#omg the blue earrings....

[infjgemini]

Imagine, one night in bed Alex notices that Henry has a hole in his earlobe and idk it’s just a really enlightening moment for him and he asks Henry all about it and Henry, that sweet sweet babe that he is, presents him his ear with an earring the next day

[katslitterbox]

BEETLEJUICE WARRIOR CATS AU

Dude I already have a story kinda figured out????

Like how I'd tweak the main story so it'd fit?????

Ish

So like

Umm

Omg yall

Im gonna rant abt it in a bit

Egeheheheghegegeggehegegeheheheehehehehehehhehe

I just need to pull up the warrior cats naming sheet so that I can remember how to name them 🧍

[gothsuguru]

bought the jjk official anime guide for s1 today i’m so :’) AND OMG i saw a girl w the cutest official gojo keychain and another cute gojo figure on her purse… i need to do the same i need to find a cute keychain STAT

[sqlmn]

Sebastian (pink hair) and Cornella (blue hair) meet as children and realize "ah, that's the kid my parents told me to avoid because of business reasons" and immediately decide "hey, we're going to be best friends and not fight". Which... in the long run helps a lot in regards to their parents companies because now the parents have to play nice around their kids.

long history below lol

So they're just bffs throughout their youth and a couple years before their high school graduation, Sebastian spots a kid with messy hair who looks really nervous. Since it's early in the year, maybe the kid needs help finding somewhere? So he goes over to offer to help him to class buuuuut the guy flinches and runs away. So Sebastian is ready to report to Cornella at lunch but she slams her hands down on the table saying "I JUST SAW THE CUTEST GUY EVER". And Sebastian puts his concerns on hold until he realizes they're about to talk about the same guy.

The duo then decide "operation befriend shy guy" and spend like an entire school year getting Matis to warm up to them. Good! Except now they're seniors and STILL both pining for the underclassman (only a grade below) and they have an agreement to not pressure Matis into any weird situations about picking between them.

Matis and Sebastian like to draw though and so one day as Sebastian is vibing and sketching Cornella while stealing glances at Matis, he decides to put little hearts around her head. It's fine, it's not weird, it's totally cool. And Matis sees and comments he must really like her and while he DOES really like her it's .... not quite like that. So he laughs it off.

The two graduate and then start to train at their parents companies while attending college and the years go on. They still sometimes think about Matis and go "wonder how he's doing" "wonder if he's more outspoken now" "wonder if he'd remember us" because they're both very normal about the lingering crush they have. Cornella walks into the building she works at one day and is going directly to her office in hopes no one sees her since she's supposed to be off when she hears her name.

"I'm not here, you didn't see me and you REALLY didn't see me if my dad's asking" is her immediate response but the guy's like 'oh, sure, understood. i am interviewing someone who said he went to school with you' and so she looks over and is just. Floored. Yup, still nervous looking, definitely remembers them, he's doing fine, and he's apparently now working at her company. Fabulous.

She does say hello and then nervously excuses herself to go to her office before anyone else sees her but hey see you around good to see you bye haha... and calls Sebastian with "He's hot now" with no context. So he asks who and she's like "oh only the cutest boy to ever plague our brains for years" and Sebastian is just "wait wait, Matis ? ? YOU SAW HIM? WHERE? HELLO? Why was I not invited to see him? Why did you not video call so I can see him? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S HOT" and then they scheme how to actually meet up and involve Matis. And they agree while he's definitely handsome dealing with other people, the fact he still blushes and looks nervous around them and looks to them for approval is the absolute cutest thing on the planet.

[sonjabysonjamorgan]

i love watching industry…i have no idea what their job is

[niuxita21]

One day I’m gonna write a book. Can you imagine? A novel about everything that you and I have gone through? [Mariana laughs] It would be called “Ana and Mariana.” We’re going to be free soon, and we’ll be able to reinvent ourselves. So I’m sure you’re gonna write that book, and it’s gonna be awesome. We’ll see what happens. We have to let things flow, right? I think your novel is gonna be one of those that are pretty dark. Maybe one of those that are so romantic that you can’t put them down?

[lotharkarnstein]

If Sera was trapped on Earth since 1992 that means she got to experience smash hit classics firsthand such as “The Ketchup Song”.

[missmitchieg]

going through Kirsten's IG posts and did she cut her hair? It's not as long as her hair was during s16 of evolution

I think she did. Maybe they're doing a "new season, new look" thing? Though Evolution kinda was that with her wearing more pastel or dark, muted colors and black instead of brighter, more saturated colors and no cute colorful streaks in her hair. I mean, it was a pretty big departure in my opinion. Look at the difference.

Old Penelope:

New weird, irresponsible, mean, hypocritical Penelope because the old one was clearly abducted by aliens and this new one is a (bad) imposter:

Why does every post about Evolution from me always turn into complaining?

[scrambledslut]

i was bored so here’s my stardew valley farmer Remy in all her different outfits using my favorite picrew :3

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

5 things I own bcz y not:

2 wooden hammers (1 is a mallet & idk what the other 1 is, it’s not a normal hammer tho)

Shark in a jar (it’s name is Siaj, pronounced Sage)

Rubber ducky earrings

An amethyst geode (I broke it open myself)

A brass knuckle that’s not rlly a brass knuckle (It’s black & has skulls & rhinestones, I’m p sure it’s just 4 decoration)

Feel free 2 say 5 things u own 2😌

[v-a-t-i-o]

beaytiful beautifyl butch in the elevator in maintenence worker uniform and i got so nervous all i could do was smily at my shoes and say havr a good day oj my way out

[bluesidez]

Me to Cookie while she was writing this chap vs. me to Cookie when she posted this chap

Between Two Worlds ~ Loser!Miguel O'Hara x Stripper!Reader (Pt. 4)

★ Word Count: 7.1k ★ Content: Miguel is his cute and awkward self once again, there's a lot of flirting going on too, wholesome overall ★ A/N: Sorry this took me so long but I hope you all enjoy! Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

Everything was so different during the morning. The Weave, usually full of life with the strobing lights and thundering beat from the music, was quiet. A normal building fitting the same boring, modern aesthetics like the other establishments next to it.

Your appearance was a stark contrast to your club one. You were dressed in a simple tracksuit and sneakers. Comfortable, not boring. You wore your curly, black wig but with no makeup and Miguel’s breath was stolen at the sight of you.

“Why are you here?” Your stance was standoffish, clear that you didn’t want him here.

Miguel feels around in his pocket for his cards. “I wanted to see you.”

“And you decided to come see me early in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“I do, but I couldn't wait until tonight to see you.”

You shift, baffled at the fact he was here in front of you. “Miguel-”

“Please.” He finally pulls out his flash cards, “I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes dart to the cards before rolling your eyes and sighing, “Okay.”

Miguel notices they were out in the open as people were walking behind you two. A little awkward for him since he didn't want to confess on the sidewalk.

“Are you hungry? I can buy breakfast.”

“I'm not really hungry.” Your stomach betrays you by growling and you cover it. “Okay maybe I am a little bit.”

Miguel points to a spot across the street, “I saw a diner there, if you want to go?”

“Ugh, not that one.” You stick your tongue out in disgust, “Their food is nasty.”

“Oh.”

He fiddles with his cards, his idea of wanting to talk to you there flying out the window. Miguel tries not to jump when your arm wraps around his, pointing to a breakfast spot further down the block.

“Let's go there. They have amazing waffles.”

Miguel holds back a wide smile before walking with you down the street. He offers to take your bag across your shoulders, but you object.

The café had a better appearance than the diner, sleek black colored walls, and a clean but relaxing atmosphere. He sat down in a booth in front of you, glazing over the menu. You two settled on iced coffee with chicken and waffles before sitting in silence. The low volume of a pop song playing in the background.

