#i can’t deal with anything really rn

[achingly-shy]

.

[mr-snailman]

hmmm writing this down here so I don’t forget I guess

seeing stars and say yes were originally supposed to be one fic spanning seven years and obviously that didn’t happen because it turns out seven years is a long fucking time

but there’s one deleted scene from the time between that’s near and dear to my heart in which Chuckie was gonna be working on some trade school related homework to do with geometry (cause if you’re gonna build houses you do have to understand spatial relationships) and maybe it’s taking a while

and Will sits down beside him and looks over his shoulder and starts pointing out the answers— and this becomes their first real argument that we see. obviously it’s ripping off the organic chem scene with Skylar in the movie because I think it’s something we see over and over from Will, that it’s SO easy for him and he just doesn’t get how other people have to work so much harder at it— and he really does think he’s helping, is the thing

because for him it’s just oh let me do this in fifteen seconds so it’s done and we can spend some time together— almost like “oh don’t worry about it I’ll do the dishes” XD— because for him homework was only ever busywork

but for Chuckie, this is something he has to do himself, because he’s gotta learn this stuff, and it kinda feels like— what, you don’t think I can learn this? you think I’m too stupid to figure this out on my own? because I think for a long long time he’s been struggling with the idea that he’s not good enough for Will in the same way that little league and patriots games and Southie itself aren’t good enough, and that’s part of what lead to the California thing in the first place

and obviously he knows it’s all bullshit— because Will came back, because Will chose him, because he knows Will loves him and would never think he’s stupid just because he’s no Ramanujan, he KNOWS all this— but still. those insecurities are still there, and it stings

BUT they’re two grown ass people who love each other very much so they talk it out like adults instead of flying off the handle, and Will backs off a little so Chuckie can finish, and Chuckie gives him stuff to check and asks him for an explanation, NOT the answer, to a difficult problem, and when it’s all done Will finally gets Chuckie’s undivided attention XD

[boomerang109]

.

[myfriendtheghost]

goodnight baby love

[exopelagic]

this election feels so hollow even though it’s likely ostensibly gonna be a good outcome. labour really just sucks fucking ass rn huh

[mazojo]

Jared won HOH

[rosesradio]

thinking about how later in life (like a few years when i move out of my parents’ house) i want to make content on YouTube. but right now i’m getting a degree to be a school librarian and i don’t think i’d want to be a full-time YouTuber, but I’d just do it as a hobby.

but then that raises some questions. am i allowed to make content on YouTube while employed at a school—and does it have to be child friendly? what qualifies as child friendly for such a grey-space site? why should i even have to worry about what i do outside of work, if it’s not harming anyone?

it just reminds me of stuff like this

[queerhockey]

had a dream that sid was starring in a production of bye bye birdie so now i’m going to be plagued for the rest of my life by a musical theatre fic that i will never write smh

[gregmarriage]

me rn, but instead of nb, it’s god only knows what

[moonstruckme]

Hello tumblr has decided to temporarily disappear the request I'm ready to post again, so sorry and thank you for requesting <3

Request: i love love love your writing and was wondering if you’d write a period hurt/comfort with james? i have really bad endometriosis, and i’ve never really had someone take it seriously :( fainted earlier so i’m in pain rn and i just know james would be such a sweetheart

cw: modern au, reader who menstruates, very mild/vague description of cramps, male gaslighting/suspicion of female pain (what else is new)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

“Will that be all?” The geniality in James’ tone is starting to wane thin. He paces aimlessly around your flat, down the hall and into the bedroom and then back out again, footsteps meandering about the kitchen. “Right, yeah. No, I’m quite sure she’ll be out all day.” 

James shoots you an exasperated look as he comes into the sitting room, and you manage a smile-esque grimace from the couch in return. Your boss is a piece of work, you know. 

You hold out your hand for the phone. James shakes his head. 

“No, she can’t come to the phone right now,” he says, sitting beside your curled-up legs. “She’s resting. Did I mention she fainted a bit ago? Alright, yeah, just checking. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll let her know.” 

You grimace again when he puts down the phone. Hanging up without telling the other person to have a lovely day is like James’ equivalent of the middle finger. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“What’re you sorry for?” James gives your calf a gentle squeeze. “Your boss is rather pushy, isn’t he? Shouldn’t take so much to use a sick day.”

