#something quick to celebrate! ☆ for now ;)

[sukunasweetheart]

Sukuna, a middle aged man jaded by the harsh realities of his life. He steps outside for a smoke nearby a convenience store, completely bored out of his mind.

A lady is handing out flyers nearby, although nobody is bothering to look her way, including sukuna himself.

You approach the man who's getting irritated by the lighter that refuses to work in his hand.

"Hello there, sir. Would you be interested in taking up classes for arts and craft?" You offer the cute flyer up.

Sukuna scoffs. Is she serious?

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? You look like you could use a bit more colour in your life."

He's too exhausted at this point to get angry at a random woman on the street.

"...You're not too far off, i suppose," sukuna mutters, still trying to get the spark to stay on his lighter. "Even so, I'm not interested in the likes of arts and craft. Do i look like a child to you?"

You withdraw your offer of your flyer, and inspect him for a moment.

"Arts and craft can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of age. But moving past that... you seem a bit down. If you'd like to confide in a stranger for a night, I'm happy to listen."

What a strange, persistent woman. Sukuna gives up on his lighter, and takes out the unlit cigarette in his mouth to think back for a moment. One thing does come to mind.

"I'm not feeling down. But i remembered something, now that i think about it..." he confesses, feeling weirdly compelled to tell you about it.

"Today is supposed to be my birthday."

Birthdays have never been special to him. Nobody celebrated his birth as a child, and in turn, he's never paid attention to the birthdays of others.

"Oh, happy birthday. Are you doing anything special for yourself today?"

"No. I've never cared for birthdays. And I'm getting too old for that anyway."

"Well, that won't do... Hold on for a second."

Puzzled, sukuna looks back at you but you've already gone inside the convenience store. Whatever you're up to now, couldn't possibly be more enticing than getting in a proper smoke right now. Sukuna begins to zone out.

He only snaps out of it when something mildly cold grazes past his cheek, leaving a ticklish and moist sensation on his skin as it disappears upon impact.

Bubbles. Bubbles are flying past him, and floating away into the sky.

For a moment, he gets mesmerised by the swirl of colours that are harboured in each one. Even just from the light of this dingy street, they fly up while holding a multitude of different colours inside them. Time seems to slow for a split second, and he doesn't understand why.

His gaze follows the trail to identify it's source. And unsurprisingly, it's you, standing behind him. You blow a couple more out, and then grin at him childishly. He finally looks at your face properly for the first time.

"Birthday bubbles. For the birthday man," you chuckle sheepishly, knowing that you probably look a bit silly right now. You put the bubble wand back into the small bottle of the soapy mixture, and screw it tightly.

"Here, you can have it. Next time you're feeling a bit antsy, why don't you try blowing some yourself? They're pretty, aren't they?"

You also hand him a different small item.

"And i also threw in a little something else, while i was at it."

He looks down, and sees that it's a new lighter. He slowly pulls his hand out of his pocket to take both of them from your hands.

"I hope you get to do something more special next year. Birthdays are supposed to be joyful, after all," you comment.

"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Farewell."

And then you leave him after a quick wave.

Sukuna stares wordlessly as you walk off, wondering what to name this ticklish feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.

The small bottle in his palm reminds him of a moment in his childhood. Kids in the park bragging about their bubble wands that were gifted to them. the laughs that resounded as they all ran off to catch the fragile spheres as they blew away in the wind. The tiny feelings of envy in his heart.

The item he tucks away into his pocket is the lighter. And when nobody is watching, he blows a couple more bubbles into the night sky.

-

Every time he passes by that convenience store, the thought of you comes to his mind. A flashback of your smile in the back of his mind. Every so often, he comes to this particular store. Despite having closer options, he comes to this specific one.

At times, sukuna regrets not taking one of the flyers that you were handing out. He wouldn't have had to mope around a convenience store in hopes of running into you again.

Today is a rainy day, and this calls for a hot piping cup of instant ramen. He doesn't usually enjoy convenience store food, but he wants a reason to stay around inside for a bit longer.

He needs to wait five minutes for the noodles to soften. In this time, he stares out the glass frame of the store, and watches the various rows of people walking past with their umbrellas opened.

There appears to be one anomaly in the crowd, however. Running without shelter from the rain, clutching her bag as if it contains something important in there. Sukuna realises that it's you.

Forgetting about his instant ramen, sukuna grabs his umbrella and dashes out the door.

You're mildly panicking about being stuck behind the red light at the zebra crossing without anything to save you from the rain, but the sensation of the droplets hitting your body come to a stop all too suddenly.

You look up, and there's a black umbrella sheltering you, big and strong looking. You spin around and recognise the stranger with pink hair and sharp eyes. Seemingly out of breath.

He signals to the light that has now turned green behind you, and ushers you forward to cross the road before you can say anything to him.

Now safely on the other side of the road, you begin to converse with him.

"It's you! Hello. Thank you for sheltering me. How have you been?"

"... So-so. Nothing's changed since the last time we met."

"I see. You look better than last time, though." You get the feeling that his eyes have a little more light in them.

Sukuna doesn't really get what you mean, but he moves on.

"What’s in your bag that's so important for you to be protecting it like that?" He asks, effectively changing the topic.

"Oh, this? I literally just bought some brand new origami paper... i can't risk getting them wet and unusable. The children would be disappointed."

"Origami, huh? How original."

"Hey! That's not all... there's a lot of options i offer them. They voted on origami this time."

"You got a lot of people signed up?"

"Not really... but I'm sure it'll start picking up soon. Slowly, one at a time."

You smile up at him hopefully.

"...is the offer still open?"

You cock your head to the side slightly, confused. Sukuna grits his teeth, feeling a little bashful about having to ask more specifically.

"You know. Lessons for grown adults."

"Oh! Of course, anytime! Would you like to come sign up today?"

"Do you offer one-on-one sessions too?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright. Let’s go."

Sukuna can't fathom the words that are coming out of his own mouth. But fuck it, what's the worst that could happen? You've somehow intriged him, and he can't think of a better way to approach you.

You chatter his ears off along the way, and he nods along while his shoulder gets wet from the way he leans his umbrella closer to your side.

[crows4luna]

759 words. mature, no explicit content. gn!reader. allusions to having sex for the first time, reader identifying as aspec.

Gods, this was embarrassing.

You always berated yourself for feeling different from others, not seeing or understanding the pull of attraction that your friends ogled about. More often, that grimacing discomfort came up amid the overwhelming desires the public had over celebrities. Deep down, the detachment wasn’t from a place of malice or pure hatred.

You just… never had the explicit feel, so to speak.

Even in high school, through college, you thought of crushes as an obligatory part of your generational experiences. (For a brief moment, your mind flashes back to when you were gifted the latest album of your favorite boy band by some guy who was infatuated with you. It ended quick, lasting only for two weeks before you cut things off through text.)

Considering everything you’ve dealt with, you like to say you have refined tastes. It holds up in truth, for you were currently laying in Sylus’ lavish bed, clad in only his burgundy robe he often wore after showers. It was early morning in the N109 Zone, as much as a morning could show itself, and he had gotten up first. You couldn’t help but to let your gaze linger on his slightly sluggish form.

Sylus was everything you’d dreamt of and more, that sometimes he didn’t feel real. He knew the kind of man he was, confident of his status and power. Certainly, that played a part in how you two got off on the wrong foot when it came to your first meeting.

But now, he means everything to you. He means the world. Your heart was sated knowing the feeling was mutual.

He stretches his right arm across his chest, craning his head from side to side to even out the tensions in his shoulders. Your observation is a bit intense, but you can’t even blame yourself.

Sylus was already tall in his stature, maintaining a build that was the result of hard work and priority of physicality. The foundation of broad shoulders, followed by delicately contoured lines surrounding the center line of his back. A slim waist with slightly wider hips and defined, thick glutes. Though his back was facing you, your breath hitches knowing of the frontal plane of his abs and hardened, cushioned pecs.

He was captivating, and though his figure appeared godlike, blessed to even spare a glance, you’ve seen it in action countless times. The very same figure that protects you like a natural reflex, that trains with you to heighten your own senses and defense.

“I can feel your stare, sweetie,” his deep voice rumbles, a low, amused chuckle filling the room. “Enjoying the sight, are you?”

Quickly, you avert your gaze, curling in on yourself and now focusing on the tousled sheets of midnight silk. You clear your throat, speechless and overwhelmed that it is Sylus who dedicates himself to you. The heat that pools in your stomach makes itself evident when your cheeks warm up — then you feel a dip in the bed.

Your eyes flicker up, now face to face with those sharp, red eyes.

Sylus grins, tracing his finger over your jaw, “Don’t get shy on me, now. It’s quite alright—I like that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Damn it. Say something, you coward.

Cautiously, you lift your hand to cup his. The slow motion is familiar and tantalizing, practicing it the same way Sylus’ touch would linger on your skin. You’re perceptive to the way he inhales just slightly, anticipating your next move. The mystery of your initiation.

“I…” You begin to say, your voice nearing a whisper, “I think… I wanna try.”

He raises a brow, subtly smirking: “Try…?”

“Sylus, please. You know what I’m—it feels embarrassing to say.”

“We’re both adults, capable of voicing our thoughts and consent,” he surmises, shifting his hand away to lean into your palm. He lets his cheek rest for a second, before turning to press a soft kiss. “I told you before, I won’t make a move until you gain that confidence to tell me what you want. I want you to be honest with me, and only honest.”

Your expression softens, nodding slowly in understanding. You lean forward a bit more, now cupping his face with both hands. Your thumbs brush over the areas beneath his eyes, admiring him.

“...I want… you. To make me feel good.” You tell him, your voice firmer this time, contrary to moments ago, “I trust you. I want this, and I want you.”

He lets out a relaxed sigh, chuckling again. He nods, “Okay.”

[aurumalatus]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), graphic depictions of violence/terrorism

summary.

when the abyssal army attacks the kingdom, you and kinich end up trapped in the chaos. battered and broken and pushed to his limits, kinich gives everything he has to protect you.

author's note. a more serious drabble between the two, a huge contrast to the first one LOL. this one touches a bit on kinich's lore on this universe (i.e. having dragon powers), and a lot of semi-romantic commitment to each other <3 i hope you enjoy, reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your ears are ringing.

It had been sunset moments ago, you think. Your father had been delivering a speech to the people in the Capital square to celebrate your latest victory over the Abyssal army. Something had flashed in the distance, and suddenly, Kinich was saying something you couldn’t hear, running and leaping at you and tackling you to the ground, and—

What’s going on?