“So?” You observe while sipping your drink. “What did you want to talk about?”

Miguel held up his cards, starting with the first one labeled as ‘apology’. “I'm sorry for last week. I made you miss an entire night of making money. For your house…”

“That wasn't your fault. It was mine.”

“But I agreed to it. I said yes.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you say ‘let’s have sex’ or was that me?”

“You said that…”

“And did I not almost pull your you know out so we could fuck?”

Miguel’s cheeks felt hot, “You did almost do that…”

“Then is it not my fault?”

“I'm not blaming you for what happened.”

“I am.”

The waitress put your food on the table, the conversation coming to a halt. He heard your stomach growl once more as you eyed your chicken and waffles with wonder. You drizzled your syrup across the crispy chicken tenders, cutting it up into smaller pieces before taking a bite. Miguel watches you savor the bite, completely satisfied with your meal.

He decided to eat his own, wanting the tension to go away before you two started talking again.

“I'm sorry.” Your tone was soft. “I got you banned. You were just following my lead.”

“I'm not mad at you.”

“I'm mad at me.” You stop eating, eyes on the table instead of him. “I don't know what's going on with me lately. I've been doing things that I don't normally do.”

“Like?” He doesn't push you, waiting for you speak.

You still don't look his way. “I kissed you for one. I wasn't supposed to do that.”

“Was…was that in the rules?” Miguel swore he didn't remember anything like that when Jessica told him.

You snicker, “No it wasn't. I have personal ones and I broke that.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I didn’t mind it.” Miguel’s heart fluttered at the little confession as your eyes finally land on him. “Then you…touching me was not a part of the plan either.”

“Ah.” He ducks his head in shyness, “I see. Is there anything else?”

You take a big bite of your waffles, cheeks puffed up as you chew slowly. Miguel was patient, twirling his waffles with a fork while waiting for your answer.

“I don’t date my regulars.” Miguel coughed, quickly drinking his glass of water to push it down. That was it, his plan was ruined. It’s all over. So much for confessing to you. “But I already broke my other rules so I'm thinking…why not this one?”

Miguel quickly shuffled his flashcards to the part with big bolded letters labeled ‘confession’. “I like you.”

Your smile was radiant. A brightness that could provide any flower you walked by its nutrients. Just gazing at you gave him everything he needed to start his day off right.

“Why do you like me? Was the hand job that good?”

“No! I mean, yes I did enjoy it but, that wasn’t the reason.” You raise a brow, expecting a reasonable answer. One that shows he genuinely likes you and doesn’t view you the same way the rest of the clubgoers do. As someone of a source for their entertainment. Nothing more. “You don’t treat me like I’m a pathetic person. Like everyone else does. You see through me. And I like that. Like you.”

His fingertips graze yours and he tries to slide them away but you chase after him. Slowly intertwining your own fingers with his at the table. Your nails scratching along his fingers. Your soft, smaller hand against his large one.

“I strip, you do fancy lab work.”

“Your stripping is fancy too.”

You bite your lip, “I guess it is, but is that the only reason for thinking this can work?”

“Not the only reason, but it’s a start.”

Your hands pull away and Miguel already misses the contact. You put your head back, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh that causes a few patrons to look over at the booth. Miguel ducks his head at the increased attention, deciding to finish his meal.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s go on a date.”

Miguel shoots his head up, “Really? You want to? Really?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to say it again?”

“Yes please.”

Your laughter is louder this time before you cover your mouth. “Let’s go on a date together, Miguel.”

He shoved his flash cards back in his jacket, ecstatic that you were willing to go on a date with him. And that you said his name again.

“Can you do it tomorrow?”

“Alright, slow your roll, cutie pie. As much as I want to go on a date, I can’t this weekend. Got a family thing.”

“Oh.” He twiddled his thumbs in thought. “How about next week? Friday?”

“Don’t you work that day? Are you going to feel like going out?”

“Yes, absolutely. Now that I know I’m going out with you.”

“Boy…” It was your turn to hide your face, your hair helping you with its curls dangled in front of your face. He chuckled at your bashful response, noticing how you cute you appear when the tables are turned. “Friday sounds great.”

“Good. We can do dinner and a movie.”

“What kind of movie?”

Miguel hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Uh…I’m not sure yet.”

You shook your head, finishing up your food and the rest of your coffee. He did the same, paying for the bill and walking you out. You were close to him, arm touching his when he pointed to his car down the street.

“I can take you home. It's no trouble.”

“No, I don’t want you to be late for work.” Miguel wants to push, uncomfortable with the idea of you going home alone. His lips stay shut, messing with his suit jacket. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His worried face shows to you and you exasperate, hand on your hip. “You want something to make you feel better?” Miguel nods, not sure what you were going to do. You hold his face in your hands and kiss the corner of his lips. He freezes, taking in your touch. He could still feel the remnant of your lips on his cheek.

“That does make me feel better.”

“You big softie.” You playfully smack his arm. “I’ll see you later?”

Maybe it was just the time of how long he spent being away from you, but later on seemed like a while until he saw you again. Speak to you. Hear your voice. He wanted your number, but he was asking too much from you already.

“I-okay.”

You squint, “What now?”

“Nothing. Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Miguel.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

You pull out your phone, wiggling it in front of him. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to ask? Especially about using a certain device that helps us talk to each other at long distances?”

Miguel wonders if you can read his mind too. Or maybe he’s horrible at hiding how he feels from you. He can with everyone else, just not with you.

“May I get your number? So we could…talk?”

“Of course, babe.” You take his phone, putting in your name, your real name, not your stripper name. And a heart next to it to personalize yourself. He wants to say it but you silence him with a raise of a finger. “Don’t say my real name while we’re at the club. No one else needs to know my business. Besides you. And Pixie.”

“Okay.”

He watches you leave from your uber, saying that you’ll text him when you’re home. He holds you to it, not liking you had to part from him again. But he couldn’t be sad for long. You agreed to go on a date with him and he was going to make sure it was the most perfect date ever.

Miguel would bounce off the walls if he could. He looked at your text saying you were home with a kissy face emoji and his heart beat faster. Pounding in his ears while recalling your meet up earlier.

You wanted to go on a date with him.

With him out of all people. You were letting him take charge and he mentioned dinner and a movie. What restaurant will you go to? He’s never gotten a chance to figure out what you like to eat. If you're a picky person or willing to eat anything. Then there's the type of restaurant. Were you expecting to go somewhere classy? Or a place that was more casual?

He didn't want to get into movies. What genres were you into? He should see what movies are currently out. Do you even like movies? Why was this so hard?

Gwen cleared her throat, “Are you okay, Mr. O’Hara?

“Yes!” Miguel sits back in his stool, realizing the gene specimen he had on the microscope. “I'm fine, just a bit tired. Woke up earlier than usual today.”

“You were practically skipping when you walked in here.”

Miguel pushed up his glasses, “Really? I didn't notice.”

Gwen pursed her lips before excusing herself to the restroom. When she left, Miguel pulled out his phone and started opening a bunch of tabs. Searching up nice restaurants for a first date. What not to do on a first date. What to wear on a first date.

He's going to bring flowers this time, but he doesn't know what kind you like. Actually, what if you're allergic? Was there such a thing as hypoallergenic flowers? Miguel felt a headache coming on.

“Told ya, he's acting weird.”

He jumped and put his phone back in his pocket. The two teens stare at him like he had something on his face.

“Mr. Miguel, are you good?” Margo's concerned face said it all.

“Yeah, yeah I'm ok.” He reassures, “Why?”

“Gwen told me about you walking weird and now you're hiding your phone like you have a secret.”

Miguel brushed it off, “Oh no. No secrets here.” He noticed the girls glancing at one another, totally not buying it at all. “I'm alright. Now, I have some important work to finish up.”

