#thank say american beers

[copingwithcomics]

[rabbitrah]

A continuation on my post about unloved foods, specifically this is my in-depth defense of root beer.

Root Beer isn't inherently gross, it's just one of those weird local flavors that's off-putting to people who didn't grow up with it. We all like different things and also we all tend to like flavors that are similar to what we grew up with. That's okay! But honestly root beer is pretty unique and, in my opinion, delicious.

One of the main complaints against root beer is that it tastes like medicine. Funnily enough, it was originally marketed as medicinal! This is true for most OG sodas actually. Pretty much as soon as carbonated water was invented, people were drinking it to soothe various ailments. A lot of the original soft drinks were actually invented by pharmacists. I just think that root beer is especially cool because the main flavor came from the root bark of sassafras, a common North American shrub. Because it's so widespread and aromatic, all parts of the sassafras plant have been used in food and medicine by many different Native American tribes throughout history and was subsequently picked up and used by European colonists. In the 1960s, some studies indicated that that safrole oil, which is produced by the plant, can cause liver damage. Whether or not this would actually remain true after it had been boiled and added to root beer is unclear, but it was really easy to replicate the flavor, so the sassafras in commercial root beer these days is artificial. Another fun fact about safrole is that it's a precursor in the synthesis of MDMA. None of this information has stopped my childhood habit of eating sassfras leaves right off the shrub whenever I walk past it on a hike. I'm like 85% sure it's safe and also mmmm yummy leafs go crunch.

Another root beer complaint is that it tastes like toothpaste. I think this is probably because another key flavor in most root beer recipes is wintergreen. I'm assuming that the people who think this are the same people who think mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste. I can understand and even respect that some people don't like mint and associate it only with brushing their teeth, but like. Mint is a pretty common flavor. I mean I think it's safe to say that humans have been eating mint flavored stuff for longer than toothpaste has existed... anyway!

Other common flavors in root beer (real or artificial) are caramel, vanilla, black cherry bark, sarsaparilla root, ginger, and many more! There's not one official recipe, and root beer enthusiasts often have strong opinions about different brands. Some root beer is sharper, with more strong aromatic flavors, and others are mild and creamier.

Another thing I think is cool about root beer is that it's foamier than most sodas. This was originally because sassafras is a natural surfactant (and why sassafras is also a common thickening agent in Louisiana Creole cooking.) These days, other plant starches or similar ingredients are added to keep the distinctive foam. Root beer foam > all other soft drink foams. That's why root beer floats kick more ass than like, coke floats.

If you've never had root beer before, imagine if a sweetened herbal tea was turned into a soda, because that's basically what it is. If your first response to that is a cringe, fair enough. That's why lots of people don't like it. If your first response to that is "interesting... I might actually like it, though" then I encourage you to track down a can of root beer today, hard as that might be outside the US and Canada. Next time you see an "ew, root beer tastes like medicine/tooth paste" take, know that there's a reason for that, but also the same could be said for literally any herbal or minty food/drink.

My final take on root beer is that it would be the soda of choice for gnomes. Thank you and good night.

[yanderenightmare]

Dabi x darling x Hawks

TW: NSFW, noncon, war, soldiers, married reader

AN: kinda inspired by when British Parliament passed the Quartering Act in 1765, and those in the American colonies were required to provide housing for British soldiers, and how they were also expected to provide food, firewood, and even beer.

fem reader

Thinking about old-timey soldiers Hawks and Dabi who knock on your door with their caps in hand, plastic smiles on both their faces when asking for a warm homecooked meal – knowing you can’t refuse by order of the King.

It’s a humble cottage more than it’s a house, but the two men make themselves at home while you slowly stir the stew you’ve whipped up for them – only halfway of your own free will. 

Hawks asks where your husband is, and you point to the love letters displayed on the mantle and tell them he’d been called away seven months ago. 

Dabi then asks if you’ve been lonely…

You try and laugh it off as though it was a charming thing of him to say – but you’ve been feeling apprehensive ever since you opened the door – seeing their hands casually resting on the weapons by their hip as though in silent threat.

You sit with your hands in your lap while they eat. They say they’ve missed the sweetness of a woman like you – that the lads back at base don’t know how to do it the same way. And you know they’re talking about the food, but still… you can’t help but feel they’re insinuating something else.

You scream when they grab you – but it’s not like they expected anything else from a married woman – of course, a good wife would give anyone who isn’t her husband some fight – but like any woman, you’re quickly subdued by the two of them. 

Their smiles are still eerily calm, even as you cry – utterly unmatched by their actions, where they squeeze into all your plush parts with unwarranted strength.

Hawks hugs you from behind, forcing your arms behind your back – his crotch planted firm against your rear, even through all the thick layers of your skirt. 

Dabi is in front of you. He ripped open your blouse in the struggle – now whistling at the pretty sight of your tits while stroking his revolver up the crane of your neck, poking it into your cheek before using it to brush a wisp of hair out of your face – pretty and riddled with tears while you snivel and whimper.

He takes your chin in a strong hand, his tone smooth while he tells you to calm down – as though he's not got his loaded fire weapon aimed at you. His nose brushes yours as he croons at you through a smile – giving your quivering lips a quick peck.

Hawks’ tone is just as suave – playful even, grinning toothily, chuckling out how they just want to thank you for the hospitality as he quickly tugs the wool of your dress up, balling it all around your waist. Petting your cunt through your bloomers with your wrists gripped firm in his other hand, pinned tightly to the small of your back.

Cutlery, plates, and cups crash to the floor when Dabi swipes to clear the table – sending you hips-first against it.

The nose of his gun jabs into your nape, forcing your head down until your cheek smudges the splintery wood.

He doesn’t bother retraining you, letting the threat of his bullets do to all the talking while he unbuckles his belt, letting his uniform drop around his ankles.

He rips a gash in the thin cotton of your bloomers. They look too cute to remove. Not frilly like rich maidens wear, like in those catalogs the men will pass around if not pictures of each other's girlfriends. Yours are worker class, probably sewn by yourself from some old curtains – not meant to be erotic, but made so erotic because of it. 

You’re just a simple farmer’s daughter making your country proud – is what he whispers in your ear when he has two fingers stuffed up your cunt.

It’s obvious you haven’t been fucked in a while – the two digits make you wince and, in turn, make him restless to give you the real thing. He can tell just by the buck of your hips it’s going to feel the same as fucking a virgin.

You’re quickly wet like one, too. Makes it easy for him to slide into your tightness despite your teary whines. 

He lets out a heavy groan when you’ve taken him to the hilt – stays nestled there for a minute – in reverence of the tight, wet warmth he hadn’t felt in a while.

Sure, he and Hawks might have done things on cold, long, lonely nights, but nothing can quite compete with the softness of a woman in his mind.

Those precious ways you tighten up and shake from the stretch, shuffling your thighs when he kneads into your womb – soaking him with wet velvet slick.