There’s a puff of breath hot against your neck. Your eyes open, and you flinch hard when Kinich is staring directly at you, multicolored irises boring into your own. He’s so close that your noses are brushing, that you’re sharing air.

What’s going on?

He groans, pushing the ruins of the building off his back—off of you. Your eyes sting from the smoke pooling in the sky. The distinct scent of ash and burning flesh permeates the air, and you nearly vomit from the stench.

“Kinich?” you breathe out.

What’s going on?

He hisses in a breath, hoisting the greatsword from his back—it flashes gold in the dying light. Taking a cursory glance around, he pushes himself to his knees.

“Listen. You’re going to stand up,” he commands, somehow calm, “and we’re going to run. Wait for my count.”

What’s going on?

You give him a once-over. He’s already injured, covered in fresh bruises and wounds. Your fingers twitch toward the growing patch of crimson over his stomach. “You’re bleeding—”

“Princess,” Kinich interrupts. There’s not a whisper of mirth in his tone, not like usual—this is the Captain of the Guard that you hear of so rarely. “Did you hear me? You’re going to stand up—”

Another blast rocks the ground, and you wince as dirt and gravel spray across your face. Kinich takes the brunt of it, shielding you with his body, and he coughs when a particularly large piece of debris slices across his back. The smoke grows thicker, you realize; you can see it coalescing above his head, snuffing out the sun.

What’s going on?

Your breathing comes in quick, but it doesn’t come out—in fact, you realize you can’t breathe at all. Your heartbeat quickens, pounding against your chest. You’re panicking.

Kinich glances over his shoulder at the carnage, then quietly curses; it’s probably much worse than you can see. You wonder if the citizens have already safely evacuated. You wonder about the king and queen—you hadn’t seen where they’d gone when Kinich first tackled you down.

What’s going on?

“My parents…where are they?” you choke out in a gasp. He attempts to pull you up, but you resist in your panic. “Kinich, wait—we have to find them. My parents, we have to—”

“Listen to me!”

A roar bursts from Kinich’s chest—it’s nothing compared to the cacophony that pierces the air, but it’s unfamiliar coming from someone like him. It shocks you into wide-eyed silence, and he takes you by the shoulders, touch contrastingly gentle. His gaze is hard, bypassing all your confusion and piercing right into your soul.

“You are my only priority right now.” Something explodes in the distance—he winces at the sound, tucking one hand under your neck and pulling you closer to his chest, protected. His voice echoes again, right at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I can fight, and I can kill, and I can die, but you are going to make it out of here alive. That is what matters to me. I will do anything to keep you safe. So please stand up.”

No matter how much Kinich annoys you on a daily basis, deep down you know you need someone like him—someone who doesn’t care much to sugarcoat things for you, someone who rarely bothers with formalities, someone who overlooks your title in favor of you. His words are the gravity bringing you back to earth, and you only nod in reply.

He nods back, relieved. “Good. Don’t be afraid. I’m with you.”

Carefully, he loops your arms around his shoulders, and on his count, you heave yourself upwards. It hurts—you scream as it happens, every single one of your muscles and bones aching in protest. Kinich’s jaw sets tightly, teeth grinding together so hard you can practically hear it.

“I know it hurts, Princess,” he murmurs. Your combined weight is too much; he stabs his sword into the ground, using it as a cane to pull you forward. “Stay with me here.”

Every step is laborious. Battle still rages on around you, and it’s difficult to navigate the ruins in your state. The smoke grows thicker—Kinich tears a piece off his tattered cape, commanding you to hold it over your mouth and nose. For himself, he pulls down his headband, letting it mask the bottom half of his face. His hair is longer than you remember, bangs falling messily over his forehead. It’s a useless detail, but it’s all you can focus on in the havoc.

“You still with me?”

Kinich’s hand falls over yours, squeezing it once—a comfort. You squeeze back, trying to hold back the tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m still here.”

Your voice cracks.

The sound of Abyssal beasts echoes, and your heartbeat quickens—you’ll be defenseless if they catch you. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem with Kinich by your side, but he’s more injured than he lets on. He grunts in pain with each step, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead from the exertion.

The more you move, the less everything makes sense. You can’t tell up from down or left from right. All you can hear is screams and moans of pain and the roars of monsters. One of them sounds from your immediate right—Kinich curses, and you sense something coming closer.

“We’ll have to fight,” he says hurriedly, scrambling to find somewhere to put you down.

Kinich always carries a dagger at his thigh, ever prepared in case he loses his sword, and he unsheathes it as he sets you on the ground. He presses the handle of it into your hand—your ribbon is still tied around the grip, a token of good luck, proof of your wish for his safety. 

“If I fall, or the Abyss corrupts me, use this. Don’t forget what I taught you.”

“Kinich—”

“Promise me.”

His eyes say it all—he’s desperate, curling your fingers under his own so that you properly hold the blade, willing his remaining strength into you. Your grip tightens on the dagger, and you nod weakly. Kinich’s body sags in relief.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he whispers, quoting his oath. It almost makes you nostalgic. You remember the ceremony well—he’d exuded a quiet strength even back then. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

It feels like a goodbye.

For the first time in the mess, you take a good look at his face, at the state of him. His left eye is swelling shut quickly. You thumb over the purpling skin, a single tear sliding down your cheek at the sheer damage. He’s already lost so much blood, a crimson flower blooming across his stomach. His armor is dirty and dinged with scratches, even burned away in certain places. You’re not sure how he’s still even moving.

You’ve always held a deep faith in Kinich’s abilities. He’s been the calm in the storms of your life until now, every assassination attempt, every obstacle, every misstep. You know it’s due to your own hesitation that he’d gotten this hurt, and it scares you—after all, he’s still mortal just like you. In his current state, he stands no chance against the army of Abyss monsters around you.

Your hand drags down to his cheek. “Kinich, leave me.”

He pulls away from your touch, gaze flashing with anger. “No.”

Your jaw tightens. “Kinich, that’s an order.”

He rises to his feet, unsteady, his greatsword lifted weakly at his side. The monsters are coming, drawing out of the darkness. “And I refuse it.”

His steps are unnaturally heavy as he staggers forward, cutting down one of the beasts. He fights with grace, even now, not a single movement wasted in his battle. You wish you’d asked him to teach you more—you can’t even move, but your mind screams at you to help him.

One of the monsters catches him in the back, and he roars out in pain before turning and stabbing it through the neck. He’s still fighting, but the fire within him is burning out quickly, and you can sense it. A patch of pixel-like scales flashes over his neck, a power bubbling just beneath the surface, but he can’t seem to draw it out fully—he’s too weak, too tired.

You push yourself up on your arms, trying to crawl toward him. Your throat is raw from the smoke and ash, but still you find the strength to scream.

“I am the princess of Natlan! You are bound by your duty to carry out my orders—”

He turns to you, pulling his headband off his face, and you gasp in a breath—his skin is painted in hues of green and gold, lines of tattoos criss-crossing his arms and legs, cutting across his features. He’s glowing so brightly that it burns the smoke away, until all you can see is your knight standing before you, defiant. His eyes meet yours, and despite the power that pours out of him, his expression is pleading.

“Fire me then, Princess. Exile me. Have me executed for disobeying you. Do whatever you want to me when this is all over, but for now, they’ll have to cut me down before they take another step toward you.”

Three more Abyssal monsters approach, claws flashing, and you scream as Kinich turns back to face them. They lunge before he can react, millimeters from cutting into his skin, and then—

A pulse vibrates under your feet just as a white-hot light explodes in front of you, burning into your eyes. You can’t tell who’s yelling—maybe it’s you, or maybe it’s Kinich, but it makes your eardrums ring and sting. You reach out desperately but find nothing.

Everything goes dark.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sink or Swim (NSFW)

AN: Joe girlies I have returned!

Synopsis: After the devastating loss to the Commanders, you knew that a bad mood would be evident with your boyfriend. So his idea of forgetting what happened at least for a few hours has to do with giving you his undivided attention

Requested by @a-moment-captured 💕

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

There was a look of disbelief on your face as you watched the scene unfold in front of you and saw that the game was almost over when the two minute warning was indicated. The first two weeks in the season obviously had your boyfriend Joe upset and for good reason. But to see the high hopes that he had going into week three just get shot down hurt to watch.

On the sidelines you could see his helmet being thrown as he eventually sat down and the expression on his face was one that you couldn't quite read.

Pulling out your phone, you sent him a quick text knowing that he would read it when he got back to the locker room.

You- Still so proud of you bubs. You played amazing tonight and don't let anyone tell you otherwise 💕

Sighing to yourself, you stood up and began to make your exit out of the stadium to start making your way back to Joe’s condo. It was discussed earlier in the day when you had talked to Joe that you would come over right after the game in anticipation of celebrating with him, but now you weren't so sure if he would even want to be in the mood to have anyone around him right now. After he lost a game, he would understandably get into a mood but you had a feeling that tonight would be a lot worse and more than likely because of who he is, he would be blaming himself.

Climbing into your jeep, you had the radio on a low volume as you pulled out of the stadium parking lot and onto the highway. Joe didn't live very far from the stadium which you were thankful for and leaving before the game was over allowed you to beat some of the traffic that you knew would quickly come after.

Arriving in less than twenty minutes, you turned your car off before grabbing your bag and making your way inside. Your shoes got slipped off at the door as you made your way into the kitchen to find something to snack on since the mozzarella sticks you had at the game were only going to last you but so long.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed it wasn't too late to order a pizza seeing as Joe probably needed some comfort food. You opened up your DoorDash app and quickly ordered it while you waited for Joe to get there. Another 45 minutes had passed with the pizza being kept warm in the oven and you sitting on the couch re-watching Scandal when you heard his key in the door. Once it was opened, it was quickly slammed shut making you jump and the sound was quickly followed by him throwing his bag on the floor at his feet and hearing him sigh.

Still in your jersey from the game that had your boyfriend's name on the back of it, you got up to greet him by the door. His expression was still unreadable when you stood in front of him and slowly tried to take his hands into yours, but he moved away at the last second.

“Bubs….”

Joe didn’t even bother to respond to you as his eyes were closed and he was leaning back against the door.

“What do you need me to do?” You softly asked as you kissed the side of his mouth, trying to get an answer out of him.

When he finally opened his eyes and glanced down at you, his eyes had softened but only slightly as he saw the love of his life in front of him.

“Get upstairs and strip.”