He turns around, pretending to look at the same specimen he's looked at for almost a hour. While trying not to let his overwhelmed thoughts take over.

Gabriel wasn’t any help either. Or Kasey. Or Xina. All of them told him to not overthink it. To focus on spending time with you. Let everything happen naturally.

Of course that stressed him out even more.

Miguel hadn't been on a date since the Dana situation. And when she was with him, a lot of the dates before they broke up were casual and simple. He didn't want to do casual and simple for you. This was his chance for a fresher start. Not mess up his chance with you like he did with ex-fiancé.

He needed more opinions.

Ben seemed like a guy who gets around. When Miguel hangs around at the bar, he noticed the charismatic blonde use his skills with the customers. Albeit to get them buy more drinks. Maybe he has some experience taking someone out on a decent date.

“Are you dating anyone?” Miguel asks, causing Ben to shoot him a flirtatious look.

“I didn't know you played for the other team, Science Guy.”

“What? N-No I'm just-”

He's shut down by Ben's laughter, earning a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I'm fucking with you, bro.”

“Oh.”

“I'm not dating anyone. Had a few flings but nothing serious.” Ben explains while pouring bourbon in a glass. “What's up?”

“I'm going on a date soon. I just want to make sure it's special. It's our first one.”

Once Ben serves his drink, he leans against the bar. “Ooh first date huh? They're always tough. You could end up making out with them in the back of the car or going your separate ways and wasting sixty dollars.”

“That’s…very specific.”

“Trust me, I've had both happen to me.” He winks, “Do you really like this person? Or are you just dipping your feet back in the dating pool?”

Miguel didn’t want to point out it was you he was going out with. He's surprised that no one bombarded him with questions about it when he came back. Like everything was normal. But he was okay with that. He's had enough of people knowing about his personal affairs.

“I really like them and I don't want to mess it up.”

“Then you've come to the right guy.” Ben quickly excuses himself to take a customer's order. While he does so, Miguel glances over at you giving a customer a lap dance from across the room. Straddling their lap and rolling your hips. Your eyes connect, a hint of lust inside them. He doesn’t want to stare too long so he turns away, taking a huge gulp of his water. He tries not to choke when Ben comes back, ready to pick back up the conversation.

“Okay, lay it on me. What do you have planned?” Miguel explains his dinner and movie idea as well as the dilemma he's facing in figuring out the restaurant and movie. “You're already stressing yourself out. I'll solve one problem, go to an Italian restaurant. It's versatile and romantic, win win.”

He blinks, “Huh. It's that simple?”

“Absolutely. The movie is a little difficult because you gotta find out what they like. But just ask, easy peasy.”

Miguel wanted to crawl in a hole. Here he was stressing about his date for a few days and here Ben goes easing most of his concerns. No wonder Dana broke up with him.

“I've been overthinking this entire date.” He rubbed his temples while Ben roared with laughter.

“It happens, man. Don't worry about it.”

Before Miguel left, he texted you asking what type of movies you like. He wanted to make sure you enjoy the date and not give you a reason to not go on another with him. Which you proceeded to give him a list of your favorite genres a while later. And that helped him narrow down the movie you two could watch.

He set up a reservation at a nice Italian restaurant in the city called Antonio’s and then ordered movie tickets to that disaster movie about twisters that recently came out. Everything was set. It was once he looked at the order number that the nervousness turned into excitement. He tripled check to make sure it was the right time and the right date. Miguel wanted you to have a good time. A good time with him.

Gabriel insisted on helping his older brother with his outfit. Saying Miguel’s fashion sense gave off sad and lonely. And he didn’t want you to see that side. This was him making a comeback and what he wore had to reflect that.

It included several hours of Gabriel and Kasey pulling out Miguel’s wardrobe. Clothes all over his bed and floor, with Xina on video call, propped up on his dresser to get a good angle. The duo didn’t want Miguel to interfere so they had him sitting in a chair at the corner of his bedroom.

“Guys, I can find clothes for myself.”

“Of course you can.” Gabriel agrees, “But you’re dating a stripper. Immediately someone with a higher taste than anyone else.”

Xina let out an unsure hum, “Does she though?”

“Obviously.” His brother goes to defend you before he could. “Miguel says she’s always wearing sparkles. Clear evidence of a refine taste.”

“And not the fact that she’s out on a date with him being clear enough?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, pointing a hanger at the phone. “I’m very confused on your stance here, Xi.”

“I’m just stating the facts. Tell him, Kasey.”

“Yeah, she’s just stating the facts.” Kasey drones, not really paying attention as she holds up two dress shirts, one that was a dark red and another a lime green. She holds up both shirts one at a time towards a confused Miguel before deciding the green one was a better choice. “Should we give him a perm?”

“No.” Miguel and Xina said in unison.

“Why not?” Gabriel questions, “It makes your hair curlier.”

“It’s fine if you pick my outfit, but not my hair.”

The couple groans simultaneously before diving through Miguel’s pile of clothes some more.

“Does…you know who know?” Xina asks.

“Why does Dana need to know?” Kasey speaks for him, “Better question, why should she give a damn? Doesn’t she have someone else?

“I would like to know how she reacts when she sees him taking her own advice.”

Miguel speaks up, “She doesn’t know. I don’t want her to.” His words momentarily stop the chaos. “I’d rather not focus or talk about Dana at all anymore. Please.”

“Fine.” Gabriel breaks the silence, “We’ll say ‘She Who Must Not Be Named’.”

“A bit wordy.” Xina cosigns.

“Or we just not mention her at all.” Kasey states, taking Miguel’s side. “We should be excited Miguel’s going on a date. And with someone who’s better than…that woman.”

With a silent agreement, everyone went back to finishing helping him with his attire.

Miguel didn’t bring up that he was avoiding Dana anyway. He’d rather not get locked into a needless conversation with her. Making him feel guilty and affecting his mood for his upcoming date.

You were the reason he was smiling the rest of the days leading up to the date. He envisioned conversation topics, thinking about your response to them. He thinks you're funny so he lets out a laugh when he's alone at what you would say. He wonders if you're excited. You haven't said much about the date. Could this be your way of getting cold feet? He'd hoped not.

Yet, you smile extra bright in the private room. Taking his hand and leading him to his seat. Miguel hopes this all wasn't for show.

“Guess what?”

He perks up. “What?”

You placate yourself on his lap, showing off your nails. They were short this time, square acrylic pink nails and sparkle on the tips. “For our date tomorrow.”

Miguel’s lips curled upwards with glee, “They're beautiful. Are you excited?”

“I am.” A giggle escapes you, “Are you?”

“Yes.” He sits up, resting his hand on your lower back to make sure you don't fall. “After overthinking about where I wanted to take you.”

“Of course you were overthinking it.” He isn’t bothered at how you shake your head in distain. “You know I don't bite.” You lean forward to whisper, “Unless you want me to.”

Miguel shudders, “I'm okay with biting.” You laugh, not catching that he was serious when you get out of his lap and resume your dance.

On the day of his date, his phone was blowing up.

Constant messages while he was getting ready from everyone he knew. Spouting words of encouragement to boost his confidence. Well, almost everyone.

Miguel noticed a text from a new number that said, “Hurt her and you die.” With a few knife emojis for flavor. He could count on one hand of people who sent him that message.

His mother also sent him a list of items to get so she can start her renovations of the house, completely unaware of the date he was going on. He made a note to get them tomorrow, going to use it as a distraction just in case the date with you didn’t go well.

Miguel was picking you up at your place. You gave him your address, which was about ten minutes away from his apartment. He didn’t expect you to be so close to him. While he drove, he went over his inventory. A bouquet of orchids, tiny flashcards filled with conversation topics, his phone, his jacket and an extra one in case you were cold.

Concern showed on his face when he saw you outside your house, waiting for him to arrive. He barely parked when he stepped out, skipping his steps over to you.

