#team dark headers

[coracat]

⌗ ₍ ˆ｡ꞈ｡̂₎ฅ 💬 :: 𝗵𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗲𝗿𝖾!! ✧ look some sonic (mostly knuckles) headers for you! © official art.

. : 🗯️ ⌗ favorite or reblog if you like it/use it, enjoy!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

[wichuclub]

NCT WISH RIKU LAYOUTS

Like if you use/save [do not repost]

[rikabauer]

[mv1simp]

Slow Down♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader (SocialMedia!AU)

I’m so down if you’re ready, I’ll show you if you let me, girl (she said fuck me like I’m famous, I said okay)

You and Max Verstappen are very well known in the media, for having one of the most volatile rivalries in the sporting world. But Ferrari’s Princess and Redbull’s Mad Max send shockwaves through the paddock when your PR teams confirm you’re officially dating. The public have a hard time believing it…until your sex tape gets leaked on Twitter a month later. Social Media!AU

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, trying my hand at a SM! AU for the first time!!, dom! Max and switch! Reader, size kink, sexism, max being a feminist king

Everyone always said there was a thin line between love and hate. Frankly, you find it to be sexist bullshit, rolling your eyes everytime some interviewer or your friends or trainer would make some sly comment about so what’s going on between you and Max, with a suggestive wiggle of their eyebrows. Nothing, just him trying to run me off the track repeatedly and giving me 4 bruised ribs in Singapore when he clipped me illegally, you say with an annoyed tone. You know that if you were a man, and not the first female driver in decades in F1, you wouldn’t be getting randomly shippedwith all the drivers. And for gods sake, Verstappen off all people was the most laughable idea. The man was either being a violent menace on the track or an immature twelve year old off it, you think vehemently. You two had stayed well out of each others way in your Haas seat last year, with you leading the mid pack in the suboptimal car but Max remaining well out of reach at the front of the pack. But this year, you’d earned yourself a Ferrari seat and were ecstatic to finally be able to compete for a WDC.

That was, until you and Max Verstappen suddenly started to keep getting caught in each others crosshairs. What started as polite indifference between two coworkers blew up into a PR frenzy, with you and Max completing for the top step in the podium every race weekend. He thought you a reckless driver, getting lucky in a rocket ship this year and trying to sink her claws into something she can’t handle. You thought him over arrogant, a man who couldn’t handle losing to a girl, his fragile ego unable to handle losing a 4th WDC to a Ferrari driver who was only in her second F1 season.

And then, two months out from the end of the season, everything changed between you and Max. On a night out in Monaco with your friends, celebrating being home from triple headers, you’d had the unfortunate experience of being cornered by some drunk, sexist creep who thought he was entitled to touch you. He’d been stronger than you expected, pinning you in a dark alleyway and you just when you starting to freak out, Max of all people practically threw the guy off you. He’d angrily spat at the drunk to pick on someone his own size or he’d break his jaw next time, before leading you to his car with a gentle hand. Normally, you found Max’s far larger frame to be annoying, another way for him to intimidate you when he glared downwards. But that night you couldn’t help but be grateful for the muscular, tall man and his attentive blue eyes as you willingly follow him with wide, doe eyes.

The ride home had been silent, you nervously clutching the large sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you from his backseat. And when you’d thanked him for his help, saying you appreciate him looking out for you even though he hated you, he looked at you with genuine surprise. I don’t hate you, he’d said. Well, I suppose we have had our differences on the track. You snickered at this, muttering that’s one way of putting it. Max chuckled, making you peer at him curiously as you’d never heard him do that in your presence. He was actually very handsome, you noted, without an angry scowl on his face or that Redbull helmet covering him. Then you tell your tipsy brain to shut up because where the hell had that thought suddenly come from?!

But really, I think you’re a pretty amazing girl off the track, Max continued. It must be hard being the only female driver, but you always have something good to say to the dumb interview questions you get. And I’m not going to stand by and let any woman be felt up by some creep. Even if it’s the Princess of Ferrari, he adds with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at this, stepping out of his car as you reach your apartment. And when you offer him his hoodie back, he tells you to keep it. You can use it to stay warm at the next race - it’s Brazil, very rainy. Did I mention I’m called the rainmaster, incidentally? You burst out laughing at his lack of subtlety, and he smiles at having distracted you, making the scared look in your pretty doe eyes from earlier disappear. Fuck off, Verstappen, you giggle, and for once your words have no real bite.

By the time your second F1 season is over, and you’re receiving your trophy for the world championship at the Prizegiving Gala, the first female to do so, you and Max Verstappen have became good friends. Maybe something more, from all the time you’ve started spending together off the track gaming, playing padel, and going out drinking. You were far too afraid to ever say something to him, knowing the media response to the first female driver dating a fellow driver would be absolutely brutal. Besides, you had no idea if Max remotely felt the same way about you - his type seemed to be pretty models, not aggressive drivers who spent half her time plotting his downfall.

You’re surprised when he finds you at the after party, late into the night, where everyone is too plastered to note that the fallen Redbull champion is taking the winning Ferrari Princess to a private level on the yacht. If you think I’m going to apologise for breaking your winning streak, you can try again, you announce dramatically as you grin at him, 5 drinks in and pink lips loosened, letting him know you were jesting. Wouldn’t have it any other way, Princess, Max hums, coming to stand so close to you that your heart rate quickens when you feel warmth radiating from the taller, muscular driver. Besides, I’ll be taking the cup next year, anyways. Enjoy the high while you can, he says in his Dutch accent, all cocky.

You let out an outraged gasp at this, forgetting how close you two already are as you step towards him, accusing hand pressed against his firm chest. But before you can say anything, Max’s gorgeous blue eyes drop down to where your manicured nails are touching his pecs. And then he looks down further, to where your plush tits have pressed up against his abs, your cute red corset minidress pushing your cleavage up temptingly. There’s no mistaking the dark desire that swirls in his intense gaze as he looks back into your wide doe eyes. And then he’s leaning in, finally, you think, and then your brain wakes up and you remember who’s in front of you. We can’t, Max, you say breathlessly, dazed by how attractive he looks when turned on. Why not, the Dutchman demands, cocky as usual. You don’t want this, Princess? His large hand brushed your jaw, tilting your face upwards when you try to look away. Your breath hitched from the contact, and you’re sure he can feel how fast your carotid pulse is beating. It’s-it’s not that I don’t want to, you say with a blush, making a pleased smirk appear on Max’s lips. But I’m the only female driver on the grid, the public would tear me apart if they found out I hooked up with another driver on the grid-

Fuck what anyone else thinks, Max says passionately, the familiar spark of defiance in his eyes. I know the fallout from something like this would be much harder for you as a woman than me, and I waited till after the championship fight finished. No one can contest you didn’t win the cup with your own sheer skill. But now that it’s finished, I can’t hold back anymore. Your jaw drops from Max’s heated confession, never having guessed the handsome blonde would reciprocate your buried romantic feelings. And I don’t mean some one night stand or summer fling, he continued boldly. I want to be your boyfriend, I want you all to myself properly.

You must have had too many G&Ts, you hear yourself say distantly, cause you’re not even a little bit cute and shy like you normally are off the track, Verstappen. He smiles gently, knowing you were using humour to deflect from the swirling emotions within you. Maybe, he murmurs, bending down to rest his forehead against yours. Or maybe you look so fucking gorgeous in this red dress I knew I couldn’t hide how I feel anymore. When he feels your hand graze his chest, pulling him just a bit closer, he knows what you want. Pressing the gentlest of kisses to your glossed lips, he pulls back to make sure you still wanted more.

But he didn’t need to have any doubts, because you’re staring up at him sultrily, desire having darkened your own wide, doe eyes. This time you’re pulling him back onto your lips, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders so that there’s not even a millimetre of space between you too. He groans against you as the months of tension come to a head, the two of you languidly exploring each others’ mouths with your tongues.

Even if you’d woken up the next morning regretting your decision, there was no way you could turn down Max’s offer of a relationship. Because even if you had still hated him, the sex that night on the yacht has been so incredibly mind blowing, by far the best orgasm you had ever experienced, that you knew you’d never meet anyone who could fuck you so perfectly again. So you hesitantly said yes, let’s try this for real, Max over a late hungover brunch the next morning. The rest had been history - the two of you had spent the last 7 months in a secret relationship, not wanting the chaos of the media to ruin your relationship before it could even start properly. Max has proven time and time again you’d made the right decision saying yes, being the perfect boyfriend, dedicated to all your needs and wants, spoiling you endlessly and making you laugh whenever you had a bad day.

Sometimes things were hard, of course. Like when you two had tensions during a race, your private relationship doing nothing to dampen the competitive spirit you both shared. But you’d both make up after, whether it be with a long debrief and strategy talk on how to avoid an incident next time - or your personal favourite, some angry make up sex. Like you’d suspected, Max was an absolute sex god and you two enjoyed a very healthy sex life, exploring each others kinky preferences. So when you’d have to be away from each other for long periods, busy with planning and meetings at your separate team bases, your boyfriend came up with a solution once the nudes and phone sex didn’t quite hit the same.

Filming yourselves during sex seemed like a certain recipe for disaster, given how famous the two of you are and the consequences of anything got leaked. But the temptation was too great as weeks drag on without the touch of your boyfriend - so you agreed, just this once, to try it out.

Well, that had certainly been the plan. But the video had been so so nice to watch again and again anytime your pussy ached for Max that you can’t resist making more. And then last month when your teams had finally given the okay for an official announcement on your relationship, and the media response had overall been surprisingly positive, you two get too comfortable and Max accidentally sent the video over DM to you, instead of the encrypted chat you normally use.

And that was when shit hit the fan.

No, Max, go away, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to see anyone ever again! The blonde Dutchman sighs he leans his head against the closed bathroom door with a worried expression on his face. You’ve locked yourself in his Monaco penthouse’s bathroom for the past 4 hours, not coming out despite how much he’s pleaded. Please, schatje, he tries again. I know it’s bad, but we’ll get through it together. Twitter had already banned any links of the video and both your PR teams are doing damage control and so many of the grid drivers and journalists were calling out the website that had leaked the tape. Please, I just want to see you, you can’t be locked in there forever and reading all the stuff online alone.

When you don’t reply, only sniffling through the door, he sighs again and slides down the door, making himself comfortable. A few minutes later he hears the door unlock and your red, crying face peeking through. Oh, schatje, he croons soothingly as you drop down into his arms and bury your face in his thick neck. He rubs soothing circles along your back as you sniffle that Everyone’s saying such horrible things, Maxie. How am I going to face going on the paddock ever again?

He reassures you firmly that you two would go hand in hand, united on the paddock with your heads held high, because you’ve done nothing wrong. He’d been doing the media game a lot longer than you and knew this scandal, like everything else, would get blown over with time. After your quiet sobs settle with his comforting words and tight hug, you pull back to look at him and apologise for shutting yourself away and not checking in on him. It’s your leaked tape too, you say anxiously. How are you feeling about it, baby?

He eases your concern again, telling you honestly that in the grand scheme of things, although it was a little mortifying he’s had worse in the media. Besides, it’s gonna be satisfying to crush whichever little fucker leaked the vid, he says vehemently. Any anyone who’s saying any bullshit sexist comments about you sleeping your way into F1 or anything is getting hit with a defamation lawsuit from legal, he declares, making your heart swell from his protectiveness. You still aren’t convinced, though. Are you sure, Max? I remember in that particular video, you can’t see much of my body but there’s definitely a lot of shots of your…

Dick? Your boyfriend finishes with a deadpan expression, That’s fine. Besides, I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. You know the hashtag Verstappen’s third leg is trending on Twitter now? You giggle at his nonchalance, making Max smile at seeing you cheered up. You’ve finally having processed what happened enough to maybe see a bit of humour in it. True, I suppose it could have been worse, you muse. The Las Vegas video could have been the leaked one. Imagine how batshit the fans would have gotten if they saw the handcuffs were for you, not me. Max laughs genuinely, blue eyes looking fondly at your mischievous expression. The familiar Ferrari fire he adored was back in your own pretty doe eyes.

Or worse, the Barcelona one, you tease as you lead him to the kitchen to start making dinner. Scrolling through hundreds of posts and spiralling was calorie consuming work. I think Twitter would have shut down if they found out Max Verstappen likes being called daddy in the bedroom.

Your boyfriend’s face goes adorably pink as he stammers at your unexpected roast. Hey-hey now, schat, that was just one time okay? You’d just accidentally said it and it caught me off guard-

You grin playfully, giving him a kiss on the cheek because he looked too cute to resist. Sure, baby, so off guard you lasted 5 seconds after that. His face goes even pinker, reaching the tips of his ears now as he shyly looks away. For all his fierceness on the track, you loved how sweet the Dutch Lion was off it. Giggling, you put him out of his misery by handing him a knife and tell him to get to work chopping the tomatoes. You knew no matter what came your way, you would be fine with Max by your side.

—————————————————————————

A/N: okkk so what did u guys think at my first attempt at a social media AU ahaha. You know I love to yap I fear I included too many Twitter screenshots, I ALWAYS GET CARRIED AWAY. Anyway this was super fun pulled me right out of my writers block!!! Hope u enjoy xx

[theonottsbxtch]

MISS YOU BABY | MV1

an: i need a hug from max verstappen stat, based off this request! thank you for sending it :)

summary: max thought his girlfriend was missing his final race during his triple header, little did he know she'd planned to come and visit all along.

wc 3.6k

The hotel room she was in was quiet.

She sat cross-legged on the bed in a dark hotel room that mirrored his, only three floors below, making sure he couldn’t see her surroundings. Her phone was propped up against a pillow, and Max’s face filled the screen, his hair still damp from the shower, tousled and messy. He looked worn-out but managed a small, tired smile just for her.

"I’m sorry, Max. I really tried to get time off, but there was just… no way," she said, the fib slipping from her lips with surprising ease. "I wanted to be there with you. Especially now."

Max exhaled, leaning back against his headboard. “I know. It’s alright.” His voice softened. “I just miss you, is all. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, wishing she could reach through the screen and wrap her arms around him. "You’ll get through it, though. You always do."

"Doesn’t feel that way." He laughed, but it was brittle around the edges. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you.” His eyes searched the screen, as if he might find a solution hidden somewhere in her gaze.

"Never me." She leaned closer, her face so near to the camera that she could see her reflection in his eyes. "I’m so proud of you, Max. Always. No matter what."

For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression softening, and the tension she’d seen in his face for days seemed to melt, just a little. "I wish you were here," he murmured. "I swear, you’re the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes."

She swallowed, feeling her heart pull toward him with a force that was hard to resist. "Soon, I’ll be back with you. Just… hold on a bit longer, okay?”

She gazed at his face on the screen, her heart swelling as she watched the way his eyes softened every time he looked at her. She knew he was tired and worn down, but in this moment, he looked at peace.

"I love you, Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, and when he opened them again, there was a warmth there that seemed to cut through the miles between them. "I love you, too," he replied, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than you know."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks flush, and nodded. "Get some sleep, alright? Big day tomorrow."

He grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You, too. Dream about me, okay?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but her heart skipped all the same. "Always. Goodnight, Max."

"Goodnight, love."

With a final smile, she ended the call, letting the screen go dark as she leaned back into the pillows, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She’d hardly been able to sleep on the plane ride here, and she could already tell tonight would be the same.

Still, the thought of finally seeing him in person tomorrow kept her too giddy to care. She’d surprise him at the track, slipping through the garage just as he arrived, or maybe even at breakfast if she could manage it without spoiling the surprise. Her mind spun with ideas, each more elaborate than the last, but all she really wanted was to see his face light up when he realised she was there.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, she let her eyes drift closed, replaying the moment over and over in her mind, savouring the thought of his reaction. She loved him fiercely, and she knew that being here—no matter how much of a secret she’d had to make it—was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As she finally began to drift off, her last thought was simple but bright, shining like a promise: Tomorrow, he’ll know.

And while she was glad she held onto the secret.

The following morning she wished she’d told him earlier.

She woke to the faint glow of her phone on the nightstand, her morning alarm. Blinking herself awake, she squinted at the screen and saw Max’s name, followed by the time—5:02 a.m.

Heading to the track early today. Miss you already, wish you were here.

She smiled, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through her chest. But then her heart sank a little. She’d been hoping to catch him in the hotel this morning, maybe surprise him over breakfast. Now, with him already gone, she'd have to adjust her plans.

Throwing back the covers, she got up and went to the window. Rain streaked down the glass in thick, heavy drops, and the sky was a murky grey. The weather was only supposed to get worse throughout the day; she knew that’d make things complicated, especially for an outdoor track. She had no clue if her surprise would even be worth the stress of navigating the drenched, crowded paddock.

After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reached the name she wanted. She dialled, and after a few rings, Max’s assistant, Sophie, picked up.

“Hey!” Sophie greeted, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What’s up? Did you make it in?”

“Yes, I’m here!” she whispered, unable to contain her excitement. “I wanted to surprise him before he heads out on track, but with this rain… do you think I should even bother?”

Sophie sighed sympathetically. “Honestly, it’s a mess out here. They’re saying the rain’s going to be even heavier by the time qualifying starts. He’ll be in back-to-back meetings until then, and I’d hate for you to sit in the rain, just to get a few minutes with him.”

She nodded, glancing out the window at the sheets of rain. “So you think I should wait?”

“I’d say hold off until right before the race,” Sophie replied. “He’ll have a short break, and I think he’d love the surprise then. Plus, everyone’s less frantic between qualifying and race prep.”

“Good point,” she agreed, a little disappointed but knowing Sophie was right. The track on a rainy race day was chaos, and if she could avoid it until the right moment, she’d have a better chance of actually spending time with him. “Thanks, Sophie. Let me know if anything changes?”

“Will do! He’ll be so happy to see you,” Sophie said warmly. “Hang tight, okay?”

As she hung up, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement, knowing the surprise would be even more perfect with the wait. So she ordered herself a coffee, sat by the window, and watched the rain pour down, imagining the look on Max’s face when he’d finally see her just before the most important race of the weekend.

The rain hadn’t let up by the time she arrived at the track, the skies dark and moody, the air thick with humidity. She’d navigated her way through security and weaving lines of drenched fans, her heart racing as she got closer to Max’s garage. But by the time she finally made it, he was already in the car, helmet on, visor down, his focus entirely on the track ahead.

Her heart sank a little as she scanned the bustling garage, hoping for some last chance to catch his eye. But he was already strapped in, a crew member leaning in to give him a final check before he rolled out. She spotted Sophie in the corner, scribbling something down on a clipboard, and made her way over to her.

“Hey,” she whispered, feeling the dampness of the rain still clinging to her hair and clothes. “I… I just missed him, didn’t I?”

Sophie looked up and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he was swamped the moment he got here. They barely had time to get him settled with all the delays.” She gestured to the grid display above them, where Max’s name glowed beside the stark “P17” position. “Rough start, but he’ll be glad to know you’re here.”

She nodded, feeling a pang as she glanced at his car just as it rumbled to life. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, even from a distance she could see the tension there. She let out a breath, feeling a swell of pride and worry all at once. “Well, I’ll be here watching, then.”

Sophie handed her a headset, which she slipped on just in time to hear his engineer’s voice crackle through with the first instructions as they prepared for the start. The rain was relentless, turning the track into a slick, treacherous maze, and she felt her stomach twist as the cars peeled out onto the track for the formation lap. Max’s car trailed near the back, but she knew he’d fight, as he always did, with a ferocity she both admired and feared in moments like this.

The race began, a chaotic blur of spray and metal, the cars kicking up rooster tails of water, visibility nearly zero as they fought for position. She gripped the edge of her seat as the laps ticked by, heart pounding with every close call. It quickly became clear that the conditions were only worsening, drivers struggling to keep their cars on track, a few even skidding off into barriers with loud, bone-jarring crashes. Her hands tightened around the headset as Max navigate his way forward, battling his way to P10, then P6.

And then, just when the tension seemed to reach its peak, there was a deafening crash, followed by a sudden hush as the red flag went up, halting the race.

Her breath caught in her throat. The screen above replayed the incident—a skidding into the barrier that had caused an emergency stop. The seconds felt like hours as she waited, desperately searching for a glimpse of his car on the feed. Finally, there it was, intact, safe. Relief flooded her, and she felt her shoulders sag.

