#like for real they leaned in at the end and then there was an AD BREAK

[arpicityandneed]

Just a kiss

18+. established relationship. f!reader. dirty talk. implied creampie. steve's sister reader.

~

"Bucky, you can't be in here." You hissed as your brother's best friend snuck into your room while your brother slept next door.

"Like I'm passing up a chance to get my hands on you when you're this close." Your boyfriend scoffed, his wicked blue eyes meeting yours heatedly as he reached for you.

"But, Bucky..." You were weak against him, the warmth of his hard body as he held you close.

"Just a kiss baby, I promise." He murmured earnestly looking so innocent you almost believed him. But then he's pressing his erection into your tummy, leaning down close to lick up your neck as he groans, "Just gonna kiss my tip to your cervix, kay?"

"Bucky-" Except instead of protesting you were moaning his name, spreading your thighs so he could pull your panties to the side.

It was easy work to ease two of his thick fingers into you. You'd already been up all night thinking about him, trying and failing to make youself feel as good as he does.

His full pink lips tugged into knowing wolfish smirk, and you whined in embarrassment. "Been playing with your needy little pussy without me doll?"

"I, I missed you," you moaned as he curled his fingers inside you, thumbing your clit in perfect sync.

"Poor baby." He added a third finger and released a shuddering breath as he rested his forehead against yours. "I missed you too."

When he withdrew your fingers you whimpered at the loss- face flaming when he licked his fingers clean before freeing his cock from his boxers and lining himself up. In one smooth thrust he was inside you, filling you up so perfectly you had to slap your hand over your mouth to stop the filthy sound that tried to escape.

"Fuck me," the hushed words went straight to your pussy. "Look at that sweetheart. That's what a nice, wet, kiss looks like." With every word he thrusted up a little bit inside you.

"B-Bucky, please..." you were long past the point in your relationship where you felt shame in begging for him. He loved it and dragged it out of you in the end anyway.

"Nuh uh, just a lil kiss. S'what I promised remember?" He smiled all crooked and charming, leaning in close to brush his lips against yours. "But I can cream you if you ask real nice."

[hungharrington]

okay steve definitely wouldn’t care about body hair, but i just know that man goes feral over your freshly shaved, smoooooth legs

i took this to make him a sillay boyfriend 🫶 sorry if u wanted HAWTNESS this is just silly LUV…. forgive me

The sheets feel cool against your bare legs.

You can feel the scratch of your hair tucked against your neck but you’re too content, all but sinking into the mattress, to be bothered to move it. Your legs are tucked up, your arms splayed wide across the bed. You’ve just done the hard job of an everything-shower and lying down is your well-earned reward.

Across the room, Steve pulls the curtains to cover the window. Shadow falls across the room, banished after a moment when Steve pads to the bed, turning on the lamp. Amber coats the ceiling.

It’s balmy tonight. You feel warm without even being under the covers. Dozing off sounds like a pretty amazing idea right now.

“Not falling asleep with me, are ya?”

You smile at the sound of Steve’s voice, lifting your heavy eyelids to gaze at him.

He looks scruffy the same way he always does at the end of the day. His hair has lost some of its magnificent volume and he’s wearing a ratty old t-shirt from high school. You can see the beginnings of his five o’clock shadow on his jawline. He’s gorgeous.

And you’re the only one who gets to see him like this. The thought makes you smile wider.

“Mm,” you hum, definitely giving away your sleepiness. “Nope.”

A warm hand touches your knee, Steve’s hand reaching out and rubbing it tenderly. He tsks playfully. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby.”

You huff a quiet laugh and let your eyes fall back closed. Steve’s touch has always had a magnetic property, drawn to you whenever he’s near. It has a similar effect on your heart, which always feels like it’s surging forward in your chest to reach him.

The touch shifts, skimming down your shinbone. You expect him to maybe begin a half-hearted massage on your calves— he’s prone to giving them to you— but then, unexpectedly there’s another touch added to your legs.

You lift your head, peering down at him with squinted eyes. He’s crouched down beside the bed and he’s rubbing his cheek against the smooth skin of your legs.

When he knows he’s been spotted, he only grins, shifting his cheek again. “You’re so… smooooth.”

There’s definitely awe in his voice. You laugh, a real laugh this time, and shake your head. You should really stop being surprised when Steve’s a dork — he’s proven to be one time and time again. If you didn’t know different, you might assume this was his first ever relationship.

“Mhmm,” You hum. “That’s part of the appeal, handsome.”

Something glitters in Steve’s eyes at your pet name for him and his grin melts into something softer. His hand on your shin moves again, stroking softly up your calf. His face shows his bewilderment at your supremely smooth skin— and then betrays the look of mischief that crosses his face.

Your brows furrow instinctively. “Steve—” You warn.

He does it anyway, turning and licking one big stroke up your knee. You squeal, surprised at the sensation, and jerk your leg away from him.

“Steve!”

“What!” He mimics your tone, finally getting up onto the bed and crawling up to meet you. He’s smirking, looking terribly proud of himself. He plops himself down, half of his weight pressing into your shoulder as he nuzzles himself into your neck.

“S’just wanna a little taste, that a crime?”

His breath is hot and almost tickles against your neck. It’s impossible not to dissolve into quiet giggles, leaning into him. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling the two of you closer.

“You’re a dork.”

You can feel the little puff of air he lets out in a laugh as well as the smile that spreads on his mouth. He pokes his tongue out, a minuscule touch against your neck that has you shrieking again— except this time, Steve’s holding you too tight to squirm away.

“Mmhm,” He says. “Your dork.”

You grin, turning to nose against his temple and make a noise of agreement. “Absolutely.”

[aramynx]

𝒮𝓉𝓊𝒹𝓎 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈

𝐼𝓏𝓊𝓀𝓊 𝑀𝒾𝒹𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“How are your injuries holding up?” Izuku had texted you, the minute he was out of class; you had taken a pretty bad fall and knocked yourself unconscious for a couple of hours, meaning you missed your afternoon classes that day.

You responded later on, telling him you were okay, and requested his notes from the classes you had missed. Izuku was caring towards all of his classmates, he remembered to check up in everybody, and always noticed if something was wrong. You suspected it was because he was always very analytical and observant- that was something to admire about him.

He happily sent you photographs of his notebook pages from that afternoon, decorated with doodles and diagrams of everything relevant- multicoloured arrows adding in extra details that Mr Aizawa had presumably explained during class.

Although you weren’t as close to Izuku as some of your other classmates, you felt comfortable around him- he was always so friendly and approachable; truly heroic qualities, although it was usually you texting him first, asking for his help studying. Izuku’s strong desire to help others anyways led him to the seat across from you in the library, rambling on about the topic you were struggling to understand. He was always happy to go into more detail for you- and you were sure that teaching others helped him to learn too.

“So you see, this strategy was actually used by a lot of great hero teams; including the Wild Wild Pussycats not too long ago!” He rambled on- hero studies were his specialty, as you were well aware, and he was always incredibly helpful.

That was, until his constant rambling excitement got the two of you suspended from the school library… So, you moved your study sessions to his dorm room instead.

“Excuse the decor…” He said sheepishly, blushing into his hands as you looked around at his All Might themed room.

You honestly thought it was adorable just how much he loved All Might- he was a real fanboy alright. You told him you didn’t mind his decor, and sat down at his desk beside him, pulling out your textbook and placing it beside his.

Study sessions turned into study dates; you or Izuku would bring snacks or drinks up to his room in preparation, sometimes you’d even order dinner to eat and watch a movie together (often based on pro-heroes) before you started studying.

Even after your library suspension had been lifted, you and Izuku had continued your study sessions- now dates in his room, often carrying on late into the night- ending with you falling asleep, hunched over with your nose pressed into your textbook. Once Izuku had noticed your light snores after his rambling had subsided, he would stop his talking and try to be as quiet as possible.

“You must be tired, huh? You’ve been working really hard lately.” He would whisper to you, moving your hair away from your eyes gently before he wrapped you up in his All Might blanket.

“Let’s get you into bed so you can sleep properly.” In times like this, Izuku was grateful that he had gotten so much stronger, because it meant that he could easily carry you out of his room and into yours.

He’d pull back your sheets and tuck you in, but no matter how gently he put you down, you’d always stir at the sudden lack of warmth, mumbling his name quietly as you rubbed your eyes, attempting to look up at him in the dim moonlight as he was still leaning over you, spreading his All Might blanket out over the top of your covers to keep you warm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He smiled as you reached up towards him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pulled him down into you. Usually, he would fight off your grasp, telling you in a quiet panic that you needed to rest. Truthfully, Izuku could feel his cheeks burning at the thought of hugging you; it was already hard enough for him to compose himself during your study dates. The way you’d look at him while he went on and on about trivial facts about his favourite heroes, the way your eyes lit up when he mentioned your favourites, your determination to learn from him- not to mention he thought you were absolutely gorgeous.

More often than not, you’d wake up to the familiar smell of Izuku, wrapped up in his blanket from the night before with your school bag placed neatly at your bedside.

However that night, he had failed to resist your grasp. He gave in, stumbling over the edge of your bed and falling on top of you. Your eyes met his, half asleep in the dark room, but you could tell that his were widening by the second as his pupils shone with a white moonlit glimmer. Izuku looked down at you- how your skin looked in the gentle light, your eyes half lidded and your hair messy behind you.

“Oh crap! Sorry, I didn’t mean to squash you. Are you sure this is okay?” He asked, pushing himself up further on his hands and hovering over you, only for you to pull him back down on top of you.

Despite being a pretty small guy, Izuku was surprisingly heavy, most likely due to his muscles, yet he was still so soft- especially his cheeks that rested squashed against yours. As he laid somewhat tense on top of you, you felt yourself doze back into a slumber with your arms around him, Izuku soon giving in to the familiar scents of you and his favourite blanket and falling asleep on top of you.

The next morning, he awoke still in your bed, now to the side of you with an arm and leg wrapped around you- it was cold, seeing as he never got underneath the blanket with you. His first reflex as he began to wake up was to pull his sheets in tightly before he stretched out, forgetting that he was with you, he mistakenly pulled you closer to him, his face now buried in the back of your neck.