“Hey!”

“What’s wrong? Why are you out here? How long have you been out here?”

“Not long, don’t worry.” Your hand on his chest soothes him, “I didn’t want you to meet you to meet my family yet.”

Miguel wonders what you meant as he notices the blinds crinkle at the large house behind you, peering eyes at the two of you. He counted ten pairs of eyes when the front door opened.

“Hey, what happened to us meeting your date?”

You shook your head, pushing him to the car, “No time, Ma, we have a movie to catch.”

“What, he can’t at least say hi?”

“Hello!” Miguel greeted and managed a small wave before you kept pushing him to the car.

“There you got your hi! Bye!” You shout when he opens the car door for you and helps you inside. Miguel does another wave to your mother before getting in and driving off.

Coming down from the excitement, he takes you in. A pink dress that hugged your body, highlighting your curves and white low heels with straps that wrapped around your calves. You smell like powder, light and airy. You weren't wearing a wig either, showing your true self and not your stripper persona.

“Wow, you look…” Miguel tries to find a good enough word to describe you, but not enough comes to mind.

“Thank you, baby.” You peer at his outfit, the lime green button down shirt he’s wearing pairs well with his white pants and brown loafers. “You dressed up like this for me?”

Miguel shyly laughed, “Yes.”

“You look good.”

“Thank you.”

He notices your hands placed perfectly in your lap. Miguel resists the urge to hold your hand while driving to the restaurant, knowing he didn’t want to push too far.

The restaurant was nice. Not too upscale to make you two think you were underdressed, but not too casual as a lot of customers were dressed nicely. The place had two floors, one with a terrace to get a nice view of the city. Miguel made a reservation for a seat up there and he didn’t miss your eyes lighting up when the waiter leads you two upstairs. He takes your hand gently when you go up the stairs to make sure you don’t fall.

Your light gasp makes his heart go crazy at the view of the city. You lean over the balcony to take in the reasonable height. Miguel pulls out your chair and you sit down with grace. He tries not to lose his nerve seeing you in front of him, looking down at the menu.

Then he remembered your flowers.

“Oh!” He startles you, pointing behind him. “There’s flowers for you. In the car.”

“Oh? What kind?”

“Some orchids. They’re purple…”

“Aww, thanks.” You don’t look upset at the fact he forgot the flowers when you continue to glaze over the menu. Miguel tries not to beat himself up when he does the same. He takes in a breath, knowing that the date just started and that he should relax.

You order sangria and he decides it’s best to not order any alcohol tonight since he was driving and goes for a lemonade.

“Anything looks good to you?”

Miguel hums, trying to look like he was paying attention to the rest of the menu. In reality, he was trying to figure out how to start talking to you. He picks the closes meal he sees. “The seafood marinara looks great.”

“It does.” You admire his choice, “I’m thinking about getting the triple cheese ravioli.”

“That looks great too.”

“I’ll share some if you share yours.” Your eyes land on him, index finger tracing the menu.

He swallows while nodding, “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

Once you order, here comes the waiting. You decide to munch on a breadstick, carefully, not wanting to mess up your lipstick. While you invest your time in the bread, he pulls out the little flashcards, angling it under the table so it was clear he wasn’t looking at preparational material.

“May I ask you some personal questions?”

You shrug, “Go for it.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

You pause chewing on your bread, “Uh, it depends. It changes a lot.”

“I see.” He darts down to the next card, “Favorite type of weather?”

“Hmm, I never really given it much thought. I like when it rains, I guess.” You sip on your water when he pulls out the next card.

“What do you do outside of work?”

You poke the inside of your cheek, “A bunch of stuff-Miguel? What is this?”

“Oh uh…” He quickly places his cards on his lap, “I’m just getting to know you.”

“I can see that, but you sound like you just picked a bunch of questions off the internet.” That’s exactly what he did. Searching up ‘What Questions to Ask on A First Date?’.

“I…” Miguel didn’t know what to say. From your tone, you were probably getting annoyed at the fact he came with a list of questions to ask you, instead of letting the conversation flow naturally. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head and he was waiting for you to ask him to take you home. Then he sees your hand out, waiting for him to give you something. He pulls out the cards and places them in your palm. You shuffle through them like you’re about to deal them on the table. You give him half of the cards while you keep the other half.

“How about this? We ask each other questions. I want to know about you too.”

“O-Okay. I’d like that.”

You scan through the cards to find a good question to ask. “Here's an easy one, ‘Are you a morning person or night owl?’”

“As much as I have to get up in the morning for work, I am a night owl. It's peaceful at night.”

“I'm the same way!” You boast, “It's so much better at night. No one can bother you and you can be at peace.”

Miguel notices your face reflecting on the conversation, nodding at your words. It was his turn to ask now. “Do you prefer the outdoors or indoors?”

“Indoors, immediately. I hate being outside.”

“But…we're outside right now.”

You squint at him but realizes he made a joke. “Oh so you have brains and you're funny too? Who would've thought?”

“N-No, I'm not-”

“Don’t play that cute act with me right now.” You point a straw at him as your drinks arrive. You excitingly shift in your seat and he can't tear his eyes away when you place your straw in your glass, puckering your lips to not ruin your lipstick before taking a sip. He sees that the straw manages to get an imprint of your lips anyway.

Miguel clears his throat, “It's your turn.”

“Hmm, what's the one person you talk to? And don't say Gabriel, I know he blows up your phone everyday.”

“He does. I am close to Xina, have I mentioned her?”

“Nope.”

“She’s a close friend. I've known her since middle school and we've been together since.”

“Aww that's nice.” You swirl your drink with a straw, “Did you two fuck before or?”

“What? No!” Miguel straightens up, “I've had a brief crush on her but n-nothing like that! I swear, please.”

“Miguel.” You shush him, seeing a few heads turn his way after the outburst. “It was a joking question. Kinda. Well, okay it might be a little serious but relax.”

He takes your hand, an earnest look overtaking his face. “I'm serious. Xina and I weren't a thing and will never be a thing.” Miguel stares into your eyes, hoping you see him being genuine.

“Okay, okay. I got it.”

When he lets go, an awkward silence hovers in the air. Miguel wants to bang his head on the table as he wishes he can start this date all over. So he could give you the flowers, not reveal his flashcards and bring up the fact that another woman is his closest friend.

“Temp-uh Pixie is like that for me.” You start, “We haven't been friends as long as you and Xina have. It's funny, we went to the same high school together and had one class together. We connected in that class but it didn’t extend outside of that. We didn't go to the same college and it wasn't until I saw her at the club when everything shifted. Like the universe told me she was meant to be my friend. Now here we are. Two peas in a pod. I love her but she can be so over protective.”

“I can see what you mean.” Before you could ask for him to elaborate, he pulls out his phone. “I think she sent me this text message.” He shows you the message Pixie sent, with the knife emojis and all.

You shake your head, “God, I'm sorry. She does that to all my dates, I don't know how she gets their phone numbers.”

“It's ok, I don't mind. It's good to have a friend like that. Shows how much they care.”

Both of you share a smile and the heart to heart is interrupted by the waiters, placing their entrees down and telling them to enjoy. Miguel notices your small shimmy, the same one you made after receiving the chicken and waffles back at the café and wants to tell you how cute you are, but doesn’t.

His food came in a large bowl, fresh clams, mini scallops, and mussels swimming in marinara sauce and pasta. Miguel didn’t realize how hungry he was when his stomach growls. Not to mention your ravioli covered with a basil alfredo sauce didn’t make it better.

After taking a picture of your plate, you practically moaned once you took a bite. Savoring the taste of the ravioli on your tongue. Miguel was surprised at how delicious his was, making sure to search the recipe to make it during his own time.