The race restarted after the delay, and she watched in awe as Max took advantage of the reshuffled positions and tire changes, surging forward with a newfound intensity. Lap by lap, he clawed his way through the field, passing car after car with a precision that made her heart race. It was as if he’d transformed, harnessing every ounce of his frustration from the last few races, channelling it into something extraordinary.

The garage erupted in cheers as he moved into P3, then P1. She stared at the screen, hardly daring to blink, her heart racing as he crossed the finish line in first place, drenched in rain and glory.

She could hardly believe it. From P17 to P1. He’d done it.

Forgetting herself, she laughed, a sound of pure joy, her heart swelling as she watched him slow down, the victory finally sinking in. She couldn't wait to see his face when he finally realised she was here, to be the first person he’d see when he stepped out of that car, soaked and grinning, finally at the top.

Ripping her headset off, she followed the crew as they ran out to parc fermé, her heart racing as fast as the roar of the crowd. The team, buzzing with excitement, parted slightly as she joined them, nudging her to the front so she’d be the first face he saw. She could barely breathe as she caught sight of Max’s car, now still, the rain glistening on its blue-and-red bodywork.

With all the force he had he climbed out, pulling off his helmet to reveal damp, messy hair and a face lit up with exhilaration and disbelief. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the shouts of the crowd and the blinding flashes of cameras. And then, his gaze landed on her.

His eyes widened, his exhaustion and surprise giving way to pure joy. Without hesitation, he broke into a run, crossing the slick tarmac with the kind of speed and determination that made her heart leap. She barely had a second to react before he wrapped her in his arms, his lips crashing against hers as he pulled her close, his hands pressed firmly against her back, as if he still couldn’t believe she was real.

“You came,” he murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at her, his face filled with awe and happiness.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion, brushing a wet strand of hair from his face.

He smiled, a bright, unguarded smile that melted her heart. “God, I needed this. I needed you.”

And then he kissed her again, a kiss filled with all the missed moments and the words they hadn’t been able to say, the thrill of his victory mingling with the fierce love they shared. She felt the rain soak through her clothes, the crowd and the noise around them fading as they held each other, his arms wrapping around her as if he could protect her from the rest of the world.

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered against her lips, his forehead resting against hers, his hand gently brushing her cheek. “P1. And you’re here.”

She laughed softly, her eyes shining. “You deserve it, Max. I knew you could do it.”

He held her close, a triumphant laugh bubbling from his chest as he buried his face in her neck, and they stood there in the pouring rain, lost in each other, savouring the victory and this long-awaited moment they both knew they’d never forget.

As the noise of the cheering crew and fans started to swell around them, Max pulled back slightly, brushing his thumb across her cheek, his gaze lingering on her face as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“I have to go,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “The interviews, cool-down room, podium… but wait for me? I’ll meet you in my driver’s room as soon as I can.”

She nodded, understanding but already missing the warmth of his arms. “I’ll be waiting. Go,” she whispered, giving him a small smile. “Enjoy every second—you deserve it.”

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her forehead, then turned and jogged off to join the waiting crew, helmet in hand, while she stayed rooted to her spot, watching him disappear into the crowd. Her heart swelled with pride as she trailed after the team to watch his interviews, his beaming, breathless face glowing with pride and energy as he spoke about the gruelling conditions and the unbelievable climb from P17 to P1.

Then came the cool-down room, where she watched from the sidelines as he bantered with the other drivers, sharing exhausted smiles and congratulatory claps on the back, the weight of his achievement settling in as he finally let himself relax a little. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling as though she could burst with joy just watching him, his eyes sparking with energy even as he looked ready to collapse from exhaustion.

And finally, the podium. She felt the crowd’s excitement echo through her as she looked up to see him standing tall, drenched from head to toe, a bottle of champagne in hand. When he raised it in victory, the crowd erupted, and she joined them, cheering at the top of her lungs as he sprayed champagne with abandon, laughing as he celebrated with the other drivers. His eyes swept over the crowd, and when they found hers, he gave a subtle nod, a silent promise that he’d be back with her soon.

After the podium, she made her way to his driver’s room, her heart fluttering as she paced the small space, the thrill of the day lingering in every fibre of her being. And then, finally, the door swung open, and there he was.

He looked completely worn out, his hair still damp and messy, his fireproof undersuit clinging to his skin. But his smile was bright, and his eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a soft, exhausted kiss. She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her close, the adrenaline and joy from his victory radiating between them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he whispered against her ear, his voice low and hoarse. “Winning today… and having you here with me. It’s everything.”

She brushed a strand of damp hair from his face, smiling as she traced her fingers along his cheek. “You did it, Max. I’m so proud of you.”

He took her hand, pressing it to his heart, his eyes never leaving hers. “None of it would mean anything without you,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

She felt her eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his words. “I’m here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be here.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world slipping away. He stroked her hair, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, as if savouring each moment.

“Let’s get out of here,” he finally murmured, his voice warm and soft, “celebrate somewhere a little less chaotic.”

She laughed, nodding. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

They headed back to his hotel, hand in hand, a peaceful quiet settling over them as they left the track behind. Once in the privacy of his suite, he gave her a lingering kiss, then smiled, nodding toward the bathroom. “Give me a few minutes to wash off all the champagne and… probably half the track dust,” he said with a laugh.

She grinned, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the suite a moment later. While he showered, she took the opportunity to pack up her things from her own room, gathering her scattered belongings quickly. The thrill of being close, of finally sharing a space for the night, filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tropical heat outside.

By the time she returned, he was out of the shower, towelling off his damp hair, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her standing there with her things. Without a word, he crossed the room and took her bags from her hands, setting them by the closet as he gave her a smile that made her heart skip.

Once they’d both changed into fresh clothes—she’d opted for a simple dress, and he in casual jeans and a loose shirt—they slipped out of the hotel through a side exit, making their way to a tiny, tucked-away Brazilian restaurant that had been recommended. The place was hidden, small enough to be missed by the crowds, with soft, low lighting that created an intimate, cosy atmosphere. A few locals lingered around tables, but they paid little attention to the couple as they took a corner table in the back.

They ordered caipirinhas and he reached across the table to hold her hand, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her skin as they laughed over silly little things, shared stories from the past few weeks, and spoke of things beyond racing, beyond work, just slipping back into the easy flow they always shared. The food was rich and delicious—small plates of feijoada, grilled meats, and pão de queijo—everything flavorful and homey.

He leaned across the table, his eyes warm and filled with that familiar spark, as he watched her speak, clearly savouring every moment. “You know,” he said softly, “I think this is the best victory celebration I’ve ever had.”

She squeezed his hand, smiling back at him. “Same here. I missed just… being with you like this.”

They stayed until the restaurant closed, lingering over the last bites of dessert, letting the night stretch out as long as possible. Eventually, they headed back to the hotel, the city streets now quiet and still beneath the soft hum of streetlights.

Once back in his room, Max changed into a pair of soft pyjama bottoms, leaving his chest bare, his skin still warm from the shower. She slipped into one of his t-shirts, the fabric soft and oversized, the scent of him comforting and familiar. When she stepped out the bathroom, he was already waiting for her by the bed, his gaze softening as he took her in, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

Without a word, he reached for her, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her close, guiding her to the bed. She sank into the mattress beside him, and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her against his chest, his fingertips trailing absently over her shoulder. She nestled into him, feeling his warmth seep through her, a cosy silence wrapping around them.

They lay there, tangled together, her head tucked beneath his chin as he gently traced circles on her back, his breath even and steady. He tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers for a quiet moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, filled with a tenderness that said everything words couldn’t. She kissed him back just as gently, savouring the intimacy of being close like this, the world beyond these walls feeling miles away.

When the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft sigh escaping as he held her close, one hand settling over hers, fingers intertwined. They stayed that way, her head resting against his heartbeat, lulled by the steady rhythm.

Finally, they drifted off, still tangled in each other’s arms, wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of just being together. As the night settled around them, Max couldn’t help but smile, holding her a little closer as he slipped into sleep, his heart full and light.

Max couldn’t have wished for a better weekend.

the end.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Take A Break | Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Summary: Toto has been pushing himself too hard trying to get the upgrades sorted. As his concerned wife, you plan a surprise visit.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff. Bad writing

Requested: Yes by Anon (Hope I did this justice)

2024 season. There's a little blurb halfway through as well.

F1 Masterlist

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by ynwolff_official, lewishamilton and others

mercedesamgf1 boss man hard at work 

1,198 comments

ynwolff_official you better be looking after him

→ mercedesamgf1 yes, ma’am. we’re doing our best 

→ ynwolff_official tell him if he doesn’t stop working late, he’ll be in trouble when he comes home 

→ mercedesamgf1 stop making the admin team threaten me, schatz. they keep coming into my office shaking and you’ll get me into trouble with hr - toto 

user1 tell him to make an insta 

georgerussell63 he looks like a sith lord

→ ynwolff_official i think you mean, very handsome

→ georgerussell63 i’m not going to say that about my boss

→ alex_albon why not? you were telling me the other day that you think he looks much better in the white shirt than the black zip up 

user2 anyone else think he looks tired lately?

→ user2 he’s been working extra hard to get the upgrades ready, i’m guessing 

→ user3 plus wifey and jack haven’t been able to make a race in a while so he’s probably missing them after that triple header

user4 george won’t be getting those upgrades once yn tells toto that he wouldn’t admit he was handsome

→ mickschumacher i’ve already told 

→ georgerussell63 betrayal

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Strolling through the Hungaroring paddock, you kept a tight hold of your son’s hand. Bustling bodies brushed past, paying the the pair of you no heed, which worked well with your surprise.

Over the past few weeks, Toto had been working tirelessly to ensure the upgrades were ready and working in time for the Hungarian Grand Prix, albeit to the detriment of his own health. He’d been sleeping less, running himself ragged to ensure Mercedes didn’t remain fourth in the constructors. After winning at Red Bull Ring and Silverstone, he knew the potential was there. All he had to do was unlock it. But that had meant shorter calls with his wife and son, fewer responses to messages and a growing distance that he hated feeling during the season. And so, arranging a surprise visit during race weekend had been the most obvious solution.

Mercedes hat sat atop his dark hair, Jack babbled about everything he could see as the tall form of George Russell guided you towards the garage. 

“Hello, stranger.” Lewis’ voice met your ears when he caught sight of you. “Toto didn’t tell me you were coming. What’s up, little man?” 

George vanished into the back of the garage, searching for the Team Principal. Leaning over to the Brit, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the 7x WDC. Lewis gave your shoulders a squeeze before pulling Jack up into his arms, whisking him over to where the W15 was being polished. 

“George, this better be important. I was in the middle of an analysis report-.” A disgruntled Austrian accent filled the garage, bringing a smile to your face. You could picture the deep frown twisting his handsome’s features without even turning to see it.

“Liebe?” 

The silver arrows watched the tension seep out of their Team Principal’s face as he took in the appearance of his wife. Striding across the garage floor, he pulled you in for a tight hug, and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head. Aware of the eyes on you both, he had to refrain from pressing his lips to yours. Denying you both the deep kiss you truly desired.

“Surprise,” you whispered, slipping your arm around his waist. Your hand automatically rubbing soothing circles against his hip. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmured into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of home. 

“You sounded like you needed us.”

“I always need you.”

“Well, then, let’s go rescue your son from Lewis.”

Holed up in Toto’s office, the Wolff family basked in their first moment of family time since over a month. Toto had ordered everyone to leave them alone until qualifying was due to start or somebody was dying. Thankfully, the team listened and so he spent the past hour listening to his son tell him about school and watching Lewis win a race on telly.

Fussing over the amount of coffee cups in the waste bin, you turned to lecture your husband on his inability to get enough rest but paused, mouth open. Curled up on the deep couch pushed against the wall, Jack was snuggled into his father’s lap. His iPad had fallen to the side, and soft snores escaped from his mouth. Glasses askew, Toto’s chin rested on his son’s head, eyes closed tight. Father and son, exhausted from the excitement of their day.

Taking a quick picture on your phone, you smiled at the sight of your family. Reaching into Jack’s backpack, you pulled out his blanket, draping it over your favourite boys.

“Ich liebe dich,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads.

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, mickschumacher and others

mercedesamgf1 our favourite family 🐺

1,554 comments 

georgerussell63 admin, you used the same quote for a photo of toto with me, lew and mick the other week?

→ mercedesamgf1 we were paid to do that 

→ alex_albon great now he’s crying 

→ landonorris ha! at least our admin love us more than zak

→ mclaren don’t tell on us! 

mercedesamgf1 inside scoop; toto asked us to print out the photo of yn and jack to put in his office 

mickschumacher does this mean i can take the little wolff karting?

→ ynwolff_official only if you promise to come for dinner

→ georgerussell63 and me? 

→ user5 poor toto can’t escape his drivers even during his time off because his wife adopted them all 

lewishamilton nice to see you and jack in the paddock again, yn

→ ynwolff_official and you, lew. hopefully we can attend a few more now that the summer holidays are here 

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ynwolff_official just posted

liked by valterribottas, mercedesamgf1 and others

ynwolff_official my favourite part of summer break is the view 

1,003 comments 

mercedesamgf1 tell boss man to bring that smile back with him 

→ ynwolff_official don’t worry. i’ll be sending him back to work extra happy 

→ lewishamilton yn, love, this sounds less than family friendly 

→ ynwolff_official oops 

user6 oh she’s FEEDING us 

user7 has george joined you for a sleepover yet

→ ynwolff_official of course. he’s like the son i didn’t ask for 

→ georgerussell63 but you love anyway?

→ user8 silence speaks volumes 

user9 yn wolff thirst trapping her husband was not on my 2024 bingo 

→ user10 silly season is extra silly this year so yn obvi thought she would participate 

→ user11 and we love her for it

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Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ your girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo held your hands carefully, his fingers scarcely brushing the raw, incensed marks from the rope burns. the reddened skin stood out against your pallid complexion, making the injuries look worse than you tried to let on. you flinched slightly when he turned your palms upward, his touch so delicate it made your chest ache. “it’s not so bad,” you murmured, your voice light, though the sting was anything but mild. you glanced up at him, hoping your slight smile would ease the worry etched into his exhausted, weary features.

˚ ༘♡ his brows furrowed together, your futile consolation doing little to calm him. his thumb drifted near the worst of the burns, as if he wanted to soothe the pain but didn’t dare. “i’m sorry,” he spoke, his voice desolate and tormented, as if it was meant for your ears alone, the others no concern of his. he shook his head, his jaw tightening. “if they’d given us water or even a cold drink, it might’ve helped. don’t put too much pressure on your hands, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ you gazed at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. “sang-woo, really, it’s nothing. we all got burns from the tug of war game,” you replied, your countenance softening as you glanced down at your scorched hands. “i’ll be fine.” the sincerity in his cloudedngaze made your heart burn with adoration, although the sting from your injuries grounded you.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond right away, his dark eyes lingering on your hands like he could will the pain away by staring at it long enough. for a split second, it seemed like he was about to say something, something you weren’t sure you were ready to hear, but instead, he let out a quiet sigh and bit into the corn cob the guards had distributed to the surviving players as meal rations. the stiffness in his shoulders stuck around, an indicative sign of his unease.

˚ ༘♡ “and you, babe!” mi-nyeo’s voice cut through the air, loud and exaggerated, she was player 212, who had been on their team for the last game. “three steps forward, huh? so cool.” her giggle was thick with flirtation as she strutted closer to sang-woo, clearly angling for his attention.

˚ ༘♡ but he didn’t so much as glance at her. not a single flicker of acknowledgment crossed his face. instead, his gaze flickered back to you for the briefest of moments, his lips pressing into a thin line when he saw your discomfort. you shifted uncomfortably beside him, your fingers curling slightly against your lap, but his knee brushed yours, whether intentional or not, it was enough to send a reassuring warmth through you. gi-hun, noticing the awkwardness brewing between everyone, laughed, his tone cheerful. “hey, sang-woo’s got a girlfriend already, so give it a rest.”

˚ ༘♡ mi-nyeo froze fora beat, her playful smirk disappearing. her eyes darted toward you, sitting stiffly next to sang-woo. she blinked in disbelief, her gaze flitting between the two of you before settling on you. “the foreign girl?” she scoffed, her voice rising. “seriously? come on, sang-woo, you can do so much better…”

˚ ༘♡ you opened your mouth to speak, but sang-woo beat you to it, his voice slicing through the tension. “why don’t we eat in silence?” his tone was cold, sharper than you’d ever heard it, and it left no room for argument. his dark eyes narrowed on mi-nyeo, making it clear he wouldn’t tolerate another word from her.

˚ ༘♡ a small tinge of satisfaction warmed your chest as mi-nyeo’s face fell, though you kept your expression neutral. she paused for a moment, clearly trying to think of a way to regain control of the conversation. eventually, she shrugged, her grin returning with a sly twist. “if that’s what you want,” she declared, drawing out her words before sauntering away with an exaggerated sway in her hips.

˚ ༘♡ the minute she was gone, you let out a slow breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly. sang-woo hadn’t moved, his posture rigid and his dark eyes fixed on the ground, though his tensed muscles revealed his lingering frustration. you glanced at him, hesitant but apprehensive. “you didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, your voice soft enough to be carried away by the air around you.

˚ ༘♡ his head turned toward you, his dark eyes meeting yours witha strength that brought you to stop speaking. “yes, i did,” he said, his words hushed and certain, as if it were the most evident notion in the world. “she doesn’t get to talk to you like that.” his manner of speech carried a modest intensity, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to make an impact.

˚ ༘♡ you blinked, surprised by the tenderness of his response. “it doesn’t bother me,” you said, though the strain in your voice betrayed the pitiful lie. you wanted to brush it off, to convince him, and maybe yourself, that it didn’t matter with how dire the circumstances were. yet he didn’t look away, and the way his eyes searched yours made it unthinkable to hold the facade.

˚ ༘♡ “it should,” he said quietly. his gaze went to your wounded hands again, fixated on the burns as his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should. “you don’t deserve that insolent mockery and those rude insults.”

˚ ༘♡ the raw honesty in his voice made something inside you ache. you swallowed hard, your heart catching at the way he looked at you, in a way that betrayed that he cared more than he was willing to admit. “we all deal with it,” you said gently, the words feeling inadequate even as they left your lips.

˚ ༘♡ his expression didn’t change, but his voice softened just enough to make your chest tighten. “that doesn’t make it right,” he mumbled, almost to himself. he leaned slightly closer, his tone faint enough that it felt like the world around you had fallen away. “if i could make it easier for you, i would.”

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in your throat, the unexpected affection of his words settling solemnly in the little distance between the two of you. for a brief period of time, neither of you spoke, the solitude stretching out in a way that felt strangely comforting. you could feel the unspoken significance of everything he wasn’t saying, everything he couldn’t put into words, and it was enough to make the misery of the desolate world seem distant, something nonexistent.

˚ ༘♡ “thank you,” you finally whispered, your voice barely able to be heard but carrying more meaning than the mere words could communicate.

˚ ༘♡ he gave the smallest nod, his lips pressing together as if to keep himself from saying more. the short-lived instance of genuine affection had ended, but the feeling it left behind stayed with you, lingering, quiet, and comfortable in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

a/n: a more lighthearted cho sang-woo fanfiction! let me know if you have anymore requests for him as well as your thoughts! 🤍

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader / Pietro Maxmioff x fem!reader

Summary: Nothing is as it seems.

Prompt: "You look familiar. Where do I know you from?"

Warnings: crossover au, death, pietro, reader, and james are all sixteen, ending is very much up to interpretation (open-ended lol), confusing on purpose 😉

~ @simp-for-fictional-people this is SO niche and so different then anything I usually write! i hope this is what you wanted, lovie!! ~

ps: while i personally fan-cast James as Aaron Taylor-Johnson in my head and use him for headers, i try and write his physical descriptions more ambiguously in my other james works because i know there are plenty of other amazing James fan-casts (including poc!james, which i really love)! however, for this story's purposes, he's supposed to look like pietro 😁 ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

Dead.

The word rings in your ears but you don't register it. You slide through the rubble, knees scraping the pavement to reach him. Alive? You hope as you see a glimmer of those blue eyes you love so much behind the strands of silver. You whisper his name, the letters feeling wrong on your tongue as you kneel beside him. 

You see the blood seeping through his costume and your heart sinks. Dead. Dead. Dead. It's a taunting chant as you push him up to lean his head on your knees, pushing his hair away from his eyes. His eyes, which are staring at you but there's no life behind them anymore. 