“Morning ‘zuku…” You had said to him sleepily, feeling his warm hand wrapped around your stomach.

“Good morning...” He mumbled, still not fully aware of his surroundings until you began to turn your head towards him.

That morning, he decided to work up the courage to string a question together for you, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to face you, his freckled cheeks glowing a shade of red you had grown familiar with by now.

“So… Um. What do you want us to be exactly?”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“Morning ‘zuku…” You’d mumble quietly, pullimg the blankets up over your shoulder, feeling his shiffle behind you.

“Good morning sweetie…” He responded sweetly, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing a kiss into you with a smile.

Waking up to a warm arm wrapped around your waist was far from unusual now; Izuku’s curly green hair would tickle your ear when he buried his face into you every morning- a feeling you loved to wake up to. His warm breath would tickle your ear as he began to tell you what he was doing that day, his voice higher pitched than usual as he began to wake up.

“I love you…”

[positivelyholland]

Can we get a Styles-Swift reader! imagine in honor of Liam Payne?

Steady Hands in the Storm

Pairing: Harry Styles x daughter!reader

Genre: slight angst into fluff

Warnings: kinda a heavy one but it has a happy ending

A/N YALL IM BACK Word Count: 7,243

The house was unusually quiet. The kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing down on every surface. You sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring a spoon through your cup of tea. It had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. Not really. All your focus was on your father, who was sitting across from you.

He was hunched over, elbows on the table, his head in his hands. His curls looked messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to tame them today. You’d noticed the little things over the past few days—the way he moved slower, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. Even the way his voice sounded softer, like the energy had drained out of him.

You knew why, of course. The news had hit everyone hard. Liam Payne, your dad’s former bandmate, had passed away unexpectedly. And even though it had been years since One Direction had been a band, those boys were still family to him. Losing Liam felt like losing a part of himself.

“Dad,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.

He didn’t look up, but you saw his shoulders tense slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

You sighed, setting your spoon down with a soft clink. You knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to shut you out. He just didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words.

So, you decided to try a different approach.

“Do you remember that time Liam came over for Christmas when I was, like, six?” you said, leaning back in your chair. “He spent the whole day teaching me how to do a handstand in the living room. Mum was furious because we kept knocking over the decorations.”

That got a small huff of a laugh out of your dad, though he still didn’t lift his head.

“I thought she was going to banish him from the house forever,” you added with a grin.

“He kept apologizing every five minutes,” your dad muttered, finally looking up. His green eyes were red-rimmed, and you could tell he hadn’t slept much. “But then he’d just… try again. Said you were getting better every time.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I did get better. All because of him.”

The room fell quiet again, but it didn’t feel as heavy this time. You could see your dad’s shoulders relax a little, his hands falling to rest on the table.

“He was so good with you,” Harry said after a moment. “Always patient. Always kind.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “He loved you, Dad. All of you. I think you meant as much to him as he did to you.”

Your dad swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“It just… it doesn’t feel real,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and… and he’ll call or text, and it’ll all have been some kind of awful dream.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “I know. But he wouldn’t want you to carry this alone. You’ve always told me that grief is lighter when you share it.”

He gave you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was a start.

“Why are you so wise for a teenager?” he asked, his voice tinged with warmth.

You shrugged, trying to keep the mood light. “I get it from Mum. Obviously.”

That earned you a soft chuckle, and for a moment, it felt like the cloud hanging over the room lifted just a little.

Over the next few days, you made it your mission to help your dad through his grief, even if he didn’t realize it. It was little things at first—making sure he ate, suggesting you watch one of Liam’s favorite movies together, or putting on some music to fill the silence.

But as time went on, you noticed that your dad seemed to be retreating into himself more. He’d spend hours in his studio, not working on anything, just sitting there with his guitar in his lap. You’d find him staring out the window, lost in thought, or holding his phone like he was waiting for a call that would never come.

It broke your heart to see him like this, so you decided to take a more direct approach.

One evening, you found him in the living room, staring at an old photo album. You sat down next to him without a word, leaning against his shoulder as you looked at the pictures. Most of them were from his One Direction days—grainy selfies, group shots from concerts, and candids of the boys goofing around backstage.

“Did you ever think those days would end?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “Not really. We were so young, so caught up in it all. It felt like it would last forever.”

“But you’re still close,” you pointed out. “You and Louis talk all the time. And Niall sends those ridiculous videos that make you laugh so hard you cry.”

He smiled faintly at that. “Yeah. And Zayn… well, we’ve reconnected a bit over the years. It’s not the same as it was, but there’s still love there.”

You nodded, flipping the page to a picture of Liam holding a microphone, his face lit up with a big, toothy grin. “He’d be proud of you, you know. For everything you’ve done. For the way you’ve been there for everyone else, even when it’s hard for you.”

Your dad’s eyes filled with tears, and he quickly wiped them away, his hand trembling slightly.

“I just… I feel like I should’ve done more,” he admitted. “Checked in more often, made more of an effort to keep in touch. Maybe if I had, things would’ve been different.”

You shook your head firmly. “No, Dad. You can’t think like that. You loved him, and he knew that. Sometimes, life just… happens. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance. “How’d you get so good at this?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Years of listening to your music,” you teased, earning a watery laugh from him.

A few weeks later, your dad had a concert scheduled—a big one, with thousands of fans waiting to see him. You weren’t sure if he was ready to perform, but he insisted that the show must go on.

That night, as you stood backstage, you could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. He kept pacing, running his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself.

“Dad,” you said, stepping in front of him to stop his pacing. “You’ve got this.”

He looked down at you, his green eyes wide and uncertain. “What if I break down in the middle of it? What if I can’t do it?”

“You will,” you said confidently. “Because you’re doing this for him. And because he’d want you to.”

He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into cheers, your dad turned to you one last time. “Stay close, yeah?”

“Always,” you promised.

The concert started off strong, with your dad pouring his heart into every song. The crowd loved him, cheering and singing along to every word. But it wasn’t until halfway through the set that he finally addressed the elephant in the room.

“This next one…” he began, his voice shaking slightly. “This next one is for someone very special to me. Someone who’s no longer with us, but who will always be a part of my heart.”

The stadium fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“I miss you, mate,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “This one’s for you.”

He started to play, his voice raw with emotion as he sang a song he’d written just for Liam. The lyrics were beautiful, filled with love and pain and memories of the friendship they’d shared. By the time he finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house—including yours.

When he walked off stage, you were there waiting for him, your arms open wide. He pulled you into a tight hug, holding on like you were his lifeline.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. “For everything.”

You smiled against his shoulder, tears streaming down your face. “Always, Dad. Always.”

In that moment, you knew that while the pain of losing Liam would never fully go away, your dad would be okay. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had the love and memories of a bond that could never be broken.

And that was enough.

The End.

[geminislays]

Breakfast for Dinner

THIS AU HAS BEEN EATING ME ALIVE! SO HERE'S THIS!!

1,121 words; Trail's Gone Cold AU; Etho and Gem; approx. 7mo after the expedition.

Knock knock.

Etho rolled over to face his sister, who stood in the doorway to his bedroom. Gem's hair was pulled into a single braid that she'd draped over her shoulder. She twirled the end of it with her fingers, leaning against the door frame.

"Dinner's almost ready- I made your favorite," she said softly. Etho nodded, moving his blanket to the side to make it easier to stand. Immediately, the chill that had taken hold of him in the cave descended on him. Not that it had ever left him- the ice in his bones was just another inescapable fact of life since the expedition. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he caught Gem watching him carefully. Seeing that he'd noticed her, his younger sister gave a somewhat forced-looking smile, turned, and returned to the kitchen.

For a moment, it was as if a harsh breeze had hit him. Gem had been... weird... since he'd come back. After Tango's and Pearl's celebrations of life had come and gone, there had been a little while where things almost felt like they used to. Etho knew Pearl's death had hit Gem particularly hard. She had lost her best friend and her first long-term partner in one fell swoop- and that was without adding Tango to the equation.

He stood, feeling all the blood rushing to his legs. It nearly made his knees buckle, but he gripped the post of his bed frame tightly and managed to support himself while he acclimated to standing. As he rounded the corner of the hall that led to the living and dining rooms, he drew the sides of his hoodie more tightly around his body in a futile attempt to warm himself. From the kitchen, a warm, cheesy smell was wafting towards him. Etho nearly fell from the force with which he slammed his shoulder into the door frame to the kitchen.

"Damn this eye."

Shaking his head, he pressed on, nearly body-slamming Gem, who was coming back in from the dining room.

"I heard a big slam- are you okay?" she asked nervously, eyes scanning Etho's face. He nodded. "Just me being clumsy," he said, putting on his best approximation of a smile. He wondered if it looked as fake as it felt.

Turning his attention back to the wonderful smell in the air, he made his way to the table. He perked up a bit at the sight before him. Breakfast for dinner. He took his usual place at the table. Gem smiled - "this one looks real-" as she sat down what Etho hoped was the last of the food she'd prepared. There was already a huge array of plates- bacon, sausages, cheese-covered eggs, toast cut into triangles, a bowl of oatmeal, several fruits, and now a plate of waffles- and his appetite was far smaller than it had been before the expedition.

Having finished her work in the kitchen- "Thank goodness," Etho thought- Gem took her own usual place at the table, looking vaguely expectantly at her brother. "What's she waiting for?"

He leaned forward and took a piece of toast. At this, she smiled again, reaching for the sausages. "Is she worried I'm not eating?" He hated how worried he made her.

"I shouldn't have left the others. If I'd stayed down there, at least she wouldn't have to fuss over me while grieving."

Etho grabbed the bowl of oatmeal, dipped the corner of his toast into it, and took a small bite. Gem snorted softly, trying to hide her laughter. "Don't laugh at me, Gem. You've known me your whole life, you already know I'm weird." He hadn't seen Gem look so happy- so normal- since before-

Etho stopped himself. "Let her have this."

They both continued eating, Gem only pausing to take sips of orange soda. She hummed quietly, almost imperceptibly, as she ate, wiggling slightly in her chair. Etho only noticed it because he'd known Gem her whole life. He found himself mirroring her smile.

"This is why you had to run. You selfish idiot."