“Mm, gladly. Your wish is my command.”

Nodding your head towards him, he then turned you around to face the stairs as you slowly walked over towards them. Your foot was on the first step when you heard his voice once more.

“You have two minutes to do what I told you, so I suggest you get a move on before I put you there myself.”

Hearing this made a river form in between your thighs and you loved how dominant he could get when the two of you were by yourselves. That happened to be the only good thing that would come out of him losing a game. If this is what he needed to help him get through it, the last thing that you were ever going to do was complain.

Reaching the last step, you still heard him moving around downstairs before you swung the door open to his bedroom which had been left ajar before he left for the game earlier.

Your clothes were then taken off slowly one by one in the hopes of Joe walking in and seeing you. Your shoes had already been thrown off at the door downstairs, the next thing to come off was your jeans that hugged your curves that he loved so much. Next was his jersey and the shirt that you were wearing underneath it in case you got cold. You had started to take off your bra next when you suddenly felt him behind you making you jump. You hadn’t heard him come in as he wrapped his arms around you before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I thought I told you to strip? So, why are you still wearing clothes? You like disobeying me?” He asked you before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“No, I was….”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. Do as you’re told the first time so I don’t have to punish you. Now get the rest of those clothes off.” He told you as a light smack was felt across your ass.

You nodded your head and your bra as well as your black thong were quickly removed from your body and discarded onto the floor all while Joe was standing behind you watching you intensely. Once you were finished, he leaned down to your ear once more before he reached around to put two of his fingers up to your mouth that you slowly started to suck on before reaching down and rubbing small circles along your clit making you gasp.

“Mmm, look how wet my baby is. This all for me?” You nodded your head to answer his question because you knew that words were going to fail to come out of your mouth.

“Get on the bed and you better not make a sound unless I fucking tell you to. Face down, ass up.”

Walking over to the bed once Joe moved his fingers away from your core, you slowly got on the bed with the help of him since the bed was so high and crawled to the top of it as you rested your head down on your arms with your ass sticking high up in the air on display for him.

You could hear Joe behind you doing away with his clothes and in a matter of seconds you felt him crawl onto the bed and roughly grab a hold of your hips before slowly entering you and bottoming out as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

It took everything in you not to let out a gasp and simply put your hand over your mouth as you felt him move out of you before he slammed back in.

His movements were intense and sloppy of course with him letting out his frustrations as you were doing your best to keep quiet. The more he pounded into you, the harder it was becoming and knew that being quiet would only last but so long.

You could feel yourself getting closer to reaching your peak and you soon felt Joe reach underneath of you to massage your clit as he continued to pound into you. This sent you over the edge and you couldn’t help but to let out a small moan but immediately put your hand back over your mouth. But the damage was already done and you tug knew that you would soon be in for it.

“Oooh fuck.”

Hearing this, Joe immediately flipped you over and a hand immediately went around your neck with him squeezing it.

“Did I tell you to fucking speak? I don’t think I did.”

You remained quiet as he let go of your neck as he trailed kisses along it and down your chest with him placing one of your nipples into his mouth as he was rolling the other one between his fingers. It was taking everything in you to stay quiet as your back arched up off of the mattress. His fingers moved on from playing with your nipple to insert two of them into you as he continued to suck on the other one.

Joe noticed that you were squirming and he took it as a sign that you were close and probably frustrated because he told you not to say anything.

“You close baby? I can tell.”

To answer him, you nodded your head as he added another finger making you gasp. His fingers were pumping in and out of you when he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue knowing that it was a matter of seconds before you would come undone in front of him.

“Shiiit!” You couldn’t help but to let out as your hands were directly to his hair to pull him closer to you.

At this point, your legs were wrapped around his neck as he began to suck on your clit making them shake the harder that he did.

“Baby…. I’m….” You started to say, but without warning a gush of liquid was now covering Joe’s face as he was still sucking on your clit making you squirm.

“That’s my good girl. Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

You immediately shook your head no, but it was clear that Joe didn’t care since he went right back to sucking on your clit. After you squirted all over his face once more, he quickly crawled back up your body as he inserted himself into you.

His movements were more sloppy than before indicating that he was close as he put your legs onto his shoulders as you began to rub your clit.

You had reached your peak for the third time when you felt Joe slide out of you. Knowing what that meant, you immediately sat up and took him in your mouth as you tasted his cum hitting the back of your throat.

“That’s my pretty girl. You better swallow it and not waste a drop.”

Joe had now put your hair in a makeshift ponytail to get it out of the way since he remembered you one time promptly yelling at him when his cum had gotten in your hair after you had gotten it done just hours before.

Once you swallowed everything that didn’t leak out the side of your mouth, you promptly opened it to show Joe who then leaned down to place several kisses on your lips. Once you had laid back, Joe quickly followed suit with him laying on you as you held him tightly to your chest. It was quiet for a few minutes as both of you were trying to even your breathing when he finally spoke.

“We should have won.”

“I know.”

“And even though it wasn’t my fucking fault, I’m going to get the blame for it.”

“I know.”

“We’re 0 and 3 now and I don’t know what to fucking do.”

“The only thing you can do is to go out there and do your best. You played absolutely amazing tonight so this isn’t on you in the slightest even though people will put it on you anyway. I am still so proud of you and I’m always going to be proud of you.” You told him as you placed a kiss on top of his head.

“Proud of a loser boyfriend who can’t win an NFL game?”

“Joseph… talk about yourself like that again. I dare you. Just because you have a few setbacks doesn’t mean that it’s going to be like this forever. I will let you rant all you want tonight, but tomorrow I’m not having it. You are literally the highest paid quarterback in the NFL and you need to fucking act like it.”

“I... guess you’re right.”

“I know I'm right. It's only been three weeks. There's still time to turn this around for the better and I promise to be here through all of it. But did I perform my duties as your girlfriend to help you let your frustrations out?” You asked and he immediately smirked.

“You did more than help me through it, but I definitely didn't say that we were done.” He told you as he picked his head up off of your chest to look at you.

“Wait, what?”

“Switch places with me so you can ride me.”

Taglist

@a-moment-captured

@hoodharlow

@nattinatalia

@wickedfun9

@dandelionwrites8

@keiva1000

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us Epilogue.

Summary:

Aemond and Y.N celebrate their wedding day.

Warning(s): Fluff, Allusion to Smut & Aegon being Aegon ;-)

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 3750

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Two years had passed, and the day had finally arrived. Y.N stood in the sunroom of the manor, nervously fidgeting with her bouquet.

The soft scent of flowers filled the air, and sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on her white dress.

Y.N glanced at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric and taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Behind her, the sound of footsteps broke the quiet. "Beautiful," a voice said softly.

Y.N turned to see Aegon leaning casually against the door frame, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Aegon," she said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to walk you down the aisle," he replied, stepping closer. His usual mischievous demeanour was replaced by something softer, more sincere.

Y.N blinked, her eyes widening. "You'd do that?"

Aegon nodded, a rare moment of seriousness in his voice. "It would be my honour."

He held out his hand, and Y.N took it, her heart swelling with gratitude.

"Don't let me fall," she whispered, half-joking but still feeling a little shaky.

"Never," Aegon promised, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As the doors to the sunroom opened, the soft sound of music drifted in, and Y.N took a deep breath.

The moment she had been both anticipating and dreading was here. Together, they walked slowly, side by side, to the beginning of the aisle.

The guests rose from their seats, turning to face her. Y.N’s heart fluttered as she saw so many familiar faces—friends, family—all here for this moment.

As she and Aegon moved forward, she caught sight of Jace sitting next to Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Jace gave her a smile and a nod of encouragement, which she returned.

They passed Alicent, who was seated near the front with Jack perched on her lap, his little face beaming with excitement. Y.N's heart melted at the sight of her son.

"I love you," she whispered as they passed.

"Love you, Mama," Jack replied in a sweet, clear voice, causing her to smile even wider.

As they neared the altar, Y.N’s eyes locked on Aemond. He stood tall, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze never leaving her.

A slight smile curved his lips as she approached, and when she reached him, he turned fully to face her.

Aegon pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before placing her hand in Aemond's. "Take good care of her, brother," he said with a teasing smirk but an undertone of sincerity.

Aemond nodded, his gaze fixed solely on Y.N. "Always."

As they stood facing each other, Y.N couldn't help but notice the tear that slipped down Aemond’s cheek. He smiled through it, his eye brimming with emotion.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with love.

Y.N gently reached up, wiping the tear from his cheek with her thumb. "So do you," she replied softly, her voice trembling with the weight of the moment.

Before they exchanged their vows, Aemond reached up and, in a symbolic gesture, removed his eyepatch.

The sapphire that replaced his lost eye gleamed in the sunlight, a mark of both his past and the man he had become.

The priest began the ceremony, guiding them through the traditional vows. Y.N and Aemond recited their promises to each other, their voices steady but filled with emotion.

They exchanged rings, the bands symbolizing their unbreakable bond.

Finally, the priest smiled warmly and declared, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Aemond, you may kiss the bride."

Aemond didn’t hesitate. He cupped Y.N's face in his hands, his touch gentle yet possessive.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, sealing their vows as the guests erupted into loud applause.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. They were married, bound together in love, with their family and friends cheering them on.

Aemond and Y.N stood there, lost in each other’s gaze, knowing that their future together had only just begun.

The reception was in full swing. The manor’s grand ballroom had been transformed into an elegant space filled with soft candlelight and flowers, and the guests were seated around beautifully adorned tables.

Laughter and chatter filled the air as the celebration continued. Aemond rose from his seat, glass in hand, tapping it lightly to catch everyone's attention.

As the room quieted, Aemond looked across the crowd, his gaze eventually landing on Y.N. His heart swelled as he spoke, his voice steady but full of emotion.

“I am blessed beyond words to have you as my wife,” he began, his eye never leaving hers. “After I lost my eye, I never believed I would find anyone who could love me, truly love me, for who I am. I had convinced myself that someone like you was beyond my reach. But then, I saw you. From the moment you took my hand, I dreamt of this day—the day I could call you mine, and the day you would become my wife.”

Y.N felt tears welling up, and she squeezed his hand tightly.

Aemond smiled, his voice thick with emotion as he addressed the guests. “To stand here today, in front of family and friends, and to proudly call you my wife-I can say with absolute certainty: never give up on your dreams, because I have living proof that they do come true.”

The room erupted into applause, glasses raised in celebration. Aemond sat down, and Y.N leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, her heart overflowing with love and pride.