His gun goes lazy against your back, though still very much keeping you scared in place as he lolls in and out of you at a languid pace – his chin tipped up with a sigh.

But it’s only initial relief – and once it dies down and the hunger spurs anew – he’s got his lips at your ear and his gun in your mouth – crude things flying off his lips, hips thrusting against you with the same haste of a hound in his rut – saying if he were your husband, he’d never leave your cunt and cooking – that he’d pick being buried six inches deep between your thighs than six feet deep in the dirt – sucking your cheek while telling you not to fret long over your man – how he and Hawks will help you grieve when the love letters stop coming.

The blonde is busy looting the liquor cabinet while Dabi ravages your poor cunt – but he comes back to switch with him once he finds the most expensive bottle.

It was a wedding present you’d been saving, one you’d thought you’d open the day your love would return – but Hawks cares little for the etiquette and swigs it raw from the stem as he retakes his place behind you – bathing his thick shaft with the slick sheen on your inner thighs before pressing himself inside you.

He doesn’t bother to start slow – he’d been kept waiting long enough and goes straight to pounding you deep. Kicking your legs apart – a hand buried in the cake of your ass to steady you whilst the other grips the bottle.

The table is small. Meant for only you and your man – so perfect for bending you over – just intimate enough to allow Dabi to stand at the other end with his cock in your mouth.

The whole thing wobbles against the floor as the two men have their way. 

They deserted from their battalion a long time ago and have both grown pretty tired of house-hopping – and this place seems far enough removed from where anyone would bother looking for them. 

Who knows, maybe they’ll stay until the war is over. 

♡ DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA masterlist ♡ HAWKS - TAKAMI KEIGO masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Dark Days Coming

King: hey guys sorry i'm late King: i just could not get up this morning King: feels like I've been sleeping for days King: what did i miss? King: how did the election go? Lovecraft: not too bad King: King: oh no King: oh no oh no oh no

Lovecraft: don't worry steve it won't be so bad Lovecraft: I've heard assurances from the new regime that they only want the trade unionists King: King: King:

Lovecraft: i mean really steve Lovecraft: how bad could it be? [meanwhile] Donald Trump: we're gonna have the biggliest boot stamping on a human face forever Trump: we love the boot stamping on the human face forever, don't we folks? Trump: more and more people are saying they love the boot

Lovecraft: you're overreacting steve Lovecraft: what's trump even going to do? King: well i'm glad you asked King: [unrolls comically long scroll] Lovecraft: oh is this going to be a song

King: well for starters King: decimate reproductive rights King: LGBTQ rights King: labor rights King: civil rights King: accelerate climate change Lovecraft: [sweats] this is making me feel bad steve Lovecraft: i can't wait for trump to outlaw you telling me this stuff!

King: use the military to brutalize americans King: abandon Ukraine King: and as for gaza George Romero: in all honesty steve Romero: that probably won't change much King: oh look! an optimist!

Lovecraft: ok but Lovecraft: has he actually SAID he's going to do any of that? King: yes Lovecraft: oh he was probably just lying Lovecraft: he lies a lot Poe: he does lie a lot

Lovecraft: i think you're overreacting, he's probably not gonna do all the stuff he says he's gonna do King: so you don't believe him? Lovecraft: nope! King: king: then what's his appeal? Lovecraft: well he's just so honest

Lovecraft: a real straight shooter Lovecraft: tells it like it is Lovecraft: says what he means King: King:

King: howard please tell me you didn't vote for trump did you? Lovecraft: [sweats] steve! please! Lovecraft: i'm only a loveable archie bunker style racist Lovecraft: i'm still 100% yang gang King: King: King: i picked a bad day to quit cocaine

King: i really need some cocaine King: edgar you know where i can get some cocaine don't you Poe: steve stay strong Poe: you don't need cocaine King: just one bump King: to get me through the next four years King: i mean few days King: no i mean four years

King: how about a beer? i was an alcoholic too you know King: maybe i'll take that up again King: this is good drinking weather Poe: steve no Poe: dean help me hold him back King: don't try to stop me! Poe: no steve! you've got so much to live for! King: yeah? like what? Poe: well Poe: you've got a loving family King: Joe is pretty great Koontz: and owen! King: King: yeah and owen is alright too i guess

King: yeah he's pretty good King: what the heck, i can say it King: i love owen too! Koontz: and there's naomi too King: whoa wait a second, i have THREE kids?? King: this just keeps getting better!

King: thanks guys i do feel a little better Poe: good, hold onto that Poe: cuz it's going to be a long four years Lovecraft: only four years? i thought we weren't gonna have to vote anymore! Poe: Poe: good drinking weather, huh?

Joyce Carol Oates: huh, i really don't see why the electorate would hate trans people unless they were persuaded by hate speech and fearmongering JK Rowling: well well well look at the fancccy pantsss rich author Rowling: with her out of touch fancccy ideasss about a pluralissstic sssociety! Rowling: with her fancccy german automobile! Oates: this car was made in Guatemala

Rowling: you're clearly too rich to underssstand the feelingsss of the common man Rowling: unlike me, a true daughter of the proletariat Rowling: i know all about the material needsss of the underclassss Rowling: anyway i'm going to insulate my Scottish castle with big bags of money

[kookinglikeachef]

Y/N is Jungkook’s American neighbor and the walls between their apartments are paper-thin.... and I think you can come up with the rest iykwim

━━━━━━

kookinglikeachef: There’s just something about neighbor!Jungkook hearing you get off that’s so hot to me and the language barrier is even hotter.

“Hi, hello” - English

‘’Bye, goodbye’’ - Korean

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The scent of the Ramyeon takeout bagged in Jungkook’s hands is enough to make his knees buckle. It’s been a long day of straining his muscles from difficult choreography and leaving the studio to realize he left his keys inside and had to climb six flights of stairs again because the elevator was out of order.

He can practically hear his sofa calling his name, can taste the cold bottles of beer that sit in his fridge. He’s a twenty-seven-year-old K-Pop star and he’s spending his Saturday night alone with a takeaway.

Someone who isn’t doomed to the same sad fate is Y/N, his neighbor who’s all dressed up in something that compliments your skin perfectly, as you’re locking the front door and shoving your keys into the tiny clutch you’ve got hanging from your shoulder on a thick silver chain when you noticed him.

“Oh, hey,” you greet softly in Korean, offering a bright and friendly smile. Jungkook smiles back when he hears it, chest swelling. You’re beautiful, there’s no denying that. But hearing you try to speak his language is what sends him over. Even if your pronunciation wasn’t great.

He’s never seen you dressed in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt or your work uniform. He’s never been given the opportunity to see you in an elegant manner, to notice new parts of your body he can suddenly imagine himself gripping.

He clears his throat and smiles wider.