"No," your voice is shaky as you clutch him, your skin vibrating as your vision blurs. "No. No. No. No," you chant to counter the voice in your head. You bend over and kiss his forehead. No response. You try his cheek as tears stream down your cheeks. "Pietro," you plead, "wake up."

Anger courses your veins as his blood stains your hands. Your head is pounding so loudly you can barely think. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

The team calls your name. You feel like the world around you is spinning as you feel your powers acting up as you hold him closer to you, crushing his face into your chest as you sob. You feel hot and misplaced as your head is throbbing. 

Your name is screamed again but this time, you can't even see them as a blinding green light surrounds you, catching the gimmer on your wrist—the small silver bracelet Pietro had given you for your sixteenth birthday—and you fall unconscious. Your head hits the pavement, making everything turn dark. 

His hand touches yours, the background blurry. He looks like a carefree kid again, those rosy cheeks so full of life and future. "Y/n/n, wake up," Pietro whispers, grinning as you stare into his blue eyes. "Wake up now."

You startle awake, sitting up as your chest heaves. You blink, dried tears still on your cheeks. You glance around the room, it looks ancient. You're dressed in clothes you don't immediately recognize as your head continues to throb.

From your bedside, a boy jumps up. He's wearing the same clothes, only his with red accents as opposed to your green ones. His dark hair is curled messily across his features and his glasses rest lopsided on his head. "Thank Merlin!" he exclaims, his British accent thick as he rushes up to you and leans over you, smiling. "Are you okay?"

You blink, looking at his features intensely. His smile, the way his nose curves, the swoop of his hair. His eyes. 

The same ones flash in your head. 

"You look familiar," you whisper, tilting your head with confusion, "Where do I know you from."

The boy laughs. "Y/n/n, it's me. It's James."

James? James? James? For some reason the name sticks on your tongue. You look at him as your memories rush back. James. Pietro? James. 

"Jamie, right," you shake your head, touching your scalp and frowning. "Shit, what happened?"

"You fell and hit your head pretty damn hard, love," James kisses your forehead tenderly. "Madam Pomfrey says you have a small concussion," he smiles and again you have a weird sense of déja-vu.

"I had the weirdest dream," you tell him and look down at your hands, almost expecting to see the green light from around them. Your frown deepens when you see the silver bracelet from your dream. You hold your wrist up. 

"James? Where did this come from?"

James looks at the bracelet and shrugs. "Why're you asking me? It's yours." 

You turn the bracelet around, frowning again as you see a hint of two small initials engraved onto the metal.

P.M

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg, @tansgirlfriend, @brokeaesthetic , @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld

[woso-dreamzzz]

Loss

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You lose

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

You wanted to take all your gloves and throw them into the fire and just watch them burn.

What use is a keeper that can't stop goals anyway?

Three goals went passed you today. Four if you count the one that was ruled offside.

Three balls shot passed you in the semifinal of the FA Cup. Arsenal would not be going to the final.

Faith had been put on you to carry the team through but you had fallen at the first hurdle.

A shot fired at you from point blank range in the first five minutes.

It skimmed your gloves and buried itself into your net.

The second came from a corner. A header that went just past your outstretched fingertips.

The third was during the second half. A cross into your box and a shot that zoomed past your body.

The fourth goal, the one called offside, had been whipped in just in front of you after you came out of your goal to collect.

It was a shocking performance from you and you fell face forward onto your bed to scream into your pillow.

Your phone keeps ringing and you know who it is.

You ignore it, turning your head so you can stare at your bedside table.

You watch your phone ring over and over again. The screen lights up and then goes dark again. It repeats again and again but all you can do is stare.

You don't want to think about the match. You want to crawl under your sheets and just die.

You've got to go out to get groceries tomorrow. You don't know how you're going to show your face in public.

Your performance was so embarrassing.

Your coach shouldn't have thought that putting an eighteen year old as keeper was a good idea. His faith in your ability was unfounded and you wonder briefly if it's too late to go back to school for something other than football.

You didn't think you needed a backup option. Football was everything to you. Football was your whole life.

You don't know what you're going to do without football.

Your phone rings again and you flip it over so you can't see the screen anymore.

Rocky looks back at you from his spot on your bedside table.

"Don't," You say to him," Don't look at me like that."

His blank googly eyes stare back at you.

"Stop it."

He keeps staring.

Your hand closes around him and your arm rears back in anger.

Rocky collides with your bedroom wall, clattering to the floor.

You scream into your pillow, forcing yourself not to cry.

You know everyone is going to be talking about your bad performance today. You knew you single-handedly sunk Arsenal's dream of the FA Cup this year.

Your phone rings again and again and you wish you had turned off your sound.

You never realised how annoying your ringtone was. If you remember when you wake up tomorrow, you'll have to change it.

The stupid jingle runs through your ears like how those goals run through your mind.

"I don't want to talk," You say when you finally gain the courage to answer your phone after watching it ring for at least an hour.

"Princesse-"

"No," You cut her off firmly," I don't want to talk. Stop calling me."

"No," Momma says," I watched the match-"

"I don't want to talk!" You insist," Why can't you leave me alone?!"

"Princ-"

"Stop it!" You say, tears running down your cheeks," Just stop!"

"It's not the end of the world." That's Morsa now.

"You weren't there! You don't know!"

"You think I haven't lost matches?" Comes Morsa's dry voice," I know all about losing, princesse. It's one match out of countless others. You'll get them next year."

"I don't want to get them next year!" You spit back," I wanted to get them this year!

"And that didn't work out," Momma says to you gently," And that's okay."

A sob rips through your throat. "Momma, I played so badly."

"You're still young," Momma says," You're never going to have a perfect game all season. It was unfortunate that it was today but it is what it is. You'll spend the weekend sulking about it but you'll improve yourself. You'll get better next time."

You crouch on your bedroom floor, picking up Rocky and wiping off the dirt from him.

One of his googly eyes has fallen off so you stick it back on.

"It's not just your fault," Morsa says," You're in a team sport, princesse. The blame never falls on one person's shoulders. You're still young. You've proven yourself to your team. One bad match doesn't ruin everything. You'll improve."

You wipe away your tears, clenching your fist around Rocky. "Really?"

"Of course. You're going to be great one day but you need to stumble a bit first. Learn from your mistakes and you'll get them next time."

You sniffle. "Thanks."

"Good girl," Momma says," Now, I want you to order food tonight, alright? You had a hard day. Treat yourself."

"I will."

"We love you."

"Love you too."

You look down at the rock in your hand and wince. "Sorry I threw you, Rocky. It won't happen again."

[dat-town]

another social casualty

Characters: golden boy!Jaehyun & loner!female reader

Setting & genre: hurt/comfort, coming of age, high school au

Summary: One fears not being lovable, the other fears losing people. Two lonely souls find each other.

Warnings: mentions of academic, parental and peer pressure, loneliness, nosebleed, past friendship fallout, abandonment issues (MC’s father left), anxiety, medication, crying, the romance is very slow burn, it’s more like finding safe haven in each other?

Words: 8.8k

Author’s note: title from the 5SOS song, though i listened to a whole lot of Keshi and Conan Gray while writing this. heavily inspired by Jaehyun’s crazy academic background and how he said he was in a dark place before joining KOZ, i can’t find the entire list of his school activities but here and here are some. header pic of Jaehyun is from starry-eyed

@restlessmaknae you chose this as the one you would be most interested in from my list, so i hope it doesn’t disappoint!

i did not expect to finish this before 2024 ends but here it is. wishing all my readers a 2025 spent with joy, in health, happy new year! <3

→ BEFORE

Myung Jaehyun is a people pleaser.

You can tell because you used to be the same. Not anymore. Still, you can’t look away because it’s like watching a train wreck. Terrible because you can see the cracks in his personality but intriguing at the same time. Just how much a person can mold their own material to make them fit into pre-shaped places? How can they make themselves smaller if there’s not enough space for them? It’s rush hour metro effect: one can always bend and push and press enough to squeeze inside, to turn into something they are not. This is how you become part of the machine.

You have been there. Now you prefer to be an observer. Now you don’t fake laughs over things you don’t find funny just to not hurt somebody else’s feelings. Now you rather sit alone at the canteen during lunch hour instead of pretending to be somebody you’re not just to be welcomed at a popular table. Now you prefer to be invisible rather than seen and judged. Ghosts have it better off in high schools.

Myung Jaehyun doesn’t seem to know that yet.

The first time you really saw Jaehyun, the principal called him in front of the lined up classes during the school year starting ceremony and pinned a badge with the title ‘school president’ onto his uniform. You looked up from the creases of the back of your classmate’s white shirt in front of you to see a boy on the podium as rigid as the pole with the Korean flag. His dress jacket was perfectly ironed, necktie tucked in, no wrinkles in his entire attire. Not even a piece of hair was out of place. He stood there, in front of the entire school, tall and proud, as an example just like the principal called him while listing all his achievements. He was not only a straight A student, a member of the student council and the vice president of the Economics and Business Management club but he also proved his worth as part of the football team and representing the school in various regional writing competitions. The list went on and on, Principal Lee was really emphasizing just how much he wanted to have more students like him, dedicated and hard-working ones, at the school, but you tuned out everything after the first few sentences. Myung Jaehyun caught your attention not because of the way the silver badge shone on his chest or the way he kept his eyes strictly on one point ahead, mouth pressed in a firm line, but rather because of the way his fingers twitched by his sides. When you looked closer, you could tell he was picking at the skin around his nail, a nervous habit. Everything about him was proper and perfect except that.

Ever since then it hasn’t been hard to notice him. Although you don’t share a class, with all his clubs and one too many responsibilities he is kind of everywhere. He’s announcing details about the upcoming annual trip on the school radio, he’s on the top of the list that’s pinned in the school hall about the midterm results, he’s holding a trophy in a photograph for the vitrine in the hallways that lead up to the school gym.

It’s not like you’re watching him. There’s nothing weird or stalkerish in it. You’re not even like the girls who whisper scream his name when he walks by and wonder if they should ask him out. You just notice him and observe. You keep looking for flaws in his picture perfect demeanor. You look for signs that there’s a human beneath that machine he seems to be. You just watch him from a distance and you’re content with that.

Until he notices you too.

→ SEPTEMBER

It happens on a Friday evening, early in the new term, long after the last classes ended, so the school library is pretty empty. You don’t like crowds, so you prefer to visit when most students have already retreated. This way you can also avoid running into people you don’t want to meet. You greet the tired librarian by the door with a bow and with your bag hanging from your shoulder, you head straight towards the Literature section because of an essay you have to write. It isn’t due for a week more but you don’t like to leave things to the last minute purely because of the stress that rushing brings. You trace the spines of the books with your fingertip as you walk past them, searching for a specific author and when you find it, you grab it from the shelf. You press it to your chest and slip out on the other side of the aisle, ready to head back towards the librarian’s desk when you hear a sniffle. You look up, towards the source of the sound and see him.

Myung Jaehyun is sitting at one of the tables in the back, hunched over text books. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and it comes back red. It’s vivid like a blaring warning sign and your gut twists as the school president scrambles to hold off his nosebleed before it would get everywhere. His movements seem frantic, almost panicked as he fumbles with the zipper of his backpack but he freezes in spot when he notices you watching. With two fingers pressing his nose, blood splotches on the sleeve of his immaculate white shirt, he stares at you wide eyed, just as frozen in place as you are.

You’re startled. The moment your eyes meet, you feel his gaze burn. You cast your eyes down and take a step backwards, ready to leave and pretend nothing happened. Because nothing did. But then you halt, thinking better off it. You swiftly reach into the front pocket of your bag and take out a small packet of tissues and a piece of chocolate you always keep with yourself in case your blood sugar dipped. You can feel Myung Jaehyun’s eyes on you the entire time you walk up to his desk. Realistically speaking it doesn’t take more than a few seconds, it is six steps at max but it feels longer with his scalding attention on you. You’re not used to being watched, you’re a wallflower after all.

You put the tissues and chocolate down on the table and turn around to leave. You don’t wait for the boy’s reaction. You don’t even look at him. You don’t stop when he calls after you. You leave as quickly as you came. Blend back into the shadows where you like to be.

Myung Jaehyun doesn’t let you though.

Next week when you leave your classroom on Tuesday, he’s out in the corridor in front of the door, waiting. For you. There’s not much guessing about it since you are the last one in the class, everybody else having somewhere to run off and here you are, taking your time. You only falter for a moment when you step over the threshold and take in the sight of the school president in all his glory. Then you look down onto the laminated floor and turn down the corridor.

Jaehyun pushes himself away from the window frame he has been leaning against so far and catches up to you fast.

“Wait,” he calls after you, his voice is an echo of the sound he made back in the library.

Thinking back on it twists your gut uncomfortably as you remember the blood and how the boy looked at you like he never received kindness from a stranger. Much to your dislike, you slow your steps and eventually come to a halt when you realize you can’t just brush off the boy’s presence, so you decide it’s better to get over with. You look up at him questioningly, nails digging into the straps of your backpack as you wait.

“Can we talk?” Jaehyun asks, polite like anytime you heard him talk and he looks relieved that he doesn’t have to chase you down. His tie is a little crooked today but other than that there’s nothing out of place about him. Although from this close you see the dark circles under his eyes and can’t help but wonder how much he slept last night and the night before that. He has always had the best score but it didn’t stop him from running himself thin last week if the nosebleed is anything to go by.

“If you’re worried about what happened in the library, don’t. I won’t tell anybody,” you shrug because why would you? He certainly isn’t the first senior who drives himself over his own breaking point. You had heard stories about hospital IV dip visits, students fainting after handing in their papers and ‘vitamins’ passed around before exam week. The stakes are high. The competition to get into a Seoul university, especially a SKY one is cutthroat and you know that the school president aims for that. Everybody expects him to do so. With his list of achievements and history of high scores, it sounds viable. But at what price?

“It’s not that,” Myung Jaehyun protests but despite his words his shoulders visibly go slack with relief. You can tell that he cares a lot about his reputation and it sure would have left a stain if people knew that the all so perfect school president was human too, bleeding from academic pressure right on his homework. You grimace at the thought.

“You don’t owe me anything either,” you clarify because you never expected anything in return for being a decent human being and you don’t know what else he could possibly want.

“But…”

“Really. Just forget it,” you sigh, tired of arguing already. The boy looks conflicted under his wavy fringe, almost like a puppy before schooling his expression and clearing his throat.

“Thanks anyway,” he says before stepping out of your way, so you can keep going and you do. You move on with your life, watching from the sidelines as he receives praise for his participation in a regional essay contest and when the football team returns with another hard earned win.

Days pass in a blur. Like they always did. Just another day to get through. Just another week. Just another term. Gosh, you can’t wait for high school to end. You have had enough of seeing these people.

On Monday you make eye contact with Mijoo when you come out of a stall in the girls’ bathroom and she’s in front of the mirror fixing her already perfect makeup. She used to not do that, care too much about her appearance, not before she befriended Kim Soyeon. Now you awkwardly hold eye contact for one, two, three seconds and then she looks away. You’re the one who walks away just like you did before but it doesn’t make it easier. There’s something hollow and painful in your chest, still missing something you once had.

Three days later your mother asks you about school while you help clean the tables at the café. She asks about the midterms and if you’re still friends with ‘that ponytail girl’. The reminder feels like a slap and your throat closes up.

On Friday you skip out on lunch hour and spend it lying on the bench in the yard, staring at the sky. You’re caught like that when it starts to rain. You watch it through spread fingers as the first raindrops fall then close your eyes and smile. You have always loved the rain and even though it’s impractical to get soaked in the middle of the school day, you can always change into your PE clothes, you reason.

But then the rain stops. You can’t feel the cold drops on you even though you hear the rhythmic sound of them hitting the ground and you pry your eyes open only to see Myung Jaehyun standing above you with an umbrella held over you. You shoot up into a sitting position quickly, then stand up and smooth down your uniform. Not necessarily because you’re embarrassed but because you hate being a burden to others and while you didn’t ask for his help, based on his persistence from last time you know he wouldn’t have just left no matter what you told him. Hell, he even moves to shrug off his jacket before you stop him.

“It’s okay. I have a change of clothes inside,” you explain but there’s no arguing with the school president about walking you inside. You can tell he wants to ask you something but you don’t give him a chance to. Once you are between four walls, you mutter out a polite thanks and then head to your classroom.

→ OCTOBER

On another Friday evening, Myung Jaehyun asks if he can sit at your table in the near empty library. You don’t understand what he’s getting at, so you just shrug, still focused on your homework. When you steal a glance at the boy on the other side of the table, you see him go over pages of ink writing, highlighting certain parts. There’s torn and nipped skin around his thumb nail. You turn back to your workbook before he could notice that you were looking.

“Are you coming to the school trip?” The boy asks when half an hour later you start packing your bag. The question surprises you because he shouldn’t care. He doesn’t even know you.

“No,” you answer curtly, not going into details. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve always been a homebody and you don’t enjoy social interactions, especially not school-related ones. But Jaehyun is stubborn and curious a bit too much.

“Why not?” He asks and you sigh.

“It’s not really my scene. I don’t want to spend more time around my classmates than I have to,” you shrug nonchalantly but there must be something in your voice that gives you away because the boy furrows his brows in worry.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” you lie or well, not really. Technically, nothing really happened regarding the trip. But if things were like they were a year ago, you would be excited about going with Mijoo. Things just change, people too. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“You’re always alone,” Jaehyun says in a quiet voice in the library’s dead still silence. He says it like it was something you should be sad about. A part of you wants to question whether he had been stalking you to notice that but that would have been rich coming from you who had been watching him from afar all along, so you decide against it.

“Yes. I prefer that way,” you tell him instead and it’s true. Better alone than with fake friends. Yet, the boy can’t even seem to fathom the idea.

“You can’t mean that,” he mutters with widened eyes and it leaves you with something bitter in your gut.

Can’t you? Just because a pretty boy runs himself thin to get everybody’s appreciation, can’t you want some peace of mind alone?

“Not everybody needs constant validation,” you snap at him and it comes out harsher than intended. You can see the hurt mirrored in Jaehyun’s eyes but you don’t let yourself linger on it as you hoist your bag up to your shoulder. “Don’t make me your charity case.”

“I don’t… I’m not…”

The always so eloquent Myung Jaehyun seems speechless now but you don’t wait for him to figure out what he wants to deny more, whether he can at all. You leave him there at the table. You’re good at that: leaving. Better be the one doing it than being the one left behind.

It’s been four years since you last saw your father. A part of you misses him, or at least the idea of a reliable father. At first you had been angry at your mother for giving him an ultimatum but then realized that at the end of the day, it wasn’t her fault. It was your father who chose his gambling addiction over you. So maybe you were better off without him.

It was around that time too when you realized that being left short on money limited your future opportunities. Not that you ever dreamed about going abroad or attending the best schools in the country. You didn’t even know what you wanted to do with your life and it sounded stupid, spending so much money on education just because everybody else was doing it around you. You started helping out your mom at the café then too, so she wouldn’t have to hire another part-timer and even though now, when things are better, your mother tries to convince you from time to time to go to after school studies instead of wiping tables and washing dishes, you don’t mind doing it. You can choose the melody coming from the old retro music box, help her come up with decoration ideas for holiday seasons and taste test new baked goods. You also take your role as her social media manager very seriously, posting aesthetic photos on Instagram periodically. It’s a simple life, a comfortable one and you’re content with it.

Your homeroom teacher not so much.

He called you into the teachers’ office to talk and you already knew why. It made it a bit easier to brace yourself for the impact of his words. Him asking about the reasons why you didn’t apply to any university. He doesn’t accept your answer and your satisfaction easily, he pushes relentlessly, telling you that you would regret it one day but you know it’s not about your future, it’s about the school’s yearly statistics. You tune out most of his speech, focusing on a loose thread of his worn knitted sweater, of the low hum of the coffee machine in the back and the printer coughing up papers. Then a familiar voice reaches your ear and you glance over the cubicle wall to see Myung Jaehyun with a punch of papers in his arm. His homeroom teacher pats him on the shoulder, proud, and for a moment you wonder how the boy feels about it.

“Y/N! Are you even listening?” Your own teacher chides and you avert your gaze back to the man but in your peripheral view, you can see the school president turn towards you just when Mr Hong clicks his tongue in annoyance. “It’s always the ones without fathers. They lack discipline.”

His words burn you deeper than expected. Him blaming something like this on your lack of father, on your mother’s loving care and hard work essentially. It makes you clench your hands in fists by your sides until you’re dismissed with a resigned promise to think about it.