After the applause died down, Y.N surprised everyone by standing up. “I know it’s not traditional for the bride to give a speech,” she began, smiling shyly, “but I just wanted to say something.”

She turned to Aemond, her eyes soft and filled with emotion. “Aemond, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was afraid at first, afraid that you were too good to be true. That maybe I didn’t deserve someone so pure, so beautiful, and so loving as you are.”

The guests listened intently as Y.N’s voice grew more confident, her love for Aemond shining through her words. “But here we are, surrounded by the people I love most, and I feel so proud—so blessed—to be your wife. Aemond, I was born to love you, and I always will.”

As she sat down, cheeks flushed from the heartfelt speech, Aemond cupped her face gently and kissed her, pulling her close.

The room was filled with warm smiles, and just as they broke apart, Aegon’s voice cut through the moment with a loud, teasing shout, “Get a room!”

The guests laughed, and Y.N giggled, leaning into Aemond as the love and joy of the day filled the room.

Soon, it was time to eat. The guests were served their wedding feast, a traditional three-course meal. For starters, there was a choice of soups—creamy tomato and basil or a hearty vegetable broth.

The main course was a beautifully prepared roast dinner, with a vegetarian and vegan option for those who preferred.

The tables buzzed with contentment as guests enjoyed their meals, and the dessert came in the form of a tempting selection of puddings—sticky toffee, chocolate mousse, and fruit tarts.

Y.N glanced around at the room, feeling utterly content. Everything was perfect, but more than the decorations or the food, it was the people around her, and most of all, the man sitting next to her, that made this day the happiest of her life.

Aemond reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as they shared a quiet, loving look amidst the celebration.

The reception had carried on into the evening, with music filling the manor and laughter spilling out from the dance floor. As the night wore on, the moment came for Aemond and Y.N to share their first dance as husband and wife.

The lights dimmed, and the guests gathered around the dance floor, excited murmurs in the air.

The soft opening notes of Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” began to play, and Y.N felt a flutter of excitement in her chest as Aemond took her hand.

Together, they walked to the center of the dance floor, the crowd parting for them.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, while Y.N looped hers around his neck, their bodies swaying gently to the music.

His touch was tender, his forehead resting against hers as they moved in time with the song. The world around them seemed to blur, leaving just the two of them in their own perfect moment.

“I love you so much,” Aemond whispered softly, his voice filled with emotion as he gazed into her eyes, his thumb tracing small circles on her back.

Y.N smiled, her heart brimming with joy, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m pregnant again.”

Aemond froze for a moment, pulling back slightly to look at her, his eye wide with surprise and a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Are you really?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and happiness.

“Yes,” Y.N nodded, her smile widening. “I did the test last night.”

Aemond let out a soft laugh, overwhelmed with emotion, and his hand instinctively moved to her stomach. “We’re having another baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Just then, a small voice broke the moment. “Mama! Dada!” shouted Jack as he came toddling over to them with his arms outstretched.

Aemond bent down, picking up their son and holding him between them. “Come here” he said, smiling as Jack nestled into his chest.

The three of them swayed together in a perfect family embrace, still moving to the music.

“Mama so pretty,” Jack said, his little hand reaching out to touch Y.N’s face.

Aemond smiled at his son’s words and nodded. “I agree,” he said softly, “your mama is very pretty.”

Jack then reached up and gently stroked the scarred side of Aemond’s face. “Love you, Dada,” his innocent voice, his wide eyes filled with affection.

Aemond’s heart swelled, and he leaned into kiss Jack’s forehead. “I love you too, my dragon-”

The night was still in full swing as Aemond made his rounds on the dance floor, enjoying the company of his family.

After the emotional first dance with Y.N., he turned to his mother, Alicent. With a tender smile, Aemond offered her his hand.

"May I have this dance, Mother?" he asked.

Alicent beamed with pride, taking his hand as they began to sway to the soft music. “You’ve grown into such a fine man, Aemond. I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth.

Aemond gave her a small smile, the two sharing a quiet moment, lost in the rhythm of the music.

When the dance ended, Aemond kissed her hand and thanked her before turning to his sister, Helaena.

“Hellie, would you care to dance?” he asked.

Helaena giggled and accepted. The two of them spun gracefully around the dance floor,

Helaena’s light laughter floating through the air. "Your very happy” she noted, her observant eyes watching her brother.

“I am,” Aemond replied, glancing across the room at Y.N., who was dancing with Aegon.

After their dance, Aemond surprised everyone by extending his hand to Rhaenyra.

A few raised eyebrows greeted the gesture, except for Daemon as Aemond wasn’t sure he actually had eyebrows but Rhaenyra smiled softly and accepted.

“It’s nice to see you at peace little brother-” Rhaenyra said as they danced, the tension that had once been between them all but dissolved.

“Thank you for being here sister-” Aemond replied, surprising her with his sincerity.

The two shared a moment of mutual respect before parting ways as the song ended.

Meanwhile, Y.N. was sharing her own dances. Aegon had led her in a playful spin around the dance floor, followed by Daeron, who kept things more formal but couldn’t hide his joy for his brother.

Just as Y.N. was about to sit down, Jace appeared, offering her his hand.

“May I?” Jace asked with a charming smile.

Y.N. smiled back, accepting his hand. They moved together smoothly on the dance floor, and Jace took a moment to compliment her. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you, Jacey,” Y.N. replied, feeling at ease with him.

As they continued to dance, Y.N. expressed her gratitude. “Thank you for coming, Jace. It really means a lot”

Jace gave her a warm smile. “It was nice to receive an invite, after everything.”

Y.N. nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “It’s a shame Luke couldn’t be here, but-for obvious reasons, it’s probably for the best.”

Jace chuckled. “Yeah, probably would’ve found him face-down in the buffet by now.”

Y.N. laughed, the sound light and genuine. “True.”

“I’m glad to see you’re happy,” Jace said softly, his gaze sincere.

“I am,” Y.N. confirmed, her voice steady and content.

Before Jace could say anything else, Aemond appeared, clearing his throat as he approached them.

Jace glanced at Aemond and smiled, leaning in to press a friendly kiss to Y.N.'s cheek. “Look after her,” he told Aemond.

“I will,” Aemond promised, his hand resting possessively on Y.N.'s waist.

After their dance ended, Y.N. excused herself, needing to sit down for a moment. She found a seat next to Aegon, who looked a bit sulky.

“What’s wrong?” Y.N. asked, noticing his pout.

Aegon groaned, “The nice waitress won’t give me a second look. I told her she was beautiful, and she got all huffy.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow. “Okay-what exactly did you say?”

“I just said she was beautiful, and then she asked if that’s all that mattered to me. I said, what else is there-and she stormed off,” Aegon recounted, looking genuinely baffled.

Y.N. shook her head with a sigh. “Oh dear.”

“I know,” Aegon muttered.

“Have you ever thought of writing a book?” Y.N. asked.

Aegon looked at her, confused. “A book?”

“Yeah, you could call it How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less,” Y.N. teased.

Aegon groaned dramatically. “I haven’t been laid in weeks! I’m worried it’s going to drop off from lack of use-”

Y.N. smirked. “Poor you. Must be awful.”

“It is,” Aegon complained, sinking further into his chair.

Y.N. sighed, looking at him with pity. “Why don’t you go and apologize to the girl? Tell her that whilst you do find her beautiful, you’re also interested in getting to know her as a person. And while you’re at it, you can apologize for being a complete arse-.”

Aegon looked uncertain. “You think that’ll work?”

“You’ll never know unless you try. Now go on,” Y.N. urged him.

Aegon downed the rest of his drink, pressed a sloppy kiss to Y.N.'s cheek, and got up.

With renewed determination, he headed over to the waitress, leaving Y.N. shaking her head and chuckling as she watched him.

As the night began to wind down, Aemond and Y.N. made their way to Jack, who was sitting on Alicent's lap, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

It was getting late, and the little boy was clearly ready for bed. Aemond knelt down in front of him, gently brushing a strand of hair from Jack's forehead.

"Time for bed, little one," Aemond said softly.

Jack looked up at him with sleepy eyes, a small smile forming on his lips. "Love you, Dada," he murmured.

"I love you too, buddy," Aemond whispered, kissing him on the forehead. Y.N. leaned down next, pressing a gentle kiss to Jack's cheek.

"Goodnight, sweet boy. Mama loves you," she whispered.

Jack yawned again and mumbled, "Love you, Mama," before snuggling into Alicent’s arms.

Alicent smiled warmly at the pair. "I'll get him ready for bed and keep an eye on him tonight. You two go enjoy your evening."

"Thank you, Mother," Aemond said, standing and taking Y.N.'s hand as they both nodded gratefully at Alicent.

As they moved back to the main area, they were met by Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Jace, who were making their way over to say their goodbyes.

“Congratulations again,” Rhaenyra said, pulling Y.N. into a hug. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

Daemon clapped Aemond on the shoulder, offering a rare, sincere smile. "You’ve done well. Best of luck to you both."

Jace offered his hand to Aemond, who accepted it with a firm shake, before turning to Y.N. and giving her a smile.

As they bid their farewells, the remaining guests trickled out one by one until only Aemond, Y.N., Helaena, and Daeron remained.

Daeron, who had been lounging comfortably in a chair, suddenly looked around and asked, "Where's Aegon?"

Y.N. laughed softly, leaning back against Aemond. "I think he might have gotten lucky with that waitress."

Right on cue, Aegon appeared in the doorway, looking a bit dishevelled, his shirt half-buttoned and his hair tousled.

He strolled into the room with a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. "I sure did," he said, a little too proudly.

Aemond rolled his eye, motioning to Aegon’s mismatched buttons. "You haven’t even dressed yourself properly."

Aegon looked down at his shirt and giggled as he fumbled with the buttons, fixing them. "Oops."

Y.N. couldn't help but laugh. "So, how'd it go?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Aegon let out a contented sigh as he sat down. "Oh, it was fantastic."

Y.N. rolled her eyes. "No, not that. I meant, did you actually apologize for being an arse and tell her you wanted to get to know her?"

Aegon grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I intended to say all that-but when I opened my mouth, I sort of promised her that if she gave me a chance, she wouldn’t be walking straight tomorrow."

Daeron gasped in disbelief. "And that worked?"

"Oh, yeah, it worked,” Aegon said with a smug smile. “I gave her a good going over. She’s currently asleep in the guest room."

Aemond groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’ve left a stranger asleep in my house?"