“Hello. You.. look.. lovely, very beautiful,” he compliments you kindly in English, fingers fiddling with his keys to keep him busy. He watched you blush at his comment, how you pursed your lips to hide your shy smile and it makes him fucking throb.

You knew who he was, of course, you did. You bumped into him six months ago when he was moving in next door. You didn’t recognize him at first, not until you were at his apartment door trying to welcome him to the building and LA that you stared at him with wide eyes and a breathy, “oh wow, aren’t you that guy from that really popular Korean group?”

Okay… so maybe you didn’t know who he was, but you were on the right track.

“Thank you,” you broke from your trip down memory lane and take him in.

He had his usually dinner in hand and his body slightly slouching from exhaustion. You rarely seen him out with friends but your schedules were usually very different.

You hummed, trying to remember in your choppy Korean, "You want come on me and my friends?”

Jungkook bites his lip ring and looked down at the floor, laughing. You stared at him, confused, but still could not help smiling at his attractive laugh.

“No..” he looked back up, still giggly. “No come.”

You nodded, shrugging your shoulders. “Goodnight, then.” You say in English as you waved your hand softly in a bid of goodbye.

“Be safe,” Jungkook says tenderly, a wholesome smile on those pink lips. He waited until you rounded the corner before he unlocked his door and kicked off his shoes.

Jungkook gently tossed the takeout bag on the coffee table on his way to the kitchen, grabbing bottles of beer by their necks with his looped fingers, kicking the fridge closed behind him. His entire apartment is dark but he doesn’t see the point in turning any lights on when he knows the TV works just fine.

There’s only an ounce of loneliness for Jungkook when he eats his dinner alone and watched some sappy rom-com k-drama on Netflix when he turned the television on. He doesn’t long for his friends but a secret part of him craves for his neighbor.

He wondered what it’d be like for you to be cuddled into his side as you’d both watch the movie. Wonders if you’d laugh at certain parts and crane your neck up to pepper soft kisses to his pink lips. Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to rid the thoughts of you from his mind.

But it’s proven a little more difficult when he takes to his shower and the water is running down his tense and naked body. He struggles to not think about you on your knees, touching and kissing up his thighs.

He has to swallow back the lump in his throat and blinks away the urge to touch himself to the thought of you. He refused to be that kind of guy. So instead, when his hand still starts to wrap around his hardening cock, he thinks of the most disgusting thing he can and gets out of the shower.

Jungkook plays the guitar for a bit of the evening, humming along to tunes to pass the time away. Somewhere through singing “baby we two distant strangers, I know you don't speak my language”, he catches sight of the clock on the wall and he’s confused as to how it’s already a little past midnight.

It’s when he’s locking his door and crawling into bed that he hears a soft giggle muffled from the wall behind his head. He knows that giggle to be of yours and it’s only just occurring to him that perhaps your bedroom is mirroring his.

He’s kicking off his sweats as he throws his cover over his almost naked body and he can hear another sweet giggle fall from your lips. He tries not to let the sound affect him, he knows what’s about to go down past midnight for you.

You’ve brought someone home.

He can hear soft moans slipping from your lips but there’s a high, robotic voice that announces the Bluetooth is successfully connected and he knows he’s about to hear your fuck playlist. The thought sends a thrill through his body and he knows he’s unlikely going to get any sleep tonight.

He’s about to get up, to move to the sofa in the living room, to not be disrespectful and a perv by listening to you getting off with some one night stand, but he hears a familiar low sounding synthesizer and bass muffled through the paper-thin walls and his eyes are bulging.

“Feelin' like I'm floatin'. Something's in the air tonight.”

You’re giggling again and he can hear your body fall to the bed – the bed that’s very clearly pushed up against the same wall that his is and he hears it creak under your weight, feels the wall tremble slightly as your bedframe knocks against it.

His hand finds its way in his boxers before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing. He’s rock fucking hard, and he kicks off his boxers and his sheets, leaving him sprawled on his back, completely bare.

Jungkook hears your soft whimpers, can hear your hum in appreciation even over the thumping of his song. He doesn’t know what’s turning him on more.; the fact that he can hear you getting off and moaning out, or that you’re listening to him while another man fucks you.

Either way, his hand is wrapped tight around his length, thumbing over his oozing tip. He thinks of how you must be, how you’d look completely naked and sprawled out on the bed for him. Jungkook imagines himself on top of you, kissing every inch of your body and wrapping his lips around your swelling nipples. He thinks he can taste you on his tongue, can feel your fingers tugging at his hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasped through the wall. He can imagine your eyes rolling back when he finally sheathes himself inside you, can see the look of ecstasy on your face when your jaw falls slack and your body quivers. He knows you’d feel him deep in your stomach.

“Fuck,” he pants out breathlessly. He’s tugging at his dick, spitting down on it to get it a little wet. He knows you’re so much wetter on the other side of the damn wall. Jungkook’s head is thrown back in his pillow, eyes shut tight and he knows he’s breaking a sweat that’s dotting at his hairline.

Everything feels surreal, like he’s in his own personal heaven with a touch of hell. You’re crying out for more, begging for it deeper, harder, and he finds himself fucking into his fist the way you’re desperate for.

Jungkook can’t focus on anything other than your sweet fucking cries that sounds fucking otherworldly against his song. It’s when he stops singing that you really let yourself go, filthy fucking moans and whines and God he wishes he could watch you.

You’re trembling and begging as the instrumental plays out, and Jungkook can’t handle it.

Gruff moans are slipping past his lips and he does nothing to try and conceal them. His tatted arm is burning a naked fire in his muscles but he fucks his cock harder, his other hand fondling with his lonely balls and he wants to feel them slap at your ass as he pounds you into your creaky mattress.

He can feel the coil tightening in his stomach, the way his cock starts to twitch. His imagination grows wild and it’s like he’s on top of you, hand around your throat as he shoves his cock in you repeatedly, senselessly. He thinks he can taste your tongue on his. He thinks he can feel your nails scratching down his back.

Jungkook’s mind takes him to sinful places. He can see himself spitting on your tongue, see you swallowing it. He can hear your voice echoing through his ears like a fucking prayer.

“Please. JK!” Even through your cries, your imperfect Korean was the hottest he’d ever heard. Your bed is creaking louder than before and he knows your thighs are fucking trembling as you came around the stranger’s cock. Jungkook’s got his hand and thighs covered in thick ribbons of white arousal and when his eyes flutter open, through blotched white vision, he can see you kneeling between his thighs and licking him up.

He’s completely fucked as he hears his song mellow out and you aren’t moaning anymore. Instead, he can hear your breathless, pretty giggles and your little pants for breath. He stays where he is for a second, eager to see what else he can hear. Your bed creaks again and he supposes the stranger has got up to clean themselves off. But he doesn’t hear you anymore and the song changes to complete and utter silence.

He doesn’t hear the bed creak again or any other noise from your side of the wall, and when it nears 1 am, he figures you two are sleeping.