The toast Etho was holding fell from his hand, landing on the table with a crisp shhk. Gem stopped mid-sip.

"You good?" Her voice echoed slightly, reverberating in Etho's head. As quickly as the feeling of being underground again hit him, the ice chill in his veins shocked him back to the present, where his hand currently hung in midair, trembling violently. Stopping for a second then shaking his fingers purposely this time, he looked back up at Gem.

"Yeah, you know my hands don't.. feel properly anymore. Just didn't realize I was losing my grip on it."

She only looked suspicious for half a second, but Etho saw it. "Okay." There was an edge to her voice that he didn't like.

He could feel his hands begin to tremble again. He shoved them into his pockets rubbing them against the lining for warmth instinctively. Logically he knew he wasn't going to feel it if they ever did warm up- his nerve damage from the cold and the sculk was extensive. He looked at Gem, who seemed to be chewing her words before she spoke. He couldn't bear to hear pity in her voice, so he spoke before she could.

"I think we should go back to the cave."

Gem's face went blank with shock. Her large round eyes studied his face, worry creeping across her features. "Sorry? I thought you just said you think we should go back to the cave. Surely, I misheard you."

Etho swallowed. He wasn't sure where that had come from. The last thing Etho wanted was to return to that freezing maw of the earth. But something sung in his chest when he thought about it again.

"I want to find them. Maybe Pearl found Tango and led him towards the entrance before they-" he paused. Gem had a look of utter horror on her face now, but the thought kept rushing out. "They're probably close to the entrance."

Gem pushed her plate away. It clanked loudly, making Etho jump.

"Absolutely not. We are not even going to have this discussion, Etho, you are not going back into that place." Gem crossed her arms, brow furrowed. "Our best friends died down there, and you got so sick you can barely get out of bed. That cave is evil, Etho. The answer is no."

Etho paused. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "You're right. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. You're right." The cold in his bones made him shake even more. It seemed to seep even deeper into his body, if that were even possible.

Despite his fear of returning, something was calling to him.

[AN: the blue and red text are his Warm and Cold Thoughts (this is how i imagined etho thinking about the cave and the others. the cold thoughts being due in part to the cave and the sculk he's absorbed as well as his survivor's guilt, and the warm thoughts being influenced by his memories from before the expedition and his interactions with gem, who is untouched by the cold.) also shoutout to @wasyago for this incredible au]

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 6 (Welcome to Atlanta)

A/n: Just a filler chapter to be honest. Real action picks up the next chapter 😏

Warnings: None that I can tell

Likes and reposts are welcome also my ask is open just not doing any requests right now.

No matter how many times I replayed the moment in my mind, disbelief still lingered in my heart. Joe, in a roundabout way, had just extended a rather unexpected invitation—was he really asking me out on a date, regardless of whether I made the World Series? As the season drew to a close, I found myself wishing it would come to an end even faster.

As I stood at the podium during the pregame press conference, anticipation buzzed in the air around me. One of the interviewers leaned forward, a bright spotlight illuminating his eager expression. “So, how are you feeling before your first home game?” he inquired, his voice brimming with excitement.

With a mix of nerves and determination, I replied, “I’m feeling great. I won’t lie; the butterflies are definitely there, but I’m ready for this moment.” My tone was confident, masking the slight tremor in my hands.

The next reporter chimed in, “Your last game—you were 3 for 4. What was going through your mind each time you stepped up to the plate?” 

I chuckled, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “Honestly, I wasn't thinking much at all,” I said with a playful grin. “I was just hoping I could hit a ball that would bring in a run,” I added, my nod punctuating the laughter that filled the room.

Then, another reporter posed a question that made my heart swell, “It’s well-known that you, Joe Burrow, and Ja'marr Chase attended college together. What was that experience like, and how does it feel to see them thriving now?”

A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I reminisced. “Oh, it was such a blast! They graduated just a year ahead of me, but even back then, I knew they were destined for greatness. And now? It’s incredible to see them shining in their careers. I’m genuinely proud of both of them,” I said, my voice tinged with warmth and admiration.

Curiosity sparkled in the reporter’s eyes as he asked, “What was their reaction when they found out you were participating in the combine?”

I scratched the back of my neck, a sheepish smile forming. “I didn’t actually tell them,” I admitted, as chuckles rippled through the crowd. “But somehow, they found out anyway, and… let's just say I ended up buying the first round of drinks,” I said, laughing softly at the memory of our celebration.

The energy at Truist Park in Atlanta was electric, the cheers of the crowd echoing like thunder as we celebrated a stunning opening-day victory of 13-3 against the Diamondbacks. From the moment the first pitch sliced through the air, I felt an exhilarating sense of anticipation—Atlanta was truly buzzing, and it certainly did not disappoint.

Now, as I stepped into my new apartment, a place I could finally call home, a wave of contentment washed over me. I tossed my bag haphazardly in the corner by the door, the familiar clank of my keys hitting the table breaking the silence of the empty space.

With a soft thud, I collapsed onto the couch, letting out a deep sigh as I closed my eyes, attempting to untangle the chaos swirling in my mind after such a whirlwind of a day. But as I relaxed, thoughts of the whole Joe situation crept back in. Was he truly serious, or was this all just friendly banter? Was I overthinking every little interaction, or was there something more brewing beneath the surface? So many questions swirled around in my head, their answers just out of reach. For now, it seemed I would have to be patient and wait for clarity.

2 months later... 

All-star week had arrived, but unfortunately, I wasn’t among the chosen players to participate in the coveted All-Star game. Still, I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the prospect of some much-needed rest before rejoining my team on the road. 

This week also marked the halfway point of the season, a crucial juncture that implied if aspirations of snagging a wild card spot were to be realized, it was time to buckle down and hit the grind hard. Our record stood at a promising 32-17, leading us into the National League Divisional Championship Game, but the landscape of the season could shift in a matter of days.

With this little break that we humorously referred to as my "bye week," I had invited Mia down to catch up. The moment she arrived, she sauntered in with a bottle of wine, her spirited energy lighting up my living room. “So what's going on?” she asked, handing me a glass and settling herself onto the couch beside me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Girl, everything! But anyway, I have a date,” I teased, dragging out the last word to build suspense.

“Okay, with who?” she said, perking up at the mention of a potential romantic interest. “Is it one of your teammates?” 

I shook my head, a smile creeping across my face. “Nope.”

She leaned in closer, her expression shifting to one of mischief. “Some rich ass celebrity?” 

I shook my head again, amusement dancing in my eyes. 

“Then who? Because I'm lost,” she replied dramatically, acting exasperated.

“Number 9,” I replied with a grin.

Her eyes widened in realization as the nickname registered. Number 9 was our inside joke for Joe, the charming player whose effortless grin had captured my attention on more than one occasion. Mia’s gaze bore into me as she processed my words. Finally, her excitement erupted.

“Final-fucking-ly!” she exclaimed, bouncing off the couch like a kid on Christmas morning. “How the hell did that happen so fast?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath from her outburst.

I laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and I began to recount the story of our unexpected connection and the playful bet that had sparked this new chapter.

“So either way, it's a win-win situation,” she mused, a thoughtful look crossing her face once I finished explaining.

“Yeah, in a sense, but I’m just not sure if it’s a friendly outing or an actual date,” I admitted, genuinely perplexed about Joe’s intentions.

“Let me tell you, he didn’t mean it in any friendly way. That boy has liked you since the day you walked into LSU; everyone saw it,” she declared, her tone passionate. “Every time you turned around, Joe and you seemed glued at the hip for a while; people thought you were already dating!” She took a sip of her wine, emphasizing her point.

The number of times we had brushed off those rumors had become a running joke. Yet here I was, finally starting to understand how people viewed our dynamic.

“Yeah, I guess it was just a matter of time,” I said, finishing off my glass and enjoying its rich flavor.

“Took long enough! Ja'marr owes me 50 bucks,” she said triumphantly, standing up and gathering the glasses to take them into the kitchen.

I chuckled softly to myself, recalling how my friends and I had joked about Joe and my chemistry. I knew I shouldn’t have introduced them; it had all spiraled a little too quickly, and yet, there was a thrill in the air that suggested maybe it was all meant to be.

I had just wrapped up an intense batting practice session, the scent of sweat and freshly cut grass lingering in the air, when my phone began to ring, cutting through the post-practice haze.

Incoming FaceTime call from Joe Burrr 🧡

A grin spread across my face as I pressed accept, and a moment later, Joe’s familiar face materialized on the screen, lighting up my day. 

“Heyyy Joee,” I drawled, stretching out his name playfully, letting my excitement show.

He tilted his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Please don't ever do that again, but hi.”

I pulled a chair towards me, the cold metal scraping against the ground, and settled in comfortably. “What’s up?” I asked, curiosity bubbling within me.

He shook his head, a hint of exasperation in his eyes. “Nothing much, just bored, so I thought I’d give you a ring. Are you at practice?” His gaze drifted to the vibrant backdrop of the field behind me.

“Yeah, I just finished batting practice. About to jump into some field drills soon, but I’ve got a minute,” I reassured him, feeling the warmth of our friendship.

“You sure? I don’t want to mess up your flow,” he replied, a note of hesitation in his voice.

I shook my head, a slight smile playing on my lips. “Joe, I will always have time to talk to you.”

A small smile crept onto his lips in reply. “Okay, okay, but I do have a reason for calling. When is your last game for the season?” he asked, genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Confusion washed over my face momentarily. “I think it’s October 2nd. Why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s the same day we’ll be in Atlanta,” he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

“You all facing the Falcons the same day?” I replied, piecing together the connection.

He nodded, an enigmatic smile gracing his features. “Yep. And I would love to see you there,” he said earnestly.

I made an exaggerated expression, anticipation mixing with disbelief. “How the hell am I going to be there and still play my game, Joe?” The prospect seemed absurd.

He chuckled, his laughter contagious, and then rolled his eyes. “Ri. It’s a night game."

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt like the biggest fool on Earth. Of course, it’s a night game, Sierra; otherwise, he wouldn’t have called to invite you! 

“I knew that,” I stammered, hoping to salvage my dignity.

Joe studied me for a moment, then burst into soft laughter, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Yeah, alright.’