Aegon shrugged. "She’s not a stranger—her name is-Laura? No, Lina! And I fully intend to go back there for another round in a bit. Gotta make good on my promise."

Y.N. laughed, shaking her head. "You're such a twat."

Aegon just grinned wider. "Yeah, I know."

Aemond stood up and offered Y.N. his hand, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s time we got going.”

Aegon glanced up at them, confused. "Where are you going?"

Before Aemond could answer, Helaena chimed in. “They’re going to a hotel for the night. Mother is staying here with Jack.”

Aegon’s eyes widened in realization. "Oh yeah—wait, Mother’s staying the night?" His expression quickly turned mischievous. "Best tell my girl to keep quiet, she’s a bit of a screamer."

Daeron groaned, his face contorting in horror. "Right, that’s it. I’m going to bed. I just pray that I remembered to pack earplugs."

As Daeron made a hasty exit, Aemond shook his head, pulling Y.N. closer.

He gave Aegon one last exasperated look before leading his bride toward the door, eager to finally have some time alone with her.

“Good luck with that, brother,” Aemond muttered under his breath, causing Y.N. to stifle a giggle as they headed out, leaving Aegon and his questionable decisions behind for the night.

The warm steam of the hot tub swirled gently into the night air as Aemond relaxed against the edge, his back resting between Y.N.'s legs as she dipped her feet into the bubbling water.

A soft sigh escaped him as her fingers worked into the muscles of his shoulders, easing away any lingering tension from the long and emotional day. He held a glass of champagne in one hand, lazily swirling the liquid.

"This feels awful," he muttered, taking a sip. "Drinking alcohol when you can't."

Y.N. chuckled softly from behind him, her fingers still kneading his shoulders. "It's our wedding night, Aemond. You deserve to get plastered."

He glanced up at her with a smile, appreciating her sense of humour as always. "Thank the gods this place includes breakfast," he mused, "because I’m going to need a bit of stodge to soak up all this drink."

Y.N. laughed, her soft voice carrying over the quiet of the night. The sound of water gently lapping against the sides of the tub mixed with their shared warmth and closeness, making the moment feel even more intimate.

Aemond closed his eye, leaning further into her touch as she continued her gentle massage.

"You’re not disappointed we didn’t go on a proper honeymoon, are you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Not at all," Y.N. replied, her hands moving up to his neck, her thumbs working gentle circles against his skin. "I actually prefer this. I’m not ready to leave Jack for more than a night yet."

Aemond gave a small hum of agreement. "Me either, to be honest," he admitted. He loved their son fiercely, and the thought of being far from him for an extended time didn’t sit well. "Maybe when the kids are older, we can get away properly."

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed softly, her fingers drifting up into his hair, combing through the damp strands with gentle strokes.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the serenity of the night.

Aemond groaned softly in pleasure as Y.N.'s fingers worked their magic. "I wish you were in here with me," he murmured, tipping his head back slightly to look up at her.

"So do I," Y.N. replied, smiling down at him. "But it’s not safe for the baby."

Her hands continued to stroke through his hair, the act more intimate than any words they could share at that moment.

"I love you so much," Aemond whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion.

Y.N. leaned down, her lips brushing his temple as she whispered back, "I love you too, Aemond. More than anything."

They stayed like that, wrapped in the warmth of the hot tub and the love they had built together, the night perfect in its simplicity.

It wasn’t the grand honeymoon that some would expect, but it was theirs—and that was all that mattered.

The End.

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 9

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Watching the former queen leave the palace felt surreal. But seeing the king lose his composure, even for a moment, made it all worth it.

Perhaps Alicia's return stirred something in Leonard. Did her presence remind him of who he used to be? Does he feel guilt for taking the life of the former king and his siblings?

Leonard clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated, but he couldn't do anything since she was a diplomatic guest.

"Welcome to the family," he said, tapping Bucky's shoulder. "As of today, you're officially part of royalty."

Bucky stood tall, his expression composed despite the turmoil of the evening. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will do my best to honor the family name and uphold my duties."

Leonard gave a curt nod, his gaze still clouded. "Now, go find my daughter. She must be shocked by the uninvited guest."

Bucky nodded and quickly left to find you.

He asked one of the guards outside, "Where is she?"

The guard hesitated, clearly nervous. "She went back to her chambers, sir," he stuttered, quickly correcting himself. "I'm sorry—Your Majesty."

Bucky didn't waste another moment. He hurried down the corridor toward your chambers, the tension from the evening still weighing on him. When he reached your door, he found the room shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window.

His eyes fell on you, lying across the bed, already passed out from the alcohol. He sighed heavily, a mix of relief and sorrow flooding him. Today was supposed to be the day both of you had longed for, the day that sealed your love. But it didn't feel that way—not with all the chaos and the looming weight of what had happened.

Walking over quietly, Bucky knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your tear-streaked face. His hand lingered on your cheek, and his heart ached for you. You had endured so much, and now, instead of celebrating together, you were drowning in grief and confusion.

He gently wiped away the remnants of tears. He wanted to protect you from all this, but somehow, it all seemed to follow you both, no matter how hard he tried. Today should have been filled with joy, yet it felt as if the very world had turned its back on the happiness you deserved.

👑👑👑👑

The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache, groaning as the light filtered through the curtains. As you blinked your eyes open, you noticed several servants standing around your bed, their faces full of uncertainty.

"Why are you all surrounding me like this?" you asked, your voice groggy.

"Your Highness," one of the servants said nervously, "today... you're scheduled to leave for your honeymoon?"

You widened your eyes in shock and threw your head back onto the pillow with a frustrated sigh. The last thing you wanted right now was a honeymoon. You felt exhausted—mentally and physically.

"Where is my husband?" you muttered, rubbing your temples to ease the headache.

"With the king," the servant replied.

"Fuck," you murmured under your breath.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The servants hurried to help you get ready, brushing your hair, and helping you into a more appropriate outfit for the day. But despite their efforts, you felt sluggish, your mood foul as you tugged on your shoes and stormed out of the room.

You ran through the halls toward the dining room, your steps quick and determined. As you pushed the heavy doors open, you were greeted by the sight of King Leonard and your newlywed husband, Bucky, sitting together at the table. The tension between them was palpable, though Bucky remained composed.

Leonard’s eyes flicked toward you as you entered, his smirk just as arrogant as ever. “Ah, here comes the bride. I trust you slept well?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

You shot him a sharp look. “Not particularly,” you muttered.

Leonard chuckled lightly, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to rest on your honeymoon. You’re leaving shortly, after all. I wish you both a safe and pleasant trip.”

Bucky stood up, offering you his arm, his expression neutral though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “Shall we?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated for a moment but then linked your arm with his, glancing up at him. Together, the two of you walked toward the palace doors, with Leonard trailing behind. As expected, a crowd of press and citizens had gathered outside, their cheers and shouts echoing across the courtyard. They were here for the young newlywed couple—their eyes full of admiration and hope for a perfect royal love story.

Though you still felt tired and irritated, you forced a smile, waving at the crowd. Bucky followed suit, his arm still linked with yours as he raised his hand to acknowledge the people.

Once you reached the helicopter, the cheers faded into the background. Bucky slid into his seat, fastening his seatbelt, but he could feel the cold air between you. You had been giving him the silent treatment, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

As you reached for your own seatbelt, it was Leonard who stepped in to assist you. You let him fasten it, though the gesture felt awkward. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Stay at peace while I'm gone,” you warned, your tone sharp but laced with exhaustion.

Leonard chuckled, his grin smug. “You never know,” he said, his voice low with hidden meaning.

You glared at him one last time before settling into your seat, the sound of the helicopter’s blades whirring loudly as it prepared for takeoff. Though you were now on your way to what was supposed to be a joyful honeymoon, the weight of everything lingered in the air between you and Bucky.

As the helicopter soared through the sky, the silence between you and Bucky was thick and heavy. He glanced over at you several times, noticing how your eyes were already closed, your head resting against the seat. You looked peaceful, but he knew better. There was a tension beneath that calm exterior—a storm waiting to break.

Bucky’s emotions were all over the place. He had thought this day would be different. After all the time you both had waited, after the struggles and secret glances, this was supposed to be your moment.

But instead, it felt hollow. His chest tightened as he replayed everything that had happened, from the uninvited guest to the strange distance you now put between the two of you. He couldn’t help but feel helpless, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had suddenly grown.

On the other hand, you were drowning in your own thoughts. Behind your closed eyelids, memories of the past day swirled in your mind. Everything felt off. You were supposed to be celebrating your love, but it felt like the world around you was falling apart.

After what felt like hours, the helicopter began its descent, landing softly on a lush green field. You opened your eyes to see the sprawling beauty of the resort that would be your honeymoon destination.

You had hoped for somewhere far away, but Leonard had other plans, citing safety concerns. At least this place was special—a resort with several private islands. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway, secluded from the rest of the world.

The resort’s staff greeted you and Bucky with utmost care, ensuring everything was perfect for the newlywed royal couple. After checking that everything was in place, the managers and employees finally left, leaving the two of you alone on your private island.

The air between you remained tense as Bucky stood near the window, watching you move around the room. The silence was deafening.

“Are you going to continue ignoring me?” Bucky’s voice broke the quiet, his tone low but firm.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of rum, searching through the ice bucket. Your hands moved mechanically, trying to find something to numb the unease creeping up your spine.

Suddenly, Bucky grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Stop it,” he said softly but with authority. His blue eyes searched yours. “I’ll answer it. Whatever you need to know, just ask.”

You paused, the rum bottle slipping from your grasp and landing with a soft thud on the counter. Your chest rose and fell with frustration.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning to face him fully, but the hurt in your eyes was unmistakable.

Bucky exhaled deeply, his grip loosening but not letting go completely. Both of you stood there, a heartbeat away from what could either be a breakthrough or another layer of distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, the tension in the room palpable. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words. His eyes locked onto yours, determined, but there was also a flicker of doubt. He knew he couldn’t drag this out any longer.

"I started the coup d'état," he finally said, his voice low but steady.

The moment those words left his mouth, it felt like a thunderclap in your ears. Your heart pounded as you processed the confession, your mind racing to catch up with the weight of what he had just said.

"Bucky, what the fuck?" you snapped, disbelief and anger flashing in your eyes.

“I know... I know,” Bucky said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm the rising storm. "But we—I mean, me and the others—had one goal: to make the king step down. That’s it.”

You let out a frustrated groan, rubbing your temples as if that could somehow ease the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Bucky, I love you to death, but what you did was stupid.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I did it for us! And for the victims of that tyrant king!”

You couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The king—your father—had left a trail of victims in his wake. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled the horror that had befallen your family. “The king killed his three older siblings, along with their spouses and children,” you said, your voice trembling. “My cousins... they’re all gone because of him.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, hearing the pain in your voice, but he didn’t speak. He knew the reality of your father’s cruelty, but it was different hearing it from you.

“He was a no one,” you continued, your voice thick with disbelief. “And yet he became the king that everyone fears.” You stared at the ground, the weight of your father’s reign heavy on your shoulders. “He knew his weaknesses, and the people who supported him exploited them.”

"What made me even more furious," you continued, your voice sharp with betrayal, "is that I’m the future queen, yet I had no idea what was happening in my own country. My husband turned out to be the leader of a coup d’état, and my father—the tyrant king—knew it before I did!"

You lifted your head, locking eyes with Bucky, frustration lacing your tone. “I’m your wife, but you left me in the dark!”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth opening to defend himself, but you weren’t finished.

Your words hung in the air like a dark cloud. Bucky looked at you, his expression torn between regret and defiance. You both sat there in a tense silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling between you.

Finally, you sighed, leaning back in your chair as exhaustion overtook your frustration. “I’ve been living in a bubble,” you admitted quietly.

Bucky leaned forward, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “I didn’t want to leave you out of it. I thought... I thought I was protecting you.”

He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly struggling with the gravity of the situation. “I did it for us—for a better future. You know the kind of man your father is. I couldn’t just sit by and let him continue.”

You looked at him, the raw emotion in his eyes matching your own. Despite everything, you knew his intentions had come from a place of love, no matter how misguided they were.

“I get it,” you said, your voice softer now. “I understand why you did what you did. But you should have trusted me, Bucky. I should’ve been part of this.”

Bucky reached out, taking your hands in his. “You’re right,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you.”

You squeezed his hands, feeling some of the tension start to dissolve. “We’re supposed to face things together, not alone,” you said softly.

“I know. And from now on, we will,” Bucky promised, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.

You both sat there for a moment, the silence no longer oppressive but comforting. You had reached an understanding, even if the road ahead was still uncertain. There was still love between you—love strong enough to survive even this.

As the tension between you and Bucky began to ease, you both found solace in the quiet moments of your honeymoon. Finally, it was just the two of you, no more secrets or unspoken words hanging over your heads. The weight of everything slowly lifted as you immersed yourselves in the beauty of the private island.

The days were filled with a tranquil bliss, the warm sun kissing your skin as you and Bucky strolled along the secluded beaches. The turquoise waves lapped gently at the shore, creating a soothing backdrop to your peaceful escape. You’d often find yourselves on the balcony of your villa, overlooking the ocean, wrapped in each other's arms as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Bucky had his arm around you as you leaned into his chest, both of you quietly enjoying the view. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“Me too,” you agreed, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. For the first time in a long while, you felt safe and content, the weight of the past slowly fading into the background.

You and Bucky spent your days exploring the island—swimming in the crystal-clear waters, relaxing in hammocks under the shade of palm trees, and sharing intimate dinners under the stars. His laughter was lighter now, and your smiles were genuine. There was no need to rush; this one month of vacation belonged to the two of you.

At night, Bucky would hold you close as the two of you talked about the future, making plans that seemed so far away now but filled you both with hope. The warmth of his body, the way he kissed your forehead before you both drifted to sleep—it made everything feel right again.

But on the last day of your honeymoon, that peace was shattered.

The morning had started quietly enough. After breakfast, you and Bucky curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV. As you turned on the news, something caught your attention. The usual cheerful headlines were gone, replaced by the stark seriousness of a breaking news broadcast.

The image of King Leonard, standing behind a podium, filled the screen. The sight of him immediately sent a chill down your spine. You could feel the air shift, the sense of foreboding creeping in.

Leonard stepped closer to the microphone, his expression grim. He paused for a moment, scanning the audience, before leaning in and saying, “We’re going to war.”

Your heart stopped. For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

"What the fuck?" you and Bucky blurted out at the same time, both of you staring at the screen in disbelief.

Bucky's face hardened, his hands clenching into fists. "This can't be happening," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, pacing in front of the TV.

You swallowed hard, trying to process what you just heard, but dread weighed heavily on your chest. The peaceful bubble of your honeymoon had been shattered, replaced by a terrifying uncertainty. War meant everything would change—and not for the better.

Bucky stopped pacing and looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “We need to go back.”

You nodded slowly, your mind racing. “I knew something was off,” you murmured, fear creeping into your voice. “But war?”

Neither of you could believe it, yet the reality was there, staring at you from the screen.

The honeymoon was over.

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[trulyumai]

unfit and disloyal

Pairing: Emperor Geta / Wife! Reader

Synopsis: Seeing your husband get so close with another woman, you confront him. But such an accusation of disloyalty makes anger swell up bubble beneath his skin. Until eventually it oozes out and onto you, his darling wife.

Warnings: Geta gets violent, angry.

A/N: This was highly requested, thank you all so much for the messages and comments!

A glass was thrown, shattered against the back wall of the chamber. Geta let out a surprised cry, still bent towards the ground in the quick action that fled his senses. He had expected a hug, maybe a kiss of welcome from his pretty wife.

“You idiot—you fool! You... you—!”

Another cup was already in your hands, and Geta barely made it behind a merciful beam that splayed out in the middle of the room.

“What are you doing, wife?!” Geta’s voice was hoarse with confusion as he peered from behind the pillar, his chest rising and falling from the sudden burst of chaos. He had prepared himself for an evening of peace after the long day—he had not been ready for war within his own walls. Where was his sweet wife to dote on him? To kiss and smother his face with little pecks, to hug his frame like it was the missing piece you were waiting for?

“What am I doing?" you snarled. "What am I doing?" Your hands shook with fury as dainty fingers fumbled for another object to throw. Your eyes, usually soft and full of warmth, were now blazing with a fire he had never seen before. “You dare to ask me that when I saw you with her? You let her touch you, let her throw herself on you like—like a dog in heat!”

Geta’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall how you could have come to such a conclusion. Woman? What woman? He was with you all night! The only time he wasn’t was when you had stepped away after the dessert had been devoured, kissing his cheek as you uttered a tired departure.

He meant to follow, but decided to finish his goblet first—and then it hit him. The realization sank in. The woman who had placed herself upon his knee, whispered generous actions and promises without batting an eye.

"Her? You mean the woman at the celebration?" He stepped out from behind the beam cautiously, raising his hands in surrender. A laugh already escaping him from such a deluded thought. “She meant nothing. Less than nothing. She was dealt with, pretty wife, without a second thought!”

You scoffed, laughter bitter and sharp. "Nothing? You looked like you were enjoying yourself, while I stood there, watching, like a fool. And in front of the citizens... Have you no shame, husband?" The words were spat with venom, the kind of harshness only Geta had spoken with before.

Geta’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “You left before you saw what happened next. I pushed her off the moment you turned away, threw her to the ground like the vermin she was for daring to disrespect you.” He took a step closer, trying to close the distance between you. “I grabbed her by the face and told her to remember her place—unless she wished to be charged with treason. Wife, trust me, I beg of you.”

Your grip faltered, and the third cup clattered to the floor. Your breathing was uneven, the anger mingling with something else now—uncertainty. “Then why didn’t you stop her sooner? Why did you let her touch you in the first place? Why bestow such a public betrayal onto me?”

Geta’s shoulders sagged. He was exhausted, emotionally worn from the day’s battles, and now here he was, fighting the one person he loved most. The shift in the air was palpable now, the sting of your words pressing further into his skin. The thought of you doubting him, even for a moment, sparked something darker within him. His eyes darkened, and his fists clenched at his sides.

“You accuse me of betrayal?” His voice, though low at first, began to rise, sharp and jagged as he stepped closer, each footfall deliberate. “You think I’d ever choose someone else over you?” The fury in his tone rattled the air between you, and his body towered over yours now, his shadow swallowing the small frame you stood in.

His breath came fast and heavy as he drew closer, his face inches from yours. “Do you know what kind of man you married? The kind who would crush anyone who dared stand between us!” His words came like thunder, reverberating against the stone walls, spit flying from his mouth in his rage. “I've killed men, burned them at the stake, slit their throats for weaker words. Yet you still sit there.. And look at me with such animosity, hm?”

Your body recoiled instinctively, shrinking away from his imposing presence. For the first time, there was fear in your eyes—fear of him. Geta’s breath hitched at the sight of you trembling beneath his gaze. He froze, his fury draining as quickly as it had flared. He blinked, his body suddenly stiff as realization set in.

He had never meant to frighten you.

“I didn’t...” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair, his jaw still clenched tight. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stood frozen, still shaken, your breath shallow. Geta took a step back, releasing a slow breath as he fought to control himself, his fists relaxing at his sides. “Pretty wife, listen to me,” he rasped, voice now gentler, though it trembled. “I was angry. But not at you. Never at you.”

“But you said-” 

“I know.” He interrupted, already regret bit at the seams of his mind. He didn't need a reminder.

Ringed fingers reached for your cheek, gently wiping away the spit that had landed on your skin. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” His voice was soft, desperate, as though each word were pulling him further from the edge of the abyss he had been teetering on.

You looked at him, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “I saw you with her,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And for a moment, I believed it. All the rumors. The lies. I believed you had chosen someone else.”

Geta’s heart clenched. He could see it now—how fragile your faith had become. He stepped closer, cupping your face with his large, calloused hands. “Never,” he breathed. “There is no one else for me. There never will be.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m always competing with the world for you?”

His chest tightened, the weight of your words sinking in. “You aren’t competing. There’s no contest. I may belong to Rome, to the battlefield, to the politics of the Empire... but my heart, my soul, they belong to you.”

You searched his face for a long moment, and the anger finally faded, giving way to vulnerability. Letting out a shaky breath, you leaned into his chest, your voice small and muffled against his tunic. “I'm sorry, husband.”

Geta wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His chin rested on top of your head as he whispered, “It's okay.” 

He breathed in your scent, sweet and intoxicating to his overburdened mind. 

“It's okay.”

[malopascal]

One shot: we found our way back to each other

"Can we please just talk..." Pedro begged, his eyes looking so tired and his composure exposing nothing but defeat and heartbreak.

A sigh left your painted lips as you avoided his begging gaze, looking through the room of his sister's home, silently missing the hours the two of you had spent in here, laughing, talking and making love.