Jungkook doesn’t sleep the entire night. He can’t. He’s kept awake with the thrill and guilt of listening to his neighbor have sex through the bedroom wall. Or is it with the thrill and guilt of pretending that it was him? He isn’t sure, even after thinking about it all night.

He’s been in the living room, strumming notes on the guitar and plucking inspiration out of his frazzled brain. He doesn’t hear anymore movement from your apartment or the hall for the rest of the night. The narcissistic part of Jungkook wants to catch who the stranger is. Wants to know if his song playing while you had sex, was a coincidence or if your lover for the night holds any resemblance to him.

But as closely (and creepily) as he listens, he doesn’t hear any sign of someone sneaking out and he wonders if maybe it’s not a stranger and perhaps you’d been seeing someone? He doesn’t know why but the thought makes his jaw tick.

It’s 6 am when he’s going downstairs to check his little mailbox, doing something to pass the early morning and to possibly sneak a peek at the stranger. Jungkook thinks 6 am is a reasonable time to sneak out of a brief lover’s arms. And he thinks he’s about to hit the jackpot when he’s about to unlock his door and yours opens.

You’re yawning as you tug your jacket on your shoulders; wearing your work clothes. He frowns with a smile when you notice him.

You’re alone.

His heart is hammering in his chest because you had no idea he heard every word you muttered last night.

“Good morning, Jungkook,” you say in Korean. And he’ll try to respond in English. It’s kind of a thing between you two. And the only thing.

“Good morning.” He smiles. “Um.. fun.. night?” He asks.

“Amazing… uh… night.” You tried.

“Night,” he says in Korean.

“Night.” You repeated. “Amazing night.”

A proud smile spreads over his pierced lips.

“Lucky night,” his smile turns cheeky.

You stifle a loud laugh, playfully hitting his shoulder.

He wonders if you think he’s being nosy, being creepy. Or maybe if you’ve realized that he heard you. But your friends have embarrassed you in front of Jungkook enough times in passing for that statement to be absolutely normal between the two of you—always joking about how lucky you get with guys from the bar.

He was usually still at the studio by the time you’d come home for him to find out if it were true.

“Not a chance. Came home alone, went to bed alone,” you spoke carefully for him to understand and blushed inwardly.

Jungkook just nods along with a smile still resting on his lips and he doesn’t say anything back, his eyes are too glued to your own lips, the sound of your moans still ringing in his ears.

Then… a beat.

You came home alone and went to bed alone? But by the sounds that Jungkook remembers, you were definitely doing something with his voice filling your ears and room… unless…

Oh…

Oh.

[rockyteriyaki]

“I can’t see,” Max complains. Daniel props his phone up on the weird, blocky hotel lamp. “Daniel. I cannot—how will I be able to see you, like this.”

He turns the phone sideways, to landscape mode, and Max’s face lights up. In the little corner square, the white bedspread stretches behind Daniel, all the way to the headboard.

“Oh, there,” Max says, pleased. “Now I can.”

“Front row seat, baby,” Daniel says. There’s a tacky stripe in his arm hair from where someone had spilled beer on him, jolting out of their seat at a touchdown. A tiny American flag is planted in his backpack, colonizing his Bills hoodie and bottle of lube. Daniel feels invigorated. Max’s face scrunches.

“It would of course be better if I was there,” he says, stubborn.

Daniel gives an exaggerated scan around the room. “I dunno. The cuck chair in here’s nothing to write home about. You’re better off on the jet, I reckon.”

Max’s mouth falls open. He starts to say something, but Josh knocks on the door before he can get it out. “Whoops,” Daniel says, rolling off the bed. “That’ll be him.”

When he’s back in frame, he’s being pulled down onto the sheets by Josh’s massive arms, not quite violent but not quite gentle either. Just steady, unrelenting. How Josh always is.

“Daniel,” Max says, as soon as he can see him again. “Daniel. I won. In Brazil, just now. From the back. I won.”

“Hi Max,” Josh says. His voice is bright, only barely singed with the rasp of winning a home game. He’s amicable even as he spreads Daniel’s knees, up and over. Daniel likes him a lot.

“Hello,” Max says, absently. “Daniel. Did you hear?”

“Fuck,” Daniel says. He’s settled on Josh’s lap and he can feel his dick tenting his sweatpants. Josh grins sheepishly.

“Since you texted,” he tells Daniel, apropos of nothing. “I was hoping you would. I was sitting in the locker room, just thinkin’—“ he trails off, glancing at Max on the phone and then back up at Daniel. He grabs Daniel’s hips. “Thank you. Thank you, DR, fuck.”

Daniel preens and Max chokes.

“I won,” Max says, steadfast, but the hitch in his voice is one that Daniel could recognize blindfolded and in ten different time zones. Daniel plants a hand on Josh’s chest and he goes down easy, staring and panting like Daniel has a Super Bowl ring on each finger.

“I know,” Daniel says, indulgently. He rocks his dick against Josh’s bulge, a pantomime cowboy, and he and Max let out twin groans. “So did he.”

[dearharriet]

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

[yxtubers]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: you accidentally reveal to matt’s stream that you’re his s/o

warnings/notes: none (?)

requested?: yes

> > >

Matt had been huddled up in his room all day playing games with Nick and Chris. After being cooped up inside for the first half of the day, the boys had nothing to eat - so you kindly offered to bring them some takeout on your way there.

Chris eventually fled to the living room, bidding goodbye to the stream they began, and leaving Nick and Matt to continue playing in their respective rooms.

Unlocking the door to their apartment you were met with Chris’ excited yelps as he runs towards you. He practically steals the food from your arms and sprints to the kitchen.

“So much for a ‘hello, thank you for feeding me!’” you joke as you hold onto the drinks you bought them. Placing the cans onto the counter, you split the food and give Chris his share.

“Thank you for feeding me!” he yells behind him as he ran to sit on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you divided Nick, yours, and Matt’s food also. You take your shoes off and leave them in the hallway before walking to Chris and plopping onto the couch next to him. He was watching some American version of ‘Love Island’ that Nick recommended him.

Since it wasn’t of much interest to you, you get up to let him to eat his dinner in peace.

“I’m gonna go bring Matt’s food up - do you mind letting Nick know his is on the counter?” you said.

All you got was a mumble of agreement from him. Deciding that’s as good as you’re gonna get, you take the brown bag of food upstairs. What Chris had forgotten to mention was that Matt was on stream currently. With his camera on.

It’s not that the viewers didn’t know who you were, or that you hated being on camera. However, your relationship with Matt was kept away from the public eye - and you both wanted to keep it that way.

You knock on his door and wait for his response before walking in. He has his headphones on, clicking random buttons and yelling at Nick to heal him.

“I brought you food,” you say as you placed it on his bed, throwing his can of root beer next to it.

“You’re a Godsend, thank you,” he says, turning away from his computer to look at you.

“Hey,” he mumbles upon seeing you, cheeks tinted pink.