“I’ll be there without a doubt,” I assured him, my heart swelling with excitement.

“Good. And don’t show up in any Falcons gear either,” he said, his tone turning serious as he shot me a pointed look.

My competitive spirit ignited, and I decided to push his buttons just a bit. “And if I do?” I challenged, a teasing glint in my eyes.

“Sierra, don’t play with me,” Joe replied, his voice dropping to a serious tone that sent a flutter through my stomach.

“I’m just kidding, Joe. Even though I still haven’t forgotten your little stunt, I’ll proudly wear your jersey,” I replied, a smile breaking across my face.

He fixed me with a pointed look again, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “You better.”

Next Chapter...Not Like us

[judesvfx]

IFHY- jude bellingham and y/n

part 2.

— — — — — — — — —

summary on part 2: you and jude have been back dating for a couple months now, everything going perfect until recently when jude started to act a bit cold and distant, completely the opposite to his usual self. he was barely asking to see you, only replying to your texts with one or two words that seem really un interested. You notice his behaviour and do your best to try and ask him without turning it into an argument like the past times because you both agreed to handle stuff more maturely a while ago.

NOTES: i added his pov too seeing as y/n’s part was really short

— — — — — — — — —

I woke up after a good sleep, stretching and groaning as I observed around my bedroom looking out the window at the beautiful sunrise coming up, then with a smile I grabbed my phone and pulled up jude’s number, texting him a quick messsge saying “Goodmorning, do you wanna do something today? the two of us?” and sent it with excitement hoping for a yes, and for once, an enthusiastic one.

After I got out of the shower and wrapped myself into a towel, my phone dinged with a text back from jude, I unlocked my phone and clicked onto it just to see the reply being “yeah, alright. sounds good.” dry and boring, again. “not even a goodmorning back..?” I mutter to myself rolling my eyes then my fingers hover over the keyboard again sending back a “Okay, our usual cafe at 4, don’t be late.” With a heart at the end, the cafe was me and jude’s special spot.

I got into a comfortable outfit as it was pretty cold outside, just a casual ralph lauren polo sweater and some sweatpants, my go to outfit on cold days. I brushed my teeth, did my skincare, makeup and put my hair in a high ponytail and curled the end bits of it for detail, then made my way to the kitchen to get myself something for breakfast, I decided on just apple juice and an açai bowl.

After finishing breakfast I washed the dishes, then made my way over to grab my coat and my purse and make my way to the mall so I could go shopping before meeting with jude, I grabbed my car keys then made my way out of the door locking the door behind me and unlocking my car, my car was a beautiful dark purple bmw m3 g80.

I drove to the mall then I parked my car and made my to the first store I liked, I picked up a couple pieces of clothing such as sweaters and leggings, some makeup like a new lip liner, mascara and moisturiser and some earrings and a necklace. Before leaving to go meet jude I walked to the mini real madrid store and got jude a teddy with a real madrid jersey on it hoping he would like it.

Soon after I made my way to the cafe after putting all my shopping bags in the car but for the one for jude, when I got in he was already waiting for me at our usual table and I walked over slowly with a warm smile, “hii, I feel like it’s been so long since i’ve seen you, and I got you something.” I greeted jude and handed him the bag, he glanced up at me “hey y/n , you didn’t have to do that you know?” He smiled slightly and took the bag carefully.

I watched him open it, smiling ear to ear unable to wait for his reaction, he opened it slowly and took the teddy out, this time a more expressive smile on his face. “aw, it’s cute, thank you” he said slowly and softly I sat down shortly after and we ordered lunch, I got a caesar salad and he got a steak, I still wondered about his low energy thinking about if I should speak up or not.

About an hour later we finished our meals and when we paid the bill and stood up walking eachother out I turned to him and asked “do you wanna come over for a bit? pretty bored alone at home” Jude glanced around then spoke up “yeah sure” he replied with a gentle smile. We got in my car and I drove us back to my place.

He helped me carry my bags from shopping into the house and set them on my bed for me after I thanked him, I leaned against the doorframe to my bedroom finally seeing a chance to ask him about it so I spoke up “hey jude? can we talk? i feel like you’ve been really distant towards me recently.” my voice was slightly shaky as I spoke and a nervous tone settled in the words, jude turned around.

“distant? how?” He asked walking a couple steps towards me slowly, instantly defensive. “I don’t know. you’ve barely been texting me or asking me to meet you anymore, you didn’t even text goodmorning back today.” I spoke back quickly.

“I’m a busy person, y/n, not everything in my life revolves around you, I can’t always be with you.” he answered to me, his eyes narrowing as he inspected me carefully while talking, “right, I know that jude, it’s just hard with it being so one sided.” Jude stepped closer again “You can’t deal with it? because if you can’t then maybe that just means we shouldn’t be together.” He spoke with a straight forward tone leaning down to me.

“That’s not what I was trying to say, Jude” I spoke quickly, “No, it dosen’t matter, because honestly, i’m too busy for you right now y/n, im sorry but I just can’t balance you with everything else currently, we’re done, sorry.” Jude replied hesitantly but seeming sure of his words as he stepped back to grab his coat leaving me with nothing to say back but to just stand there and accept the fact that he’s gone from my life, again. he walked out of the house.

— — — — — — — — — —

JUDES POV.

— — — — — — — — — —

I woke up exhausted after spending hours in training and gym yesterday, my legs in pain from all leg cardio i did as that’s what I mainly focus on when working on at the moment, I groaned loudly as I rolled around the bed for a moment before sitting up to stretch widely and yawning.

I made my way to the bathroom and took a quick shower to wake me up then got changed into a casual but stylish outfit, black ripped jeans and a black hoodie with graffiti design on it. I brushed my teeth and did my usual morning routine that I was used to doing and then my phone dinged, a text from y/n saying “Goodmorning. do you wanna do something today? the two of us?”

I wasn’t really in the mood for anything today, but I didn’t see her for ages so I didn’t want to just turn her down like that, so I texted a reply back that was simple and straight forward saying “yeah, alright”, she texted me back with the time and location to meet at and I hearted the message.

I made my way to the kitchen and turned my playlist on while I made breakfast, I made pancakes with maple syrup and a fruit bowl on the side with a coffee next to it. I enjoyed the meal slowly as I checked up on socials and answered a couple brand deals and texts from teammates.

I made my way to the sofa and layed down on it and switched to a tv show instead of my playlist, catching up on the new episodes i’ve missed and just binging until it was time to leave my house later on.

At around 3:40 I grabbed my coat and threw it on as I made my way out the door and turned to lock it then left, the cafe was a quick walk so instead of taking my car I walked there, feeling every bit of wind breeze through my hoodie as I walked.

I got there a couple minutes before y/n did so I took a seat at our usual table where we have most of our dates and scrolled on instagram as I waited patiently for her since she had a couple minutes left until it was 4:00.

A couple minutes she walked in with a bag hanging down by her hand and I put my phone down to glance at it curiously, I admired every part of her as she walked and let her know I did by simply telling her she looked beautiful. She handed me the bag and I pulled out a teddy with a mini jersey that had my name on it, I felt a smile on my face automatically even while I was having an off day she still managed to make me smile.

We ordered lunch for ourselves and spoke as we ate, just casual small talk about life and so on, when we finished eating she offered me to come to her place for a bit as she was bored at home all day by herself, I simply agreed as it wasn’t so much of an issue.

The car ride to her house was mostly silent, not an awkward silence just a normal one, I spent most of the ride admiring the way her hair fell perfectly in a high ponytail and how much the colour of her sweater suits her, she was always looking amazing to me, it’s a thing I liked about her, that she knows she dosen’t need to try for me because no matter what i’ll think she’s perfect.

When we got to her house I helped bring her shopping bags up to her bedroom and placed them onto her bed where she usually wants them placed, I could tell y/n had something on her mind today, but I didn’t really ask about it thinking that I just thought everyone else is off because I was too. Until she spoke up, “hey jude? can we talk? i feel like you’ve been really distant towards me recently.”

I turned to her slowly, glancing straight at her eyes as they usually showed me how she was feeling, she was nervous and obviously upset. I walked closer towards her as I spoke “distant? how?” I could tell myself that I was instantly getting defensive, I hated being called out on stuff I don’t notice myself and it’s hard for me to handle it.

She spoke again, “I don’t know. you’ve barely been texting me or asking me to meet you anymore, you didn’t even text goodmorning back today.” I looked down embarrassed, I knew she was right, I just hated admitting it, so I didn’t, even though I knew it hurts more to argue about it rather than me just apologising and making it up to her.

I looked up again and replied quickly, “I’m a busy person, y/n, not everything in my life revolves around you, I can’t always be with you.” I knew it was wrong to say all of that to her, she was my girlfriend and she dosen’t deserve those words from me at all, after all, all she does is try her best to make me happy on my bad days, but I never did it back properly and I know those words hurt her.

She looked down for a minute then back around the room as she started talking slowly, “right, I know that jude, it’s just hard with it being so one sided…” I hated how she called it one sided, so much, even though she was right, and she was only telling me how it felt in her position, but it really annoyed me especially while I was already not having a good day today.

I snapped at her, not meaning to,“You can’t deal with it? because if you can’t then maybe that just means we shouldn’t be together.” I exclaimed sharply, my voice more focused now, I didn’t show any emotion while saying everything to her because I didn’t realise what I was saying until it was too late.

“No, that’s not what i’m trying to say jude, please!” She replied, her voice hurt and her eyes getting teary. “No, it dosen’t matter, because honestly, i’m too busy for you right now y/n, im sorry but I just can’t balance you with everything else currently, we’re done, sorry.” I spoke back quickly, everything came falling out at once and I meant none of it, but I only realised when tears started streaming down her face and she looked straight down not replying, I showed no emotion but it hurt, badly.

I couldn’t deal with watching her cry over me being stupid once again and messing it up between us. I grabbed my coat and hurried past her and out of her house before I started tearing up too, knowing that inside she really needed comfort, and I also messed up by not giving her any.

I fucked up, badly.

— — — — — — — — — —

IFHY- jude bellingham and y/n.

part 2.

[mushynka]

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ. ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ!