“I don’t think he believes me.” You let your face mush deeply into a throw pillow. There’s a light sweat broken out on your brow, but you couldn’t be more grateful for the sweltering heating pad held tight over your abdomen. “I could’ve talked to him.” 

James makes a face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that when you’re already poorly.”  

“What did he want you to let me know?” 

“Oh. Uh.” James seems as though he did not, in fact, plan to let you know, but now that you’ve asked he can’t avoid it. “He said that he expects to see you in tomorrow. We’ll see.” 

You sigh. “I might be able to manage tomorrow. Or I might be a bit better, at least.” 

“We’ll see,” he says again, stooping to mush a kiss into the side of your head. “Don’t worry about that yet, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?” 

“Better than when I woke up.” 

“Yeah?” James asks hopefully. It’s a low bar, considering that early this morning the pain had been bad enough to cause you to pass out. But if there’s one thing James can be relied upon for, it’s a positive outlook. “That’s great, lovie. Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head, breaths shallowing as your cramps worsen. Nausea pinches the back of your throat. James’ face pinches, too, as he sees. He rubs your lower back where the muscles tend to clench. 

“Is there anything you want?” he asks instead. 

It almost makes you laugh. Almost, but even that’s enough to ease the pain slightly. 

“No,” you say, breathing out as the worst passes. James continues massaging your back. “Thanks.” 

“Maybe we could try a walk later, if you’re feeling better,” he says. “Some light exercise might help.” 

“Maybe,” you murmur. Truly, the thought of leaving this couch anytime during the next week makes you want to sew yourself into the cushions. James probably knows you’re only humoring him, but he doesn’t say anything. When you hug your heating pad closer, he spreads his palm flat over your back to transfer heat there, too. 

You relax some when the cramp eases the rest of the way. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take over your whole day.” 

“Sweetheart, why are you sorry?” James places his free hand over yours on your heating pad. Between that and the one on your back, it’s almost like a hug. “I know you don’t want this to happen. And, honestly, I’d rather have my day taken over by you than anyone else. Don’t tell Sirius.” 

That coaxes a small smile out of you. James grins, leaning down again to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry you’re so miserable.” 

“I’m not miserable,” you say. “I’m with you.” 

James makes a horrendously fond sound, cuddling you close. “You flatterer. I don’t know where you find the energy to be so sweet during times like this.” 

You make it easy, you want to say, but James will only think you’re playing along with him and you want to say it when he’ll hear the sincerity you mean it with. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and say, “I’ve thought of something I want.” 

“Yeah?” James sits up. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, mindless of your clamminess. You think that maybe the only thing bigger than James’ capacity for love is how it feels to be at the center of it. “Some tea, maybe? That tumeric one helped a bit last time, remember?” 

“Maybe later,” you say, voice softening. “For now, could I please have a kiss?” 

James blinks once in surprise, but then he grins. “Ah, for the endorphins,” he says, already bending down. “Good thinking, angel.” 

“Right.” You don’t know where he gets these facts. You suspect he scrolls through endometriosis reddit forums while you’re asleep. “Yeah.” 

James makes it a kiss worth asking for. He keeps his hand flat over your back as he leans over you, the other cupping your cheek to encourage your face towards him. And when your lips part, you do feel a bit better. It’s a magical cure-all, just like the fairytales say.

[leighsartworks216]

Love Me, That's All I Ask Of You

Sylus x gn!Reader

Apparently my brain can only cope with angst if it has a happy ending rn @comatosebunny09 YOU DID THIS (/positive)

Inspired by this post

Title from "All I Ask Of You" from Phantom of the Opera

Warnings: blood, injury, self-destructive behavior, swearing, requited unrequited love, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, kissing, ignoring the red string of fate, jealousy, soft Sylus

Word Count: 1,900

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AO3

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The repetitive thwack of the punching bag keeps you going. Harder and harder, faster, more precise.

Your knuckles are bleeding. It stains the vinyl of the bag. They sting with every slight adjustment of your hand, with every punch. They’re probably misaligned, too. On the verge of breaking. But it’s not enough.

Sweat drips down your forehead and back. You’ve been down here for hours. You don’t want to leave.

It’s so fucking childish - you know that. But it hurts so fucking bad. Hearing the way he speaks to her, like you’re not in the room. The way he seeks out the banter and teasing conversations they share. The way he looks at her…

Is the only thing you’re good for your loyalty?

