting off to see friends and classmates while you found Ethan and Mackie playing beer pong.

“Hey, shortstack!”

You smile at the nickname and cuddle into Mackie’s side “Hey, how you guys doing?”

“We suck” Ethan announced to which Mackie scoffed and you announced “Let the boss show you how it’s done!”

Mark watched with a clenched chest as you played the game, hugged into Mackie’s chest. His own teammate.

After you’d won the game you went out in search of Mark, asking around if anyone had seen him.

“Have any of you seen Mark?” You asked in the kitchen, where the freshmen had been gathered.

Adam sips his drink and nods out to the garden “Yeah I think he went out back with Tara”

You frown “Who’s Tara?”

“Some chick from his intro to sports science class”

You shrug and thank them before headed out to the yard. You waded through the couples making out, the kids too drunk and vomiting already before you stumbled across Mark in the back of the yard.

The only issue was that he was currently conjoined with Tara by their tongues.

You gasp lowly, catching their attention. Mark stutters “Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I was just-“ you begin stating and scurry back to the house.

“Y/N wait!”

“Mark honestly, I didn’t-“

“Would you please just hold on a minute!” He shouts, grabbing your wrist.

You turn to him with tears in your eyes “Please just leave me alone!”

“Why are You crying? What’s going-“

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” You scream “Why would you invite me here?”

“Because I wanted to spend time with my best friend!” He shouts back.

“Oh yeah, so you can ditch me to go shove your tongue down Tara’s throat!” You sob.

Mark sighs “You were the one all cuddled up with Mackie!”

“Mackie? Our friend? Are you-“

“God y/n I’m at a party I want to enjoy myself I don’t want you constantly nagging me!”

That stopped you, furrowing your brows “Nagging you? I didn’t even want to come tonight!”

He waves his hands around “well go home then! I don’t want you here anyway!”

You nod slowly “Got it, have a nice night Mark”

He groans as you walk away, wiping your tears with your sleeve as you walk into the house and he mumbles “Fuck me!”

In the house, you barged into the kitchen catching the freshies attention who all questioned eachother on why you would be so upset looking.

You found your way down the hall and upstairs to find a bathroom, as you stood in the bathroom washing your tear stained face the door flew open.

You shouted “Occupied!”

“Oh shit I’m sorry!” The guy shouted “I just needed a piss”

You mumble “It’s ok I’ll go”

As you pass him he grabs the side of your face and makes you look towards him “Why are you crying? Why would such a pretty girl be crying at a party?”

You chuckle dryly “How much time have you got?”

His name was Logan and he seemed nice. He was studying science at Michigan, but he was from Florida and he told you he’d seen you around at hockey games.

Logan occupied your time for the night, sitting on the stairs and talking. You were slightly more than buzzed now, not having noticed the drinks Logan kept handing you and you weren’t usually one for drinking. With the boys being strict on the team mark usually cut you off when he did. But Mark wasn’t here.

“Hey how about we get out of here?” Logan suggested and you nod “Yeah sure”

You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving.

It was cold out and at this time Mark would’ve offered you a sweater but Logan didn’t, instead he yanked your hand as you stumbled behind on the sidewalk.

Fifteen minutes into the walk you didn’t feel too good, the alcohol was getting to you and you were freezing. It was November in Michigan after all.

“I wanna call an Uber I don’t feel good” you announce to which Logan smiles.

“Already? The nights so young! I was thinking we could even go back to my place…” he got closer to you, his hands running down your arms and closing into your bottom before he squeezed it and you yelped

“Don’t touch me! Stop it!”

“C’mon sweetheart it was only a joke!” He defended to which you scoffed “Yeah right, pig!”

You watched his eyes darken at your words and his voice got lower “What did you just call me?”

It was then your body covered in goosebumps and you decided it was time to run. You sprinted along the sidewalk as well as your legs could carry you in your impaired state.

You pulled out your phone and clicked the most recent number which just so happened to be Mark

It rang and back at the party Mark saw your caller ID and scoffed before he hung up. You cried out when it went to his voicemail

“Mark please just pick up this guys chasing me and I’m scared and I need you so-“ you tripped, over a rock on the side walk sending you flying onto the concrete and smashing your head, immediately knocked unconscious.

When Logan finally caught up he found you in the state of what he assumed was dead, you looked dead by looks of the now red pavement and your pale skin under his phones flashlight.

“Oh shit, oh shit” he swore, before running off in the other direction and back to the party as his way of pretending none of this happened.

When you woke up and accused him of what he did he would say he was at the party.

Back at the party it was after midnight and Mark was ready to go home so he went looking for you.

“Anyone seen Y/N?”

Dylan nodded “Yeah I saw her leave with some guy”

Mark’s gut clenched with jealousy “Oh… right well I’m headed back to the dorm see you guys at practice”

Mark’s phone was dead by the time he was in bed and he was too tired to wait up and check it so he left it charging on Ethan’s side of the room and went to bed.

When the morning came Mark was alone in his room. It looked like Ethan had been and gone, along with Mark’s phone.

When he got to practice the place seemed quiet and he was starting to think he was missing something.