Yeah another sick-fic this time with Leo bc I'm living my best life in sick-fluff-care fantasy. Don't wake me up, please! I tried my best to make it look good. Using "old" english while writing Leo's dialogues was exhousting fr... 😮‍💨

【Ｓｕｃｈ　Ａ　Ｄｒａｍａ　Ｑｕｅｅｎ

Ｐｒｉｎｃｅ？】

Sick Leopold Mountbatten x Caretaker fem. reader

Leopold, the Duke of Albany, was sitting on couch inside your apartment, surrounded by a growing mountain of crumpled tissues. His impeccable posture was slightly slouched, a telltale sign of his dire condition—at least according to him. He sniffled dramatically, clutching a woolen blanket around his shoulders like a royal cape.

“Y/N” Leopold croaked, his voice tinged with a blend of aristocratic gravitas and pitiful despair. “I fear the end is near. This malady, this plague—shall be my end.”

You just returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug of tea, rolling your eyes as handed it to him. “Leo, it’s a cold. You’re not dying.”

“A cold?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Do colds cause such unrelenting misery in your era? This is far beyond the sniffles. I must have contracted some modern pestilence brought upon by your... technological age.”

You smirked, sitting down across from him. You watched as Leopold held the tea gingerly, as though it were a potion from some dubious apothecary. He sniffed it suspiciously, then took a tentative sip, his face scrunching up.

“Chamomile” You said before he could complain. “It’ll help you relax. You need rest.”

Leopold set the mug down with exaggerated delicacy. “Rest, you say? How can I rest when my body is besieged by this infernal ailment? My head throbs, my throat burns, and my nose refuses to cease its treacherous leaking.”

“Treacherous leaking. You’re so dramatic. Honestly, I’ve seen toddlers handle colds better than you.”

Leopold glared at you, though the effect was somewhat diminished by his red, puffy nose and the tissue clutched in his hand. “In my time, we would not mock the afflicted. We would offer them respect and sympathy.”

“In your time, people probably thought sneezing was a sign of plague and death.”

As if on cue, Leopold sneezed violently into his tissue, the force of it startling even himself. He groaned dramatically, slumping further into the couch. “You see? This is no ordinary affliction. This is surely a punishment from the heavens. Or perhaps it is your climate—so polluted and unwholesome—that has ravaged my constitution.”

“Right. Because the world you were living in was such a bastion of clean air and hygiene.” You said, leaning over to grab a stray tissue from the coffee table and added it to the growing pile in the trash bin. “You’re not being punished, Leo. You’re just… adjusting.”

“Adjusting?” he echoed. “To what? A world where one must endure such indignities as this?” He gestured vaguely at his blanket-swaddled figure. “I am a Duke, Y/N. A man of noble blood. This... this indignity is beneath me.”

You couldn’t hold back laughter anymore. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Leopold frowned, clearly not appreciating your amusement. “Adorable? I am not a puppy, madam. I am a man in the throes of mortal peril.”

“Mortal peril. You’re going to be fine. Here.” You reached for a fresh tissue and held it out to him. “Blow your nose.”

He took the tissue with an air of reluctant dignity. After a hesitant moment, he complied, the sound rather un-Duke-like. You bit your lip to keep from giggling.

“You find my suffering amusing,” Leopold accused, though his tone lacked real venom.

“No, I find your over-the-top reaction to a cold amusing. If you’re this dramatic over a runny nose, I can’t imagine what you’d be like with the flu.”

Leopold’s eyes widened. “There is something worse than this?”

You sighed, reaching out to pat his knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’re not there yet. Just let me take care of you, okay? You’re going to survive this… plague.”

Leopold sniffled again, looking up with an expression so pitiable that it tugged at your heart despite his theatrics. “You are certain of this?”

“Positive. Besides, if you were really on death’s door, I don’t think you’d have the energy to argue with me so much.”

For a moment, Leopold simply gazed at your face. “Your care is… most appreciated, Y/N. Truly. Even if your bedside manner leaves something to be desired.”

You reached for another tissue, dabbing at the edge of his nose with a tenderness. Leopold’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “You’re welcome, Leo. Now drink your tea before it gets cold.”

Leopold sneezed once again.

"Bless you" you said, then a look of contemplation appeared on your face. "Hey, Leo. Is it true that saying "bless you"comes from the belief that every time you sneeze, the devil try to enter your soul-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you realized what you had just said. Leopold's face was pale. "No, no, no..Leo! I was just-"

"Oh my god... call an exorcist!"

Thanks for every reblog/like/comment - means world to me. Lemme know if you liked it ❤️ Have a good day/night and stay healthy ❤️

[kitkatt0430]

Lance was, perhaps, not the most observant guy in the universe. He acknowledges this fact, accepts that's a thing about himself. It's fine, he's still a cool guy for the most part.

Still, he was pretty shocked about the whole 'Pidge is a girl actually' thing. Not because there weren't, like... signs. Which Lance did, in fact, pick up on. He has sisters; he can, in fact, recognize when a person with a uterus is having a bad week and needs chocolate to stave it off. He has, in fact, bribed Pidge with chocolate to calm the hell down a few times since he - she, gotta remember that now, she's a she who hers - was assigned to the same team as himself and Hunk. (It's been more than a few times and Lance maybe wishes he'd thought to stop Blue off at a convenience store to buy a few cases of Pidge's favorite chocolates before blasting off into space.)

But... having a period does not make someone a woman. Or girl. Whatever. It just made them someone who possessed a uterus.

So this whole time Lance had just been assuming that Pidge was a trans dude. Or trans masc with a preference for he/him pronouns. But, like, apparently she's just pulling the 'Princess disguises herself as a man' routine, except she's not the Princess in this story. She's the genius inventor/mechanic. Which is just as important as being a princess, not that Lance is going to share that nugget of wisdom with actual-princess Allura.

And the annoying thing is no one else apparently came to this extremely obvious conclusion that Pidge was just trans and so he's the only one who is just... confused that he - she, dammit - is not in fact a guy. It's a little annoying really.

(When Pidge comes out a few months later as nonbinary with a preference for she/him pronouns, Lance finally explains the whole 'trans guy' assumption. Because it turns out he was actually right. Mostly anyway.

Pidge - I hate to say it but... Lance was right. I'm not a girl.

Lance - Hah! I'm allowed to be right sometimes, ya know?

Keith - Only once a blue moon.

Lance - ... was that a Lion pun?

Pidge - *giggling*

Keith - ... maybe.

Meanwhile Shiro and Hunk are explaining human gender as a social concept to Allura and Coran who are relating it to Altean social concepts that are at once both similar and very much not. Apparently they've been letting the humans use whatever pronouns seem appropriate due to translation convention - it's not like human languages have the right pronouns for their actual genders anyway.)

[fantasiavii]

In a bizarre instance of dreamception, I dreamt about Sandman and that I was dreaming about Sandman

[honey-tongued-devil]

▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]

If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!

Jayce:

  - It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm  

  - But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different  

  - When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions  

  - It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look  

  - And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day  

  - It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts  

  - Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second  

Viktor:

  - For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one  

  - He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway  

  - That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet  

  - What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer  

  - The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you  

  - And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body  

  - Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them  

  - For the nights when he feels lonelier  

Ekko: 

  - Communism  

  - There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore  

  - The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it  

  - But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes  

  - Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket  

  - It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it  

  - And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you 

 

Vander:

  - Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you  

  - When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by  

  - And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin  

  - “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else  

  - After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift  

Silco:

  - Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places  

  - Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them  

  - The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it  

  - Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his  

  - That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you  

  - But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe  

  - “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump  

Jinx:

  - Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare  

  - She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean  

  - It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it  

  - It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it  

  - Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable  

Vi:

  - Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed  

  - Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it  

  - That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month  

  - The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you  

  - When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt  

  - She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to  

  - But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others  

  - That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life  

Caitlyn:

  - Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need  

  - And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen  

  - So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform  

  - Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you  

  - It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you  

  - The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers  

  - There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often  

Mel:

  - For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you  

  - “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked  

  - It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body  

  - It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something  

  - But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless  

  - When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her  

  - And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects  

  - Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare  

  - Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had  

Sevika:

  - Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous  

  - But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders  

  - And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers  

  - It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do  

  - And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours  

  - But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it  

  - In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously  

  - And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable  

[tenrose]

Reading sci-fi books is often like: ok I get it, interesting questions about the world using anticipation... and then the last ten pages are making me question my reading comprehension or wondering if the writer was taking drugs when writing (if it's Philip K Dick the answer is yes).

[gghostwriter]

Can i have a fluffy spencer x reader piece. Just something cozy where they are all at rossis maybe after a case for some team bonding and chill time. And like he is offering everyone wine and reader goes along like "i can't" bcs she pregnant? Fluff fluff super fluff pls

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! wc: 0.6k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, hope that's alright. I had fun writing this, hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Special Diet. // Spencer Reid

Your fiancee and his team had been out on the field for three consecutive cases all over the country. Just through Spencer’s nightly ritual calls alone, you could tell how tired and stressed he was and by extension the other members. Which was why, during their second night back in home ground, you volunteered to cook them a small feast—as long as Rossi hosted it in his place, which he readily agreed to as he was never one to say ‘no’ when a culinary chef such as yourself volunteers to cook up a meal.

“So what did our local chef cook up for the night?” Morgan asked as the team sat around the laid out table by the backyard.

You smiled, placing the finishing touches on the table. “I wanted to give the Italian cuisine a break so I present to you, French delicacies. For the starters, we have here salade lyonnaise with slices of baguette—” gesturing to the mid-size plate to their upper left. “—our mains, steak frites, and yes, I remembered to make yours rare, Morgan—” a few chuckles escaped from the team members as the called out profiler sheepishly placed his hand down “—and profiteroles for dessert.”

Rossi then started going around the table with his choice of wine to match the lavish dinner you’ve prepared.

“If you weren’t engaged to Reid, I’d marry you,” Penelope gushed as she took a bite of her meal.

Emily chuckled. “Get in line, Penelope. I get to marry her first if she changes her mind.”

“You never fail to impress me, Bambina. Now can I interest you for a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?” Rossi asked as he reached your seat between Spencer and Emily.

“Actually, no thank you,” your answer eliciting an echo of utensils being dropped on the table. “I’m trying to cut back.”