And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed the way you distance yourself. He’s brought up your over-the-top silence, saying he hasn’t heard your voice in a week. He’s tried asking what’s wrong, but you never answer. And when you stopped sleeping in his room altogether? He looked exhausted the next day, staring after you like he was working to decipher why he’d been left to sleep alone. The only company you seemed to seek anymore was that of Mephisto’s.

God, Mephisto. That crow had shown you their excursion to enhance her ability. You couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction you got when she still couldn’t Resonate with him, whether it’s because she found him “disgusting” or some other reason… But why did he have to look so offended by it?

You hit the bag so hard it rips. Sand pours out of the tear like water, draining onto the floor. You’re mesmerized by it. The slight hiss of the sand moving together, pouring out like a faucet and pooling on the floor into a steadily growing pile. It’s almost soothing.

Almost.

You kick the sand to the side. It fans out across the black floor in an arc of dappled white.

The prickle at the back of your neck puts all your nerves on high alert, but you know not to be afraid of it. You know the source. The cause of all your rage. The last person you want to see right now. You’d even take Little Miss Hunter over him.

You turn and meet his eye. Crimson, sharp with concern to match the furrow in his brow. It burns through you, all too familiar and, once upon a time, comforting. When he could look at you and so easily know exactly what you were feeling, even before your deal. They flicker down to your hands, crusted over with blood.

“It’s not like you to hide away when something bothers you,” he states, shifting his weight to his other foot as he crosses his arms. He’s right, too; for a while now, if something - anything - bugged you, he was the first to know, usually seconds after it started grating on your nerves. Still, you don’t say anything.

Sylus sighs. You’re nothing if not stubbornly persistent. He holds a hand out, motioning toward your own.

You think about obeying. Ever since Little Miss appeared, you haven’t really touched him. It was of your own volition - a sacrifice to pull yourself away and watch from afar - but you can’t deny how much you miss it.

His frown deepens when you stay exactly where you are. “So it’s something I’ve done.” Your face remains set and unemotive. His hand returns to its crossed position, finger tapping against his leather jacket. “Something so terrible you’d rather hide away from me.”

He looks you up and down, studying every small tell he can find, any twitch or involuntary muscle spasm. He doesn’t find any. Another frustrating skill of yours. The only thing he can latch onto is the state of your hands. He’s not used to seeing your own blood staining your knuckles. If you used your bare hands at all, the only blood you’d be covered in when all was said and done was that of your prey.

“And enough to harm yourself.”

He meets your eyes again. It almost feels familiar. That intense insistence on knowing you, on wanting to know every single thing about you even if it takes eons. But now it’s not out of an innate desire to unravel the secrets you wrap yourself in. It’s prying. It’s grabbing bolt cutters and breaking away each chain link one by one.

He takes a slow step forward, testing the waters.

You don’t move.

He takes another, dropping his arms to his side.

You study him in return. He’s tense. You see it in the set of his shoulders.

He’s five feet away when Mephisto appears in a whirl of smoke on your shoulder. He caws twice before projecting a video on a little holographic screen.

Little Miss Hunter, searching for the brooch. Yesterday, Mephisto had snuck it off Sylus’s body and brought it to you. You’d had a brief moment of fun teasing Little Miss with it, silently taunting her as you twirled it lazily between your fingers while she threatened you. You have no doubt after hiding it that it found its way back to Sylus.

You watch his face as he watches the screen. The intensity leaves his eyes, replaced with the calculating stare of a businessman in his trade. He watches her frustratedly try to break the lock on a cabinet, determined to check behind every item on display to make absolutely sure the brooch isn’t hiding behind them. When she turns to the bookshelf in a huff, she pauses. Sylus’s eyes narrow a fraction. She runs over to the shelf and starts emptying it out book by book, fanning through pages for any sign of a secret compartment to hide something inside. There was one book of such a nature; you’d hid the brooch inside of it, just to see if she would be hell-bent enough to search through every single one.

He looks away from the projected images, eyes softer than before. He’s figured you out, you’re sure of it.

“Search me,” he says. It’s not a demand, it’s an offer. Your expression falters for a millisecond, but he catches it. Of course he catches it. He opens his arms, inviting you in. Mephisto’s video feed disappears from view as he flies up to sit on the broken punching bag. “Find the brooch.”