"Talk about what? You told me two months ago that you weren't ready for a relationship, that I should find someone else who could settle down", you purposely threw Pedro's words back to him in hopes that they would also cause him the same pain it caused you eight weeks ago.

You finally focused your eyes on the Chilean actor and saw how he closed his eyes in shame and shook his head. "You're trying to kill me, mi amor" he whispered before opening his eyes.

"No, you killed me with those words. I thought that I had meant something to you, we had spend four months together, making all these beautiful memories that I can never forget", you spat as tears started to brim your eyes.

"I know, I know (Y/N)...".

"No, you don't. You don't know that I've been faking a smile for weeks, pretending that my life is so fucking awesome and continuing to work like you didn't rip my heart out of my chest, Pedro".

The actor took a step closer to you and quickly took your soft hand in his, his eyes were begging you to take him back. "Words can't describe how foolish I was. I thought that I had made the right decision, allow you to go and be free before my crazy and hectic life would get in between us, and we'd be forced to break up anyway...".

His words made you frown as you slowly shook your head in disbelief.

"Bullshit, Pedro. I accompanied you while you worked and traveled, still made time for my own life and friends and family and not once did I ever voice or think that your celebrity life would become too much for me...How could you make this decision for yourself and then punish me for it?", the tears were now streaming down your face, the aching pain in your chest making it hard for you to focus as you stared at your love. The betrayal still sat deep in your soul and you wondered if you could ever get past this.

"You tossed me aside for nothing, based on assumptions...And then you moved on like we never happened, like I didn't give all my love to you!" you couldn't help but increase the volume of your voice as you finally had the chance to speak about your heartbreak.

After Pedro had suddenly broken up with you through a quick phone call, he had blocked you and went on a promotional tour of his upcoming projects, making you feel lost and abandoned while he continued to live his life in front of the cameras.

Since the two of you were able to keep your relationship private, due to the fact that you were an actress as well, barely anyone noticed how you were crumbling and pretending like you hadn't lost the greatest love of all time.

"My love, I-" Pedro chocked back on a sob before clearing his throat and wrapping his strong arms around your waist, still looking at you like you were the only, most precious thing walking the earth.

"I just wanna know why. Why did you get rid of me like that?" you placed your hands on his broad shoulders, hating how your heart skipped a beat and a delicate sensation of adoration rushed through your body. You knew that touching him alone would have you weak, but in that moment, you didn't care at all.

"I'm almost fifty, it's been years since I had a serious relationship (Y/N), I have anxiety and assumed that it would take a few more weeks before you would get sick and tired of me and my job and leave me..." the actor confessed with a heavy heart.

"But I can't describe the agony I have been in ever since we parted ways. All I can do is think and yearn for you", his beautiful brown eyes gazed deeply into yours while he leaned in closer, his breath dancing along your lips as you let out a soft sigh. God, that man still had you so crazy in love and a part of you thought that he'd try to make up sappy excuses and then leave you alone.

"I am so sorry for what I did, and I know you're just as heartbroken as I am. It's my duty to earn your trust back and show you the blessing that you are to me. Please...." Pedro leaned in and pressed his soft lips against yours, frowning at the pure sensation of your soft lips against his. You pulled away, your head spinning from the passion while you stared deeply into his eyes, your breath coming out in short puffs as you were overwhelmed.

"Please what?" you exhaled as the tension in the room shifted from sad to something else.

He leaned in again, stealing another passionate kiss while his arms pulled your body closer to his. That's when you noticed something throbbing against your lower stomach. You couldn't help but let out a weak moan as your body was succumbing to this man.

"Allow me to win your trust back and show you that I am your man. Yours." Pedro whispered, his breathing increasing by the second as the two of you stared longingly into each other's eyes.

The wetness already had gathered in between your thighs as all you could now think about was feeling him move deep inside you, have him fill you up all the way and talk you through the sensual acts of love.

"I-" Pedro didn't even let you finish your sentence before he had stolen another kiss from your lips, his tongue tracing your lower lip and silently asking for permission. Which you instantly granted.

His big hands immediately started to roam your body, caressing your breasts and shoulders while he moved the two of you towards the bed.

He kissed your neck after having placed you gently onto the mattress, your silky black cocktail dress already being torn from your body. "I need to taste you", he begged.

You instantly opened your legs and quickly got rid of your thong before your love had his head position in between your thighs. "You're so wet" he praised while giving you a soft smile, leaning in closer to where you needed him the most before darting his tongue out and flicking your sensitive clit.

"Yes", you mewled while throwing your head back, your wetness sliding down your inner thighs while your love instantly got to work and devoured you right then and there. His eyes didn't dare to move away from your face as he needed to look at you. He needed the assurance that he was pleasing you, giving himself to you.

He licked and lapped at your swollen clit and drenched folds, dipping his tongue into your hot and wet cunt, loving the way you weakly moaned his name and grind your hips in sync of his movements. Behind your clenched eyelids, you saw stars as the pleasure took over your mind, body and soul.

"You taste divine" Pedro whispered, moaning your name over and over again while his eyes still didn't look elsewhere. He had always been in awe of your beauty and knowing that no other had seen you like this was making his heart swell in his chest with pride.

Before you knew it, your love was kissing his way up your body, positioning himself in between your thighs while he quickly got rid of his dress shirt and freeing his hard cock from its tight pants.

Your eyes fluttered open and you couldn't help but moan at the sight of Pedro staring down at your face, his eyes drinking in the beautiful sight of you. It took him a few seconds to let his hard cock slide up and down your folds, gathering the slick wetness before whispering how much he loved you.

You couldn't even answer as the sensation of his cock slowly sinking deep inside you overwhelmed you. Your inner walls welcomed the hardness as they stretched and took him deeper. A weak moan left your lips.

"I missed you so much" you chocked out before the first stroke hit you. Pedro closed his eyes and immediately started to snap his hips against yours, hitting your sweet spot over and over again while having leaned down and now gently kissing and sucking on your sensitive neck.

The pure pleasure raging over your body was too much.

The feeling of him buried deep inside you...

His weak moans of your name...

The quick motions of your body desperately wanting to reach that beautiful high together.

It was all too much.

Your toes curled as you felt the delicious knot form in the pit of your stomach, your inner walls were clenching onto your love's cock for dear life while the delicate shivers running up and down your back made it hard for you to focus on anything.

"I am right here, my love. Come on, take all of me and show me you love it. Take it all, it's all yours" Pedro groaned, his hips snapping faster against yours while his hand was now circling your sensitive clit, making the knot tighter and tighter by the second.

You clung onto his broad shoulders as the next deep thrust threw you into the wild, gushing and overwhelming peak. Your orgasm rippled through your body and you couldn't control it. Your inner walls clenched tightly around Pedro's cock as his warm spurts filled you all the way up. That man was almost screaming your name as he continued thrusting his hips in a sloppy manner, wanting this intense and beautiful sensation to never stop.

The weak moans leaving your lips grew softer by the second while the tremors of your high tingled through your body. Your eyes slowly opened and Pedro's adoring smile made your heart swell in your chest.

"I love you'" he confessed.

"I love you too" you responded in a soft huff, still trying to catch your breath.

[zu-is-here]

what a day ♡

[ghosty-schnibibit]

i am now officially 27 😊🎉

[diospyros-kaki]

If anyone is interested, Festival de Parintins is going on right now. It lasts three nights startig today.

I wanted to watch live this year but unfortunately I'm too tired and can't stay up, so I'm offering my comically small number of followers the chance to know a brazilian tradition other than carnival. Enjoy.

(I say as if I hadn't only known the festival tangentially until last year, just in time to miss the presentations... but I've seen some clips and became team Caprichoso since then.)

[rome-roy]

went to a comedy show with my sibs and we met the guy (in-character) afterwards. I was really trying to get us to all go together but my brother was like no let’s just go separate. And I was so nervous because like what do you even say, I’m so awkward generally. But guys I came through with the banter, with the wit. Riffed off what he said to me. My siblings said I had the best interaction. I was terrified but it came to me so easily. Queen of wit, what can I say. 💅🏻

[dahlia-molinas]

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES' SEXUALITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

CELEBRITIES DON'T OWE YOU THEIR SEXUALITY AND THEY NEVER WILL SO LEAVE THEM ALONE.

[bitchfitch]

the thing I'm eternally undecided about is When does that dragon thing start? Like does it start with Tahir and his willful sacrifice and the ensuing relationship with Daeodon before Tahir's death, and then transition into Twohir and his quest to kill the fucking dragon who's dead lover he's the incarnation of and the Mess that is them trying to figure Their shit our while trying to resurrect Tahir.

Or do I just start with Twohir? Theres more drama and more Story to them beyond the growing pains of a new relationship. but also Tahir is my baby boy and i don't want to relegate him to backstory, and a Lot of Daeodon's vibes just Don't work without the explicit context that his words and his feelings or motivations don't always line up.

Like, without Tahir and the way the two interacted it's Way too easy to assume Daeodon made it rain endlessly for the same reason he stopped the rains entirely years ago. That his only motivation for ruining lives and destroying the forest he's lord and god of is that something was taken away from him and he doesn't care What that thing was, just that it was taken. Because this time around he really does care that it was Tahir specifically he lost.

But leaving Tahir as backstory would also make Daeodon having a heart be more of a reveal? More something Twohir and the reader discover together. But it also make Daeodon way fucking creepier.

Daeodon spends the first handful of interactions he has with Twohir (not including the one where Daeodon broke Twohir's arm) being fucking Weird. Twohir is Tahir's reincarnation, and while the two are Wildly different people, there's situations where it's too easy for Daeodon to just Pretend for a moment. And from Twohir's perspective, the fucking dragon he wants dead and to never be near him again because he considers his fucked up life partially Daeodon's fault, is constantly trying to get close to him and abuse Twohir's willingness to drink at parties and miss the little clues that would give Daeodon in his faunsona away. It's creep behavior. Even with context it's absolutely unacceptable, But with all that context and the reader already having a good insight on who Daeodon is as a person, it's creep behavior that Feels more tragic than disgusting.

But Tahir's side of the story isn't short. It's not something that can just go in a prologue, and it's not at All the same genre as Twohir's. so having the two halves butted up against each other doesn't Feel right.

like tldr: Tahir is my very special boy but how he fucked a dragon and became a love god is kinda boring compared to how his reincation fucked the same dragon, resurrected Tahir, and then also became a love god.

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me!