Walking into the locker room nobody was changing, all just sitting in there stalls. It felt unnatural.

“What’s up with everyone?” He asks, throwing his bag down on the stall.

Nolan stands from his stall “Mark, bud let’s talk outside”

Mark frowns and looks at all of his teammates before he looks back at Nolan. All of them look sad but sad for him.

“No, Cap tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand what’s going on this is-“

“Mark sit down” Dylan suggests and Mark shakes his head “I’m not sitting down just tell me what’s going on!”

Nolan takes a deep breath and starts “Y/N was found this morning”

Mark shrugs “Listen if she was at that dudes house I don’t even care we fought she was probably just-“

“Mark, she died last night. They found her bled out on someone’s driveway this morning in the area” Nolan interrupts.

Mark begins laughing, confusing everyone “That’s funny, did she put you up to this?”

It’s Ethan’s turn to interrupt “Mark, she’s really gone” and hands him back his phone. The text messages from his family and yours, the news and social media posts.

His hands are shaky and his legs begin to give way, someone pushes him back so he’s sitting down.

“No, no she was right here! She was with me last night she- look she left me a voicemail!” He shouts playing your voicemail out to the room “Mark please just pick up this guys chasing me and I’m scared and I need you so-“

When the line cuts Mark’s breaths can be heard faster and heavier than before “She called me, she called me and I hung up-“ he’s pulled into Ethan’s hold as he lets out a loud sob and scream.

The rest of the team begin filing out to give him privacy.

“It’s ok bud” Ethan soothes and Mark continues screaming.

“It’s ok”

He pulls away and sniffles loudly “She called me for help, I could’ve saved her”

Christmas Day it was snowing, you always loved Michigan snow at Christmas. Growing up you and Mark would stay out in the snow until dark building igloos and snowmen.

Mark sat down on the snow, the red roses in his hand as he spoke

“Ever since you passed away, I’ve been mad at the world. I’ve been so mad that I didn’t answer the phone, that I kissed her and you left, that I let you leave! I didn’t even want to kiss her I wanted to make you jealous because that’s how my stupid brain works. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids… I know you loved me too” he mumbles, wiping his tears

“I got to love you for your entire life and I promise I’m gonna love you for the rest of mine”

He places the rose down on the stone “night my love, I’ll be back tomorrow” and tomorrow was followed by every day after that. By senior year mark was declining contracts to play for teams across the country and in Canada all because

“I can’t leave her, I left her once and look what happened!”

So he didn’t leave Michigan, he was never going to leave your side again.

[walkersbeloved]

okay full transparency i wrote this A WHILE ago based off a post i saw over here, but i cannot for the life of me remember who it was from?? i think it was maybe smth @gothushi reblogged.

anyway this is basically: luke is a slut and you make him prove how badly he wants you by challenging him to a whole year without sex.

cw/// luke davenport x reader. dirty talk. creampie. a very cruel and long form of edging. reader has a vagina, but no pronouns are used.

When Luke slides into your pussy for the first time, there are tears in his eyes. His arms tremble from where they’re propped up beside your head and his teeth are digging into his bottom lip.

The two of you have been dating for a year, and in that year you have yet to have sex. That part was your idea, obviously.

The problem was that Luke was a whore. He fucked constantly and without attachment, going through woman after woman with no care for their feelings or personhood. So, when he decided to take a shot at you, you were quick to decline.

Luke was taken aback. You could still remember the way his face had dropped in confusion and shock when you turned him down.

“What do you mean no?” he asked, looking at you like you were stupid.

You scoff at him. “It means I’m declining your offer.

“But—what?” he laughed incredulously. “Why?”

Crossing your arms, you give him a pointed look. “You’re a slut, Luke.”

At that, Luke’s face flushed red, a series of stutters coming out of his mouth. “I—I am not a slut!” he said a bit too loudly, drawing the attention of his teammates who all began to chuckle at his outburst. Luke glared at them all, his face turning a darker shade of red.

“I’m not a slut,” he repeated, quieter this time.

“You’re a slut and I’m not dating someone who would leave me for the next skirt that swished in his direction.”

“I would not—“ he huffed. You had genuinely baffled him. “I—I would not leave you that easily!”

“You’ve been glancing at the team managers ass this entire conversation,” you said blandly.

Luke flushed again. “Well that’s not—I—I bet you!” he spit out finally. “I bet you that I could abstain from other women while with you.”

At that, you raise an eyebrow, amusement heavy in your expression. Luke seemed to cower at your gaze as he realized what he had just said.

“You bet me?” You hum, considering. “Okay. You have a deal, but—it’s not just other women you have to abstain from.”

Luke blinked. “Huh?”

“If you’re serious about dating me, then you have to prove that you’re not just in this for sex. We have to date for an entire year before you can have sex with me.” You smirk, that he would definitely say no to.

Luke’s face dropped. It was like he had been dunked in a cold vat of water. “You—you aren’t serious.”

“Oh, I am.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before you saw his expression shift into one of determination. “Fine!” he declared loudly. “Deal.”