You glance him up and down. There are plenty of places for something that small to hide.

Hesitantly, you step forward. His eyes follow you, but he remains still. This close, you refuse to look at his face. You haven’t been near enough to feel his radiating heat like this in so long…

You feel his sides first. The pockets of his leather jacket, both inside and out, are empty. There’s nothing concealed in his waistband. You don’t look at his face as you reach up to feel along his collar and lapels.

You pat along the length of both his arms. Aside from muscle, you find nothing. You reach into his pants pockets, but the only thing you pull out is his phone. You slip it back in before feeling down the long length of his legs. You pull up the bottom hem of his pants and check the top of his socks that peek out of his shoes, but there’s still nothing there.

You stand up, hands falling back to your sides. You meet his eyes. He doesn’t have the brooch.

Mephisto caws again. You turn to look over your shoulder. Little Miss Hunter, surrounded by a pile of books, triumphantly holds up the red-jeweled brooch, dropping the book you hid it in into the mess. Gentle fingers glide along your jaw to turn your face back to him.

Sylus looks at you in a way you never thought you’d see again. He’s leaned down to reduce the strain on his neck and be closer to you, but there’s still about a foot of distance between you. Even the way he touches you is reserved, like he’s waiting for you to pull away or punch him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitches. He… apologized? Of all the things he could have said, you never expected that.

“Whatever binds me to her,” he whispers, “it holds nothing to you. I should have made that clear much sooner.”

“What binds you to her?” Your voice is raspy from disuse. His shoulders relax, just so relieved that you’re speaking to him again.

He shakes his head slightly. “A past I should have buried a long time ago.”

It’s vague, he knows it. You wish he would tell you more, tell you exactly what happened that has him so inextricably connected to Little Miss Hunter. But he never pried into your own past, for better or worse. Maybe you both need them to die, buried at least 12 feet under and covered with a block of cement.

You lift your hand to trace his cheek. He sighs, leaning into the touch. Your fingers are rough and cracked, blood drying on your knuckles. The copper twang is hard to miss. He turns his head to kiss your palm, eyes closing in reverence. You fully cup his cheek and draw him in, kissing him softly at first.

Your lips tremble with overwhelming emotion. The anger that burns in your heart is slowly snuffed out by the soothing balm of his quiet sigh, a hushed whisper of your real name, not your moniker. You wonder for the first time since this began if he felt the same loss you did when you began distancing yourself from him. When you went back to your old room instead of sleeping in his bed, if he looked so tired the next night because he couldn’t sleep at all without you there beside him.

You get your answer in the way he desperately pulls you into kiss after kiss, burning with passion and trying to catch up for the time lost. In the way his hands hold your face, tangling with the hairs at the back of your neck as he keeps you close. In the way he sighs and gasps so longingly, savoring everything you give him.

He feels how much you missed him in much the same way. In the way you step closer until your bodies are pressed together. In the way you grab onto his jacket’s lapel. In the way you dig your bloody fingers in his white hair.

You’re both panting when he finally pulls away, breaths mixing in the centimeters between your faces as he refuses to move back any farther, forehead resting insistently against yours. Neither of you say anything for a moment, basking together in the quiet aftermath of the storm.

His hand is warm and gentle when he pulls yours from his hair. He turns it over to press featherlight kisses along your busted up knuckles. “Let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hm?” His eyes are half-lidded with affection when he looks at you. “The auction is tomorrow night. I need to show everyone just who I belong to.”

Your heart skips in your chest as you draw him in again by his leather jacket, biting down sharply on his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, but groans with want when you pull away. His eyes are drawn to his blood on your lips. “I’ll make sure they never forget.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021

[exopelagic]

JAIL FOR SUPERVISOR FOR 1000 YEARS

[dollfacefantasy]

Hold My Calls

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you teasing leon about his flip phone leads to some fun

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fucking during a phone call, age gap, daddy kink, praise/degradation, over-stimulation

word count: 2.9k

a/n: hey everyone school is kicking my ass rn, but i am back with another one. thank you so much for the support on my last post that meant the world to me. i don't care if this is not technologically accurate or whatever just let me be delusional in peace. as always comments and reblogs are appreciated and i will give you special smooches in return <3 also thank you too my loves @tosuckmyweenis @kaitkatme @chasingkennedy @explorevenus @sleepyluxe @death-paint @petitecolibri for helping me come up with ideas for this one and/or beta reading - ily all sm :)

When you started dating Leon Kennedy, obviously you knew there was an age gap. You figured it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only thirty-six. That isn’t that much older. And for the most part, that was true. The difference in years never seemed to play a huge part in how you loved each other. But there was one thing that reminded you of this man’s age.