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t now. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[fangirl-dot-com]

😾Really Nice Guy Who Hates Only You

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Celebrity!Reader Genre: Fluff/Miscommunication/Humor/SMAU Summary: Oscar was known to be the epitome of a polite cat. His reputation is that he is genuinely nice to everyone. Well, everyone except for you.

*once again, I have loved writing for this series and it seems like everyone loves these chapters (as they have the highest notes out of all of them). I'm really excited for what is to come! I have loved making all the special tweets and other additions to the posts!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Oscar had been in a bad mood. The garage could practically feel the cloud that surrounded the Aussie as he walked through the garage on Saturday morning for the sprint. The scrunch of the nose and the constant side eyes also gave it away. 

Normally, Oscar tends to be more on the quiet side. But today, he was even quieter. Gone was the polite cat, and it was replaced by a very grumpy feline. 

“Hey Oscar! Come meet our guests!” 

Oscar let out a sigh as he turned around and put a very fake smile on his face. This is the moment he had been dreading ever since you stepped into the garage. He did, or couldn’t, understand why you were wearing his number on the back of the jersey you wore. 

It disgusted him. 

You were very pretty though, he had eyes. Your hair went very well with the papaya orang and your smile could pretty much kill a man in a 10-foot radius. Except that right now, Oscar wanted your perfect hair to catch on fire and he’d avoid the smile. 

When he finally got closer, he stopped a few feet in front of you, not wanting to get too close. Two hands clapped him on the shoulders as Lando started to shake him. 

“So Os-cah, this is Y/n L/n, 2-time Grammy Award winner and probably the prettiest guest we’ve ever had.” 

All right, so Lando was a gonner.

Oscar fought the urge to roll his eyes right into the back of his head so he wouldn’t have to look at you anymore. But your smile was oh-so pretty. You looked at him with wide eyes as you held out your hand for a shake. 

However, Oscar just looked at it, then looked at you. 

“Welcome.”

Lando reeled back, confused at his younger teammate’s coldness. The two watched as your smile faltered just a bit. (If Oscar had any remorse, he didn’t show it.) You were quick to recover and spread another smile, even if this one wasn’t as real as the first. 

You put your hand down as you greeted, “It’s such an honor to finally meet you! I’ve been a fan for what feels like forever.” 

Oscar grunted. “Can’t say the same.” 

You absolutely wanted to whimper. You had been waiting to be invited to a Formula 1 garage ever since you won your first Grammy. And well, you had other offers from Red Bull or Ferrari, but the McLaren garage is the one you wanted to be your first. So, you had declined and declined until you knew that you could meet the driver that you had been following for so long. 

But now that you finally met him, you wondered why he was such an asshole. 

You pushed down your feelings and continued. “That’s ok. My music isn’t for everyone. But I wanted to congratulate you on your rookie season last year!” 

“Thanks.” 

Ok, Lando knew something was up and he couldn’t take the hurt-puppy-eyes coming from you anymore. The Briton was about to say something, but Zak had decided to interrupt with another celebrity guest. 

“Guys, this is Sabrina, she’s also joining Miss L/n in the garage today. Ladies, we have two headsets for you in the back when we’ll go over some last minute car things if you’d like to listen in!” Zak explained. 

It only hurt when Oscar eyes lit up at your fellow musician, brushing past you to personally introduce himself. Lando was now left with a very sad Grammy winner on his hands. He gently put his arm around your waist to bring you to the side.

When a long sigh escaped your lips, Lando felt awful. 

“Y/n, I swear he’s normally the nicest person on the planet. Oscar always seems to love everyone, no matter the guest.” 

Your eyes flitted over to where Oscar was now animatedly talking to Sabrina about her new album. You let out a scoff. 

“Yeah, everyone but me. Maybe I should have just taken the offer from Red Bull or Ferrari.” 

Lando pouted. He knew that you had been a fan of Oscar’s way back to the start of his F2 season. And then you had purposefully put the word McLaren in many different songs. Hell, your newest album titled “Momentum” was basically a love letter to your beloved team. You even had plans to become an investor once you could make the first payment. 

The Briton felt lost. “I was going to find Max and Charles if you’d like to join me?” 

You took one more look at Oscar, not surprised to see him glare at you from the side. That action made up your mind and you agreed to go with Lando. 

Taking with Max and Charles was like a breath of fresh air. The two were great conversationalists and pretty funny. The Monegasque even invited you into one of the media buildings to look at the behind the scenes, which put you in awe. 

The two rivals, thought, couldn’t understand why you were attached to Lando when you had a giant 81 on the back of your jersey. 

“Have you met Oscar yet?” Charles asked. When you tensed, he knew that he had asked a wrong question. Your expression quickly became sad. 

“Yeah. But I don’t think he likes me very much,” you muttered. 

Max scoffed. “That’s absurd. He’s quiet, but he’s nice to everyone.” 

Lando winced. “But for some reason, he was being really rude and just standoff-ish.”  

You looked so dejected. “At first I thought he might not be a fan of my music, but then he was super smiley with Sabrina and we co-wrote most of mine and her songs. So it’s not the genre.” 

The Briton wanted to try to bring your spirits back up, but he noticed the time and said that you and him had to be back at the garage. You said your goodbyes to the Dutchman and Monegasque before you followed Lando back to the garage. 

On your way in, Oscar sent you yet another glare as he got ready to be in the car. 

Although he had been mean, you still said, “Good luck.” 

Maybe he heard you or didn’t, but he never responded or acted like he took it to heart. 

When Oscar was able to overtake multiple cars and finish the sprint in P2, you were ecstatic. His terrible attitude did not hinder your joy for the Aussie. You didn’t secretly call yourself the #1-Piastri fan for nothing. Sabrina laughed next to you as you hopped up and down, glad that your driver finished well in the points. 

It was sad for Lando who didn’t make it past P5, but the Briton explained that qualifying for the actual race is when it truly counted. 

You watched with stars in your eyes as Oscar walked up after Charles to be interviewed by Jensen Button. 

The former driver asked the first question. 

“Oscar, first congrats on the P2, you did a lot of overtaking. Was that in the strategy?” 

The Aussie laughed, really showing that he indeed was polite to everyone. 

“Well the strategy is always to win, but we were close with all the upgrades. It’s been good and I’m ready for the races to come.” 

A few more questions were asked and exchanged before Jensen somehow brought you up. 

“So we saw that Y/n L/n and Sabrina Carpenter were both in the McLaren garage. And we all know that Y/n is a massive McLaren fan as well as your fan. Have you listen to any of her songs?”

Many people definitely saw the change in facial expression when your name was brought up. The smiley Oscar was replaced with a bored one. 

“Well, I don’t really listen to artists who bash or make fun of my driving.” 

Jensen gave me a very curious look. “She actually praises you in most of her songs.” 

The Aussie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like the one where she said she crashed her McLaren like Piastri.” 

Your eyes widened, along with everyone else in the garage. Those were definitely not the lyrics to one of your songs. Lando also had wide eyes and he was looking right at you, who seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. 

“I would never do that,” you said, looking into Lando’s hazel eyes. The Briton looked puzzled. He had specifically played or sung songs for the Aussie that mentioned McLaren or Oscar. 

You kind of just sank into the background, trying to process what could have gone wrong. Lando on the other hand raced to catch Oscar as he was walking into the garage.

“Mate, what are you doing?” Oscar asked as Lando was directing him to one of the driver rooms. Lando slammed the door and turned to Oscar. 

“What are the lyrics to Y/n’s song?” 

There was another eye roll. “Lando you sung them to me like two weeks ago.” 

Land shook his head. “But tell me.” 

Oscar huffed, “Small talk, big love. Act like you don’t care but I disagree. When I crashed my McLaren like Piastri.” 

“Stop!” 

The Aussie cocked his head. 

Lando continued, “Those aren’t the lyrics you muppet. It’s ‘When I crashed my McLaren like past me.’ A few years ago, Y/n used to wreck a lot of cars at a teen. She got better and decided to buy a McLaren when your seat was announced for 2023. And then she crashed it on accident after she got broken up with.” 

A look of realization washed over Oscar’s face and then a look of dread. A giant sigh left his lips. Lando thought he was going to pass out or something but the second Papaya driver quickly ran out of the room. He stopped short of where you had sat in the back of the garage and quietly started to step closer. 

Your head was in your hands but you looked up when you heard footsteps. You were shocked to be looking at Oscar, who had a guilty look on his face. You shot up out of your seat and began to ramble. 

“Oscar, I swear, I would never back and diss you in any of my songs. You’re truly my favorite driver and I was so excited to meet you. I have put your name in my songs before, but it’s only been praise. I’m so sorry that you’ve been thinking that I’d make fun of your driving and-“ 

Oscar held out a hand to stop you. 

But now it was his turn to ramble, hands flying everywhere. 

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry. I’ve been an utter asshole to you all day. That was horrible of me. Lando sung me the song a few weeks ago, but it was pretty mumbled because he couldn’t remember some of the words and I heard Piastri instead of past me and I just thought the worst and…” 

Lando was having a field day watching you watch Oscar with stars in your eyes as he apologized over and over again. 

The Briton pretended to dust his hands off as he watched Oscar pull out his phone and offer it to you. 

“Another day, another matchmaking completed.”  

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_l/n thank you so much McLaren for the amazing day today! It was truly a dream come true to meet my all time favorite driver! little surprise for everyone else - Florida is yours (inspired by a special someone) 🧡

liked by mclaren, its_papaya, oscarpiastri, landoscar, and 3,205,195 others

queeny/n OH MY GOSH NEW SONG AFTER THE MIAMI RACE??

y/n&f1 wouldn't the song be written for Logan then?

y/nxoscar she said inspired - didn't mean that it's actually about him

oscah81 P2 SPRINT RACE AND POSSIBLE NEW WAG

landonorris I too would like a song pls

charles_leclerc we all know she wrote golden about me ♥️

maxverstappen1 I claim midnight rain then

landonorris ☹️

y/n_l/n it's ok lando - working on one now!

y/nsgrammy to think that Oscar thought she dissed him when she's like his biggest fan ever

oscargirlie y/n get's us with the second picture

oscarpiastri was the second picture necessary? and Florida? when did you have time to write that??

y/n_l/n 1. yes, it was very necessary, 2. I wrote it when you ignored me

oscarpiastri and you still wrote me a song?

y/n_l/n of course! most of my songs had you written in mind ☺️

oscarpiastri so. . . dress?

y/n_l/n 😳🤭

loscar-land your honor I love them

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