“Okay, you gotta have some of this.” You hold up your fork, an equal amount of ravioli and sauce on it. Miguel leans over, tasting the dish and closes his eyes, sighing at the cheesy taste. “Good, right?” Miguel couldn’t even say anything so he nodded with vigor. “My turn!”

He makes sure to get a good amount of pasta on his before handing the fork out towards you. When you tasted his, your eyes connected. Somehow, you made pasta eating sexy as you chewed slowly, not even getting a single drop of sauce to stain your pretty, plump lips.

He cannot get hard right now.

“That’s delicious.” You compliment, going back to your own meal.

“Y-Yes it is.”

In the midst of eating, you two resume asking questions. There Miguel finds out your hobbies, how you're an avid tv watcher, catching up on the latest shows. You like cooking, not as much as he does when he mentions he likes to recreate recipes he sees. That sparked another potential date if this one goes well. And you prefer to stay in if there's nothing else in the day you need to do. Which Miguel also agreed to.

The questions did go back to personal when he asked about your childhood and you mentioned that you come from a big family, who are constantly busy. That you currently live with your mother, grandmother, and a handful of siblings and cousins. All in one house but you managed to make it work. He sees why you were saving up for that house.

“That’s why I don't want kids.” You say after ordering dessert to go. “I want serenity. I don't want any more noise. Dealt with that for a major part of my life.”

“…I see.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I wouldn't mind having kids.” He toys with his napkin. “But they're not a priority. I'm also okay if I don't have any.”

You raise a brow, “You sure? You know that's why a lot of people get divorced nowadays because their partner changed their mind about kids.”

“We’re…not married.” The word ‘yet’ was on the tip of his tongue but he didn't want to think that far ahead.

“Still. I wanna know if you're gonna change your mind.”

“I won't. Really. As long as you're happy.”

You raise a brow, “You absolutely sure?”

“Yes.” He gives another smile to seal the deal.

“Alright. If you change your mind, I'll make sure Pixie kills you.” Miguel was absolutely sure you would do that too. “Plus, I wouldn't mind animals. We could get a dog or a cat.”

He holds in getting giddy at you also planning your future with him. “I'm okay with animals too.”

Once you two left the restaurant, you had thirty minutes until the movie starts. Although you said forty-five counting previews. Still, it allowed you two to take your time.

You shivered once you made your way inside the theater, hugging yourself immediately. Miguel planned for this, his chest swelling with pride when he offered you his jacket. You called him your ‘Knight in Shining Armor’ as you put it on while his cheeks got dark.

There your hand brushed against his as you waited in line at the concession stand. He wanted to hold your hand. Would that be too forward?

“Can I…?” He started to ask but your hand slipped through his, fingers intertwined with his own.

“Yes, you can.”

Your hand didn’t leave his the entire time. Not when he ordered popcorn, a large tub even though you two just ate. Miguel was too busy about holding your hand to focus on how you suggested to share a drink. He didn't have any input on the flavor as he stood behind you, squeezing your hand as you picked out a flavor.

Miguel still didn't let go when you two found your seats, getting comfortable in the plush seating. The lights weren't dimmed yet, giving you plenty of time to take a few selfies with him. He felt awkward posing for the camera but your happy face and the way you still didn't let go from his hand was more than enough.

The disaster movie you two watched was a great way to end the date.

Miguel was worried if the movie was too much for you, thinking that a rom com would be better. Thank goodness that feeling didn't last for long as you were enraptured in the film. Unwilling to take your eyes off the screen for a moment. Of course you had to when eating popcorn, your hands brushing along his a few times. And some giggles escaped the two of you when it happened.

You were excited when walking out of the theater, practically pulling him along while you raved about the movie. Who knew a film about twisters would be so action packed?

As you were winding down, the dread of the date coming to a close lingered in his stomach. Miguel didn’t want you to go, not yet, but he couldn't keep you beside him forever. That would look like kidnapping.

“I had a great time tonight.” You say as he pulls up to your house.

“So did I.” More than a great time, he wants to share.

Your hand glides up his arm, over his shoulder and to the nape of his neck. There your nails part his curls, massaging them and causing him to lean into your touch. He really doesn't want you to leave. And he wants to kiss you but you've done so much already. Was that acceptable for a first date? Dana gave him a kiss on the cheek during their first one. Whatever, if he was going to be away from you, he might as well ask.

“May I kiss you?”

You stop your caresses, lips into a smirk. “Aww, you beat me to it.”

Miguel doesn't have time to respond when he sees you lean in. Your perfect lips parted and your eyes lowered. He crosses the distance, his lips on yours. Much different compared the kiss back at the club. This one was gentle, soft, and short. Both of you pulling a hair away.

“Can I get another?” You're asking this time, your words fanning across his face.

“Yes.”

This kiss was deeper. He could taste the remnants of the soda and popcorn when you allow his tongue to slip inside. Both of you exploring each other as if this was the first time you two embraced. Experts in your own ways, but inexperienced when it came to each other.

It left you breathless when he pulled away. Still holding his arm as you tried to get yourself together.

“Mm how am I supposed to leave after that?” Your breathy laugh makes him want to kiss you again.

“We can go to my apartment. The night is still young.”

“It's almost midnight.” You contest, “If we were at the club, I'd say something different.”

“As long as I don't get banned again…”

You chortled, “Plus, I promised my mom I'd be back in the house tonight. I got the whole ��I don't know this man’ spiel and I don't wanna hear her mouth.”

“I understand.” Miguel pushes down his disappointment, knowing he'll see you again soon.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

You say goodnight then kiss his cheek. Miguel quickly gets out of the car and runs to open the door for you. You shake your head in amusement when he helps you out of the car, hand in yours. He also hands you the flowers before he completely forgets them and you reward him with another peck on the lips.

“Finally, you're back.” You two shot your heads over the house next door and you groan.

“You know it's late, Miles. Why are you up?”

“Your mama asked me to watch out for you and wait for you to get back.” He explains, getting off of his porch and walking up to you. “I'd do anything for my favorite auntie.”

“Oh, he's your nephew?” Miguel asks.

“Not even.” You explain, causing said teenager to pout. “He's just been bothering me ever since he came out of his mama.”

Miles waves you away, “You love me.”

“Debatable.”

“Hey, what's your name, sir?”

Miguel realizes Miles is speaking to him and responds, “Miguel.”

“Miguel. La tratas bien? (You treating her well?)”

“Sí, sí estoy. No te preocupes. (Yes, yes I am. Don't worry.)”

“Bueno.”

You squint at the two, “What did you two just say to each other?”

“Nothing, don't worry about it.” Miles then points to his front door, “Now go in the house so I can go back to mine.”

“How about you go in the house and leave me alone?”

“So you can kiss your boyfriend all night? Ew.”

“I'll ‘ew’ the upside of your head if you don't go.”

Miles sucks his teeth but follows through, making his way back to his house. “Have a nice night, Miguel!” He doesn't acknowledge you, instead sticking his tongue out at you.

“Have a good night, Miles.” He waves while you roll your eyes.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. It's okay.”

You give him another kiss for his kindness, which turned into a few more. Miguel smiled under your lips as he watched the turmoil stir inside you. “I should go inside now.”

“You should.”

Another kiss and you tore yourself away from him. Miguel makes sure you go inside your house, seeing you wave him goodbye and blowing a kiss.

Once you're inside, Miguel makes his way back to his apartment. It's like clockwork when he gets multiple messages, asking how the date went. He decided to answer them later. For the moment, Miguel let his heart be full and his stomach litter with butterflies.