He had a fucking flip phone.

Honestly, it didn’t even say much about his age. It highlighted his stubbornness. He was not incompetent. His job had him working with all kinds of shit that you didn’t even try to understand, so it’s not like he can’t work a smartphone. He just doesn’t want to.

It didn’t really matter. If anything, it was kind of cute. The way he fumbled with the buttons that were too small for his fingers. The loud chiming ringtone that he would grumble about yet never turn down. The sight of him trying to find the right distance to hold the phone away from his face so he could read the font. You had heart eyes on your first date when this man popped in a CD because he couldn’t use the aux with his flip phone. They were simple quirks, but they were just so endearing to you. You’d tease him about being outdated, and he’d put up with it cause it was you.

“Why do I need anything more? This thing can call you, and that’s all I really need,” he’d say with a teasing expression when you’d crack a joke.

You’d roll your eyes at the excessive charm, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, but-”

And he’d cut you off with a kiss. “Trust me. I like it. It’s simple. Plus it’s like indestructible. But if I ever want an upgrade, you’ll be the first to know.”

The only time Leon ever considered ditching his trusty flip phone and upgrading to something more advanced was when you would send him nudes. Seeing the masterpiece that is your body reduced to a handful of pixels on the tiny screen drove him fucking wild. Upon hearing the chime of his phone and seeing the small image of you gracing his screen, he’d find a moment alone to try and see the details. He’d hold the phone two inches away from his face trying to make out every last curve. Days when he got those pictures ended with nights where you got fucked on every surface in the house.

He’d come home from work, his eyes full of lust before he even saw you. You’d glide into the room with a knowing smile on your face. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

“Hi, baby. How was work?” you ask, feigning innocence. You close the distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around him.

“Oh, you care about my work now, huh?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face as his arms return your embrace, “Doesn’t seem like it when you send me those cute pictures during the day, distracting me, making me think about you when I should be focused.”

Your lips part and your eyebrows raise in mock offense. “I only send those to help you, motivate you,” you tease as your fingers coast along his biceps, “Maybe if you had a real phone they wouldn’t bother you so much. You’d be able to see everything clearly and not be left imagining.”

“I don’t need to stress about pictures though when I got the real thing waiting at home for me every night,” he purrs as he leans in and starts kissing you.

You return the kiss with the same level of passion, lips moving with his as the two of you stumble over to the couch. You fall back onto the cushions with Leon on top of you. His hands already roam your body and begin removing articles of clothing. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time after having that grainy image of you gnawing at his mind all day.

“Fuck, baby. Every time… I can never get enough,” he grunts as he yanks your top over your head and tosses it to the side. His hands rub up and down your sides, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin and making you squirm. In no time though, they’re on your breasts. He kneads the plump flesh as his lips trail down to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva-coated skin in their wake.

He’s all over you all at once it seems. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You’re moaning and writhing on the couch, nearly trying to hump his leg while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You bite your lip and whimper as his lips move down over the swell of your chest.

He grabs your hips firmly and presses them down to the couch. His half-lidded eyes look up at you momentarily. “Quit squirming,” he breathes. He gives your chest a few more kisses while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Need time with my pretty girl after I’ve been aching for her all day.”

You give a weak nod and focus on controlling your movements as he tugs your shorts off and drops them.

“Good girl,” he mutters before attaching his lips to one of your nipples and swirling his tongue around the peak. He hums in satisfaction as he feels the bud in his mouth. His fingers lazily stroke up and down your folds over your panties. He disconnects his mouth momentarily and looks up at you again with a smirk on his face.

“So wet already?” he teases, now being his turn to look smug, “You want me just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you send those pictures right? You’re missing Daddy while he’s at work?”

“Mhm, miss you so bad. It drives me crazy,” you say. A whimper escapes you as his fingers apply more pressure and his movements more strategically target your clit.