You were out of shot, but the viewers recognize your voice in an instant. The chat fills with people speculating why Matt was blushing so hard, and people commenting how cute it was that you bought him dinner.

All of this was completely unbeknownst to you, as you still thought he was just playing with his brother on call.

Matt rolls his chair over to grab his beverage and the bag of takeout. Walking away from him, you look around the room.

“If you’re not too busy can you help me look for my sweater? I think I left it here last night,” you say absentmindedly as you opened his closet.

At this, the comments went crazy.

Matt’s eyes widened. He looks at the screen, and then at you, and then at the chat. The comments were flying in at 120mph, with people typing in all caps.

Various messages were sent from: ‘I knew it!’ to ‘WHAT’ to complete and utter shock and chaos. Matt bursts out laughing as one in particular caught his eye - ‘MOM AND DAD’.

“What’s so funny?” you quip, raising your eyebrow, “you want your girlfriend to freeze to death?”

At this point there was no going back. No way in hell was there a way to cover that up.

Matt guilty looks up at you, gesturing to the screen.

“I’m live,” he says plainly.

“Oh.”

He holds his hand out to you and you take it, moving into the camera’s view. You wave.

“Hi guys!”

You look over at the chat and you’re surprised to see many supportive comments. ‘This is so cute’ - ‘Dying rn’ - ‘We knew’. Your face turns hot as you look down at your boyfriend, completely bewildered.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” Matt whispers.

You shake your head, kissing the top of his hair. “It’s okay, they were bound to find out soon enough.”

And with that, you say goodbye to the stream and sneak back downstairs to bring Nick his food; you knew Chris would forget to.

The rest of the stream was filled with Nick telling the comments to get over themselves, and Matt blushing each time your name was mentioned.

Maybe being public wouldn’t be so bad.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@stxrniqlo

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

[maxlarens]

(last one for now) 🩷: Logan + (american 😤) football game 🥹

honestly this is how i think that me going to a american football game would go (at least re: not knowing whats going on). anyway loved this idea actually thank u 💝 can u tell i dont understand how american football works

cw: ummm slightly suggestive?

“Logan,” you sigh, “I’m sorry, I know this is fun for you, but what the fuck is going on down there?”

Logan laughs, tips his head back so you can see the line of his throat. Foamy beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup as he points an arm out, gesturing at players down on the field. You’ve got no real way to know who he means when he says words like Quarterback and Wide Receiver and Outside Linebacker. It’s a whole different language, never mind the way his accent has thickened since he’s been home. Vowels turning honey-sweet and long.

“You understand?”, he asks off the back of a long spiel that you definitely didn’t get.

You wince a little, shake your head, “All I got is that they’re chucking a ball around, Loges. Same as every other sport.”

Logan raises a blonde eyebrow at you, smile tugging charmingly at his mouth, “Every other sport?”

���Yuh huh. Tennis, soccer, footy— uh, padel. Even you guys, I guess.”

A snort, indelicate, childish as he waits for you to elaborate. Clearly intrigued to see how you’ll relate the two, “Go on.”

You shrug sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed about your dumb joke, but persevering anyway, “Yeah, y’know. Twenty of you slinging your balls around the track every weekend.”

Logan, who’d made the mistake of taking a sip of his beer, bursts suddenly into laughter. Has to redirect the beer-spray that shoots out of his mouth onto the concrete steps below you. Not quick enough apparently, as some hits your bare knee. You can’t help joining in on his snickering as you wipe your knee dry with a napkin.

“Gross,” you complain.

“I’m gross?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Yeah. You spat on me.”

Logan’s cornflower blue eyes sparkle under the stadium light. You eye the smattering of blonde stubble as his jaw ticks. Mouth twisting in amusement.

He shrugs his broad, muscular shoulders, expression glinting with something familiar, “I’ve done worse.”

Something tingles down your spine as you bite the inside of your cheek. You raise both eyebrows at him in surprise, maybe just daring him to go on.

“Oh, have you?”, you bite, knowing for certain fact he has, just wanting to hear him say it.

He nods, a polite, perfunctory thing, says, “Yes ma’am,” pretends like he doesn’t know what that does to you.

You purse your lips like you’ve sucked on a sour lemon. Raise an eyebrow at him incredulously for what feels like the hundredth time today. Really, it asks.

His eyes are still bright and mischievous. Happy. The crowd erupts into cheers as some Quarterback or Linebacker or fucking whatever, scores a goal or a touchdown or something of that nature. Neither of you are looking— only at each other.

You grab for the plastic cup in Logan’s hand, in an attempt to stifle the electricity buzzing between you— it’s not the place, nor the time, “Gimme that.”

His lip curls up, satisfied, acquiescing the drink easily to you, “Sure thing, babe.”

A little breathless, a little warm, you gulp down lukewarm beer in an attempt to stifle the heat inside you.

“You’re fucken’ evil, Sargeant.”

He hums, “Yeah. You love it.”

what is it with logan and me making the drabble slightly h*rny. is it just because i’m writing it for u viv????? is it logan?????

[si1verghosts]

Hi!

3. A kiss on the forehead😌

helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33

you taste like the 4th of july

di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 3.5k

18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying

tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons

read on ao3

a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵‍💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine

additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!

not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍‍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own

i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3

please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.

-----

"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.

You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.

Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.

He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.

You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.

You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.

Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."

You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.

Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."

Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.

Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.

She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"

You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."

"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.

"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."

With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.

Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"

Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."

Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.

"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.

"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."

You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."

He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.

Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.

You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."

He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"

"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."

He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"

He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"

It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"

She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."

"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"

She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."

You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.

Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"

"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."

"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."

"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."

"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.

He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."

With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.

Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.

Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."

"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."

He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."

You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.

He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."

You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.

It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.

But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.

You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.

He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.

"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.

He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.

A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.

He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.

You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.

Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.

You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.

"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.

You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.

Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.

He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."

He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.

"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.

He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."

He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.

"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.

"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.

"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.

He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.

"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."

You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.

He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.

He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.

His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.

Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.

Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.

But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.

"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"

"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."

He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.

"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.

You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.

Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.

"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"

"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."

"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."

She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"

She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"

Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"

You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.

Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.

"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."

Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.

Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.

You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.

He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."