His agreement stunned you. “You can’t be serious,” you deadpan. “You can’t want to date me that badly.”

Luke smirked. “I do. Don’t back out now, Y/N, unless you didn’t really mean it, of course.”

His smugness sent a wave of annoyance through you. You cross your arms and steal your expression. “I meant every word. You have a deal.”

“Y-Y/N,” he sobs, limbs shaking, “fuck. fuck you feel so good.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, moaning softly at the stretch of his cock. “Worth the wait?” you tease.

Luke lets out a shaky cry. “S-So worth it. Best pussy in the world.” His hips move in disjointed thrusts, almost like he’s lost his rhythm after all this time. “Never…never going to think about another pussy.”

“Yeah?” you tease as you run your fingers through his messy hair. “Never, ever? That’s a lot to promise, Luke. You love my pussy that much?”

“Love it, love it so much,” he says with a shaky nod, tears falling down his cheeks. “So tight. F-Fuck.”

Giggling, your hand moves down your stomach to between your legs where you place two fingers against your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in slow circles. The action makes your pussy clench around him, drawing another sob from his lips.

“Let me,” he begs pathetically, trying to move a shaking hand between your thighs, but you stop him before he can get very far.

“Shh, just focus on how good my cunt feels. You’re shaking too badly to do anything else.”

Luke whines. “M’not,” he protests weakly. “I’m not, I’m not. I-I know how to have sex. I can make you feel good.”

“Oh, Luke,” you coo, moaning as your fingers work your clit and his cock presses against your g-spot, “it’s been sooo long for you. I'm going to have to teach you everything all over again like a little virgin.”

Sobbing, he shakes his head defiantly. “N-No. M’not a virgin. I’m good, I promise I am.”

“My sweet little virgin,” you laugh. “Such a pretty little cock and you don’t know how to use it. I can feel you throbbing inside me. You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

His lip trembles with the force it takes to keep himself together. “I—no!” he tries to increase the speed of his thrusts then, determined to make you scream for him. Loud slapping noises echo through his bedroom.

You mewl softly as his cock drives into you harder. “Mmh, fuck, Luke—“

He moans when you say his name, crying like it’s better than any trophy, and redoubles his efforts, fucking into you as hard as he can. “Best pussy, best pussy, best pussy. Please, please, please, please—“

“Please what?”

“A-Are you close?” he grunts. His blue eyes are flooded with tears, pretty lashes wet.

“Are you?” you ask teasingly, knowing the anger.

His face flushes in shame, his eyes shifting away from yours. “N-No,” he mumbles quietly.

Your fingers speed up on your clit, pussy clenching around him rhythmically. You watch as he trembles from it, his eyes clenching shut with the effort it takes to keep himself away from the edge.

“Yeah you are.” Your fingers are quick against your clit and you let your eyes flutter closed for a moment to bask in the feeling. “Tell you what, if you can hold on until I cum, then I’ll let you cum inside me instead of pulling out.”

Luke moans wantonly at that. His eyes are screwed shut, face scrunched from the effort it’s taking for him to postpone his orgasm.

“Please hurry, please hurry, please hurry,” he begs.

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, his cock fucking you deep every time your hips meet. You can feel yourself approaching that wonderful edge as your fingers work your clit. It’s a slippery mess between your legs and the sound is audible as you fuck.

Luke is looking at you frantically, searching for any sign that you’re about to cum. He looks a lot like a desperate puppy at that moment.

The sight of him—it’s enough to push you over the edge with a wanton cry of his name, back arching.

Luke moans with you as you clench around him, his hips stuttering through his first shared orgasm in a year. His cock pumps his sticky release deep inside you, hips rocking with minute thrusts as he tries to keep it all in you.

When his orgasm finishes, he collapses on top of you like a spent teenager, his nose buried in your neck as his chest heaves.

“Fuck,” he curses.

Your hands find the damp strands of his hair and comb their way through them. “You did it,” you laugh. “I’m proud of you.”

Luke shivers at your praise. “Wasn’t—wasn’t that hard,” he lies.

“Oh? So I take it you don’t remember the dry humping incident, then.”

He groans at the memory, shoving his face deeper into your neck. It was six months into your relationship at that point and the two of you had started making out on his bed. He remembers the desperation he felt as his tongue slipped into your mouth, the way his hips started to move on their own, grinding his hard cock against your covered pussy.

He had been so close before you pushed him away, his eyes rolling back, five seconds away from going over that edge before you ripped it away from him.

His face flames at the memory of how he had broken down into tears after that and the way you slipped your panties off from under your skirt, giving them to him to jerk off into as he sobbed, wanting nothing more than to bury himself inside you.

“S-Shut up, don’t talk about that,” he murmured.

After a moment of quiet he speaks again. “I—I love you.” He says it in a soft, vulnerable voice, as if the quiet admission is the equivalent of him baring his soul to you. But for Luke, it is.

“I love you too,” you smile. Your fingers never stop carding through his hair. “And I meant it, you know, I am proud of you.”

He groans into your neck. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just—shh. I wanna lay like this for a little while.”

You snort at his childish display. “Alright, alright.”