Tag list: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch @nina-from-317

@slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel @moonlight00sthings

@bajbr @freehentai @chubbybyunnie @ilikeowlsidkwhy

@questionable-behaviour @imamexican @tatatida @aphinthestars

@bluesidez @saintdiior @prettygirleli @twinkdrakez @vicravluv

@brown-eyed-thang @peachipeachy @sonicbutbutter

@mermaidian02 @celi-xxmoon @roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox

@sweeetas

[bi-writes]

idk just thinking about seeing your lieutenant for the first time, this big giant dog of a man, and thinking to yourself, "hmmm yeah, i'm gonna make that thing mine." (18+)

like. i'm thinking about seeing him walk into the room for the first time. fresh off an op, still in all his gear. he's angry cause he's been awake off and on for 40 hours at this point, and he sinks down into a chair in the mess hall, and your eyes bug cause the chair fucking bends with his weight.

and you're just like "omg omg omg holy shit" cause this fucking brute is just huge and beefy, and you had no idea this was your type until you watched his hand curl around a cup and make it look miniature. and you're wondering like "fuck i bet those holsters are custom made" cause you don't think you've ever seen them stretch that far around someone's thigh.

ughghghghgh, and he's dumb as shit, too, or maybe he's just fucking blind. you give him every hint in the book, every indication of how you feel other than pasting a giant neon sign on your forehead that says "fuck me."

you wear the tightest cargo pants you can get. you let the buttons on your shirts go low whenever he's near. you make excuses to see him late, delivering him paperwork in the middle of the night, meeting him out for a smoke (and he's never seen you smoke anything), shuffling your way in front of him in line so you can bump into him and graze your ass against his front. he even catches you this way--even curls his hand around your waist and steadies you before letting you go impatiently.

fuck, bending over in front of him, the obnoxious giggling, the excuses to dangle your tits in his face. you want this man underneath you, on top of you, tangled around you and suffocating you with those enormous arms, and he barely side-glances at you whenever you're in his vicinity, and it's infuriating.

what do you have to do to reel this thing in? how many bones do you have to give him?

how many times do i have to flash my bra at you for you to fuck me over your desk?!

you can't eat another cherry in front of him. you can't drop more sauce onto your cleavage. you cannot come out of the showers in just a towel in front of him anymore because you're going to lose your fucking mind--

you even made out with his beloved little sergeant, his favorite little know-it-all that can't stop blowing shit up. that blue-eyed, insufferable, yapper of a scot that kisses all wet, with teeth, who pants like a puppy when he asks if he can 'ave a taste of y'r bonnie cunt, please, please, please--

and you say yes, because maybe he'll finally fucking shut up if you drown him between your thighs and never let him come up for air.

face down, ass up, cargos around your ankles, hips pushing past against that puppy's stubble as he devours you on his knees. his big hands spread your ass for him, and his thumbs flick over your folds as he opens you up, a cackle leaving him before he opens his mouth wide and kisses your pussy all sloppy and uncoordinated.

when the door swings open and hits the wall with a bang, the puppy tries to leave. he tries to move, but you reach back and grip his mohawk, scowling as you shove his face back where it belongs as your lieutenant stands at the door and heaves with anger.

"uh uh," you snap, and your sergeant on his knees whines, his blue eyes a little foggy and wet as he blinks up at you. but he complies, his tongue slurping, and you flutter your lashes at your lieutenant as you keep johnny muzzled in your cunt. "sorry, lieutenant. is this your office? must've read the sign wrong."

you reel from the contact. a big hand grips you by the hair, slamming you down against his desk, and you choke as you try and gasp for air. like a good boy, johnny settles where he is, shoving his tongue down your hole and moaning low when he realizes you're dripping down his chin now that his lieutenant has you.

"y'think this is funny, eh?" ghost mutters in your ear. "y'think i don't know wot y'r doin'? think i 'aven't caught on, think i 'aven't noticed wot a fuckin' insatiable bloody pain in my arse you've been ever since y'got 'ere?!"

you whimper, relaxing against the desk, and ghost tugs at your hair again, shaking his head.

"oi! y'don't get to be stupid just because y'r gettin' y'r cunny played with," ghost snaps. "y'r a right headache."

you laugh, getting up to your elbows, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as ghost scruffs johnny by the base of his mohawk and cups your pussy with one big hand. you gasp, leaning your head back, because finally, yes, it's all i want, please, please, please--

"'f you wanted to be my pet so bad," ghost murmurs, fitting himself behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he spits into your ear, "all ya had to do was fuckin' ask, swee'eart."

when your eyes open, ghost hums, clicking his tongue under the mask.

"use y'r words," he growls. "be a good girl, and say wot it is y'want."

"want you," you whine, and he sighs deeply, closing his eyes, and you drown out the sounds of johnny sputtering at your feet as ghost bends you at the hip a little more, arching your back.

"mmm...tha'sit. was tha' so hard?"

[2tarbell]

omg omg, mean!rafe being so pussy drunk he begins to blabber praises to crybaby, who feels confused between loving and hating the big change, cuz even when she’s still being pounded into tears, she still just wants her rafey to be mean!! :c

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

rafey coming home from a looooong day of bein’ all rough and intimidating, his crybaby is there with issues of her own. pouty at whatever bullshit she decided was wrong that day. rafe is exhausted, completely worn out from the workload he’s dealing with. so he lets her yip like a little puppy at him, unaware of the boiling tension just under the surface of his icy gaze, until he can’t take it anymore, grabbing her throat and telling her what’s gonna happen next.

(“yeah? you wanna— wanna act like a big girl? upstairs. clothes off.”)

maybe it’s mean, maybe rude; crybaby doesn’t give two shits (if the glossy stain on her blue undies says anything).

that’s how she ends up bouncing breathlessly on his cock, choked sobs leaving her swollen lips each time she sinks down, “dad— daddy… sssshhhit…”

rafe is leaning back on the headboard, his hands rough against the supple skin of her hips. it’s all grunts and babbles of incoherent pleasure from the two — the sting from his mean words making her mind feel hazier & hazier.

“yeah, put that fuckin’ shit to use — c’mon, baby,” he mutters, blue eyes transfixed on the twist of her bottom half. watching with bated breath as she swallows his length easily, pussy so wet it’s sloppy.

but then she’s planting her palms on his abs and grinding her hips down, the drag so delicious and mind-numbing it makes rafe choke. his eyes roll back as the pressures of the day fading away until all that’s left is the warmth of her walls around him. her sniffles and broken moans make his length pulse.

his eyes roll back, body shuddering and large hands keeping her down on his cock, “fuck, slower…”

his slurred command shocked reader, expecting dirty words & scolds. but, always eager to please, she moves in deeper, slower grinds, eyes clenched shut in concentration to keep her rhythm. her efforts earn a buck from the man under her — gasps and growls falling from his mouth.

“yes, yes— fuck, atta girl… making this dick feel so good, baby.”

his hand trails up her body, grabbing her chin tenderly and directing her wet, low-lidded gaze back to him. suddenly he’s rolling her against him with more fervor, taking control of her hips with his arm wrapped fully around her waist. their foreheads are pressed together tightly, noses bumping with each drag.

rafe speaks lowly, voice almost in a drunken slur, “god, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. look at me… jesus, just—like—that…”

the sweet whisper of his words reach her ears and she feels pathetic when a pang shoots from her heart right to her core. more arousal gushed around him, feeling confused at the thump-thump in her pussy & heart.

crybaby was used to the mean daddy that punished her and literally spit in her mouth. but this version of her man — all soft and touching her with a sense of reverence — left her melting further into his guided movements.

“f-f-fuuck, daddy, gonna make me cum,” she whined, hands moving up to clutch his cheeks. she felt hot and tingly, furrowed brow as she tried to grasp her orgasm, approaching it.