[ninakoll]

Okay that sound super randomly but!!!!!! while looking at your crazyb art and just rinne art I noticed how you draw him with that round kind of chest like ) like that and it’s so so coooooooollll!’qnbwvbrnebbqbqbqb I just think that it suits his character so so much and just yeah,,,,men with round chest are soemthinng aeeeeeeeee rinne big tits world domination,,,,,,I hope you got it because I’m really bad at talking hahascvmfndm

YESSS thank you!! i understand what you mean so no worries anon youre good :33 im rly happy you noticed a detail like that, i do think it makes sense for rinne... always puff your chest out and face danger tits first. i have certain shapes(/rules?? for myself) in mind always, i can share them briefly and quickly :D 👇👇 bonus bees

my headcanons basically boil down to that rinne looks like he does pullups in public 3 beers in, niki is aerodynamic, himeru is hyperaware of every limb and kohaku looks like the type of kid grannies in american movies will say they could just eat up

[imaginesig]

"He laughs at all my jokes / and he says I'm so American"

Zak O'Sullivan x driver!reader

SMAU

Logans grid kid might be more patriotic than him. Reader is an American menace to the f2 grid, her bf included, who uses Oliva Rodrigo to cope (and Kimi has been demoted to f3 and Olivias release schedule for Guts is wrong). Based on this prema video

there is a criminally low amount of fics about this man

ynln

liked by zak.osullivan, kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, and 892,293 others

ynln totally sleighed it

tagged sister_username

dinobeganovic girl you slayed that house

ynln SLAY 💅

dinobeganovic slay 😵🔪

ynln oh

olliebearman mate what is that third picture? The dirt??

ynln chief I live in the southern US we dont get snow here

olliebearman what a sad winter

sister_username we ate the first pic up

ynln its a christmas miracle, my sister being the only one who's nice to me

zak.osullivan cant wait for you to see a REAL winter wonderland

ynln id take my dirt covered ground over your royal snow anyway 💪🇺🇸

zak.osullivan says the girl who flys out the 28th

user1 "were you silent or silenced" @/ynln

ynln gagged to silence ✋😔

load more

ynln posted 2 stories!

caption: (1) thoughts and prayers as I head into enemy territory (2) 🇺🇸→🇬🇧

replies

zak.osullivan

oh fuck off

haha

I can hear your gremlin cackle from here

heyyyy you're supposed to love me

I do

I love you and all your gremlin traits

im blocking you and visiting Harry Styles instead

like he would take you in

rude

anyway please call me when you land, I'll be waiting to pick you up anyway

but just in case

ofc baby

get some rest

I love you ❤️

I love you too❤️

ynln

liked by user4, prema_team, olliebearman, and 891,923 others

ynln theres snow-where better than this

tagged zak.osullivan

Logansargent beer in the snow 10/10

Ynln thank you thank you

Olliebearman “I’d take my dirt covered ground over your Royal snow any day” you sure girlie??

Zak.osullivan she’s been swayed

ynln I’m just a girl

Zak.osullivan my snow angel ❤️❤️

ynln ily 🤭🤭

Kimi.antonelli snow angels?? Are you 5

Zak.osullivan our entire yard was filled by her alone

Ynln excuse me, I’m enjoying my youth and I will grow into a happy adult with no regrets

sister_username nice to see you’re having fun without me

Ynln get a hot European bf then we’ll talk

user1 stop I love this

user2 if Y/nZak has no fans I’m dead

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zak.osullivan

liked by Ynln, user43, user32, and 828,992 others

zak.osullivan "I want your midnights"

tagged: ynln

artgp_offical new year, new us!!

ynln "but ill be cleaning up bottles with you on New Years Day" ❤️

Zak.osullivan ❤️

Ynln HOT DAYUM

ynln boy do i know how to take a photo 🥵

Ynln I can cook and clean

zak.osullivan no you can’t

Ynln I can bark

Zak.osullivan please don’t I believe you

user1 Y/n is a prime example of the duality of man

user2 she said what were all thinking

user3 this is so Y/n coded

user4 oh he def had help with this post

user5 thank you Y/n for the middle pic

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ynln posted 2 stories!

caption: (1) 🎶 New Years Day by Taylor Swift (2) New year, minimal headache

Replies

Zak.osullivan

Well hello

Didn’t expect to see my abs and underwear on your public story but here we are

let me show the people what they lost

How about you celebrate that win instead of dm-ing while laying next to me

sister_username

now I have to bleach my eyes

what better way to start the new year than with new vision

could've still done without your bf's stomach but ok

you'll live 😘😘

ynln

liked by user1, paularon_, user43, and 918,929 others

ynln shes back and ready to show these Europeans how its done

tagged no one

user1 QUEEN 🇺🇸🦅💪

Ynln “salute to me I’m your American queen” T.S

Kimi.antonelli nope

Olliebeaman absolutely not

Zak.osullivan keep dreaming babe

paularon_ id rather die

dinobeganovic I’ll crash myself into the barriers instead thank you

user1 ummm hello???? I didn’t mean to assemble the avengers💀

logansargent f2 grid menace is back 👏👏👏

Ynln gotta show them a good ole ‘merican time

user2 making that smoothie recipe rn

User3 omg update me on how it is!!

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zak.osullivan posted a story!

caption: I was bamboozled into matching

Replies

dinobeganovic

“Bamboozled” sure

Stfu 🙄

Ynln

I can’t believe you put up with it

rest assured I’ll be checking what’s under your sweatshirt from now on

Oh😏

No

I’m blocking you

f2_updates

liked by user3, user8, user32, and 819,929 others

f2_updates: Y/n L/n has won the first grand prix of the season!! Did you enjoy her victory radio as much as we did??

Tagged: no one

User1 PLEASE SHES SO PAINFULLY AMERICAN

user2 never a doubt she’s Logan’s grid kid

user3 at this point I think dating a Brit just eggs her on

User4 not the tik tok audio 💀💀

user5 her engineer is so done with her

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ynln

liked by paularon_, ollliebearman, user82, and 918,929 others

ynln first race back and WE GOT THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER PLAYING! Lets see if we can keep it going 🇺🇸🦅🎆

tagged prema_team

Prema_team perfect season start 🤩🤩

Logansargent OH SAY CAN YOU SEE

Ynln BY THE DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT

Logansargent you were great! Definitely a race to be proud of

Ynln thank you Lo!!!

Zak.Sullivan I’m proud of you love

Ynln ❤️❤️

user1 what is that last photo 💀

Ynln me dramatically blaring Dolly Parton

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Time skip-- a few races

zak.osullivan

liked by ynln, artgp_offical, user3, and 918,929 others

zak.osullivan MONACOOO COME ON 🏆🏆🏆

tagged artgp_offical

Ynln YESSSS SIR

olliebeaman you’ve never sounded more American

Dinobeganovic put this girl in a frat

Logansargent I have to agree…

ynln my own grid dad betrayed me

Ynln THATS HOW WE DO IT

ynln 15 to first??? YOU MAD MAN

Williamsracing we agree 👏👏

User1 get this man in f1

User2 id love to see it

ynln I LOVE YOU❤️❤️❤️❤️

Zak.osullivan I LOVE YOU TOO ❤️❤️❤️❤️

olliebearman congrats man!