When you finally leave the teachers’ office, Jaehyun waits outside. His eyes are gentle and a little sad but not pitying as he asks: 

“Are you okay?”

“I will be,” you nod because it’s not a big thing, you will get over it. Jaehyun doesn’t press and you’re grateful for that.

You don’t know when it happens and how. Letting down your guard around Myung Jaehyun of all people. It happens gradually like the trees changing their green leaves to more colourful attire. You’re very different: he cares too much about his grades and image and you care too little. He has all these big ambitions and you have none. He basks in glory in front of the school and you let out a sigh of relief when you can get over a day without anybody talking to you.

You have never stopped looking at Jaehyun though. You see him in the corridor, tall and proud and confident. You see him celebrated for his achievements on the school podium and even in the canteen surrounded by all his so-called friends and admirers. The difference is that lately he has been looking back. His gaze meets yours in the busy canteen when you sit at a table with strangers like you usually do if there’s no empty table. Your eyes meet in the hall when you arrive two minutes before the bell rings and he’s on gate duty. He never talks to you, never approaches you and it makes it easier to relax in his company, knowing that he wouldn’t bring unwanted attention to you.

He finds you in the almost empty library though, sits at your table in silence and minding his own business. He doesn’t bring up the trip again and you don’t call him out on his unusual behaviour either. You just exist in the same space, without judgement, without expectations. It’s actually quite nice.

It gives you the push to go up to him too when you see him alone at your usual table in the library on a Thursday late afternoon. As you get closer you see a brochure for Seoul National University open in front of him and that he’s reading a book about writing personal statements and study plans for college applications.

“So SNU?” You ask quietly enough not to startle him as you slip into the seat across from him.

Jaehyun looks up, his hair a bit messy, probably from running his hand through it more than usual but you like this look on him. Not being oh so perfect makes him seem more approachable.

“Yeah. What about you?” He inquires, trying to make a conversation probably because you didn’t hear the beginning of your conversation with your homeroom teacher back in the teachers’ office. You used to be nervous when people asked such loaded questions, afraid of disappointing them but once you accepted that their opinion didn’t matter more than yours, it all became easier.

“Oh, I won’t go to university.”

“What? Why?” The school president’s eyes widen in surprise as if he couldn’t even imagine that and maybe he can’t. With the competitive job market of Korea, people are made to feel like they worth nothing without a degree but you never dreamed of a white collared job, so you don’t care about that. There are many respectable ways to live without pursuing higher education.

“I don’t need a university degree to help out at my mom’s café,” you explain matter-of-factly and then out of curiosity you look up at Jaehyun, the boy who picks on his skin and works hard until he gets nosebleed, who is always number one and the teachers’ favourite yet never really smiles.  “Why? Is it really you who wants to go to SNU?”

“Of course it’s me! Who else would it be?” Jaehyun’s voice pitches higher than usual, his tone defensive. You quirk a brow, not deeming necessary to answer. It could be his parents, his teachers, the society. He must realize it too because he cast his eyes down and his fingers twitch nervously over the papers in front of him.

After a few minutes of silent shuffling around, his phone buzzes and he curses under his breath, hastily packing his bag.

“I have practice. Sorry,” he apologises, which must be a force of habit because it’s not like you agreed to hang out, nor it’s like he should be sorry for leaving early.

You just nod at him, thinking of the pressure he must have on him with all these responsibilities of which you barely see a fraction. And if you take a detour to pass by the football field on your way out of school, it’s only for you to know. You can’t help it, you get too curious for your own good sometimes and you wonder how the school president is when he plays. It’s easy to spot him when you stop to watch a bit. It’s just practice but you can see how hard he tries, how he pushes his own limits. Running and running until he can’t. He doesn’t seem to do anything half-heartedly. He’s like a flame, burning bright, but you wonder just how long could his passion last before he burns out.

“You know, for somebody who doesn't plan on going to university, you’re here a lot,” Jaehyun mentions one time after he opens his Ethics book. There’s a question hidden in his statement but you don’t mind it as much as you thought you would.

“My mom doesn’t let me help out on school days and I like it here better than in the empty house,” you admit because no matter how much you like being alone, an empty, cold house has a different feel. This way your mom also has the illusion that you have friends to hang out or study with after school and doesn’t worry about you that much. Half of the time you don’t even do homework, just grab a book and read.

Jaehyun hums and stays quiet for a while but you can tell he lingers, he hasn’t flipped a page in the book in front of him for ages. You wait patiently for him to speak up, for his gaze guiding to your features again, tentatively this time.

“Do you… really don’t mind being alone? Aren’t you like… afraid of not having anybody in your life? Of being lonely?” He questions and you aren’t sure what happened that prompted him to ask about that but you would be the last person to judge him after voicing out fears so human.

“I’m more afraid of losing myself while trying to make myself digestible for others and I don’t like the idea of people leaving. It’s easier to avoid that if you don’t get attached,” you answer the best you can without sharing too many details, too many scars of your past. It already feels a bit too much, a bit too personal. You aren’t exactly friends after all. He’s just a boy who sometimes sits at your table. It’s not like you would see each other after graduation, it’s safe.

“Digestible?” Jaehyun mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Everybody does it. They pretend to be somebody they aren’t, so others would like them,” you explain but the boy shakes his head, not exactly in disagreement though.

“You make it sound so bad. But what’s so wrong about only showing your better sides to other people?”

You don’t answer right away. Just look into Jaehyun’s eyes, letting your gaze linger over his dark circles and the bitten ends of his nails. You sigh, quietly.

“Isn’t it tiring? Being in somebody else’s skin just to be liked?”

Jaehyun could argue that it’s still his skin, that it’s just a better version of himself and you would let him. If he wanted to hide his flaws and imperfections, he has every right and you wouldn’t tell him not to do it because you know how scary it’s to bare yourself in front of somebody else and it’s not like you’re not hiding parts of yourself, it’s just easier to not have anybody around you close enough to see them.

→ NOVEMBER

CSAT exams are approaching fast: students get busier, teachers try to squeeze in just one more type of question in their classes and you can tell that everybody’s nerves are fizzled.  One would think that the school president with his consistently high scores is calm and prepared but you know Jaehyun better than to believe that facade. Still, you don’t expect to catch him on a call with his mother when you leave the football field’s bleachers. These days the school library is full of people day and night, too busy, too stressful, so you prefer killing time on the white painted benches as long as the weather’s not too cold. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, you just halt in your steps when you hear Jaehyun’s voice, unsure of what to do.

“Everything’s okay, mom. Yeah, you don’t have to worry, I’m doing fine.”

His voice is cheerful but you can tell that it’s fake. You can hear him let out a deep breath when he lowers the phone in his hand. He isn’t fine. He has been running himself paper thin. Barely eating, barely sleeping. His hands tremble as he takes the pills. Whether it’s supplements or medicine for stress you never asked. He says it’s only until the CSAT is over. He says it like it’s natural, like it’s a rite of passage everybody goes through.

When you step out of the wall’s cover and Jaehyun sees you, he momentarily tenses before relaxing. You have already seen him in moments of weakness, he knows he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you.

He walks you to the bus stop before going back to squeeze in one more hour of studying before his body would give up on him. You think about stopping him, about telling him not to overdo it but you know that he’s smart enough to know he’s burning the candle on both ends and it could end badly. It also feels unfair of you to tell him to stop when you could never understand his ambitions, so it’s easy for you to say so. So instead of arguing about principles, or trying to stop him knowing it’s useless, you push a bottle of C-vitamin rich juice drink into his hands next morning when you meet by the school gates. It’s you saying that he isn’t alone without saying it. Because the thing is, he never was alone, not physically. But one can be lonely even when dozens of people surround them.

The day of exams is a nerve wracking one, even for you, who doesn’t care about it much because your future doesn’t depend on these scores. You can’t even fathom the pressure and how it feels for those who base their dreams on this one day. Your head is hurting from being in the stuffy classroom solving Maths problems and answering questions about paragraphs from classics all day but instead of heading straight home, you watch as students file out of the school in batches and then one by one. When Jaehyun steps outside of the building, he seems deep in thought and his hands are full of exam papers he’s still reading through. He doesn’t even notice you at first, not until you pull on the sleeve of his jacket. When your eyes meet, you realize that he looks beyond tired and anxious. It breaks your heart a little.

“How do you feel?” You ask carefully, taking the exam papers from his hands and folding them neatly, ready to be packed away.

“I thought I would be relieved that it’s finally over but I keep going back re-thinking my answers, wondering what if I messed it up,” the school president sighs deeply, a shaky little sound and he looks so worried with furrowed forehead and nervously tapping fingers that you have this urge to wrap him in a warm blanket and make sure he can be without worries just a bit.

“There’s nothing you can do about it now though. Maybe you should focus on something else,” you suggest, gently as you hand him back the papers and the boy nods, his fingers brushing yours as he takes it back.

“Yeah, you’re right. The regional football championship is on the corner and I need to write an essay for the school paper. Then there’s…”

“No, I meant…” You cut his anxious rambling off a little frustratedly but when you have Jaehyun’s deep brown eyes on you, curious and confused, you suddenly feel awkwardness sweep into your bones at your silly little idea. Nevertheless, you push through it.  “If you’re free this weekend, would you come with me somewhere?”

“Sure. Where are we going?” The boy doesn’t even hesitate even though he does sound a bit doubtful for which you don’t blame him. It’s the first time you initiate any kind of planned program when it’s actually you who claims she just wants to be alone and doesn’t want to get close to anybody.

“You’ll see. I swear I’m not kidnapping you,” you clear your throat, a bit nervous now that Jaehyun’s full attention is on you so unabashedly. 

“Very reassuring,” he laughs but it’s a little forced sound, the weight of the day still pulling him down, exhaustion slowly wearing him down. So after agreeing on the details like the meeting location and exact time, you usher him to go home and get some sleep.

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not even a friendly thing, it’s just a thing. A fun thing because you have never seen Jaehyun do anything just for fun. Almost like if it doesn’t count towards his final evaluation in life achievements, it wouldn’t make sense to do so. Or as if he wouldn’t deserve it, which is just sad. So you plan to take his mind off the CSAT results that should come out in a week or two and make sure that he relaxes a bit even if just for a few hours.

You meet up near the metro station and while you show the way, it’s admittedly a bit awkward at first, since neither of you is used to small talk between you. Luckily, the theatre where you bought tickets to a contemporary comedy isn’t far and Jaehyun’s reaction is positively taken aback when you lead him to the entrance.

“Do you like it?” You inquire tentatively, trying to assess his reaction but it’s not easy Jaehyun looks more dumbfounded than anything.

“Yeah, but… how did you know?” He blinks at you a little awed.

“You’re applying to SNU’s Literature and Theatre department. It wasn’t that big of a guess that you appreciate theatre plays,” you shrug, trying to play it off coolly as you line up for ticket inspection.

Since it’s a smaller, more local theatre you don’t look that out of place even though you’re definitely one of the youngests in the audience. Luckily, the play is as funny as the reviews claimed it to be, so you have a good time and from the looks of it, Jaehyun too. It’s the first time you see him smile, really smile without forcing it, and you wonder why he’s hiding it. It’s a beautiful thing.

When the play ends, the boy insists on treating you to dessert as a celebration for getting over with the exams in exchange for the theatre ticket and sitting in the warm, already winter-decorated place, munching on brownie, the remaining awkwardness melts away. For the first time you don’t talk about school-related or heavy matters but rather things like your favourite season, sweet cravings in the colder weather, books you read and your families. It’s new and unfamiliar, a little scary because you can tell you’re getting attached but it’s nice and you decide to focus on that. You let Jaehyun walk you home because it’s late and dark, he reasons and there’s no arguing with him.

“See you at school,” he bids his goodbye when you arrive at the building where you live just above your mother’s cozy little café.

“Yeah. Take care,” you smile shyly and you can see a slow grin make its way to Jaehyun’s lips too. It looks genuine, just how he looks at ease as if some weight was lifted from his shoulders. It’s a good look on him.

→ DECEMBER

Frost is already decorating your window in the mornings when the CSAT results are delivered. Students are buzzing with anticipation and nerves. Once the scores are out, everybody’s guessing whether it will be enough for their first pick or they should scramble for extra points somehow. Most people accept their results eventually and get ready for the holidays instead. You know that Jaehyun did well enough to be hopeful, though you know better than to congratulate too early because SKY universities have much more complex acceptable criteria than other public universities. Not to mention, you know that even with great CSAT scores and good GPA, the competition for scholarships starts even before universities would notify the students about acceptance.

When you see Mijoo cry her eyes out in the girls’ bathroom, her mascara running down her pretty cheeks, something heavy settles in your chest. You haven’t talked in a year and you avoided each other after you got into that argument about how you wanted to live your lives but it would have felt wrong to just walk out without a word. For the sake of your happy memories before the fallout, you could still try to comfort her if she needed it.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, fully ready to be sneered at and sent away but your former best friend looks up at you with red rimmed eyes and relief.

“I will survive,” she lets out a shuddering exhale, her voice breaking between syllables. “My points are not good enough for a scholarship at Hankuk, so even if I do get in, I can’t enroll. We don’t have that kind of money. Soyeon and the others dropped me the moment they found out.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and you mean it because even though you never wanted to go to university, you know how important it’s for Mijoo. More important than your friendship. And even though you have already warned her about what kind of person Soyeon is with her rich family and nicely paved future when they first started hanging out after hagwon, you don’t remind Mijoo that you told her so.

“No. I’m sorry,” she mutters and forces a hopeful smile looking at you. Slowly, you reciprocate it as you help her up. There is clearly something broken between you and it certainly can’t be fixed from one day to another but maybe it’s worth trying.

When Jaehyun asked about your winter break plans, you didn’t think he would make a visit at your mom’s café where you are now working most days. Usually it’s not you who interacts with customers, your mother and the part-timer handle it, so you’re quite surprised when Donghyun pokes his head into the kitchen and tells you that somebody is looking for you.

You’re confused but wipe your soapy hands and go outside only to see Jaehyun at one of the tables shyly waving at you. He wears a cute beanie that has snowflakes melting over the knitwear and his cheeks are tinted pink from the cold. But most importantly, he looks well rested.

“Hey,” you greet him when you reach his table and you can practically feel your mother’s curious gaze on you. “Donghyun said you were looking for me?”

“Uh, hi, yes. Actually I just asked if you were here but he said you would get you, so…” Jaehyun trails off with a casual shrug. “I hope it’s not weird that I’m here. I don’t want to be a bother.”

You hastily shake your head no.

“No! It’s okay, really. I hope you like it here,” you say and brush a piece of hair behind your ear a bit self-consciously. You love your mother’s place with your whole heart, so sharing it with him even if unintentionally feels a bit like sharing a part of yourself. But you don’t mind, you realize, not if it’s him.

“I do. Your mom makes a killer hot choco,” Jaehyun smiles softly and his compliment sounds so sincere, you can’t help but smile too.

“She will be delighted to hear that,” you note as you sneak a look at the boy’s mug which definitely has more marshmallows than the standard. You turn to look at the woman behind the counter but she just waves you off, not so subtly telling you to keep your friend company, the dirty dishes can wait.

So you end up sitting down by Jaehyun’s table, talking about how he spent Christmas with his family, visiting relatives in the countryside and bickering with his older brother while you tell him about your cozy Disney movie nights and eating too much of your mother’s holiday butter cake. It’s when Jaehyun leaves and you glance at his empty spot that you realize you would miss him after graduation and joke’s on you, really, because you were the one to first approach him. You should have known better if you weren’t ready for the consequences.

→ JANUARY

The days leading up to graduation are a rollercoaster of emotion.

“So what’s with you and the school president?” Mijoo asks playfully on one of the last days of school when you’re eating together in the canteen and she catches sight of the boy with other football players as she follows your line of sight.

“Nothing,” you claim, bewildered, quickly averting your eyes back to your food, scrambling to find some excuse but Mijoo doesn’t even listen.

“Yeah, sure. I know your mother’s café is good but he’s practically a regular now,” she huffs and you start regretting that you told her that. “And don’t tell me it’s because he’s tutoring your part-timer during his shifts.”

You close your mouth without saying anything because you were just about to bring up how Jaehyun and Donghyun seem to get along, the school president helping out the junior student with his English.

“Not to mention, you went to his last football match and you don’t even like sports,” Mijoo continues and yeah, that’s on you. You even dragged her along (not that she needed much of a convincing) because you didn’t want to go alone, to be so out of your element and the girl was just happy to spend time with you again.

“I was just… curious,” you mumble, poking your tofu cubes with your chopsticks on your plate.

Seeing Jaehyun on the field was like seeing a different side of him. You know thanks to his stories that he liked football since he was a kid and he appreciates the teamwork aspect of the sport but watching him play during a match felt special. Sure, he still looked focused and determined, a bit uptight like he did when it came to his academics but after the winning goal point, being huddled by his teammates, he looked so proud. It’s a look he never allows himself when it comes to his individual success because he’s too hard on himself, as if he didn’t deserve it, as if he still should have done better. So you’re glad that you went, that you could see him genuinely be happy with his team over the win. Still, you slipped away without congratulating him, letting the school crowd surround him because he was supposed to be in the center of the attention and you wanted no part of that. You didn’t think Jaehyun noticed you, not until he shyly asked how you liked the game the next time you met.

“You know,” Mijoo speaks up thoughtfully, humming against her utensils before putting them down the metal tray and looking you in the eyes.  “It’s okay to let people close. Even if it doesn’t last forever, wouldn’t that be still better than wondering about the what ifs?”

For the longest time you thought that no, it wouldn’t but you glance at Jaehyun and how he shines brighter than the Sun but hides so many moonlit parts of himself that you’re privileged to know and you think that maybe, just maybe it’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable with some people.

The last day of school brings so much snow that the entire school yard is covered in cloud-like white and even the teachers give up preaching about life lessons after lunch hour. A bunch of eighteen year olds run to the field as if you were still kids and it’s that moment when it dawns on you that maybe it’s really the last time you can be freely child-like without adult responsibilities would weigh you down. Maybe that’s why you don’t protest that much when Jaehyun finds you and drags you outside to join the fierce snowball battle. For once, you don’t care about the looks you might get, you don’t care about potentially being put in the center of attention just by being with him, you don’t care about what it means to your future and you have never felt lighter.

You have snow in your hair, cold sweeping into your bones through your soaked shoes and your cheeks still hurt from laughing when later Jaehyun suggests going to your mom’s for hot chocolate to warm up. You agree easily and follow him inside to get your stuff. You shake snow off your coat, trying to warm up your cold-bitten hands by rubbing them together when you notice that Jaehyun abruptly stopped beside you.

Confused, you turn back to look at him just to see him stare down at his phone, his smile long lost from his face. You’re not sure whether it’s your place to even ask what happened, not when Jaehyun finally meets your eyes and he looks like he just saw a ghost. All pale and eyes glossy.

“They…” He starts but his voice breaks before he could get the sentence out. “They rejected me.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded. You watch as a drop of snow slides down Jaehyun’s face, leaving a tear-like trace behind on his flushed face and your heart aches before you can really process what’s going on.

“SNU. I just got the rejection email,” the boy mutters and lets out a way too forced laughter. He reaches to his messy locks with trembling fingers, scattering snow everywhere as he takes a shaky breath and starts walking up and down anxiously.

You just stand there, frozen, your heart sinking at the sight of him. There’s frustration and disbelief and bitterness as a scoff scratches his throat. You can see him fighting tears, not wanting to fall apart, not here, not in front of you, maybe not ever.

It was his dream, getting into SNU, and everybody told him he could do it, that for him it would be easy and while it’s flattering, people’s trust in his abilities, it still put him on pedestal, under such pressure that it almost broke him and now you can see him being crushed down from the same weight.

You don’t know what makes you do that, from where you take the courage but suddenly you stand in front of him, stopping him in his pacing, and take his shaking hand in yours.

“How… how will I tell my parents? What‒” Jaehyun gasps for air and you can feel him squeeze your hand for support as he struggles to fill his lungs with oxygen. “What do I… do now? I don’t… I didn’t…”

“Shh,” you slide a hand over his nape, massaging the tight muscles there in a weak attempt to calm him down before he could drive himself into hyperventilation. He’s so tense from the sheer effort to not break down, tear drops clinging to his eyelashes, blurring his vision. “Just let go. It’s okay.”