“there you go, good fuckin’ girl— cream all over daddy, baby. lemme hear you cry—”

she sobbed as her body finally couldn’t take it anymore, tensing before shaking and trembling through her release. the clench of her walls around him make rafe hiccup, release sputtering into her awaiting core.

they both were a mess of sweat and tears, breathing like they’d just run a marathon as the adrenaline started to wear off. he runs his nails across her back and nuzzles his nose in her hairline, inhaling her unique sent.

the softness was a surprise but something she let herself fully enjoy! sometimes they both needed something sweeter <3

[amirasainz]

Can you please do driver reader is literally the absolute Angel of the paddock and everyone adores her, she’s the cutest sweetest little bean that you can’t help but love, she’s a Redbull driver and Christian always fawns over her and talks about his ‘daughter’ ( it’s clear she’s the favourite ). Even the older drivers love her e.g kimi, jenson, Seb, mark. Platonic pleaseeee

Omg, that is such a sweet idea. I did the format a bit differently, hope you don't mind.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

The Redbull Princess

YN YLN was a known name in the motor sport world. Not only was she the youngest driver currently on the grid - only 19 years - but she is the first female to ever drive for RedBull. Not oy that, but also the only woman on the grid.

Despite having a different gender, the other drivers never treated her bad. In fact, one could say that YN got the whole "Princess Treatment" from the drivers and teams. Each driver has taken a special place in her life.

Exhibit A: The protective one

The paddock was buzzing with energy, reporters swarming like bees near the Red Bull garage. YN was prepping for her media rounds, already feeling the weight of the spotlight on her. As she stepped into the press pen, a group of journalists immediately approached, firing off questions.

"YN, how do you feel about the pressure of being the youngest driver? Do you think it affects your performance?"

Before she could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, slipping between her and the reporters with a grin that was anything but friendly. "I think that's enough for now," Max said, his blue eyes narrowing. "She’s got a race to focus on. Back off."

The reporters, visibly intimidated by the reigning World Champion, quickly shuffled away. YN let out a breath of relief, nudging Max with her elbow.

"You know, I can handle them."

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. "Yeah, but why would I let them bother you when I can have fun scaring them off?"

"You're impossible," she laughed. "But thanks."

Exhibit B: The gossip King

YN walked into the Ferrari garage, still buzzing from practice. She found Charles leaning against his car, drinking water. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Charlie! Did you see that move I pulled in turn 9?" she said, excitedly plopping down next to him.

Charles grinned, instantly slipping into gossip mode. "I did! Smooth as butter. But did you hear about Fernando's radio message? He was furious about the tire degradation. Drama!"

YN's eyes widened. "No way! Spill all the tea, Leclerc."

Charles leaned in, whispering. "Apparently, his engineer told him to manage his tires better, and Nando snapped, saying, ‘I am managing them!’" He mimicked Fernando’s accent, making YN burst into laughter.

Exhibit C: The helping hand

The young RedBull driver just exited her car, when she felt someone grabbing her Birking Bag. When she quickly turned her head, she was meat with the sight of Carlos not only caring her bag in his hands and her coat on his arm, but carring his own stuff as well.

"Carlito, what are you doing? You don’t have to carry all my stuff for me." she told him, after they started walking towards the entrance.

Carlos mate an irritated sound, before responding to her. "Nonsense, hermana. Your job is to win this weekend. So let me help you with all the other things, comprende?"

Before Carlos could get an answer, she threw her arms around him, whispering a small thank you in his ear.

Exhibit D: The personal chef

YN sat in the Red Bull hospitality area, poking at her plate of food with a discontented look. Yuki walked over, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"Not good enough for you, huh?" Yuki teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

YN scrunched up her nose. "I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t eat this."

Without missing a beat, Yuki stood up. "I’ll make you something. What do you want?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yuki, really? You don’t have to!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you’re picky. I know that. What do you want? Miso soup? Onigiri?"

YN tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Onigiri sounds perfect."

Within minutes, Yuki was back, placing a plate of freshly made onigiri in front of her. YN took a bite and sighed contentedly. "You're the best, Yuki."

He grinned. "I know."

Exhibit E: The "annoying" prankster

YN was busy trying to make sure her helmet and gear were ready when suddenly, her entire backpack fell off the counter with a loud thud, spilling everything.

"Lando!" she yelled, spinning around, catching the British driver grinning like a mischievous child.

"What?" Lando said, feigning innocence, hands up. "It slipped."

YN gave him a look but couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face. Lando always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was through relentless pranks.

"One day, Norris, one day!" she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"I’ll be waiting," Lando chuckled, before helping her pick up her things

Exhibit F: The shoulder to cry on

"I just can't believe it. I was so close. How did I manage to bin the car into the wall on the last corner" muttered the 19 year old. Her face pressed in Oscars neck, who was busy stroking her hair. He knew better than to interrupt her during her rant. Knowing it would help her when she got everything of her chest.

After a moment, she shakily breathed out. Oscar knew that the only thing he could do now was to let her fall apart while he would catch every piece of her.

And that's what he did. While she cried her heart out, Oscar held her close to him, rocking them slowly in a soothing matter. It felt like nothing could happen to her in Oscars arms. He would protect her from the outside world as long as she needed

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

Exhabit G: The fashionista

Lewis stood beside YN, eyeing her racing suit critically before smirking. "That’s not gonna work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at her boots. "Those shoes? No way. They don’t match the rest of the suit."

YN raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to walk the runway, Lewis. I’m racing."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can do both. Come on, let’s get you a new pair of shoes. You’ll thank me later."

And true to his words, YN received a new pair of racing shoes only a few hours later. They certainly looked better than her old pair.

Exhibit H: The mother-hen

George was hovering near the buffet in the paddock, watching YN closely as she piled food onto her plate. He narrowed his eyes as she bypassed the salad section.

"YN, you need to eat more greens. And have you had any water today?" George asked, his tone dangerously close to motherly.

YN groaned. "George, I’m fine. I had water this morning."

"That’s not enough," he replied sternly, filling a glass and handing it to her. "Drink. Now."

She pouted but took the glass. "Okay, Mom."

Exhibit I: The proud dad

During a press conference, Christian Horner stood beside YN, smiling at the reporters. "You all know my daughter here is the star of the show," he said, gesturing towards YN.

YN blushed at the comment. "Christian!"

The reporters laughed, but YN knew Christian wasn’t entirely joking. He had taken her under his wing from day one, treating her like family. And she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Exhibit J: Bwoah

In a rare quiet moment, YN had somehow convinced Kimi Räikkönen — the Iceman himself — to do a TikTok trend with her. As the camera rolled, Kimi deadpanned his way through the trend, barely moving but somehow nailing it.

"Thanks for doing this, Kimi," YN said, grinning as they finished.

Kimi shrugged. "Bwoah, don’t mention it, kid. But don’t tell the other drivers that you are my favourite"

YN laughed. "Deal."

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL — lando norris (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: whatever you and lando have, it's anything but 'casual'. warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), (situationship?) a/n: i lowkey want chappell roan's casual to be inserted into my brain and OMG this one is too sad

part 2 - casual

"nah, nah. the two of us... it's complicated, y'know? just a casual thing, honestly."

the words echoed in your mind on the flight from london, replaying as the seatbelt sign dinged off.

casual.

the word had always carried a negative connotation, but hearing him say it made you feel so much worse. it made you feel insignificant, as if the months that had passed meant nothing to him, while it had meant so much more to you.

you were anything but casual.

all those nights, the mornings after, the kisses, the rendezvouses. they meant something, didn't they? you thought they did, at least.

the way he'd look at you when the lights dimmed and his voice would turn soft. the way he'd kiss you as if it was what he was made to do.

he knew every inch of you. every freckle, every curve. he knew you better than he knew the tracks he raced on.

but, then again, lando norris was never known for being reliable.

he was young and wild and carefree, a bachelor to be envied by all. a party boy, a flirt, a ladies' man. he was charming and he knew it.

he was good at making people believe that they were special.

everyone loved him. the oh-so charming lando norris. the young driver who had a bright future ahead of him. he was bound to get whatever he wanted, right?

the first night he touched you, the two of you had come to an agreement—no attachment. he made it clear that he didn't have time for anything serious, but that he would love to have fun with you.

you, of course, had agreed to that.

in the beginning it was nothing. 'accidentally' crashing into each other at parties, accompanying the other into hotel rooms, and then disappearing as soon as the sun rose.

but do these 'no attachments' things ever work? it wasn't even a complete month before the two of you became more and more involved and realised you weren't just having fun.

as you exited the airplane, your heart clenched at the thought. the two of you had never actually said anything, but it was there, hanging in the air, almost suffocating you.

the first time you realised it wasn't just fun, you were in the passenger seat of his mclaren. he was on his knees, big blue eyes staring into yours as he flicked his tongue in you. you were so close, you had been for a while. he could tell. his eyes were locked onto yours, a glint of smugness in them. and then, with the tip of his finger, he brought you over the edge.

after you both came, he had crawled into the driver's seat and smiled at you. his lips glistened, his chin damp, and his hair sticking up in places.