JJ leaned forward. “Our very own wine connoisseur is saying no to Rossi’s aged wine?”

“I’m trying this special diet,” you shrugged, subtly studying if any of the best profilers the FBI has to offer understood the real reason why. Based on Hotch’s small smile behind his glass wine, the unit chief had caught on quite quickly.

“You don’t need to diet. You’re petite and fit, right kid?” Morgan clarified.

The corners of Spencer’s lips pulled slightly up as he squeezed your hand in his. “Actually, she does need to stick to the diet.”

Penelope gasped, clearly appalled at the stance your fiancee had taken. “Take that back! No way you said that, Reid!”

You giggled at the affronted reactions of the team—minus Hotch and Rossi as the two older profilers clinked their glasses together at the side. “It’s fine, Penny. It’s the truth anyway.”

Emily sent a dirty look to Spencer before asking on. “What else does this special diet entail?”

“Unpasteurized dairy, cold cuts, liver, game meat, and raw sushi to name a few,” Spencer listed out loud and with each, the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger.

“Wait, isn’t that—” JJ mumbled before promptly standing up from her seat and rushing to give you a hug.

Morgan tilted his head to the side. “What? What did I miss?”

Spencer chuckled before revealing the most obvious clue. “She has to follow the strict diet for 36 more weeks.”

There was a beat of silence before shouts and squeals emitted from all ends of the table.

“You’re pregnant?” Penelope gasped.

Emily added on. “With boy genius?”

You both nodded, bringing out a printed sonogram safely tucked in Spencer’s jacket that was draped around your shoulders. It had been a surprise when you went in for your yearly check-up but it was the type of news that Spencer quickly became happy with. His own family was expanding and he couldn’t have chosen a better partner than you.

“We present to you, baby Reid!”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[the-grimm-writer]

Imagine getting split up in a haunted house with your friends. It starts off with the typical jumpscares as the actors do their job well.

You're wondering down a smoke filled hall full of flashing led lights. Fake blood is smeared on the walls and cobwebs are on the ceiling. You're still giggling from the way your friend shrieked the moment you all stepped in.

Looking around, you shuddered a little bit as you walked past a guy in clown makeup lying on the floor with a slash across his chest, blood pouring around him. Practical effects are getting so realistic these days, you thought to yourself.

You're so distracted as cheesy horror music still plays in the background that you don't notice a tall figure standing there until you run into them.

Tilting your head back, your eyes go wide as you see a man in a mask towering over you.

"Sorry." You smiled awkwardly as you took a step back to get away, and you see he's wearing black jeans, a white wife beater splattered in red, and holding on to what (you hope) is a fake axe. He easily towers over you.

The man stays silent, making the atmosphere feel more tense. He's tall and muscular, and you can only see his eyes peaking down at you from underneath the mask. He definitely fit the role of a haunt actor.

"Wow." You laughed nervously as you stepped to the side. "You're like, really in character, huh?"

The man stays silent as he turns and watches you rush past him, and you swear you can hear him chuckle as you turn the corner.

Chills ran down your spine as you started to wander around, feeling like someone was watching you, but every time you turned around to check, nobody was there. Frustration started to build up as you hut nothing but dead ends.

Sure, it was fun at first, with the occasional jumpscare popping out at you that would make flinch, then laugh at yourself for letting it get to you. But your phone had no reception and you were losing track of time.

This was getting ridiculous, you thought to yourself as you looked around for someone to ask for help to get out of there. You hoped your friends were having a better time than you were.

Once you reached the next dead end, you nearly screamed in frustration, ready to yank your hair out until you saw the same masked man from the corner of your eye.

"Okay." You sighed as you walked over to him. "Haha, you got me. Can you please help me get out of here now?"

The man stays silent, but his eyes are trained on you as he lowers his head to look down at you.

You rolled your eyes as he stayed in character, watching the blood drip off of the axe he was casually holding onto.

It wasn't until you got closer to him that the heavy metallic scent hit you. A chill ran down your spine, true terror running through your veins as you looked down at his weapon, noticing how sharp it really was. A real weapon, not allowed in haunts like this one.

Suddenly, the fun little jumpscares weren't so fun anymore. This man wasn't a haunt actor at all.

Your face paled as you remembered the dead clown that you'd passed by earlier. The actor that would've been the one to scare you a few times before helping you reunite with your friends at the exit. But he was really dead.

And now you were stuck here with him. An actual killer.

As if reading your thoughts, he grabbed your chin and pulled you against him. You were shaking as he leaned down, lowering his head to whisper in your ear.

"Run." He growled lowly before letting go of your chin and stepping back.

You didn't have to be told twice, immediately running away from him.

Suddenly, the smoke felt too heavy, the music was too loud, the deep red led lights that filled the rooms only added to your terror, and the animatronics they had to jump out at you only made you more overwhelmed.

You were nearly ready to cry as you turned around and saw the masked man casually walking towards you in typical horror movie slasher style.

Then you heard the sound of distant laughter. It sounded like your friends chatting with each other.

A wave of hope went through you as you ran over to the wall and started banging against it, screaming at the top of your lungs.

"Help!" You yelled out as loud as you could as you slapped your hands against the walls. "Please, help! He-"

You shrieked as a hand suddenly grabbed ahold of your hair and pushed you onto the cold ground.

The masked man throws his axe to the side as he climbs on top of you, making you look into his eyes.

He laughs wickedly, pressing himself against you as he tightens his grip on your hair. You screamed and cried, trying to push him off you as you feel his hard on rub against your thigh, cock straining against his jeans.

"Scream all you want." He grinned as he pulled his mask up, feeling his breath fanning against your lips. "Everyone will think it's all part of the show."

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Instacrush

max verstappen x reader

Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, daddy kink, pining, flirting, possessive behavior, one bed trope,...

Word count: almost 7k 

Note: I'm gonna add a smau at the end so keep reading!

My masterlist

The engagement ring on your finger suited you perfectly. It wasn’t overly large or flashy, but the single diamond gave off a subtle, delicate sparkle. It was beautiful and felt just right, symbolizing the love and unity of marriage. When you looked at it in the light, you almost thought you could feel the love Max had for you.

If only that were true.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” you asked, sitting down at the table across from Max.

“So we can practice and make sure we seem like a real couple,” he replied.

You sighed, your gaze once again drifting around the hotel room. There was a small sitting area, a dining space connected to a kitchenette, one bathroom, and a bedroom. You had already pointed out the single bed, and Max, ever the professional, reminded you that part of the assignment meant you were expected to share it. After all, this was a couple’s retreat. It wouldn’t have been a problem—if only you didn’t have a crush on him.

If only it were that simple.

You were completely enamoured with Max Verstappen, the handsome three-time F1 World Champion. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was the first time you met him on your first day at work. You were so caught up looking around the paddock, so excited for your first time ever set foot in the land of speed. You were just an intern working in the social media department. Landing a job during the global economic recession was a dream come true for you, not to mention, working for such a big and top-tier team like Red Bull. And that’s where you bumped into him, his can of Red Bull splashed all over your new team uniform. And honestly, you didn’t remember much since you were busy looking staring at his eyes. The bluest eyes you have ever seen. It was like the water in the ocean in  Maldives that you once saw in some travel magazines. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Max, you aren't a terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty,” you said. 

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you added.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a few months just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Max. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much-needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at the track. Both slammed into each other. Both said sorry at the same time”

“And you gave me your hands for me to get up,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And we immediately befriended at first,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “We did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went on that reserved dinner with the team and talked a bit about ourselves.” 

It was all the truth, except for the fact that you guys were never more than friends since he was with Kelly, and you. Well, you were just you, there’s nothing really special about you for him to like. You aren’t those supermodels he used to date, nor have the skinniest body type, you are chubbier, with red hair and freckles across your cheeks. Before accepting his request to be in a PR relationship with him just so he gets along with the image of not being a notorious playboy who drives a fast car as an occupation, you did ask him WHY YOU? WHY NOT SOME OTHER GIRLS? AND LET’S BE HONEST ANY OTHER GIRLS WHO ARE PRETTIER WOULD DIE TO FILL IN THE JOB, SO WHY YOU? He just stood there looking at you once again with the deepest set of blue eyes that made your knees go weak, We are friends so this is what a friend should do, right? Help each other out. And y/n I really need your helping hands now. 

“Even proposed to you at the same restaurant,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone. 

The silence between you two was deafening, filled only by the sound of your own heart breaking. You longed for his words to be true, for him to truly want you as his girlfriend. But deep down, you knew it was all pretend. Your fingers fidgeted with the ring again, a constant reminder of the lie you were living. The weight of the situation was almost unbearable. 

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, what a briliant story you have in mind,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“Well, it was true, y/n.” 

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. 

“Most of it only, Max. Anyway, enough of that. Let’s move on,”

Max looked unsatisfied with your response, his blue eyes searching your face. He could tell you were deflecting, which was both attractive and frustrating. “Okay then. How about we move on to the next part of our relationship? The first date.” He leaned back in his chair and you mimicked his movement. 

“Ah, our first date,” you said, the memory bringing a smile to your face. “It was a classic dinner-and-a-movie type date, right?”

Max chuckled at your summation of your first date. “Yeah, it was pretty basic, but it was our first date,” he said, his voice low. “I wanted to keep things simple and focus on just the two of us. No fancy restaurants or anything like that.”

You recalled how nervous you were leading up to the date, spending hours trying to figure out what to wear and worrying about what to say. In hindsight, you didn’t need to have been so worried.

“But you looked beautiful that night,” Max continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “You always do.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart quickened at his compliment. How was it that Max Verstappen, F1 World Champion, and certified heartthrob, could say something so casually that made you feel like the most beautiful woman alive? 

“Thanks, Max,” you said, your cheeks starting to heat up. You twisted the ring on your finger, your nervous habit making its appearance. “You looked pretty good yourself, if I remember correctly.”

Max chuckled softly, his eyes fixated on your hand. “Are you nervous, Schatje?” he teased, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes. “You’re fiddling with your ring again.”

Your cheeks flushed even more. You should be used to his teasing by now, especially after the time you two had spent together recently while preparing for this PR mission. And yet, every time he called you darling, your heart would do somersaults in your chest. 