“No,” Jaehyun pushes back, stubborn but he’s clinging to your hand like a lifeline.

“It is. It’s just me,” you insist because you don’t judge, not for this, never for something like this. “I’m here.”

That’s all it takes for Jaehyun to give in and his tears start falling. You can feel when tension leaves his body and he all but crashes into you, his broader form slumping against you with his forehead on your shoulder, crying into your neck. You put a hand over his back, rubbing soothing patterns against his spine.

You don’t know how long you stay there. You wait until Jaehyun’s quiet sobs die down and his breathing slowly normalizes, until he pulls away enough to look into your own teary eyes. You know you couldn’t say anything to calm the mess in his head because you can’t quite understand how much this lost opportunity means for him, so you don’t tell him frivolous things like how it’s not the end of the world.

“You will be okay,” you whisper, quiet and sacred like a wish. “You don’t have to figure out how, not right now.”

A week later you graduate.

Myung Jaehyun stands on the podium in front of the lines of students and seated parents. He has a pledge of honors students on his suit and a bouquet of flowers in hands, an offer from another still prestigious university in his inbox and his parents, proud, in the crowd. His speech makes you feel nostalgic and when your eyes meet, a small smile appears on his lips, imperfect but happy, so pretty. You watch him and feel yourself smile too. Maybe it’s not actually that bad; being seen.

→ AFTER

Contrary to what you expected, Jaehyun stays as a permanent fixture in your days even after graduation. He hangs out at the café, sometimes stays even after closing, helping you put the chairs onto the tables and watching you learn how to make coffee and latte art. Sometimes you go to theatre plays or to the cinema, he invites you out to help him buy a present for his mother and then buys you hotteok as thanks.

Then university starts and he gets busier but you can tell that he doesn’t let school work bury him under like it did in high school. It’s good for him, starting fresh in a place where nobody knows him and his perfect student reputation. It’s less pressure on him and he can form genuine friendships without the fear that he’s approached only because of his influence as school president or his diligent note taking.

“I met this guy in Sociology class and he just asked if I wanted to be friends out of the blue. He invited me to hang out with him and his friends over the weekend. It was so random but it felt nice,” he says one day, leaning against the mop in his hands. You hum, letting him know that you’re listening even while cleaning the countertop. Apparently he and Sungho bonded over football, so they made plans to play one of these days.

“That’s good. You love football,” you note lightheartedly when you move to take the mop from him, checking if he missed any spots but of course he didn’t.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun hums, fixing his hair now that his hands are free and he turns after you when you walk farther to put the cleaning tools away. “I wanted to ask if maybe you wanna come along? To watch?”

You freeze, avoiding looking at the boy. You do want to watch him play but being with strangers isn’t really something you’re comfortable with, even if he’s there, even if he says they’re cool. Jaehyun knows you enough though and he can tell you hesitate, so he adds:

“You can bring Mijoo too if you want. And I’m thinking of inviting Donghyun too because Sungho also has younger friends.”

Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad. At least you would know people other than Jaehyun too. Maybe it would be fun.

“I will think about it,” you promise and Jaehyun beams almost as if you already said yes. He’s humming along to the music from the radio while you make sure everything is ready for closing. These days your mother lets you do so a few days a week just as she’s more comfortable with the idea of actually employing you.

Once the lights are switched off and the door is closed, Jaehyun walks you to the staircase leading to the upper floors where you live and for some reason he looks nervous standing in front of you. You lift your hand to wave him goodbye and tell him to take care on his way home like always but he beats you to it with a rushed out question.

“Do you wanna go to the movies this Friday after your shift?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply easily, without hesitation because it’s him, just him, and you’re comfortable with him even if he sometimes makes your heart beat irregularly. Like right now when he blinks, all puppy-like and licks his dry lips to clarify.

“I mean… like a date?”

“Oh,” you mumble and feel air punched out of your chest as you process the information along with the unsure tilt of Jaehyun’s words. He really does look nervous. You make him nervous.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to make things weird between us but sometimes it already feels like we’re dating and I have to stop myself from holding your hand or… khm, so like I just wanted to put it out there,” he stops his own rambling, eyes darting everywhere before finally settling on you, his words filling you with warmth. “That I like you.”

“Okay,” you let out a long exhale, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your light cardigan, then clear your throat. “What… what are we watching?”

“Wait, is that a yes? To the date?” Jaehyun asks with widened eyes and a grin so wide you can’t help but chuckle fondly.

“Yeah,” you nod shyly, pink painting your cheeks under the yellow hue of the lights. “And you can hold my hand.”

You were fine alone but if it’s Jaehyun, you don’t mind taking risks.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒂 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒋𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔

so, I saw something similar on tiktok and wanted to write it, credits to the person who came up with it.

summary - being a new member of the largest superhero team, you'd think that things would go well, but everything is revealed when christmas rolls around.

warning - angst.

the gif and header I use isn't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

It was rare for the two teams to merge, but every December around Christmas time they would, and with you being the newest member of the Avenger gang. This would be your first-time celebrating Christmas altogether. You watched curiously as they all hung large socks along the fireplace, happy chatter filling the air. “What are those?” You tilt your head.

“Stockings.” You look at Natasha as she replies, “It’s a Christmas tradition where you put small presents inside the stockings of those you care for.” You nod, and your eyes light up. 

“Oh cool!” For the rest of the day you intently listen and observe to pick out the perfect things for them, and over the course of the next few weeks. You slowly begin to fill their stockings, your eyes would fall to yours and notice how empty it looked. But you had hope, there were still a few more days till Christmas and maybe they just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Except Steve walks in and you notice his hands are full, and how he puts a gift for everyone but you. It was as if you were invisible because he didn’t even look at you. “Oh…” 

You continue to splurge and buy everyone things they like, in hopes that you were wrong about them. You skip out of your room on the big day, excited for your first Christmas. When you enter the room, you notice everyone going to their stockings before their presents and expressing happiness with the items they received and with your own excitement, you head over to your stocking and it feels as though the world has stopped. Your stocking was still empty, you finally realised you really meant nothing to the team. You didn’t blame the X-men for not putting anything in because you had only just met them, but your own team? It hurt, you could feel the tears beginning to brim. 

You quickly blink them away before sitting down next to Jean and give her a soft smile, making sure to keep your emotions away from your face and thoughts. “How are you liking it here?” You gnaw on your bottom lip, turning your gaze to your team handing out their presents. 

“I don’t mind it, how about you? I heard this is your first Christmas?” You could see the questions lingering in her eyes, because anyone would question how you could never have a Christmas, but she never completely asks. 

You nod, “Yes, yes. It’s my first and I don’t know… It’s not what I thought it would be.” You stare off, not receiving any presents alongside the stocking. “I’m uh… I’m just going to go for a walk, I don’t feel so good.” You force a smile and get up, heading outside before you could break down in front of everyone. Once you head outside, you break down. You felt like you’d rather be back where you came from. At least your enemies didn’t forget about you. 

“They are all jerks.” You jump as you hear a gruff voice from behide you, you turn, locking eyes with the one and only Wolverine, a cigar between his lips and his eyes harshly set on you. “Not much of heroes when they brag about it every two seconds.” He pushes off the wall and moves closer to you, something catching your eye as the moonlight shines on his hand. 

You look and tilt your head, wiping your cheeks roughly, “What’s that?” Your mouth falls open when he pulls up a cute stocking decorated with glitter, filled to the brim with a small wrapped present resting at the top. “It’s so cute! Whoever it’s for is very lucky.” You give a soft smile, knowing no one would ever get you anything.

Logan shakes his head. “It’s for you, sweets. Those guys are arseholes, they don’t deserve someone as sweet as you on their team.” You feel your breath hitch as he growls, “Open it, honey.” He hands you the stocking and present, leaning against the wall and puffing on the cigar as he watches you open everything.

You gasp, “Oh my god! This is so beautiful, thank you!” You look at him with tears in your eyes as you open the present on the top, a small adorable wolf necklace sits inside the box. You move closer, awkwardly wanting to hug him but not knowing if that will cross a line. Logan raises a brow, placing the cigar between his teeth as he opens his arms. You launch forward and wrap your arms around him, not knowing how to express the feelings that are bubbling up inside. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, darlin’, now why don’t you look inside the stocking. I had Jean and the other women help choose what we thought you’d like.” You look shocked, wondering why a team that wasn’t yours would care more for you than the one you are currently in. Logan reaches up and wipes a tear that falls down your cheek, “We take care of our own, Y/n.” 

Your bottom lip juts out as it wobbles, and you slowly reach inside, sobs escape you as you find everything you like and some new things you’ve wanted to try. “Oh my god…” You feel like you are loved and wanted, but then an overbearing sadness erupts throughout you as you realise that you are stuck with people who don’t want you. 

“That is not true, Miss L/n.” You turn and notice the whole X-men team are there, giving you soft smiles. “I have ordered for your things to be transferred. As Logan said, we take care of our own and you, Miss L/n are one of us.” 

All you could utter are the words thank you. Maybe your first Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.05. intros

EXHIBIT TWO: RIDE OR DIE BROS FOR LIFE

suna rintarou °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

middle blocker for the msby volleyball team and wanted to major in something art related but ended up going into athletic training with sakusa. in high school, atsumu, osamu, and him would very frequently sneak out at night usually to graffiti a wall and atsumu and him have kept up the tradition. whenever they travel to other cities to play an away game, they’ll try and find the time to go out and leave their mark on the city. in college, he started to do things like leave little snippets of lyrics from romantic songs on walls in sharpie or spray paint </3 he first met y/n in high school and they didn't talk much despite being in the same friend group. he a her from afar but never said anything because he didn’t feel like she knew him well enough that she would return his feelings if he told her. as a result, ever since graduation, he’s been finding small ways to be closer to her. although he isn’t majoring in art, he started to hang around the art department more, and would follow her around whenever she came to develop photos. she’d let him come with her into the department’s dark room and explain the process to him. he tries his best to listen but most of the time he get distracted while looking at her <3 eventually he started to invite her to come wander the city with him in search of street art and told her he’d start sending her photos of art that he found in other cities (which he's totally not making and then sending to her as if he's just randomly stumbled upon the most heartwrenching, romantic art ever). as long as he’s with her he couldn't care less what they're doing; to him, the real artwork is right next to him <3 she’s taking photos of something written on a wall while he’s looking at her <3

miya atsumu & miya osamu °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

atsumu

setter for msby <3 made his bio in retaliation to his brother and then got upset when osamu didn’t care. didn’t even want to go to college but really wanted to play for msby and didn’t want to be left out of everyone else going to school so he’s chilling in communications with bokuto. loves to come to onigiri miya on days y/n works because she gives him discounts and he jokes that she’s a better cook than osamu (which psychologically, for him, is probably true. samu cooks for tsumu and curses the food while y/n tries to put at least a little bit of love into what she makes for him). at some point tried to flirt with y/n and then realized she did not love when he visited because of him but bc he would bring suna. often comes by himself to onigiri miya or brings bokuto with him to ask yn how things with suna, completely ignoring the fact that she has a boyfriend (which leaves her confused about every single life choice she's made) and then will immediately text suna being like “y/n and me are talking about u rn LL sucks to suck i bet ur wondering what she thinks of u"

osamu

always gives suna discounts when he comes and will immediately take over whatever order y/n is working on so that she can make suna’s foof <3 he’s like a double agent for both sides but doesn’t get too involved because things with suga are making it difficult. he’s definitely someone suna goes to a lot for advice and although suna tends to only come on days when y/n works, sometimes on late nights after practice when osamu is the only one left working, suna will come in and they’ll share a drink and talk about y/n and more

bokuto koutarou & oikawa tooru °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

bokuto

wing spiker for msby and self proclaims himself as the ace <3 sakusa and him beef a little bit about it but the entire team is made up of doubles anyway so they kind of share the title. he’s matching users with atsumu and oikawa and also asked akaashi if they could have matching headers <3 akaashi sent him his current header which bokuto immediately started using <3 my guy has got so many friends and is loved by everyone so he’s actually having the best time of his life in college!!! besides when exams come around. then he’s hiding under a table and it takes the collective effort of akaashi, atsumu, and oikawa’s to get him out.

oikawa

second setter for msby! atsumu and him actually lowkey connected immediately and the team often uses a 6-2 rotation to utilize two setters and it’s been working out pretty well. other volleyball teams quiver hearing about msby’s lineup LMAO. he’s also a photography major which has led to suna often asking him how y/n is doing <3 does a lot of portraits and posts his works on a separate photography account. has started to join atsumu and suna when they sneak out while on away games to find somewhere to leave a piece of art.

extras <3

suna, atsumu, osamu, bokuto, and oikawa all live together

it is either very peaceful or a living hell

atsumu and bokuto will get riled up about something together and start having an energetic burst while suna isolates in his room (or more often is slipping out to go hang with y/n)

oikawa’s pretty chill and is in his actually-studying-for-exams era

osamu’s usually busy at work

so it’s peaceful (according to their definition) when not everyone is home but sometimes atsumu will start beefing with osamu about something and shit hits the fan

suna is heavily heavily heavily inspired by this guy named @/greg_goya on instagram

when i had this idea for street art i really spent an hour on instagram and google combined looking for this guy bc the art he does is totally what i was going for

and when i say inspired i mean suna is literally greg goya. i will probably use screen shots from my man greg in this smau so ty to him in advance he's a king 👑

both "exhibits" or friend groups are lowkey one big friend group but there's a small natural divide bc most of the ride or die bros are from inarizaki and some of them (cough atsumu cough bokuto cough suna if he didn't want to be around y/n 24/7 cough) said that they NEEDED a bros only gc

taglist: @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @0moonii @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @bluebeanbee @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 (form to be added to taglist! <3)

prev. | m.list | next

[yazmarina]

straight flush

zak o'sullivan (f2) x afab!reader

the triple header was hard on everyone, zak especially. it's a good thing you're there to make things better.

warnings/notes: smut, somnophilia, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fwb setup, creampie, breeding

a/n: hello everyone i am back with a present and yes I know it's zak again, he's just so fun to write and I'm obsessed (if that wasn't clear enough). this can be read as a continuation of this or just as a standalone. enjoy!

"Tough week?"

Zak merely hums as he sets his helmet down on the table in front of you. The ART tent is busy with post-race activity with team members bustling about. Victor passes by and flashes you a friendly smile just as you feel Zak sink into the seat beside you.

"Tough month," Zak admits, running a hand frustratedly through his hair. Your heart clenches when you see the deep creases in between his brows.

"Triple headers are always hard," you offer, laying a reassuring hand on Zak's knee. He glances up at you and his face immediately softens, his shoulders sagging as if your touch had eased the tension in his body.

You've been with Zak all throughout the three consecutive races, going under the guise of being a supportive friend, but an unprompted, a-little-more-than-friendly encounter in Monaco after his win had left the two of you in a sort of limbo, hands wandering and lips finding each other in dark corners.

You thought it was a one-off thing. Maybe a two-off. Three times is enough, you said. Your conservative estimate now would be between five and ten.

Though, admittedly, you like having Zak's attention like this. In the weeks between Monaco and Barcelona, so intense was his yearning for you that he flew you out to Yonne just to see you during the days he'd be cooped up at the sim at headquarters. You'd flown out together to Spain and ART was gracious enough (or perhaps perceptive) to provide you with passes for the next few weeks.

And now, in rainy Silverstone, your hand finds its place once again in his.

Zak rests his arm on the backrest of your chair, his head tilting closer to yours. You feel him place a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Not here," you immediately whisper, swatting at Zak's thigh.

"What? Can't I kiss my partner around here?" Zak questions, leaning in once more. You pull away before he can even make contact.

"But I'm not your partner," you say, giving Zak a pointed look.

Zak shrugs. "They think you are."

"But I'm not," you repeat, voice dropping to a whisper. "That stuff is only reserved for the bedroom, remember?"

Zak chuckles, eyes glancing up for a moment as if recalling a fond memory.

"We didn't really do it in the bedroom in Monaco–ow!"

Your fingers pinch harshly at Zak's side, eyes widening threateningly at him. He sighs, taking your hand in his before planting a sweet kiss on your palm.

"Go on back to the hotel," Zak suggests. "I'll be there right after debrief."

"I hope you like it when I'm asleep because a nap sounds good right now," you respond teasingly before giving him a playful shove.

You stand up, grabbing Zak's shoulder firmly before walking out of the tent.

-

It turns out, in fact, that you really needed that nap.

You didn't even bother changing out of the dress you had on for the day as you slumped onto Zak's hotel bed. You felt bad for a split second, figuring that if you were this tired, then Zak must feel even worse. All was forgotten, however, when the heaviness of your eyelids took over.

Slowly emerging from your slumber now, the first thing you notice is the stillness in the room around you. It's the same as when you fell asleep but the walls are awash with the fading light of dusk streaming in from the large window opposite you. But a slight shift in the air alerts you more, the remnants of sleep fading away steadily.

You feel a warm touch travel up your exposed thigh, all the way under your dress, which had hiked up considerably in your sleep.

You inhale, shifting to your side, nearly fully awake now. Zak's face swims into view, his expression etched with mild concern as he eyes you. He's back in his team kit, phone in hand as if mid-scroll, his upper body propped up against the headboard. You glance down to see that his hand still rests on your thigh, large and rough against your supple skin.

"Slept well?" he asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face. You mumble an unintelligible version of 'yes' before sidling up to his side, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smells as race day usually does–sweat, a hint of fuel, rubber, his perfume, hotel soap.

Zak chuckles and you feel the sound rumble through his body. You feel yourself drifting off again but you try to fight it, worrying that Zak might need you right now. A listening ear, perhaps, or a shoulder to cry on.

"Still tired, babe?" Zak asks, pulling you closer.

"A bit," you admit. You pull back slightly to look at him. "You should be the one resting, though."

Zak just smiles, leaning in. He kisses you firmly and you sigh, your arm weakly thrown around his neck.

"I'll rest in a bit," Zak whispers against your lips. "You should go back to sleep."

You blink, studying Zak's face for a moment. You're close to taking his advice, but you know he's itching for something and he's just too much of a gentleman to say so.

"You can...you know," you begin, reaching down to slowly undo the front buttons of your dress.

"While I'm asleep."

Zak visibly gulps, eyes going wide as he takes in what you're suggesting. You let your dress fall open, exposing your stomach and your chest. You let your eyes close again your hand lazily guiding Zak's in between your legs.

"Only if you want to, though," you add with a hint of a smirk.

"Are you sure?" Zak questions, voice low and quiet. You peek an eye open, giggling at how worried he looks.

"Yes. I trust you, Zak."

You close your eyes again and exhale, letting your breathing even out. You genuinely are still drowsy but you feel wetness pool between your legs at the anticipation of whether or not Zak is going to bite at your proposition.

Nothing happens for a few seconds and you're convinced Zak is going to refuse and the two of you will just nap until the early hours of the morning. But the bed sinks around you and you feel Zak's large hands smooth down your sides.

"Safe word is still Monaco," Zak whispers before kissing behind your ear. He makes his way down your neck and over your chest, pulling one of your bra's cups down to expose your aching nipple.

You sigh, teetering between wakefulness and sleep, as Zak suckles on your nub. His hand reaches down and slips expertly into your underwear, as he's done many times before. You groan as his fingers quickly find your clit, Zak now perfectly acquainted with your body.

The thought sends your heart thumping.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, eyes fluttering as you keep them closed. You feel yourself get wetter and wetter as Zak rubs delicately over you, his tongue mimicking the movements on your teat.

"So pretty," Zak mumbles against your skin. "Can I use you, babe? Let me blow off some steam?"

You don't answer. Zak chuckles, pulling away. He yanks your open dress off your shoulders, maneuvering you around as he pries it completely off you. The next thing to go is your panties, tugged down impatiently, in such haste that they dangle almost pathetically on one of your legs.

Your eyes fly open when you feel your body flip over, your face smushed against the pillow and your arms splayed awkwardly. You whine helplessly, glancing back at Zak. His eyes are dark as he stares down at your motionless form, his hands working to undo his belt and zipper.

"Go back to sleep," Zak coaxes, pulling his bottoms down just enough to let his cock spring free. He leans down and kisses your forehead, a sigh escaping your lips as you close your eyes once more.

"Good girl," Zak whispers. He parts your legs and you feel him angle himself at your entrance. He pushes in halfway through and you let out a strangled moan, arching back into Zak's frame.