“I can tell. Makes you act like a little slut, huh?” he asks before he kisses down your stomach to the hem of your panties.

You feel your face getting hot at his comment, but you nod anyway. You bite your lip and keep your eyes locked with his.

He chuckles at your timid confirmation. “That’s ok, honey. Daddy’s here now. I’m gonna make sure you get all the attention you need. Can’t have my girl left wanting,” he says, pulling down your panties and putting them with your other discarded clothes.

He loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer so that you’re angled in a way he can reach you from his position on his knees. Your back is flat on the couch, and your legs are held over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste time, licking a stripe up your cunt and then delving his tongue inside of you.

Your head falls back onto the cushion in response. A moan escapes your throat at the sensation. Your sounds only increase in frequency and volume as he grips you tighter and fucks his tongue in and out of you. He watches you, relishing how he can pleasure you with so few touches. His tongue laps up your wetness and his mouth finds your clit again, sucking and flicking against the bundle of nerves just how you like.

His name and a variety of expletives leave your mouth while your hand slides into his hair and holds the blonde locks. Your hips twitch from the rising feelings of ecstasy in your tummy, but Leon’s hands keep you firmly in place. He devours you like a starved man, the hours of torture that little picture inflicted on him all paying off right now.

He’s skillfully swirling patterns onto your clit and occasionally exploring your insides. He knows you’re close because he can feel the way you’re pulsing and hear the way your moans and whines reach that slightly higher pitch. It only makes him work with more dedication.

“That’s right, sweetheart. C’mon, give it to Daddy. Let me taste it,” he grunts as he continues working you to the edge.

You cry out, your thighs quivering and your hips bucking as you succumb to release. You’re moaning with abandon, fingers clutching his hair as tight as possible. He groans into you from the sight in front of him.

You ride the high and he continues with his mouth throughout. When you reach the seeming conclusion, your chest is heaving and your limbs feel heavy, but Leon doesn’t stop. He continues on as if you were still on the way to your climax instead of coming down.

“Too much,” you whimper as your hips jerk and your hands make a weak attempt to push his head away, “Daddy, please.”

“Daddy, please?” he mocks with a laugh, “But this is what you wanted, babydoll. You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

You whine, hips still squirming as your retort dies in your throat. It felt euphoric, it was just so much. This was what you wanted though.

“That’s what I thought,” he says before burying his face between your thighs again.

He continues eating you out until you’re an absolute mess. Your eyes are rolling back, nonstop whimpers fall from your lips, and your twitching thighs are clamped around Leon’s head. It was what he’d been wanting to see since he’d heard that chime in his back pocket.

“I’m gonna cum,” you slur. Your head felt cloudy from the numerous orgasms he’d brought you. A strangled cry tears through you as your body moves like it’s possessed. You convulse on the couch while his mouth makes you see stars for the umpteenth time.

Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of your release, and finally, he starts easing off of you. He pulls your thighs off of his head and leans back. He wipes his chin that’s coated in your slick and licks his fingers. Seeing that alone has you clench around nothing which in turn spreads a smirk on his face.

“Good girl, baby,” he coos, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

He stands up from his knees, grunting as he gets to his feet and taking a moment to stretch. You can tell the extended amount of time in the position put some strain on him. Your lips curl into a small smile while adoration fills your hazy eyes.

“Your joints locking up on you, old man?” you tease with a quiet laugh.

“Don’t start,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see him suppressing his own smile, “Especially since I know you want more.”

That shuts you up because he’s right. He shakes his head and makes a mock sound of disappointment.

“I know you, baby. My dirty girl. Made you cum how many times, and you still want more,” he says. He begins stripping off his clothes into a pile next to yours. “My little whore would never turn down a chance to take my cock.”

Once his clothes are off, he languidly strokes himself a few times and climbs on top of you. He peppers some kisses on your face and starts to slide inside you. You were more than ready but still sensitive from the recent series of highs.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll get you full of my cum in no time. Fuck all that neediness right out,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath on you sending chills down your spine.

You mewl and tighten around him in more ways than one. Your arms cling to his torso that hovers above you while your walls squeeze around him to take him deeper. He grunts and his head falls forward a little as he feels sparks of pleasure in his abdomen.

“There you go, angel. Taking me so perfect. My pretty girl. Made for me,” he says into your ear as he sinks into you completely.