“No, I’m not,” you denied, knowing how unconvincing you sounded. “Just… practicing my part, you know. For the acting thing.”

Max’s eyes darkened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He knew that you were avoiding something, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

He began to recite the next bit of their cover story. “What’s our favorite couple activity?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the mention of couple activity. "Well," you began, your voice shaky, "our favorite couple activity is definitely cooking together. It's a great way for us to bond and spend quality time together." 

“Well it must be you will be the chef and I’m your assistant then, since I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life, Liefje.”

Max's self-deprecating comment took you a little by surprise. You were used to seeing him as the confident, world-class athlete on the track, not as a hopeless cook in the kitchen.

You chuckled softly at his admission. "Well, I guess you'll have to stick to being my sous-chef then. I can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen."

Max groaned exaggeratedly. "I suppose I'll have to stick to fetching the ingredients and looking pretty," he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his remark, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes, you can be the pretty one, Max. I'll do all the hard work in the kitchen."

He chuckled, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I guess I should be thankful that I have a gorgeous girl doing all the cooking for me, then."

His compliment left you feeling warm and tingly, but you tried to brush it off and stay focused on the task at hand.

"But you have to promise me one thing, Max," you insisted, trying to maintain your composure. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your condition. "What's that, Schatje?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You leaned forward a bit, your eyes meeting his. "You have to be my personal taste tester. Gotta make sure everything is just right."

Max chuckled at your condition, a smirk playing at his lips. "Ah, so I'm not only your sous-chef, but I also get the privilege of being your taste-tester?" he teased.

You nodded, a sly smile of your own on your lips. "That's right. You'll be my human guinea pig. No complaining, just eating." Max groaned dramatically, pretending to look disappointed.

Despite his initial reluctance, Max couldn't help but smile at your cheeky request. "Okay, okay, I'll be your taste-tester on one condition," he countered.

Your curiosity piqued, you asked, "And what's that?"

Max leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, "You have to give me one of your special desserts afterward."

You laughed, surprised at his audacity. "Oh, now you're pushing it, Verstappen," you quipped. "But I suppose I can throw in a dessert for you, as a token of my appreciation for your taste-testing services."

Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Deal," he said, a playful grin on his face. "Let's hope your cooking skills are as good as your baking, Liefje."

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer. Truth be told, your life was dominated by work, leaving little time for relationships. But if you explained that to Max, he'd probably just call you a workaholic and laugh. He was the epitome of work hard, play just as hard.

"I don't know," you finally said, trying to sound casual. "I guess I just haven't found the right person."

Max scrutinized you but didn't press the topic further. Instead, he took a sip of his water, his eyes never leaving your face. Max wasn't buying your nonchalant attitude. He leaned back in his chair, still watching you closely. "I don't believe you. You're a beautiful woman, and yet you're single."

The compliment caught you off guard. Coming from Max Verstappen, the three-time FIA Formula One World Champion, it was a lot to take in. Trying to keep your cool, you retorted, "You don't have to flatter me, Max. I know I'm not some supermodel or something."

Max's lips curled up into a sly smile. He leaned even closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who said anything about comparing you to a supermodel?" he teased.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his proximity. He was even more attractive up close, with his sharp features and those intense blue eyes. Despite your best attempts to keep your cool, you found yourself blushing again.

"Come on, Schatje," Max said, his voice dropping an octave. "Just tell me why you don't have a boyfriend."

The intensity in Max's eyes was almost overwhelming. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, feeling increasingly flustered under his gaze. Why was he so insistent on this topic? You tried to come up with a witty retort, a clever way to deflect, but your mind was drawing a blank. His intense gaze made it hard to think straight. "It's not a big deal, Max," you finally managed to say, your voice betraying your growing nervousness.

"Bullshit." He leaned back in his chair, studying you once again. "You're avoiding the question. There must be a reason why you don't have a boyfriend."

Max's persistence made you feel inexplicably flustered. He was so adamant about knowing the reason behind your single status. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a convincing answer that wouldn't give away your secret. But the more you fidgeted and avoided his gaze, the more he seemed to be onto you. "Come on, y/n,” he coaxed again, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his legs. "Just give me a straight answer."

Max's smirk widened as he saw the effect he was having on you. He could tell he was making you nervous, and that only made him more determined to get the answer he wanted. "You're making this even more suspicious, you know," he said, his voice laced with gentle mockery. "The more you avoid the question, the more interested I become."

There was something about the way Max said that that sent a shiver down your spine. Was he just teasing you, or was there a hint of genuine interest in his voice? It was hard to tell. "You're relentless, you know that?" you mumbled, trying to cover your nerves with sarcasm.

Max chuckled, clearly enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. "I can be very persistent when I want something."

Max's admission sent a flutter through your stomach. He was relentless in his pursuit of an answer, and it was both frustrating and exhilarating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "And you always get what you want, don't you?" you retorted, aiming for a tone of sarcasm.

Max chuckled at your attempt at sarcasm. He seemed unfazed as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixated on you. "I do, usually," he agreed. "But you're proving to be quite the challenge, y/n."

He took in your flushed cheeks and shifting eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

Max's gaze seemed to pierce through you, reading your every reaction. "You're blushing like a schoolgirl, Schatje," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

His observant nature was both impressive and irritating. You tried to compose yourself, to appear unfazed by his words. But the more he teased, the more flustered you became.

The sound of your phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,”  you muttered, “It’s Christian. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” he said, “I think I'm going to call it a night. It was simply lovely to have such a conversation with you, Lief”

You watched as Max stood from the table, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he stretched his arms over his head. The way his shirt pulled tight against his muscles didn’t escape your notice, but you quickly turned your focus to your phone. Christian’s name flashed on the screen, a reminder that despite the playful teasing and lingering tension, you were still on assignment.

Clearing your throat, you answered the call, doing your best to sound professional. “Hey, Christian. What’s up?”

Max lingered by the doorway to the bedroom, his blue eyes still watching you as he leaned casually against the frame. The man was frustratingly calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just spent the last several minutes flustering you beyond belief.

“Just checking in. Wanted to make sure everything’s running smoothly with you and Max,” Christian’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied, glancing at Max again. He raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing the conversation. “We’re just going over the cover story. Making sure we’re on the same page for tomorrow.”

“Good, good. Remember, we need you two to look convincing as a couple. This retreat is high-profile, and we can’t afford any slip-ups. Play the part, but don’t overdo it,” Christian said.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Got it. We’ll be convincing.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set your phone down, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Max was still standing in the doorway, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied, though your heart still raced from the earlier tension. “Just… trying to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

Max pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few steps closer to you. “You won’t. You’re doing great, Schatje. Better than I expected, actually.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—there was more behind his words than simple encouragement. But you couldn’t afford to let your hopes get the better of you. This was a job. Nothing more.

“Well, I guess I should get some sleep too,” you said, standing up from the table. “Big day tomorrow.” Max nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the bed in the other room. “Right. About the bed…”

You froze, realizing that you had been so caught up in the conversation earlier that you hadn’t given the sleeping arrangement much thought. But now, with the two of you standing there in a hotel room alone, the reality of sharing a bed with Max Verstappen hit you like a freight train.

“I can take the couch,” he offered quickly, sensing your hesitation.

“No, Max. It’s fine. We’re supposed to be a couple, right? Couples share beds.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.

Max’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, summoning what little courage you had left. “I’ll be fine. It’s just sleeping. No big deal.”

Max didn’t argue, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable. He gestured towards the bedroom. “Ladies first.”

You swallowed hard and walked towards the bed, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Max followed close behind, and as you both climbed into the bed, the space between you felt like an ocean. You were hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.

Max lay on his back, one arm resting behind his head, while you kept to your side, facing away from him. The silence was thick, the air filled with unspoken thoughts.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Max,” you replied, your voice tight with nerves.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep. But the warmth of Max’s body next to you, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all too distracting. You tried to push the thoughts away, reminding yourself that this was all pretend. That Max Verstappen didn’t see you as anything more than a colleague helping him out.

But as the minutes ticked by, sleep continued to evade you, and you couldn’t help but wonder—what if?

What if this wasn’t just pretend? What if Max felt the same pull, the same unspoken connection that you did? What if, somewhere in the midst of this fake relationship, something real was beginning to bloom?

You shook your head at the thought, frustrated with yourself for even entertaining such a ridiculous idea. Max was a superstar, a world champion, and you were just… you.

But as you lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you, it was hard to ignore the tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest.

Maybe—just maybe—there was more to this story than either of you realized.

You shifted slightly in bed, careful not to disturb Max, who was still lying quietly beside you. You glanced over at him, only to find that his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, turning his head to look at you.

You shook your head, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Max smiled faintly. "Same here."

There was a brief silence between you, and in the quiet of the night, it felt like the weight of unspoken words was suffocating. You wanted to ask him if this was all just a game to him, if he felt the same tension you did, but you were too afraid of the answer.

Instead, you settled for something safer. "Do you ever get tired of it? The pressure, the constant spotlight?"

Max turned his head fully towards you, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes. It’s part of the job, though. I’ve learned to live with it. But yeah, there are days when it gets overwhelming."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I get that. It’s hard to find balance when the whole world is watching."

Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the walls between you two were crumbling. "Yeah. But it’s not all bad, you know? There are people who make it easier."

You looked at him, your heart fluttering at the implication of his words. Was he talking about you? Or was this just part of his charm?

Before you could respond, Max shifted closer, closing the small gap between you. His proximity made your heart race, and you held your breath as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You make it easier, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no more pretending, no more acting for the sake of the mission. It was just the two of you, lying in the dark, and suddenly, it felt like everything you had been holding back was on the verge of spilling over.

"Max," you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the right words.

But before you could say anything more, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. You imagined Max kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered. You never really stood a chance before him. 

“So, you like me? Was that why you kissed me, or, ” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole acting and pretending thing ahead and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and teasing you.” He said. “You know Kelly dumped me because I remembered your coffee order when we were at the hospitality not hers,”

You stared at Max in shock, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Kelly dumped him over... you?