"Fuck," he mutters, grabbing your hips and sheathing all the way in. You slump forward, burying your face into the pillow as you accommodate the stretch between your legs.

Zak presses his weight down on you, effectively trapping you beneath him as he fucks you harshly. He grunts loudly in your ear, nearly animalistic in the way he moves. You let yourself get manhandled, limp as a ragdoll as Zak pulls you even closer against him, the desperation evident. He's angry, of course. Annoyed. Frustrated. The past three weeks have been hell for him, this weekend, especially. A home race to forget.

"Oh, sweetheart," Zak coos sweetly. "So good for me, letting me use you like this."

It's almost a crushing feeling in your chest with the way Zak has you pinned down, but you gasp and sigh and mewl, drooling all over the sheets, all the while your eyes are still closed.

"Z-Zak...," you manage to croak out.

"I know, baby, I know," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm almost there. Wanna cum in you so bad."

You whine in mock protest, making a move to grab at Zak's arm that's snaked around your torso. He holds you even tighter against him.

He doesn't let up in the slightest, slamming his hips down roughly against yours repeatedly. He's digging his nails into your hips now and you know for a fact that you'll wake up tomorrow bruised in several places. But you don't mind. Not when it feels this good to have Zak take his anger out on you.

"God, fuck–!"

Zak doesn't even finish speaking before he groans right in your ear, pressing further into you as he spills himself inside. You pant as the exhilaration in your chest comes to a boil, the feeling of Zak twitching and emptying himself in you turning you on even more.

You take in a big gulp of air as you feel the weight lift off you, Zak hastily rolling onto one side of the bed. A yawn escapes you as you blink the bleariness away from your eyes.

"Feel better?" You ask, reaching for Zak's hand.

He grins, so widely it makes you laugh. Zak squeezes your palm, pressing a long, tender kiss to the top of your head.

"Always better when I'm with you."

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (vii)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3715

part 7. WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER RAAAAAAAAHHHH🗣️🦅‼️🇺🇸 we are now in austin baby (and the rest of the americas triple header), anyways more painfully slow progression for these two

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

The weight of expectations felt different now. YN noticed it in the way young girls' eyes followed her through the paddock, in the trembling voices asking for autographs, in the handmade signs declaring "Future F1 Driver" held by tiny hands. The Singapore podium hadn't just been her victory – it had opened a door of possibility for countless others who saw themselves in her.

During the VCARB fan zone event, a mother approached with her two daughters, both wearing miniature versions of YN's race suit. "They haven't missed a single practice session since you joined F1," the mother explained, her voice thick with emotion. "My youngest even asked to change schools so she could go karting more often."

The responsibility of it all hit YN harder than any g-force she'd experienced on track. These weren't just fans anymore – they were dreams in human form, hope wearing replica helmets and carrying notebooks filled with racing lines sketched in crayon.

Yuki found her later, sitting alone in the engineering room, staring at telemetry data without really seeing it. He didn't say anything at first, just placed a familiar convenience store energy drink on the desk – the same brand they'd shared during their junior racing days.

"Remember what you told me in F3?" he asked, pulling up a chair beside her. "After that massive shunt at Silverstone?"

"That failure only sticks if you let it define you," YN recited, the memory bringing a slight smile to her face.

"Exactly." His shoulder brushed against hers as he reached for the laptop, pulling up their comparative sector times. "So stop letting them define you by one podium. You're here because you're fast, not because you're making history."

The VCARB social media team captured them the next day, filming a segment where they had to teach each other their pre-race rituals. YN tried not to laugh as Yuki attempted to replicate her precise steering wheel adjustment sequence, his fingers fumbling over the buttons.

"How do you remember all of these?" he groaned, accidentally activating the radio instead of the brake bias adjustment.

"The same way you remember your weird lucky sock routine," she teased, earning a playful glare.

"They're not weird, they're traditional!"

The camera caught their natural banter, the way they moved in sync without thinking, years of friendship evident in every interaction. Comments flooded in almost immediately: "The chemistry between these two! 🔥" "Name a better duo, I'll wait 😍" "From F3 to F1, what a journey!"

But it was the other comments that kept YN up at night, scrolling through her phone in her hotel room: "My daughter started karting because of you" "Thank you for showing girls they belong in motorsport" "You're changing the sport forever."

The pressure crystallized during the pre-race press conference. A journalist asked about her influence on young female fans, and YN felt every camera focus on her face.

"I race because I love it," she began carefully, feeling Yuki's supportive presence beside her. "If that inspires others to chase their dreams, then that's wonderful. But I'm not here to be a symbol – I'm here to be fast."

Later, as they walked back to the garage, Yuki caught her arm. "You know what makes you a good role model?" he asked, his dark eyes serious. "You never forgot why you started racing in the first place."

The Texas sun beat down on the Circuit of the Americas as YN adjusted her helmet, preparing for final practice. Through the visor, she could see a cluster of young girls pressed against the fence, wearing her team colors. One held a sign that read: "Future World Champion."

The sight would have paralyzed her with pressure a week ago. But now, as she caught Yuki's encouraging nod from across the garage, she felt something else. Those girls weren't just looking up to her – they were looking forward, to their own futures in the sport. She wasn't just carrying their dreams; she was showing them how to chase their own.

As she pulled out of the garage, the roar of the engine drowning out everything else, YN smiled. The weight of being a role model would always be there, but so would the pure joy of racing, the thrill of pushing limits, and the quiet understanding in Yuki's eyes when she needed reminding of who she was beyond the headlines.

In the end, that's what would inspire those young dreamers more than any podium – the truth that she was, first and always, a racer who happened to be making history, not the other way around. And if her heart still fluttered when Yuki grinned at her through the garage window, well, that was just another kind of racing altogether.

The Austin qualifying session played out like a well-choreographed dance, both VCARB cars sliding through to Q3 with methodical precision. YN could feel the electricity in the air as she pulled her car into parc fermé, the satisfaction of another strong qualifying evident in the smiles beneath both their helmets.

"Not bad for someone who needed five takes to lasso a hay bale," she teased Yuki as they walked to the media pen, their race suits damp with Texas sweat.

"Says the one who claimed to have Texas racing in her blood," he shot back, but his eyes crinkled with that smile she'd grown so familiar with over the years. The one that made her forget about the cameras following their every move.

Race day dawned clear and crisp, the kind of autumn morning that made COTA's sweeping turns look even more inviting. During the drivers' parade, YN noticed how Yuki kept glancing her way, checking her pre-race mood as he'd done since their Formula 3 days. Some habits never changed, even under the bright lights of Formula 1.

The race itself was a masterclass in teamwork. Twenty laps in, running P5 and P6, their engineers' voices crackled over the radio with synchronized strategy calls. YN couldn't help but smile inside her helmet as she and Yuki executed their pit stops within a lap of each other, their years of shared experience showing in every synchronized movement.

"Box, box, box this lap," her engineer called.

"Copy," she responded, already knowing Yuki would be in the following lap. They'd discussed this scenario in the strategy meeting, finishing each other's sentences until their race engineer had joked about getting them a joint radio channel.

The final stint saw them running P4 and P5, Yuki just ahead, defending against a charging Ferrari while YN managed the gap to the McLaren behind. Their pace was metronomic, matching each other sector by sector.

"Yuki and YN, maintain position, great job both of you," their team principal's voice came over the radio on the cool-down lap. "Strong points for the team today."

In parc fermé, they found each other immediately, as if drawn by some invisible force. Yuki pulled her into a quick hug, the kind they'd shared countless times in their junior careers but felt different now under the Formula 1 spotlight.

"Just like the old days," he murmured, quiet enough that only she could hear. "Except now we're doing it in F1."

The media obligations blurred together after that – questions about team dynamics, about their history together, about her continued progress in the sport. But one moment stood out, when a reporter asked about their obvious synchronicity on track.

"You and Yuki seem to have an almost telepathic understanding during races. How much does your shared history in junior formulas play into that?"

YN caught Yuki's eye across the media pen, saw that familiar half-smile playing at his lips. "When you've spent as many years as we have pushing each other to be better, you develop a sort of shorthand," she answered. "It's like having a racing dictionary that only we know how to read."

Later, as they sat in the team's hospitality unit reviewing race data, shoulders brushing as they leaned over the same screen, YN felt that familiar warmth in her chest. P4 and P5 might not have the glamour of Singapore's podium, but there was something special about achieving it together, about proving they could be just as strong as teammates as they had been as rivals.

"Your exit speed through turn 19 was insane," Yuki commented, pointing at a particular segment of data. "Always been better than me there."

"Yeah, well, your sector one was textbook perfect," she replied, nudging his shoulder. "Some things never change."

As the Texas sun set over the circuit, casting long shadows across the paddock, YN realized that success in Formula 1 wasn't just measured in podiums and points. Sometimes it was in the synchronized pit stops, the matched sector times, the understood glances across briefing rooms. Sometimes it was in the way Yuki still remembered how she liked her post-race coffee, or how he could read her mood from the way she adjusted her gloves before a session.

The hunger for success was still there, burning as bright as ever, but now it felt shared – a flame they tended together, pushing each other toward greater heights. And if that flame sometimes felt like it could burn down the careful walls between teammates and something more, well, that was just another kind of race they were learning to navigate.

In the team photo later, standing in front of their cars with their race boots still dusty from the COTA track walk, YN felt Yuki's hand brush against hers, a ghost of a touch that sent sparks through her racing gloves. Some victories, she was learning, didn't need podiums to feel just as sweet.

The evening after the race, YN found herself in her hotel room, the adrenaline of the day finally wearing off. Her phone buzzed with a message from Yuki: "Roof? Like old times?"

It was their tradition, started in Formula 3 – finding the highest point they could after a race, away from the cameras and expectations. Back then, it had been trailer roofs and empty grandstands. Now, standing on the hotel's rooftop terrace, Austin's skyline glittered before them like a circuit made of stars.

"Thought I'd find you overthinking everything," Yuki said, appearing beside her with two cups of green tea – another tradition from their junior days. His race suit was replaced with team joggers and a hoodie, but his hair still bore the marks of his helmet, sticking up at odd angles.

"Not overthinking," YN protested, accepting the tea. "Just... processing."

"Liar." His shoulder bumped against hers as he leaned on the railing. "I know that look. Same one you had after your first F3 win. Like you're waiting for someone to say it was all a mistake."

The city lights blurred as she stared into her tea. "It's different now. Every move we make, every point we score... it's not just about us anymore. Did you see how many girls were in the grandstands today? Wearing our team colors, holding signs..."

"I saw." His voice was soft. "I also saw how you fought through sector two like a demon. How you didn't lift once through turn 15. That's what they were cheering for – not what you represent, but what you do."

YN turned to look at him, finding his dark eyes already on her. In the dim light, she could almost pretend they were back in their early racing days, when everything felt simpler. When the weight of inspiration didn't rest quite so heavy on her shoulders.

"Sometimes I miss when it was just us," she admitted quietly. "Just two kids with dreams too big for our budget racing suits."

"It's still us," Yuki said, his hand finding hers on the railing. "The cameras just have better angles now."

That startled a laugh out of her, breaking the tension. "Remember when we used to practice interviews?"

"And you always made me play the journalist asking about tire management," he grinned. "Look how far we've come."

The night air wrapped around them like a comfortable silence, filled with years of shared memories and unspoken understanding. YN felt the familiar flutter in her chest when Yuki's thumb absently traced patterns on her hand, probably not even aware he was doing it.

"Hey," he said suddenly, turning to face her fully. "About what you said in the press conference today – about having a racing dictionary only we know how to read?"

She nodded, remembering the moment.

"Some things don't need translation." His voice was barely above a whisper, but his eyes said everything his words couldn't.

The space between them seemed to shrink, the city lights and pressure and expectations fading until all that remained was the warmth of his hand in hers and the understanding that had grown between them over countless races and shared dreams.

Racing was about timing – knowing exactly when to brake, when to accelerate, when to take the risk that could change everything. As YN looked at Yuki, at the boy who'd become her best friend and the man who'd become so much more, she wondered if some moments were worth the risk of missing the apex altogether.

The Texas night held its breath, waiting for someone to make the first move in this new kind of race – one where the finish line looked suspiciously like the beginning of something else entirely.

The Mexico City paddock hummed with anticipation as teams prepared for the next race weekend. YN found herself spending more time in the VCARB garage even when she wasn't required to be there, drawn by the comfortable rhythm she and Yuki had developed. Their shared success in Austin had only strengthened their partnership, both on and off track.

During technical briefings, they sat closer than necessary, shoulders brushing as they reviewed sector times. Their race engineers had started presenting their data side by side, noting how their driving styles had begun to complement each other. Where YN was bold through the high-speed corners, Yuki was precise in the technical sections. Together, they were pushing VCARB higher in the constructors' championship with each race.

"Your throttle application through turn 4 is getting aggressive," Yuki noted one evening, pointing at her telemetry data. The garage had emptied hours ago, but they remained, bathed in the blue glow of monitors.

"Says the one who's been taking my lines through the chicane," YN replied, unable to hide her smile. The way he studied her data with such intensity made her heart race faster than any qualifying lap.

The pressure of being Formula 1's breakthrough female driver still weighed heavily, but Yuki had a way of making it feel lighter. He'd started joining her for media obligations, his presence a silent support system. When journalists asked about gender barriers, he'd seamlessly redirect the conversation to her racing prowess, her technical feedback, her contribution to the team.

One rainy evening in Mexico City, they found themselves trapped in the engineering office as a tropical storm passed over the circuit. Thunder rattled the windows as they worked through race simulation data.

"Remember Suzuka in F3?" Yuki asked suddenly, looking up from his laptop. "That rain-soaked qualifying?"

"When you insisted on running slicks because the forecast said it would clear?" YN laughed. "And then it poured harder?"

"Hey, you followed me out on slicks too!"

"Because I trusted you," she said softly, the words carrying more weight than intended.

The silence that followed was filled with years of shared risks, mutual trust, and something deeper that had been growing between them since Austin. Yuki's hand found hers across the desk, their fingers intertwining naturally, like two racing lines converging at the perfect apex.

In their world of precise measurements and calculated risks, this thing between them was wonderfully unpredictable. It showed in the lingering hugs after good results, in the way Yuki's eyes sought her out across crowded drivers' briefings, in how their casual touches had become as natural as breathing.

The pressure of being a role model, of carrying the hopes of countless young girls, still kept YN awake some nights. But now, when the weight felt too heavy, she had someone who understood both the burden and the beauty of it. Someone who saw her not as a symbol or a milestone, but as a racer, a friend, and maybe something more.

The thunder rolled on, but in their quiet corner of the paddock, they had found their own kind of peace – one built on shared dreams, mutual understanding, and the exhilarating promise of what lay ahead, both on and off the track.

The Mexico City podium celebration was still echoing through the paddock as YN made her way back to the garage. P3 felt sweeter than Singapore somehow - maybe because this time, Yuki was right there in P4, both of them having fought their way through the field together. As she rounded the corner, Lando Norris fell into step beside her, a knowing grin on his face.

"So," he drawled, "that was quite the defense you two pulled off against the Ferraris. Almost like you could read each other's minds."

"Good team strategy," YN replied diplomatically, but she could feel her cheeks warming.

"Right, 'team strategy,'" Lando air-quoted. "Is that what we're calling those long 'engineering briefings' you two keep having on the hotel roof?"

Before YN could respond, Charles Leclerc joined them, still in his race suit. "Leave them alone, Lando," he said, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have to say, YN, your racing line through turn 4 is starting to look suspiciously like Yuki's..."

The teasing followed them to Brazil, where the intensity of Interlagos only seemed to strengthen their connection. During the drivers' parade, Alex Albon nudged Yuki. "Remember when you used to complain about sharing data with teammates? Now we can't get you out of the engineering room."

Yuki's face flushed, but he couldn't hide his smile. "The team's progress is important," he muttered.

"The team, or a specific teammate?" Pierre Gasly chimed in from behind them, earning a chorus of laughs.

In the garage, their race engineers had started making jokes about their synchronized feedback. "Let me guess," YN's engineer would say when she reported understeer, "Yuki's about to radio in with the same thing?" He was usually right.

The social media buzz was growing too. Fan accounts dedicated to capturing their moments together multiplied overnight. Every shared laugh, every trackside conversation, every celebratory hug was analyzed and gif'd within minutes. #TeamTsunoda began trending alongside #YNSupremacy.

But it was in the quiet moments between sessions that their bond deepened most. After a particularly challenging practice session in São Paulo, YN found Yuki waiting in their usual spot - a secluded corner of the garage with a perfect view of the timing screens.

"The media's getting worse," she sighed, slumping beside him. The questions had shifted from her racing to her personal life, from her achievements to her relationship status. The weight of being not just a female driver but now half of F1's most speculated-about pair was beginning to wear.

Yuki's hand found hers instinctively. "Then we give them something real to talk about - our racing," he said firmly. "Show them why we're here."

They did exactly that in qualifying, setting the track alight with a synchronized performance that put them P3 and P4. In the cooldown room, Max Verstappen shook his head with amusement. "You two are scary when you're in sync like that."

"They're always in sync," George Russell called out. "Haven't you seen their matching coffee orders?"

The race itself was a masterclass in teamwork. Lap after lap, they defended and attacked as one unit, their cars dancing through Interlagos's sweeping turns like partners in a carefully choreographed ballet. When Yuki's radio crackled with a strategy call, YN was already adjusting her lines to complement his movement.

"Your girlfriend's got your back again, Tsunoda," came Lewis Hamilton's teasing voice over the radio after YN perfectly blocked an overtaking attempt that would have compromised Yuki's position.

In parc fermé, with another double points finish secured, they found each other through the crowd of mechanics and media. The cameras caught their embrace, longer than usual, neither caring about the headlines it would generate.

"Did you see Twitter?" Daniel Ricciardo grinned as they walked to the podium ceremony. "They're calling you two the 'Race Track Romance.'"

"Better than what they used to call me," YN said softly, remembering the early days when every mistake was attributed to her gender.

"They call you a brilliant driver now," Yuki said firmly, his hand brushing against hers. "Everything else is just noise."

Later, in their now-traditional post-race debrief on the hotel roof, the São Paulo sunset painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, YN felt the familiar flutter in her chest as Yuki traced the racing line of turn 1 on her palm.

"The media's right about one thing," he said quietly. "We are better together."

"Because we push each other to be better," YN replied, but they both knew it was more than that.

"Remember in Austin," Yuki began, turning to face her fully, "when you said some things don't need translation?"

YN nodded, her heart racing faster than any qualifying lap.

"Well," he continued, his dark eyes intense, "I think I'm tired of leaving things unspoken."

The Brazilian night air held its breath as the space between them disappeared, years of friendship, rivalry, and unspoken feelings finally converging at the perfect moment. As their lips met, soft and sure, YN realized that while making history as a female F1 driver had opened doors for others, this - finding someone who saw her as both a fierce competitor and a woman who made his heart race - was a different kind of breakthrough altogether.

The paddock's teasing, the media speculation, the fan theories - none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Yuki's hands cupped her face like she was both strong and precious, the way their heartbeats synchronized like perfectly matched sector times, the way everything finally felt right in their high-speed world.

They had always been good at reading each other's moves on track. Now, as they pulled apart just enough to share breathless smiles, they realized they'd been reading each other's hearts all along. Some victories, after all, were worth more than any podium.

here are some of the tags: @floweringanna, @hiraethberry, @holendernik, @oooom4arie, @burnhampeaches, @dying-inside-but-its-classy

let me know if you want to be added to the list :))

[rq-producerperson]

Hi April!

I have some of questions about the public-facing transcripts of Magnus Protocol.

They have a very “shooting script” vibe. Are these the same as what’s given to the cast, a very close derivative, or something else?

If they aren’t what’s given to the cast, when in the process do they get made?

A weird copyediting question: What drove the change from the monospaced font (I think Courier New) to the bolder sans serif font? And is there a reason the headers and footers are the old style?

An esoteric “my masters is in rhetoric” question: The scripts contain quite a bit of content that isn’t in the audio. In the other hand, I hear that The Magnus Protocol is a podcast. Are you able to talk about your personal opinion on their relationship to the text? I’m not asking for an answer on authorial intent or the “on high” answer, but I’m curious how various people involved in making Protocol think of them. (As an example, I’ve been thinking of them, to go back to the as “apocrypha”; I think of them as true, but also not as part of the text, if that makes sense. More like annotations or marginalia.)

Anyway, welcome to the public Tumblr stuff! It’s cool to have you here.