"you look beautiful." he said, a hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"i think i like you." his voice was barely a whisper, and if you hadn't been staring right into his eyes you might've missed what he said.

"yeah, me too." your voice was breathless.

and that was the only time either of you'd ever said anything about it.

was it casual?

then, that one time when you had flown to his family home in the uk and met his parents. they'd welcomed you with open arms and treated you like one of their own, and lando's face had glowed with joy the whole time.

"i still can't believe that lando has such a pretty girlfriend." his mom had said to you, giggling as the two of you shared a bottle of wine.

"mom!" lando had whined from the other room. "can't you just shut up for once?"

"oh, hush! i'm just saying it as it is." she shrugged.

you had blushed furiously at her words, looking down at your feet as you took another sip of the expensive italian wine.

you had thought he would deny the 'girlfriend' title, or at least laugh it off, but he didn't. instead, he grinned like an idiot and you wondered if the wine had gone to his head.

"yeah, guess i got lucky." he'd muttered, and his mom had smiled, nodding knowingly.

when the day ended, you had fallen asleep curled up next to him, his body warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

now, your eyes stung as you walked through the airport, a million thoughts running through your mind.

you'd spent the rest of the week there and it was the best time you'd had in a while. he'd taken you on a day-trip to oxford, but the two of you ended up staying the night at some cottage. he'd held you closer, kissed you harder. you slept together as many times as you could.

fuck, you weren't just casual.

and the time the you woke up in each other's arms, his face buried in your hair, hands wrapped around your waist. he had asked you what your plans for the future were.

"get an apartment in monaco right next to yours so that i can stalk you everyday. binoculars and everything." you had joked.

"really? not gonna say you're going to marry me and have a billion kids and we're gonna grow old together?"

you'd looked up at him, eyebrows raised. and then the two of you had burst out laughing.

"what the fuck, lando. i'm not having a billion kids with you."

he just smirked in response.

or the time when the two of you vacationed in italy with his friends, and at the pier he had introduced you as his 'hotshot pr girl'.

"he's paying me a million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend because he doesn't like being called a virgin."

"hey!" he'd laughed, nudging you.

"shut up, loser."

and then you'd pushed him into the water.

"i'm never talking to you again." he'd pouted.

"oh yeah, find someone else to have your billion kids with. my uterus will be happy."

or the countless times he would call you in the middle of the night and tell you about his new merch drop, and you'd whine about how it was 2 in the morning and you couldn't give a flying fuck.

and when you had just gotten off the phone with his sister, "flo is such a sweetheart, i love her."

"my sister talks to you more than she talks to me. you know she likes you better, right?" he'd mumbled, looking offended.

"what can i say, i'm such a charmer." you'd said in the most british accent you could muster, and he'd rolled his eyes and shoved your face away.

december came, and cisca invited you to celebrate christmas with them.

"if he doesn't ask you to be his girlfriend, promise me you'll tell him it's over." your best friend has said, looking at you sternly.

you had just sighed in response, shaking your head.

"i'm serious. you don't deserve someone like that. not if he doesn't think you're worth the commitment."

"you're right. i know. i'm just... i'm just scared. i like him so much. i don't know what to do."

the morning of christmas, you'd landed in london and gone straight to his place. he was all dressed up, and you'd almost cried at how gorgeous he looked.

"merry christmas, darling." he'd murmured, and you'd melted at his words. he welcomed you with a kiss, the way he always did.

the day was spent exchanging gifts with his family, watching christmas movies and cuddling under blankets.

his family adored you.

"i'm glad you're here." he said.

"where else would i be?"

"anywhere else."

you smiled at him, and he returned it with a cheshire cat one.

that night, the two of you had been invited to dinner with his parents, and halfway through the meal you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

as you stood there washing your hands, you'd heard the door swing open, and the familiar figure appeared next to you, locking the door behind him.

"lando."

"yeah?"

"what are you doing?"

"i need to wash my hands." he'd shrugged.

you raised a brow at him, looking at him pointedly.

he shrugged again, taking a step towards you.

"you look too good in this dress, can't help it."

you rolled your eyes as he stepped closer to you, fingers about to grasp your waist before you told him to back off.

"what?"

"wash your hands first. didn't you come here to wash your hands? there's no way in hell i'm letting greasy salmon fingers touch me."

and then the two of you had laughed before his lips found yours lips. it felt so natural, the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your lips melted into his.

"lando, we shouldn't." you protested, neck arching as he pressed kisses everwhere.

"shut up." he grabbed your waist before pushing you against the counter, his lips crashing back into yours.

"what happened to your hands? i told you to wash them."

"fuck the hands."

"technically-"

"shut the fuck up." he groaned, dipping a finger between your thighs. "you're dripping. fucking hell."

pulling his fingers out, his knee pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs apart.

you gasped, shifting your hands as you balanced yourself against the counter. his eyes locked in yours as his finger dragged across your core.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty." he whispered, eyes digging into yours.

"lando, please."

"please what?" he asked as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your eyes squeezed shut, head leaning against the mirror behind you. "oh, fuck."

"i asked a question."

you were quick to answer, fisting his shirt as his fingers moved inside you. "please fuck me, oh my god."

he smirked before dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his tongue onto your clit. you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth sucking at your clit; eyes rolling back.

his hands grabbed your legs, swinging them over his shoulder. hand sprawled over your stomach, pushing you back against the counter.

when his tongue curled into you, brushing that spot he never failed to miss, you couldn't help but let a loud moan escape you.

lando hushed you; tapping your thigh. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando said through heavy breaths before pushing his face back into you.

biting into your lip, your fingers ran through his curls, admiring the sight of his head moving between your thighs.

your moans filled the small bathroom, the sound like music to his ears.

"lando," your voice was shaky, breath hitching as he picked up the pace, his hands pushing your hips down.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending waves throughout your body.

"oh, god, lando. right there, right there. oh fuck."

and then your body was trembling, and you were gripping his hair, his tongue still moving.

you were seeing stars, vision going white as your legs quivered around his face.

"oh, god." you sighed, chest rising and falling as he pulled his fingers out, smirking up at you.

"c'mon baby, give me one more."

it wasn't casual.

now, walking through the terminal, dragging your suitcase behind you, the tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

maybe he said 'casual' just to tell his friends he was still a player. or maybe, he was referring to the fact that the two of you were just friends who hooked up sometimes.

but whatever he meant, it wasn't the truth.

both of you knew it.

casual wasn't the way he held you close during thunderstorms, wasn't the way he'd make sure coffee was the perfect temperature, wasn't the way he'd look at you as if the world stopped turning.

the way he'd stare into your eyes as the lights turned off, the way he'd press a kiss onto your temple, the way he'd say your name.

it wasn't casual.