dinobeganovic impressive race

paularon_ it was nice to share a podium

Logansargent calm down before you take my seat

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ynln

liked by sister_username, prema_team, user8, and 918,927 others

ynln MCDREAMY oops I mean ZAK GOT P1 IN MONACO!!!! I AM SO SO PROUD OF YOU!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH (oh and I got p4 yadda yadda…)

tagged: zak.osullivan, prema_team

Zak.osullivan even in my time of victory I lose to Shepard 😔😔

ynln someone had to keep me entertained while I waited for all your media to be done 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

Zak.osullivan thank you for all your support!! You raced a wondeful race, congrats on p4

Ynln I love you (but your race was better no need for a pitty congrats)

sister_username congrats Zak!! The Y/n family was cheering you on

ynln this L/n was also cheering you on!!

user2 I love that Y/n and her family were pulling for Zak more than Y/n 💀

user1 ugh we love a supportive gf

User2 God its me again🙏🙏

User3 when is it my turn

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ynln

liked by Oliviarodrigo, liakblock, elvirahallqvist, and 918,928 others

ynln Happy Guts release to those who celebrate! "All American Bitch" will be my personality from this moment forward

tagged: lettiemng, elvirahallqvist, hamdaalqubaisi_offical, liakblock

olivarodrigo wrote it just for you 🫶💜💜

ynln screaming crying throwing up I love you so much

olivarodrigo i literally love you!! My fav driver

user1 girlie just barley made the teenage cut

ynln 19 is still a teen ☝️🤓

paularon_ as if you needed any more reason to be more American

user2 omg this was a group I didn’t know I needed

user4 it seems so random but I love

user3 please give us content🙏🙏🙏

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ynln

liked by Zak.osullivan, user1, user3, and 918,829 others

ynln traveling the world with my world 🇪🇸

tagged Zak.osullivan

Olliebearman boo 🍅🍅🍅

Kimi.antonelli 🧀🧀🧀

ynln i can never win with yall

Olliebearman yall 🤠🤠

ynln get out of my comment section

Zak.osullivan I love you

ynln are you sure?? You said no to taking the cat

user1 “my world” I’m crying

user2 as much as i love American menace Y/n i LOVE soft y/n

user3 omg did you name the cat??

ynln ummmm of course, it’s Brick

user3 idk what i expected

Load more

zak.osullivan

liked ynln, dinobeganovic, user43, and 918,892 others

zak.osullivan adventure buddies for life 🤝🤝

tagged ynln

ynln deal 🤝

user1 i love that they both posted a solo pic of the other

user5 top tier photography on both ends

user2 the middle pic 😭😭😭

user4 oh to be looked at the way either of them look at the other

user3 those olives looks good as hell

Load more

ynln posted 2 stories!

Captions: (1) for the record I am NOT happy to be in Silverstone on 4th of July weekend (2) OLIVA YOU HAVE TURNED MY WEEK AROUND

replies

olliebearman

oh no

oh yes

and I thought the 4th was proper punishment for all your terrorizing

queen liv said no💜✨

call it good karma

GOOD KARMA FROM WHAT??

Elvirahallqvrst

im so excited

Me too!! I'm sad we won't get a listening party again

same 😭

hamdaalqubaisi_offical

my pre-race playlist just keeps getting better 😌

fr!!

zak.osullivan

liked by ynln, prema_teams, user4, and 923,029

zak.osullivan best way to end a home race?? his and hers 1-2

tagged: artgp_offical, ynln, prema_team

artgp_offical we agree!!

prema_team couldn't have said it better ourselves

olliebearman id rank that at bloody brilliant 👏🍾

user1 y'all live for a Ferrari 1-2, I live for a ZakY/n 1-2

user2 the "his and hers" has me crying

user3 strong race!! I hope you plenty of family and friends cheering you one

ynln what a race!! I was so nervous you'd overtake me in those last laps

zak.osullivan believe me I tried, if you weren't so damn good at defense

ynln 🤭😘

user4 I know she was just messing around for practice but Y/n looks so good in that blue suit

user5 the best part was she wore that to celebrate Zak's home gp

user4 stop thats so cute

user6 I agree she looks beautiful

user7 prema retire the red rn

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ynln

liked by olliebearman, user54, liakblock, and 928,924 others

ynln what better way to celebrate 4th of July than forcing the US national anthem to be played (I love you Zak and im so proud but Brits gotta know their place)

tagged: zak.osullivan, prema_team, artgp_offical

user1 I still cant believe she wore that sweatshirt around Silverstone

user2 see I want to be surprised but honestly im not

logansargent ultimate checkmake! You've made me proud kid

ynln ss this and hang it in the Louve 🥹

zak.osullivan you are incredible!! I'm proud to call you mine

ynln even when you lose

zak.osullivan fuck that im blocking you

olliebearman I despise everything you do

ynln screw me then for getting team points (and congratulating you on p3)

olliebearman the boys dont fw americans

ynln one of your boys fucks an american

olliebearman OK NOW WHERE DID THE PR TRAINING GO???

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ynln posted a story!

caption: My new national anthem has dropped!! 🎶 So American by Oliva Rodrigo

replies

zak.osullivan

did we finally find our song??

I think we did babe

dinobeganovic

am I gonna have to see you and Zak be all gushy to this song

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

liakblock

its been on repeat

oh my spotify wrapped is messed up

zak.osullivan

liked by ynln, zak.osullivan, user43, and 923,923 others

zak.osullivan you're just so American

tagged: ynln

ynln screaming crying throwing up

ynln I didnt even ask you to do this

ynln I love you so much

zak.osullivan I love you (and your entire range of emotions)

olliebearman mission success?

zak.osullivan mission success.

ynln wot

user1 the Olivia quote???

user2 I think she knew deep down it was never her and Louis's song

user3 omg imagine Y/n and Zak dancing with Louis at an Oliva concert

user4 Y/n would die happy

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ynln

liked by sister_username, user4, user1, and 928,382 others

ynln "he's like a poem I wish I wrote"

tagged: zak.osullivan

user1 omg the 1D phone booth

Ynln I had to make my pilgrimage

Olliebearman glad to see you’re embracing real culture

Ynln a drink cup full of canes sauce IS real culture

user2 stfu I wasn’t prepared to a domestic ass today but where we are

user3 might sleep in traffic fr fr

sister_username if y'all dont get married I will kms

user4 same girl

user5 we got a L/n on our side

ynln oh hello to you too

zak.osullivan no pressure ig

[britney-rosberg06]

guys can i be real for a second? Because as a fan of both Logan and Kimi i feel like this needs to be said:

Nobody benefits from giving Logan Kimi’s seat mid year.

No One

No not even Kimi.