Oooooh very happy to answer this, mostly because I think it’s a neat example of how we work as a team.

The short answer is yes the transcripts are derivative of the shooting scripts but they aren’t the same.

Alex and Cathy are both very sensitive audiophiles who have worked together to make those layers and layers of interesting audio bits some people catch but others don’t (the lie glitches are an example as well as the whispers in episode 10) Conversely, I have mild progressive hearing loss and handle the transcription.

As I am also the producer, I know all of the plot points, beats, and important bits that need to be communicated for the story to work. I use the shooting script as a guide and listen to the final release audio along with the shooting script and make edits as I go. Sometimes different takes are used, sometimes audio cues change etc. I also try to obfuscate information that’s not yet revealed in the timeline.

I will admit I don’t catch everything, and definitely make mistakes, but ideally the transcripts are designed in such a way as to make sure people who may not be as keyed in to the highly detailed audio execution can get a similar experience by reading the transcript. I have such respect for Cathy for the work she puts in artistically, we want to make sure people know what they’re hearing.

Our audio team are exceptional in such a way that they are constantly trying to balance creative narrative with accessibility. You can get all of the information in the audio, but we recognize that’s difficult and we are often people’s first experience in audio drama, so we balance it with the extra information in the transcripts.

The layout and design of the transcript was influenced by external guidance for the visually impaired who recommend 14 point bold Ariel as the most readable. We also release Word versions so people can use dark mode or adjust font size and style if needed. Accessibility is different for everyone, we do our best to make sure we have options available.

—

For amusing behind the scenes mistakes I know I have made:

People may have remembered the old pilot had ‘Norris’ labeled as ‘Martin’ this was because we changed Norris’s name so many times I didn’t know what to call him and accidentally forgot to change the Martin placeholder. 😬

So yea. I’m not perfect and nor are the transcripts but we try our best.

[lokis-dark-queen]

Tropical Tension

Loki/Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You ask Tony if Loki can accompany the team on a celebratory tropical vacation in Aruba. He agrees but then you are told by Natasha that he must share a room with someone. Coincidentally, you and Loki have been harboring some feelings for each other. What will happen on your much needed getaway?

Warnings/Notes: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI. Teasing, pining, a little bit of shy Loki, BODY SHOTS, Oral Sex (F receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do that irl). Loosely proofread, I apologize for any mistakes.

Word Count: 8.6k

Also on AO3

*header from Pinterest*

You skillfully folded your favorite sundresses and swimsuits into your new suitcase, specially purchased for this upcoming trip. The most recent Avengers mission had been an overwhelming success and Tony had suggested an all inclusive group vacation to Aruba to celebrate. It was your first big mission, and the praise from your teammates gave you that satisfying feeling of acceptance. 

A sudden knock at your door pulled you out of your proud mind. Already knowing who was on the other side, you invited him in. 

“Come in, Loki.” You smiled as the god of mischief made his entrance. His long legs floated in your direction immediately. 

“How in the nine realms did you figure out it was me?” He announces sarcastically.

You can’t hold back a giggle, Loki seemed to always find a way to make you laugh. 

When the trip was announced, you immediately asked if Loki could come along. He had been staying at the tower for almost a full year now; it was almost two years since his attempted invasion of New York. After a surprisingly short imprisonment on Asgard, Loki had cut a deal when he helped Thor deal with the dark elves and collect the aether. He seemed to have won his brother’s respect after nearly sacrificing himself for Jane, who was now Thor’s ex girlfriend. Loki showed an example of selflessness, however, so Thor gave him a second chance. 

Loki also had important information on a potential threat who was on the hunt for infinity stones. He never spoke his name, saying he was tortured by the being. But his information helped ready the Earth for this potential threat, as well as clearing him for his crimes in New York. The argument claims that he was not in the right state of mind after torture and influence by the mind stone. A new plea on mind control was given, the same plea that excused Barton for the crimes he committed while under the control of Loki, no, the scepter. 

Loki found himself naturally attracted to your energy. You were quiet, calm, and collected, a certain peace in his life of chaos. When he got to know you, he heard you more, saw more sides of your personality, and he loved it. The two of you remained friends, your friendship was too far along and both of you were scared to ruin it. You both lived in a constant state of want for each other, however, you feared that neither of you would act on it. Loki was shy, surprisingly so. It took him months to warm up to you and once he did, he almost never stopped talking. You loved it though, and the sound of his voice. 

“Have you started packing yet?” You asked him as he hovered around you, constantly keeping an appropriate distance. 

“No need, I have everything I need in my magic compartments. I can summon any outfit at any time.” He brags. 

“And you have clothes for the beach, ready to go?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I have clothes, my clothes, ready to go.” 

“Loki, it’s going to be hot there, do you even have anything to swim in?” You questioned him. 

“No need, I will not be doing such a thing.” He sticks his nose up at the idea. 

“Don’t be a bummer, everyone else will be.” You pause and lower your voice to make it more seductive, “I will.” 

Loki raises an eyebrow in sudden interest, “Not in this I hope.” He leans over and grabs one of your bikini tops out of your suitcase, ruining your careful organization. He inspects the emerald green bikini top, “If anyone sees you in this I will be gouging their eyes out.” His voice darked with his threat, causing a heat of arousal and embarrassment to run through your body and between your thighs. 

“Loki!” You squealed as you failed to grab the tantalizing top from his determined grasp, “Give it back!” 

“No chance darling.” He pulled his arms higher, his height kept it out of your grasp. 

You secretly loved when Loki teased you like this, you knew it was his way of flirting. You reached up, pushing your flushed body with his in the process. Loki persisted pulling his arm back as you reached past his head in an attempt to reach the bikini top. You were unbearably close to him, his piercing eyes looked down upon your pathetic form. You whimpered in frustration at every failed attempt. Soon you dropped your arm, resting your hand on his shoulder. Loki assumed you had given up, when you were really just trying a different approach.  

“Loki, please.” You looked up at him with innocence in your eyes, “Give it back.” 

The god bit his tongue at the sight, god you were so perfectly submissive for him right now. A rush of blood went straight to his crotch as he lowered his arm, the hand with the bikini rested on his chest and the other wrapped around your waist. 

“Y’know what I did on Asgard when I craved a refreshing dip in the hidden spring?” His voice has a seductive grow lacing it. 

“What?” You ask with caution as he leaned closer to your ear, his warm breath brushed against the side of your face. “I swam naked, the way the Gods intended.” 

Part of you feared where this was going, sirens blared in your head that urged you to stop. But your horniness pushed you to continue. 

“Well mischief, you are more than welcome to do so. However I doubt the team would want to see…” Your eyes darted lower to where his semi-hard erection was now pressing up against your lower stomach, so close to where you craved him, “That.” 

“They should be honored, I am a god. A very well endowed one at that.” His hips pressed even closer to you. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Your eyes darkened in lust. 

This, unfortunately, was not the first time this had happened. You and Loki would tease each other to the point of unbearable sexual tension and then one of you would abandon the situation, leaving both of you frustrated. 

You had managed to untangle the stringy top from his long, pale fingers as you retrieved it. Not knowing where to go from here, you froze in place. Maybe this time Loki would push it farther, the throbbing in your core was a telltale sign that you were ready for him, that you craved him. 

“Loki.” You whispered his name softly, full of lust. 

“Yes?” He said, voice full of desperation. 

Your hands gripped his biceps, leaning closer to his lips.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard another knock at the door with a female voice yelling your name, “Are you in there?” 

Natasha. 

You loved her to death, but her unintentional cockblocking nearly made you explode in anger. 

Loki’s touch faded, his form disappearing before your very eyes. He most likely knew that your friend would be barging into the room any second and he didn’t want to be caught in the compromising position. 

You sighed in sexual frustration, “Yeah… come in.” You sounded utterly defeated and deprived. The bikini top is still in your hand. 

“Hey! You almost packed?” She asks as she walks in your room, “You’re kind of red, are you okay? You better not be coming down sick before the trip.” 

“I’m fine.” You sighed, sitting on your bed in defeat, cursing yourself when you felt the wet spot on your underwear. 

Natasha looked down at the bikini top in your lap, “That is a very specific color of green, looking to impress someone?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, referring to a certain someone. 

“We’re just friends, Natty.” You stand, finally placing the top in your suitcase. 

“I can not be in the same room with you two without feeling uncomfortable from all of that tension. You two need to fuck.” She stresses that last part, if only she knew that was the exact situation she interrupted. 

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, he’s so sweet and shy. I don’t want to lose him.” You try to reason. You weren’t lying, Loki was shy around the team. Around you however, he was a different man. 

“He stares at you constantly, you won’t lose him. If anything you will gain something.” She hints. 

You blush again, “Stop it! I wouldn’t even know where to start to encourage that from him.” You say as you throw a few more clothing items in your suitcase and close it with a victorious sigh. 

“Since Loki was an add on, he won’t have his own room, you’ll have to share.” She winks. 

“Are you kidding me? Tony is a billionaire, but he is too cheap to get one extra room for him?” 

“He said room arrangements are final, we each have our own. You asked for Loki to come at the last minute, he has to split with someone.” 

“He can happily share with Thor.” You suggested with a smug attitude. 

“One bed per room, poor Loki wouldn’t have any room sharing a bed with that mammoth.” You both laugh at her nickname for the thunderous god. 

“Loki can share with whoever he wants.” You say turning your back to your friend to zip your suitcase closed. 

“Even me?” She teases to piss you off. 

“No!” You turn quickly, yelling unintentionally. 

Natasha gives an amused laugh, “I’m kidding, you think he would stay with another girl that wasn’t you?” 

“He better not.” You say underneath your breath.

“He trusts you, more than his brother. Maybe I would go as far to say that he loves you.” 

You stiffen up at her words, shaking your head in denial, “I don’t think he loves, Nat.” You sigh. 

“Something tells me that you will be finding out soon.” She winks and goes to leave, “Good luck.” 

You throw a pillow at the door after she closes it, hoping she heard the soft thump on the other side. That flight tomorrow was about to be a nightmare. 

The group gathered around Tony’s private jet first thing the next morning. For once, you didn’t dread an early morning, in fact, you were excited. You needed this vacation and nothing was going to stop you from enjoying yourself. 

Loki sulked near the corner of the hangar, wearing an all black button down with some black jeans. 

You sighed, ‘He’s going to be miserable the whole trip if that is his wardrobe. And I know he is going to complain to me about it.’ You rolled your eyes as you thought to yourself.

You strolled towards the apathetic god, his eyes followed your form as you approached him. The sundresses have begun, and he couldn’t be happier. 

“Please tell me you brought other types of clothes.” You scolded him, already knowing what he would say. 

“Do not stress over me darling, this is a relaxing vacation, is it not?” He assured you. 

“I don’t want to hear you bitch about being sweaty and miserable.” You growl.

Loki stepped closer, your teammates were none the wiser of you two as they gleefully chatted in excitement. He towered over you, trying his best to be intimidating to the girl he constantly whines to like a spoiled child. You met his phony cold gaze in annoyance and hidden anticipation. You remembered that you haven’t even told him the room arrangements yet.

“No promises.” He smirked. 

“Loki I swear, if you fu-” You were about to go off on him for trying to make your ‘relaxing’ vacation less so before being interrupted by Tony. 

“Alright Princesses, let's board.” He leads the way as everyone else follows, you and Loki trail behind. 

Loki stayed right behind you as you walked on the jet, the knuckle of his index finger kept constant contact with the small of your back, hoping to not stray too far from you. The plane was cramped with all the heroes aboard, and he began to feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately for him, it would be a long flight. 

Much to his disappointment, you left his side to go drink champagne with Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper. He quietly tried to reach for you as you went to go sit with them, exactly where he didn’t want you to be. Thor attempted to wave him over so that he would sit with him and Rogers. Loki just rolled his eyes and sat in the far back corner of the plane, alone. 

You began to loosen up after a glass as you talked with the girls. 

“I really needed this, Fury has been on my ass with missions and papers, ugh…” Natasha groaned. 

“Me too,” You huffed, “I had to write that entire mission report, you know, the whole reason we are on this trip in the first place. He didn’t even acknowledge everything that I did to get that in on time.” 

“Well, we do. Thank you, for your hard work.” Pepper raised her glass as a toast to you. 

You all had a moment of silence, taking everything in. The men played card games on the other side of the cabin, being rather loud in the process. 

“Boys… What are we gonna do with them?” Natasha scoffed, sipping from her flute. 

“What about the stowaway?” Wanda points at Loki, sitting in the back of the plane. He read a book with one leg resting over the other. You noticed how his foot bounced, he was anxious. 

“He’s fine.” You sigh, finishing the rest of your second glass, “Just dramatic.” 

You put on a facade for your friends, when in reality, you felt slightly guilty for leaving him alone. He hated being around the large group, and you were all stuck in a confined aircraft gliding over the ocean. You knew he was anxious, you wanted to comfort him. 

“Go give him attention, he looks like those sad puppies in the commercials.” Natasha laughed and the other girls followed. 

“Oh stop it.” You scoffed, slowly standing to leave the giggling group of girls. You could feel their eyes on you as you made your way to him. 

He looked up at you from his seated position, “What? I thought I was just being dramatic.” 

Of course he heard you, “Hey… I’m sorry for abandoning you. I know how much you hate being stuck with these guys. You didn’t have to come, y’know?” You apologized. 

“Nonsense, I would never stop you from being with your friends. I came for you after all. I want you to enjoy yourself.” He states, continuing to read his book. 

You smile and take the seat next to him, “I enjoy myself most when I’m with you.” You did not fail to notice the slight flush on his cheeks. 

Loki didn’t know how to respond, his body tensed as your slightly tipsy head rested on his shoulder. You ignored the giggles and judgmental glances from the other passengers. It was just you and him. Your heavy eyes scanned the pages of the book along with him, taking in the sweet moment of silence among the chaos. 

As the energy winded down everyone leaned their chairs back, turning them into makeshift beds. The plane would be landing early the next morning and you wanted to be well rested so you can enjoy your first day. You remained next to Loki, the divider in between the seats kept you two from touching as you laid next to him. Your eyes met in silence besides the muffled roar of the jet engine and Thor’s snoring. 

“I should have told you earlier but Natasha said that you would have to share a room with someone else.” You whispered to the god next to you.

You swore you saw him smirk in the darkness, “And who should that person be?” 

“Whoever you want, I don’t think that many people would be willing to do so though.” 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind darling, but I think I would go insane if I had to hear Thor’s snoring for the next week.” You both gave out a silent, breathy laugh. 

“You’re always welcome to stay with me, Loki.” You brush your hand up against his. 

“Don’t say that darling, I may never leave.” He quipped. 

“Then don’t.” 

You and Loki fell asleep with your fingers intertwined, your touch helped calm him into a state of slumber. 

–

You awoke from the sun peeking through the shade on the cabin window and the pilot announcing that the plane will be landing soon. Loki was already awake, his chair back to its previous upright position. One hand held his paperback book, the other was still entangled with yours. 

The humid air of Aruba kissed your exposed parts of skin that the sundress failed to cover. Vacation chaos resumed as everyone exited the jet, already arguing about the trip itinerary. You chose to do your own things on this trip, and most of that time would be spent on the most secluded, quiet beach you could find. Loki remained directly behind you once again, his hand resting on the small of your back. He was going to make damn sure he didn’t get separated from you this time. You smirked to yourself as Wanda walked by, hand in hand with Vision.

“Separation issues much?” The witch giggles. 

“Hypocrite.” You growl, glancing back at Loki, “Ignore them.” You tell him. 

“I already do.” He rolled his eyes. 

At the hotel, you nearly had to fight for your life just to receive the room key as everyone crowded around the poor attendant at the front desk. When you finally obtained it you walked to Loki, who was kindly holding your bags. 

“Ready?” You ask. 

Before Loki could make some type of remark, Thor’s booming voice cut through the stiff air, “Brother! I hear we are short a room, would you like to stay with me? It would be just like when we were kids!” 

Loki clenched his jaw in annoyance as you laughed at the older Odinson, “No you oaf! I found other arrangements.” He glares at his brother before looking back at you. 

The blond god’s eyes darted between his brother and you, the woman standing next to him in confusion. You swore you could see the gears turning and the lightbulb appear over his head as he realized the situation. “Oh… Oh!”  He looked at Loki with brotherly pride as he patted him on the shoulder, “It’s about time! Have fun brother! Be mindful of the guests in the other rooms.” You both flush slightly at his words before he walks away to join the group. 

You and Loki break away from the group to find your room. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of your suitcase, the two of you walking in palpable silence. 

Your eyes lit up as you opened the door to the room, the floor to ceiling window gave a generous view of the beach below. 

“Isn’t it beautiful, Loki?” You ask as the god sets your bags down with a dramatic grunt. You knew the weight was practically nothing for him. 

“It’s fine.” He speaks in a monotone voice. 

“What’s wrong?” You turn around and sit on the bed in the middle of the room. 

“Nothing, I’m just- I mean this is new and…” He stutters as you lay down on the king sized bed to stretch out. 

Loki’s heart seemed to skip a few beats as he saw your vulnerable form laid out before him. One strap of your sundress fell down your shoulder and the skirt rode up your luscious thighs. His hands rested on his hips as he sighed in frustration. His hand ran down his face before brushing his tendrils of hair back. 

“Loki,” You called out for him as you sat up, “You need to loosen up. It’s a vacation after all.” 

“How?” He mumbles. 

You stand from the bed and walk towards him, Loki’s body leaned into yours like a magnet as you reached him. Your hands ran up his covered biceps to the neckline of his shirt. Your hands found the top button and undid it. His strong hands rested on your hips in anticipation. Your fingers tangled in his inky curls that rested neatly on his shoulders before moving up to cup his flushed cheeks. 

“However you want.” You say, never breaking eye contact with his piercing blue orbs. 

Loki wasted no time as he pulled you in for a kiss. The room melted away as his lips finally met yours after all this time and teasing. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to his towering form. One of his hands remained on your waist as the other held the back of your head, digits tangling in your hair as he did so. Your head rushed as you got high on his lips, your bodies flush together, as they were meant to be. 

You both took in a deep breath as you pulled away, his pupils were blown with lust and his hair was a mess. This man, this god, he was pure sex. 

“Did that help?” You giggle, intertwining your fingers with his once again. 

“It did.” He smirked, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, taking in the blissful moment.

The kiss resumed after your short, shared moment of silence. You found yourself pinned against the cold hotel wall and the dense body of a god as his hands roamed your figure. He gripped the skirt of your dress, lifting it up and brushing over your ass in the process. His lips were desperate for yours as his skilled tongue entered your mouth, exploring what was his. You held on tight for the ride, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt in the process. You broke the kiss and brushed the dark fabric off his broad shoulders. 

“You’re going to get overheated if you wear clothes like this the whole time.” She reminds him, throwing the shirt on the bed behind them. 

“Then let's stay in our room and wear nothing.” He retorts, lips trailing down your sensitive neck as he speaks. Every warm breath on your skin sent a shiver up your spine. 

“Mmmm…” You groan, “But I wanna go to the beach.” You pout, driving him insane. 

Loki leans down to grab your thighs gently so that he can hoist you up and carry you to the bed. You let out a small moan as your back met the soft mattress beneath. Loki crawled over you and straddled your body. His lips found new territory as he explored your collarbones and upper chest. 

“Fine, a few trips to the beach can be done.” He groans, his lips ghosting the tops of your breasts, barely visible underneath the dress. 

His hands ran up your soft thighs, finding their intended destination underneath your dress. You had a feeling that this would finally be happening after all this time, however, you did not expect it to happen immediately after you entered your room. Who were you to complain? This was what you fantasized about every night after he left you high and dry. No walking away this time. 

Just as his talented fingers curled in the waistband of your thin, cotton panties, a dreaded knock was heard on the other side of the door. Loki didn’t jump away from you as he did many times before. He just raised his face from in between your breasts, he was fuming with anger after being so rudely interrupted from his interpretation of Valhalla. 

“If I have to kill somebody, I swear-” He growled, his hands holding your hips. 

“Wrap up whatever you guys are doing, we have a tour and I paid for everyone. Therefore, everyone is required to attend.” Tony’s arrogant tone rang on the other side. “Not to mention the private beach that I rented out for the party tonight.” 

“We’ll be out soon, Tony.” You spoke up from your position under Loki. He just rolled his eyes and his body off of you. 