"You remembered my coffee order?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max chuckled softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as he held your gaze. "Yeah," he replied. "Every single time. It wasn't something I planned to memorize, but I guess I couldn't help it. You’ve always been in the back of my mind, even when I didn’t realize it." You blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. All the late-night conversations, the teasing, the moments when his touch lingered a little longer than necessary—it all clicked into place. He wasn’t just playing a part. He liked you. Max liked you.

"You really are an idiot," you said with a breathy laugh, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. The tension between you two, the unspoken feelings, had been weighing on you for so long, but now everything felt so clear.

Max grinned, his face inches from yours. "Takes one to know one," he teased, his lips brushing against yours again.

You leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. This time it wasn’t tentative or cautious. It was everything you had been holding back, all the feelings you had suppressed because you thought it was just part of the job, part of the act.

But this was real. You were real.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Max’s forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hands.

"Guess we’re going to have to make this mission even more believable now, huh?" Max murmured, his voice filled with that same teasing warmth.

You smiled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "We might have to practice a little more, just to make sure we’re convincing enough."

Max laughed, a sound that sent warmth coursing through your veins. "I think we can manage that." 

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Max Verstappen liked you. Wanted you. “Please do,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the driver was an entirely different level of gorgeous. “Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth, suckling gently as his hands continued to explore. You writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "Please,"

He chuckled, the vibration making your breast hum in his mouth. "Please what, baby?" He asked, his free hand moving to your other breast, pinching the nipple gently. You whimpered, your hips bucking against the floor. "Please touch me, please kiss me, please fuck me,"

“You are such a needy baby,”

"His hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against your core. "You want me to touch you here?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing your folds through your underwear."

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of confusion and realization. "Because of me?" He asked softly. "Because I'm always around, and no one else can compare?" He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching you for the first time.

His finger traced your slit, gathering your wetness before pushing inside gently. You let out a sigh of relief, your hips tilting to meet his finger. "Is that it? Is that why you don't have a boyfriend?" He asked, curling his finger inside you, rubbing your g-spot. 

“Y-yes… It's you, has always been you, Max.” you gasped.

He added another finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. His voice was low, filled with a dominance you'd never heard from him before. "So, every time you went on a date, every time they kissed you, it was me you thought of?” 

His fingers moved faster, curling and rubbing against your g-spot. "And every time they tried to touch you, hold your hand, it was my hand you wished was there instead?" He asked, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "Is that it, baby?”

But what can you say more besides moaning at his touch. 

He grinned wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can't speak because you're so turned on, thinking about me instead of them. Isn't that right?" His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles onto your swollen nub. "Say it.”

But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when all he did was teasing you like that.

He growled, his face hovering over your core. "Say it, or I'll stop." His fingers paused, buried deep inside you. You squirmed, your hips bucking, silently begging him to continue. "Say it," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

“Max” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

He tsked disapprovingly, prying your legs apart with his broad shoulders. "Not until you say what I want to hear." His golden eyes bore into yours, filled with desire and determination. "Say, 'Only you, Max. Only you.'" His fingers remained motionless. 

“Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

His expression softened, and he rewarded you by moving his fingers again, crooking them inside you. "Good girl," he praised, his voice gentle. "Now, wrap your legs around my shoulders. I'm going to make you come with my mouth.”

You eagerly wrapped your legs around his shoulders, locking your ankles behind his neck. He lowered his face between your thighs, his breath hot against your wet flesh. "You're so ready for me, baby," he murmured, his thumbs spreading you open. "So swollen and needy.”

And without further teasing, he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked. Hard. His fingers curled inside you again, hitting that perfect spot. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Oh god oh god oh god,"

Max smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue. "Feel good, baby?" he breathed. His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions. You didn't know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Max flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking. "You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?" His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the sheets and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside.

The act surprised your lover almost as much as it did you-not quite, but almost -upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him. When you whined a loud, protracted, 'FUCK!' he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this. Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Max knew you were close. He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else's. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

 "Come on my face, Liefde. Show me what a good girl you are.”

And suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his head you feared you might snap it in two.

He slowly licked you clean, his gaze never leaving yours. "You taste even better than you look," he murmured, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours. "And you look... like a masterpiece.

You took his face in closer and sucked your arousal off his tongue. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his, where your juices had no doubt collected too. That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Max could’ve wanted.

Max's eyes widened in surprise as you sucked his face clean, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your head in place. He groaned into your mouth, his own arousal spiking at the filthy, careless way you were using your tongue.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to explore and taste every inch of it. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer against him, letting you feel the hard length of his cock pressed up against you.

“I need to fuck you now,” he said.

His voice was rough with desire, his patience worn thin. He reached between your legs, grabbing your thigh and tossing your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. "Hold on, Schatje,"

He slammed into you with no warning, burying his cock deep inside your pussy in one brutal thrust. You cried out in surprise and pleasure, your walls clenching around him as he fills you completely. He grabbed your other thigh, holding you in place as he started pounding into you with ruthless intensity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Max kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his dick wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking Schatje, so good at taking my cock.”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Max wanted you.

"Shit, you were made for this, weren't you baby? Made to take my load." He's so lost in the way you whine, telling him he's right and he knows it when he feels the way your body clenches and flutters around him.

He pistons his hips, fucking you with abandon, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust. He reaches up to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly as he snarls in your ear. "Gonna fill this fucking pussy up with my cum, mark you as mine.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to pound into you, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "Not till I say so, baby. You gonna wait for me, aren't you?" He grunted, his own release barreling down on him. 

“Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open.

“I'm Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Max practically growls, not missing a beat while still thrusting in you.

He grunted approvingly at your desperate pleas, his face contorting with effort as he held back his own release. "Not... till... I... say... so..." He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, his voice harsh with command. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you beg."

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please, daddy.” 

“Jesus, you’re making me so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

His face contorted with pleasure as you finally gave him what he wanted. "Good girl," he hissed, his pace becoming frenzied as he finally let himself go. "You're gonna take it all, aren't you? Gonna take every last drop?" 

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-you-daddy-I'm gonna-" 

“ I’m 'yours sweet girl, all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum daddy" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Max right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair now disheveled. 

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course Liefje" Max presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

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yourusername first day at work, welcome to the playground - newbie.

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user1 what a dream job 😭

user2 I wanna be there toooooo 😭

urfriend my baby's dream finally came true

yourusername wish me luck bestie

user4 what is your job?

yourusername i'm the new intern in social media for RBR

liked by redbullracing, yourusername, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 3,962,028 others

maxverstappen1 this new (intern) social media manager has me doing all sorts of weird things, apparently the fans like me doing this…I’m yet to be convinced 😂 might need a long nap after this.

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username12 fyi we absolutely love photos like these 😂

landonorris I nearly fell off my chair laughing after scrolling through this post 😂😂😂

username13 thank you the new intern for convincing max to bless us with a world of meme worthy content, i beg for more

username14 he has no idea how much we love seeing this side of him does he???

username15 pls promote ur new intern to be ur lifelong admin @/redbullracing

redbullracing let me ask my boss first ferrari we still have open position for the new intern, wanna join? redbullracing back off mercedesamgf1 or u can work for us instead, why be an intern when u can be our new admin for a very demure, very mindfull team! username16 are they battling for the new intern 😂 username17 on track and offtrack battle

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 26,882 others

yourusername life lately as the new intern at @/redbullracing

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username18 so u r the new intern that blessed us with so much max's meme

yourusername no need to tks me 🤗 username18 u r so pretty, might be my new wife

username19 oooooh max's in the like

username20 aww so cute

username3 the outfits slay

landonorris uhhh 

username21 WHAT ARE YOU EOING HERE maxverstappen1 she's not on ur team, mate landonorris so i can not say hello to her ???

yourbff you are so effortlessly gorgeous please 😫 and whose hand is that wifey

username22 wtf is max and lando beefing in the comment

username23 shut the f up she's a swiftie OMG i need a challenge with max and checo with taylor

yourusername working on it, but these two know nothing 'bout the pop culture 😭 username24 OMG the devil works hard but u gotta work harder girl

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, yourusername and 1,826,882 others

redbullracing Taylor Swift 1 - 0 Chestappen

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maxverstappen1 do not shame ur drivers publicly like that

redbullracing we do not 🤗 landonorris how can they not know about THE TAYLOR georgerussell63 i would have won this charlesleclerc if the ferrari's challenge could be this easy

username30 they cant even score a point

username31 OMG Chestappen

liked by 826,882 others

f1wags new wag alert!!! This might be the new gf of Max and she also works for Red Bull too

username32 OMG is she y/n the old intern now admin

f1wags that's her

username33 i follow her too and she is soooooooo pretty

username34 her new ideas for all their challenges are cool too

username1 😒😒

username2 BOOOO👎

username3 so it’s official then huh?

username13 BODY IS TEAA

username24 HOLYYY

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 3,344,234 others

maxverstappen1 i think this called hard launch and yes this is my new gf @/yourusername took all the pics since she thought i'm not very good at it

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[eupheme]

Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!

ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!

casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader

1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.

It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.

It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.

The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.

You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.

Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.

But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.

Because you know it’s not.

Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?

A legend.

A lone wolf.

Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.

And you’re - you.

So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.

It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.

And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.

You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.

Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.

The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.

And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.

He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.

And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.

You think you must have assumed right.

He doesn’t correct you.

Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.

His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.

A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.

“Lemme get you another.”

You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.

It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.

“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”

“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.

You never should have told her about that.

Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.

Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.

She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”

Your teeth worry at your lower lip.

“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.

MJ knows how much you like him.

Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.

Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.

“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”

It’s easier, this way.

Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.

The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.

Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.

The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.

You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.

But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.

You suppose he must have remembered where he was.

“You wanna come up?”

He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.

A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.

“That what you want, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows raise, “Yeah. I do, I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”

He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.

Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.

“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”

His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.

Your stomach drops.

“What do you mean?”

Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”

A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.

“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”

Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.

“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.

“Now, why would you think that?”

You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”

“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.

A sigh, when your head dips.

Unable to say it out loud.

“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”

A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”

Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.

“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”

Your head shakes.

“Wanna be yours.”

It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.

His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.

Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.

There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.

“Good.”

His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.

Walking you backwards, into the dark.

“The let me show you exactly how I feel.”

thank you so much, again!! 💖