You nod mindlessly, your head fogging up again as he fills you. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he starts pumping in and out. You’re both breathing heavily and allowing the pleasure to take over. One of your hands slides to his hair to rub his head while his hips snap against you.

He’s falling into the perfect rhythm with you, one that’s driving you both toward the goal line, when suddenly you hear a muffled guitar strum coming from the floor. Leon groans and you burst into laughter as you hear the ringtone you had set for him as a joke.

His movements get weaker as his focus is drawn elsewhere, but he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. He reaches down to the floor where his phone is ringing in the pocket of his crumpled pants. He fishes it out and shifts so he’s kneeling while drilling into you.

He holds the phone up and squints to read the tiny caller ID on the flip phone which makes you laugh harder through moans. He smirks at your laughter and clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shut up, I gotta take this,” he says teasingly.

He whips open the phone, the maneuver causing you to moan and squeeze around him again. He winces at the sensation, nearly unable to restrain himself from giving into his carnal urges to groan and slam into you harder.

Your eyes widen as he brings the phone to his ear without stopping his hips and in the most monotonous voice says “Kennedy here.”

It’s good that his hand is over your mouth to keep you quiet. The contrast of his movements and that voice have the sparks of pleasure igniting into flames in your belly. Seeing how he handles his dumbass flip phone so smoothly has your arousal nearly pooling on the couch.

He listens to the call while grinning at you struggling to keep yourself somewhat under control. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds about right,” he drones as the person on the other end goes on and on.

His strokes are just as deep as before, nudging you in the perfect spots repeatedly. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting near the peak. A soft whimper escapes you, loud enough to pierce the barrier of Leon’s hand. His hips sputter at the noise and his face contorts. He lets out a quiet grunt but quickly catches himself before losing it further.

“What? Yeah, I’m listening,” he says, his tone growing a little impatient, “Look, I’m just wrapped up in something right now. Could you not have just told me this before I left?”

You know he’s getting closer himself and struggling to hold back. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are projecting his rising frustration he has for the person who made this call.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, effectively ending the conversation. 

Then, to hang up, he doesn’t press a button. Instead, he flicks his wrist and shuts the flip phone with a clack.

You throw your head back against the couch cushion and a loud moan rips through your throat. You shudder as a wave of pleasure courses through you after witnessing something so unexplainably hot.

His eyebrows raise in amusement, noticing how much you enjoyed that. “Hmm, I’m not hearing any complaints about the phone now,” he says. He’s trying to tease, but his voice is husky with arousal. He maintains his grin as he drops the phone to the floor again and returns to his previous position which was closer to you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break it,” you whimper.

“Nah baby, I told you that thing is indestructible,” he breathes and starts pounding you into the couch mercilessly.

You bite your lip and resume clinging to him, your fingers digging into his back. You both are panting, expressions going lax as you focus on chasing the high.

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you mewl, unable to contain yourself for much longer.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says into your ear, his voice taking on more of a growl, “Daddy’s right there with you. You deserve it for being so good for me. Being nice and quiet while I was on the phone.”

As soon as you have permission, you give into another release. Your legs shake and your arms cling to him tighter as the euphoria shoots through you. You’re gasping for air and whining while squirming beneath him. Soon it’s just too much for Leon. He tightens his grip on you and slams deep before groaning and draining himself inside of you.

He rocks in and out a few more times before slowly pulling out. He then sits up on the couch and sinks back into the cushions. You follow by sitting up as well and curling up against his side. He pulls you into his lap, stroking your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while until he gazes down at you with a smug look in his eyes.

“I knew the flip phone was a turn-on,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

You scoff. “It is not. It was just… it was the situation,” you defend.

“Sure, but you were tightest when I was messing with the phone,” he says knowingly.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs at your stubbornness and gives you another kiss. “You can admit it, baby. I won’t judge. Really, if you like it that much, maybe I’ll show you how strong it can vibrate later.”

[entropys]

had to pick up my sisters from somewhere and it was so crowded and im sick and in pain and worrying about the exam i should be at home studying for istg idk how we got home safe i was so pissed off i almost drove into the cars in front of me i fucking hate driving this country needs a proper public transport system so i don’t go insane

[msmk11]

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

[disneyprincemuke]

bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

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