You only heard muffled footsteps fade as Tony walked away. You sat up and looked at Loki who was sprawled out next to you on the white linen. His raven hair contrasted his pale features that were slightly flushed with arousal. The prominent tent in his pants almost made you feel sorry for him. 

“We’ll pick it back up later, I promise.” You leaned down to kiss his cheek, his eyes remained trained on the white ceiling. 

“What about this?” He motioned to his throbbing erection underneath the fabric.

“I’m sorry, Loki. Can you just put it off for a bit?” You try to reason with him. 

He groaned as he sat up on the bed, “It’ll be torture. Especially if you keep wearing those dresses.” 

You smirked as you opened your suitcase and grabbed a bikini, the emerald green one to be exact. “And if I wear this underneath it?” You tease. 

“You’ll surely kill me.” 

“Good.” You giggled and practically skipped to the attached bathroom to put it on underneath your sundress. 

–

The whole team was waiting for you and Loki, a flood of embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. Their looks suggested that they had a slight idea on what you two were doing up there, or at least trying to do. 

“This isn’t a honeymoon you guys.” Barton shook his head as he began to follow the tour guide who was showing the team around the resort. 

“Sorry…” You mumbled, fidgeting with the strap of your dress. An action that Loki did not fail to notice. 

You walked with the group, Loki on your left and Natasha on your right. You tried to look ahead and focus on the tour until the redhead nudged your arm. 

“Too busy settling in?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Stop it.” You spoke between your teeth, making sure no one else heard. 

“Did you get anywhere with it?” She continues pushing. 

“It?” Loki acts offended on your other side, knowing that you were talking about him. 

“I was trying to be discreet.” She rolls her eyes at the god. 

“Either way it is none of your business.” He speaks with venom at your best friend. 

“Hey! Leave it alone you two.” You growl. 

“Apologies, darling.” He rests his hand on your back once again, giving you a sense of comfort. 

“Yea, darling.” Natasha mocked him. 

You eventually just went silent, hoping that they would take the hint that you were done with their bickering. You were not getting involved in confrontation on this vacation. Eventually, they both quieted down and walked next to you in silence. 

The tour came to an end at the private beach that Tony had mentioned earlier. There was a bar, fully stocked and open for drinks. There were speakers for music and tiki torches for atmosphere, it looked like it was out of a movie. 

The party would begin as the sun set, for now, it was time to swim. Everyone removes their loose covering clothes to reveal their swimwear. Everyone was prepared, besides Loki of course. He sat underneath one of the umbrellas on the beach, his sunglasses made it appear like he was reading his book that he brought. In reality, his eyes were on you, in that bikini. If any other men from the team got so much as within a foot from you, they would be sorry. You looked so happy as you splashed in the blue, salty water with your friends. Your smile made his stomach turn in the best way possible. He noticed your eyes looking back at him with concern every few minutes. Every time he gave you a nod of reassurance, as if he was saying, ‘Don’t worry about me, enjoy yourself.’ He was sweating under his clothes, however, he was too stubborn to admit that you were right. 

As the golden sunset began to reflect on the calm waves, the party began. Still wet from the beach, you tied a white, chiffon sarong around your hips. The fabric barely did anything to cover your ocean kissed skin as you ordered your first drink of the night. You didn’t intend on being drunk tonight, you planned on keeping your promise to Loki, who was currently nursing a drink of his own. 

You sauntered over to the secluded table where he sulked, noticing the bead of sweat on his brow as you sat across from him. 

“What did I tell you?” You spoke in an ‘I told you so’ tone. 

“I know, you were right, I was wrong, is that what you wanted to hear?” He leaned back in his chair, unbuttoning another button on the black shirt. The upper half of his torso was now on display for you. His pale skin shone in the rays of the sunset with a small sheen of sweat. You admired him, his godly form that you wanted to learn every inch of. 

You laughed victoriously, “Yes.” You smirked and took another sip of your pina colada. 

The music blasted through the speakers, and after you finished your drink, you found yourself relaxed enough to dance with everyone else, barefoot in the warm sand. After every song, you went over to Loki, asking him to join you, he turned you down every time. He was slightly hurting your feelings right now, eventually you stopped checking up on him. 

After two songs, Loki noticed your lack of attention towards him. When he walked towards the party from his secluded corner he saw you and your friends around the bar, laughing freely, some clearly more intoxicated than others. He noticed that Rogers was a little too close for comfort as you spoke. 

“You lick the margarita salt off of someone, usually on their chest, and then you take the shot. After that the person who you licked the salt off of will have a lime in their mouth. Immediately after you down the shot, you take the lime from their mouth with your mouth, no hands.” You explained body shots to the group around you as Loki approached from behind, placing a hand on your waist. 

“What are you talking about?” His curiosity peaked as he overheard the last part of your explanation. 

“Body shots.” You answered, motioning for the bartender to pour a shot of tequila. He could see your mischievous look, he feared that look, “Wanna try? I’ll teach you.” You smirk with confidence. 

Multiple gasps and ‘Ooohs’ feel from the small crowd surrounding the two of you. Loki’s eyes went wide, did you have no shame?

“And who will be taking the shot?” He asks, you smiled in excitement, happy that he didn’t turn you down immediately. 

“I’ve had my fill for the night.” You state, handing him the full shot glass, “You, however, need to loosen up some more.” 

Everyone leaned in around the bar, expecting a show. And you and Loki were about to perform for them shamelessly. They whispered and snickered as they awaited his answer. 

Loki sighed, trying to hide his excitement, “Fine.” 

Drunken cheers motivated you to sit on the bar, taking the small bowl of margarita salt in your hand. He was not even the slightest bit ready for what was about to happen as you leaned back, your eyes told him to come closer. 

Loki, who was still seen as shy by the rest of the team, approached you cautiously. Your foot hooked around the back of his knee, your eyes were sultry, flashbacks from earlier rushed in his mind. Some of your teammates, including Bruce and Steve, turned away, seemingly uncomfortable at your tantalizing display of suggestive exhibitionism. To be fair, it did look rather pornographic to spectators. 

“First…” You start, Loki’s eyes are only focused on you, “You’ll lick the salt from here.” You explain, sprinkling a trail of salt between your breasts, his breath hitching in his throat as he watches you intently, “After that, you will quickly take the tequila shot and then…” You pick up a lime from behind the bar, your body on display as you lean back, even the bartender was entertained, “You will take the lime from my mouth with yours, understand?” 

Words failed to form for the god, who could only nod with his eyes filled with awe and lust. 

You giggled as you saw Pepper smack Tony upside the head as he tried to explain himself, “Good, whenever you’re ready, mischief.” You shoot him a wink before placing the lime in your mouth and leaning back on the bar, propping your body up with your elbows. 

All eyes were on Loki now, there were many men here tonight who wished they were in his place, yet here he was, your body offered for him like the god he truly is. He leaned forward, one hand on either side of your torso, his right hand held the shot glass that sat on the polished wooden bar. His face found its way between your breasts, just as he was earlier in the day before being so rudely interrupted. The crowd was too shocked now to even attempt to stop the not so subtle erotic display. You gasped as his tongue found the trail of salt between your breasts, right above your bikini top. Your hand briefly held the back of your head as he trailed up your chest to the dreaded end of the salt trail. He sat up straight to properly take the tequila shot, wasting no time to take the lime as the liquid burned his throat. His lips briefly brushed against yours and he sucked on the lime before taking it from your mouth completely, you involuntarily clenched your thighs to relieve the throbbing between your legs. 

Loki stood straight, taking the lime from his mouth and throwing it aside as everyone around you hollered and clapped in drunken amusement. Natasha gave you a proud thumbs up from a few feet away. Loki returned to your side, helping you sit up and lifting you off the bar. He held you close so that he could whisper in your ear. 

“Can we return to our room, please?” He practically begged. 

You smirked and kissed him on the cheek, “I was hoping you’d ask.” 

The crowd wanted more from you two as they chanted for an encore, believe it or not, you and Loki were the most sober people there. You both walked towards the hotel, making sure you grabbed your shoes and sundress that were discarded earlier. You walked hand and hand with Loki back to the hotel, laughing in the moonlight as you walked barefoot with him. 

You swore it was the longest walk of your life as you finally made it to the hotel lobby and the elevator. Immediately after the doors closed, Loki pounced on you as if you were his prey, your hand gripping the bar as he kissed you passionately, fully aware that the elevator could stop prematurely and you two could be exposed at any moment. After your little show on the beach, however, it turned you on even more.

As the door made a ‘ding’ that cut through the humid air of arousal, Loki lifted you bridal style and walked the short distance to your shared room. You wrapped your arms around his neck, swinging your bare feet slightly in giddy anticipation. You recalled Barton’s words from earlier, and for now, you were about to treat this trip as your own little celebration honeymoon. You deserved it after all. 

Using his magic, Loki swung the door to the hotel room wide open, slamming against the wall as it announced your arrival. 

“Loki! Tony will be pissed if you put a hole in the wall!” You playfully scolded the god who currently held you. 

“Darling, for once in your midgardian life, can you please not worry about something?” He joked, but you knew he was serious deep down. 

“Then fuck my worries away, mischief.” 

Loki placed one more chaste kiss on your lips before he dropped you on the bed, causing you to let out a grunt. He circled the mattress before standing at the end of the bed and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes filled with determined lust. You clenched your legs as you sat up slightly to appreciate his little strip tease. 

“Oh… I plan on it.” He smirked, throwing the shirt aside and crawling towards you on the bed. The only light in the room was from the moonlight that shone through the open window. It reflected off his features and made him appear as if he was glowing before you. He gently grabbed your arm and pulled you up to sit with him. You understood the unspoken words from his cerulean eyes as you reached behind you and untied the bikini. Loki’s eyes never strayed as they studied the new territory of skin that had been exposed. His hands went to your hips to untie your sarong, his eyes moving from your breasts to your eyes in the dark, “May I?” He asks for your permission. 

“Of course.” You sit up on your knees so that the light fabric can be easily removed. The only covering that remained on your body was the dark green bikini bottoms that tie around your hips and slipped graciously between your thighs. 

“You’re so beautiful…” He pulls you onto his lap, lips trailing feathery kisses along your collarbone, “So perfect.” He praises. 

Your fingers tangle in those soft raven locks as you pressed your core against his reawakening erection underneath his trousers. He couldn’t hold back a whimper, a fucking whimper, for you as he felt the wetness through the layers of restricting fabric. He supported your lower back as he laid you down, his hips finding their home between your spread legs. He finally had you, no interruptions, no running away, you were his now. 

His fingers ghosted along your ticklish sides, you arched into his touch and whined out for him in embarrassing desperation. Loki let out a deep, raspy laugh as his mouth descended lower and lower, until his teeth were biting at the strings of your bottoms. The slight taste of ocean salt stung his tongue in the best way possible as he undid the strings with his teeth. The sight was erotic, your heartbeat drummed viciously in your chest as he kept eye contact. Your head was thrown back as he untied the other side in the exact same way. Could he have just slipped them down your legs easily? Yes. However, this was more entertaining, the sight made you so wet that he didn’t need to give you any more foreplay to prepare you for his cock. But Loki was a giver and a pathetic pussy pleaser, you couldn’t stop him from going down on you if you even wanted to. And you did not intend on pausing his mouth’s journey to the apex of your thighs. 

He placed one kiss to your covered mound before slipping the fabric from your wet cunt, he threw it aside, the clothing item lost in the dark until the morning. He licked a wet stripe up your soaked slit to test the waters. He smirked into your pussy as your hips bucked toward him, back arched off the bed. Needless to say, he was more than pleased with your reaction as his silver tongue slipped into your opening.

He skillfully continued his pleasurable oral assault on your cunt, your shaky fingers tangled in his black strands that were bobbing playfully between your thighs. His large hands held up the backs of your thighs so that he could taste you better. His tongue found its way back up to your sensitive clit, teasing it with slow circles before picking up the pace. He would alternate between tight, steady circles and closing his lips around your clit and sucking graciously. 

“Fuck, Loki! You’re s-so good baby.” You spoke praises to the god in between your thighs between desperate moans and clenched teeth. Your words encouraged his fingers to find your soaked entrance as his tongue pressed flat against your clit. 

You gasped as you felt his index and middle fingers breach your wet opening, back arching in need for release. Your pussy fluttered around his digits as they pumped and curled against that spot, the spot that no other lover had come close to reaching before now. Thor’s words about being mindful of the other hotel guests were long forgotten as moans nearly turned into screams. Thankfully, the other guests on your floor were your friends and teammates, and as far as you knew, they were still partying at the beach. 

One of his hands went to hold your hips in place as you were moving too much for his taste. Loki was a god on a mission, a mission to make you cum as hard as you could. And damn him, he was about to succeed. He groaned, eating you out like a man starved and you were his first taste of sustenance in years. He was getting off on this immensely, his filthy late night fantasies were finally coming true. 

“Loki… I can’t i’m- gonna… AH!” You screamed out for him, your hips raising off the sheets as his mouth eagerly followed. You came on his face shortly after your failed attempt at a warning. Loki sucked up every drop that leaked from your sweet pussy, not wasting a single drop of your nectar. 

Your thighs shook on either side of his head as he continued, pushing you to unbearable overstimulation. You pushed back on his forehead and tried to breathe. 

“Stop. Sensitive.” Was all you could stay, thankfully he took the sign and stopped. If it was up to him, he would spend the rest of the vacation between your legs. 

He graced your shaking body with gentle, loving kisses, pulling you back to reality. Your hands searched for his body, your eyes blurry from all the pleasurable tears that you had just shed. He reached out for you, one hand held his form above yours as the other held your hand, leaving chaste kisses on your knuckles before you went to caress his face, appreciating every dark and beautiful feature of the god. 

“Love, are you okay?” He asks in concern, words failed to leave your lips properly since your orgasm. 

“That was… I don’t even have words I-” He cut off your stuttering with a kiss, your taste prominent on his lips. 

“Do you wish to stop?” He asks, assuming you were too out of it for anything else. 

Your lazy eyes snapped open as your hands went to rest on his belt, “No, please, I want all of you.” You begged, fingers beginning to fidget with the metal buckle. 

“Then you will have me.” He responds. 

Just as you were about to start working on his pants, they magically disappeared before your very eyes, thanks to Loki’s magic of course. 

Needless to say, he was huge. You had felt his cock before, pressed up against your ass or lower abdomen in compromising positions that he had put you in on multiple occasions. Then, you were separated by layers of clothes. Now, you both were completely bare for each other, in your most vulnerable state. The heat of arousal seeped off your body, he could feel it from the very small space between you two. 

Your hand curiously brushed against the head of his dick, the slit leaking precum that slightly lubricated the rest of his shaft. 

“You’re huge.” You mindlessly breathe out in admiration. 

Loki lets out his iconic breathy giggle at your words, “Are you sure you want me love? The destructful god of mischief?” 

“The only thing you ever destroyed was my heart when you kept turning away from me after all of your sexual teasing.” You tell him, lifting your legs around his waist to pull his hips closer to yours. 

“I’m sorry darling, I never meant to. I was just…” He paused, looking away from your eyes for a split second before your hands gently cupped his face, pulling him back to you. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“I was too scared to lose you.” He admits, blue eyes flooding with tears.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m here with you. Forever and always.” He leans to touch your forehead with his in a moment of pure romance. 

He pulls back slightly, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something important. His lips close and press together, he flicks his dark locks over his pale shoulder before fully settling between your thighs. His hand held the base of his cock as he ran it up and down your wet pussy teasing and asking permission at the same time. 

“May I have you this evening, love?” He asks for your consent once more. 

“This evening and every evening that lay before us.” You answer. 

Loki chuckles in amusement, “Good answer.” 

A synchronized gasp left both of your lips simultaneously as the tip of his cock slipped into your entrance. He held you tight, as if you were about to flutter away underneath him. Your fingernails scratched down his shoulder blades, little did you know, Loki had a thing for pain. 

He didn’t hold back as his hips found a steady rhythm so that he could properly pump his cock inside you repeatedly. Your hands were all over him, feeling every scar, muscle, and hair that decorated his body. One hand of his held onto the soft flesh of your right thighs as the other played with your breasts that were bouncing in time with every thrust. 

“Loki- Faster!” You demanded underneath him, spreading your legs wider to give him more room. 

“Does my precious girl like it when- fuck… when I fuck her like a slut?” He had to pause for a second as he sped up the pace of his thrusts. He perfectly practiced self control to keep himself from spilling inside of you too early as your cunt clenched around him. 

“YES! Oh Loki… fuck me like the slut that I am.” Your eyes opened to meet his blue-green ones that were darkened with lust and arousal. 

“You’re my slut, no other will ever touch you. You. Are. Mine.” He accentuates every word with a deep thrust, driving his cock deep inside your core. 

He had dreamed of this, touched himself to the thought of claiming you. He mentally cursed himself for taking so damn long to do so. You were such a willing lover for him, for a god. With every thrust, every kiss, and every dirty word that he growled in your ear you knew that he fucked like a god, the true god that he is. 

His fingers found their way back between your legs as they rubbed against your clit with the determination to make you cum around him. Your pussy leaked your mixed arousal onto the hotel sheets below, a thin sheen of sweat covered both of your bodies, causing both of you to shine in the moonlight. This night was perfect, just you and the man that you had longed for all this time. 

“I’m close, come with me, cum all over my cock.” He breathes out as his thrusts become sloppy and uneven. 

Your whole body tensed and your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as his long thrusts turned into more of a grinding motion. The feeling of his pubic mound grinding against your clit along with his fingers precisely circling it pushed you over the edge. 

“LOKI!” You screamed out his name in orgasmic bliss as your pussy clenched around his cock, causing him to fall over the edge with you. Ropes of his hot cum coated your walls, a sloppy kiss was shared in the moment. The room seemed to melt away as you held each other, coming down from both of your powerful orgasms. He laid on top of you, careful to not put his full weight on you as his face buried itself in your neck, taking in your natural scent. 

In his state of bliss he murmured something into your skin, so quiet you could barely hear. But you knew what he said, you had imagined those words falling like spring rain from his lips many times. You knew them all too well. 

“I love you.” 

He immediately regrets it as he sits up, intending to move away from you as he pulls his softening cock out of your warm, welcoming tunnel. You crawl onto him as he laid on the bed, your silence scared him, although you clearly weren't revolted as you rested your head on his chest, admiring the glistening ocean outside the window before looking back up at him.

“I love you Loki, so much. More than you could even imagine.” You confess, showing that you reciprocate his feelings. 

He chuckles with love at your answer, even he couldn’t hide the love drunk smile that adorned his face, “Is that so?” He asks, playfully. 

“It is, it always has been.” You tell him, propping your tired body up enough to place another soft kiss on his lips before you fall asleep with him. Wrapped up in white, cotton sheets and pure love for one another. 

–

As you sat in the hotel lobby with Loki the next morning, innocently enjoying your complimentary breakfast, you noticed a few strange stares from your fellow teammates, while others refused to look at you all together. 

“Why are they staring at us like that?” You quietly ask the god across the small round table from you. 

“Well darling, it may be the fact that you sat your pretty little ass up on the bar last night and asked me to lick salt from between your breasts in a whorish display of alcoholism.” He answered nonchalantly. 

Your cheeks slightly blushed pink at his words, perhaps you did take things a bit too far due to your need for Loki. Before you could answer a feminine hand took a blueberry off of your plate. 

“That…” Natasha started next to you, eating the blueberry before continuing, “And the fact that you two were fucking so loud last night that Tony received a formal complaint from the front desk.”

You glanced cautiously at Tony across the room. The billionaire met your eyes with a threatening gaze. 

“Sorry.” You mumble, sure that you would die from embarrassment. 

The redheaded spy laughs, “Well, you both certainly needed to get that out of your system. However, Tony said that if it happens again, Loki will have to move in with Thor for the rest of the trip.” She points over her shoulder to the blond god, who waved in return and gave his brother a proud thumbs up. 

“We’ll be more considerate next time, agent. Thank you.” Loki replies in your place with a hand over his heart in fake innocence. 

With your face buried in your hands, you hid your face at the table. “Who was even around last night?” You ask, barely audible as you raised your head. 

“Some of us go to bed early, y'know.” Steve replies as he walks by with a coffee cup in his hand.

“I expect no less of Rogers.” Loki rolled his eyes before landing on yours as he pulled your hands down from your flushed face, “Now, how about that trip to the beach?” He suggests. 

“Will sex be involved?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“Most likely.” He smirks.