If F1 is a business which it is, we’ll think about this in a business sense. Because by kicking Logan out in favor of Kimi just doesn’t make sense

Williams saw the sheer backlash to Australia. Their fans were angry at the mere idea of kicking Logan out in favor of Alex and some are still angry. They would lose a huge portion of their fan base (a fan base that is getting pretty American, may I add, thanks to their American sponsors) by kicking Logan out. No fanbase means no merch sales, no extra cash to burn that we know Williams needs

Secondly, Logan has obligations with Williams through summer break. Huge PR events like Lap of Legends which is sponsored by an American beer and stars Logan and Williams Racing ambassador Jenson Button. If you pull away Logan, the sponsors in Michelob Ultra will be furious as they funded a whole project to center around Logan. And Jenson, who has also spoken very kindly about him in the media will be angry as Logan is known as someone who has his backing/support. So Williams would lose a bit of Jenson’s trust and anger a huge sponsor? Right okay,

Of course there’s James Vowles. Who is struggling to come out from under Toto Wolff’s shadow. How will it look for James if he were to kick out one of his own juniors in favor of someone Toto Wolff is forcing upon him. Like he’s a lapdog who will roll over and do whatever Toto wants? Yeah, that exactly

There’s also the Prema of it all, which a lot of people are forgetting. Kimi is under Prema contract to be racing in F2. There is no reservist for him and there has to be to drivers in F2. Not one. Prema is not going to let one of their drivers—a driver who is getting them a lot of media attention might I add—go on to F1 when he’s only done three f2 races. That’s not how contracts work! Kimi is on contract and that contract states he had to race in f2 and compete in the championship. The whole championship. The championship Prema gets more money/funding/sponsors from the better they do. They can’t do good with only one driver. So no extra money.

Also, Prema has the power to deny Williams as Kimi is their driver and their responsibility. Kimi uses their trainers, engineers, gym, facilities etc, to take him mid season might make Williams or Mercedes or Kimi himself liable for that bill à là Oscar Piastri and Alpine as Kimi failed to fulfill terms of a contract while still benefiting from it.

I’m not saying it’ll work but I’m saying there’s a chance they could.

Now Kimi himself. He’d be entering in the F1 paddock as a pariah. Being granted an exception is sure to make him unpopular, just like Max was. The spotlight that was on Ollie Bearman in Jeddah? Yeah multiply it by a hundred and you’ll get somewhere close to the attention on Kimi. As previously established, PR-wise Williams would be in hell, who do you think they are going to take it out on? Yeah, the seventeen year old who has no control over the situation. He’ll be traipsed around as the new youngest whoever while also being hated on by a majority of people who think he doesn’t deserve that seat.

Speaking of Ollie Bearman. It’s worth noting that Ollie’s pain level after Jeddah was sky high. He was training for f2 races, not f1. Consistently racing in F1 could wreck Kimi’s body due to the sudden change and would have so many negative and lasting affects.

And when he inevitably doesn’t get points on debut because it’s a williams and it sucks ass, everyone will be screaming and crying about how Kimi is washed or how he sucks and so on and so on. What would that do to a seventeen year old’s confidence?

And when Toto wolff—the only guy presumed to benefit at all from this whole situation he allegedly cooked up gets reveals to have had a huge part in this kid’s life, way bigger than the general audience knows (seriously, he has a picture of baby Kimi in his office) everyone is going to be screaming at him for making a bad/questionable managerial decision that has deeply affected the mental health of a teen boy.

Mercedes as a team is already on the decline, this would be the Shitty PR move to end all Shitty PR moves.

Am i saying Logan is going to be on the grid next year? No. But the idea that it is a smart decision for any of the teams or drivers involved to replace Logan is insane.

[pollymorgan]

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 1

Warnings: A very large age difference and of course, smut

Oh, and very important: It's all fiction of course! Please, my dears, use condoms and don't go with old men! :-P

That my mother has to move several hundred miles away with my aunt to open a beauty salon, especially before the last year of my high school, was initially a big shock for me, but now I also see the advantages it brings. First of all, I finally get out of my little town, and there's also the immediate proximity to my cousin. Cassady is 5 years older than me, to be exact 23, but we have always gotten along great. Another advantage is that I no longer have to see my ex-boyfriend every day, since we are no longer in the same class. Plus, I still have almost the entire summer vacation ahead of me to enjoy life to the fullest, like now at this football game. If I were to say I love football, that would be an understatement, because it feels like every American does. For me, it's an absolute dream to live in the city of my favorite team. That's why I'm wearing the appropriate hoodie over my dress and, of course, the matching cap at the game.

The atmosphere in the stadium is absolutely insane and totally captivating. Even if my cousin doesn't really see it that way and only came along because of me.

Now we just have to push through a horde of men to get to our seats. And then hopefully it will start soon. Even though the game will really become secondary. Because the atmosphere alone is reason enough to be here.

Getting to our seats, however, proves to be more difficult than expected. We each have two large beer cups in hand and somehow have to get through this crowd. But the line at the drinks stand was huge, and I didn't want to spend the start of the game waiting in line. So we planned ahead. I almost managed to get to my seat unscathed, when suddenly this guy turns around in a flash. Everything happens so quickly that I can't react anymore, and so I spill half of the beer on him and myself. The tall stranger initially looks at me very angrily and is about to scold me, but then his look suddenly changes as his dark eyes meet mine.

"What the hell.. oh, sorry.. I didn't mean to spill your drink, ...can I offer you a new one? Of course, only if you're already 21.." He starts to grin, and his perfectly white row of teeth shines through his silver-black beard.

I'm still a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation and look bewildered at the large wet spot on his black shirt under his dark jacket. Guys my age are never dressed so well. Only maybe for a funeral or a prom, and I've never been to either.

"I'm already 22.." I say somewhat defiantly, and according to my fake ID, that wouldn't even be a lie.

"Perfect.." he concludes.

He turns around to hand me a full beer from the drinks available behind him. I take it gratefully, and finally my cousin and I can sit down exhausted in our seats.

Immediately she whispers excitedly in my ear, "Did you see how that guy looked at you? He's at least twice as old as you and basically undressed you with his eyes .. pretty cringe..".

I look at her innocently, "Cringe? I actually find him quite cute!"

"Cute?" she asks in surprise, rolling her eyes.

The stranger sits down in the seat right next to me and toasts us.

"Thanks," I say again.

"No problem, pleasure to meet you, i’m Negan!"

"Sam.." I stammer somewhat clumsily.

Then everyone turns back to their groups. After a while, I'm engrossed in conversation with my cousin again, but the guy next to me has put on such an intense cologne that it lingers in my nose the whole time. It smells so ruggedly masculine that it almost drives me crazy. Whenever I have the chance, I shyly glance to the right, but he doesn't look at me anymore. I'm strangely disappointed, so I try to push that thought aside.

The game is running fantastically. My team is winning, which makes me so euphoric that I even infect my cousin with it.

After the game, as we're getting ready to leave, someone roughly grabs my arm. I startle briefly, then look back into the dark eyes that send a pleasant tingling sensation through my entire body.

"Do you and your friend maybe want to come with us to a bar to celebrate the victory a bit?" he asks with a deep tone, and I feel my stomach vibrating at his words.

Suddenly, my cousin's voice snaps me out of my trance. "No, sorry, we have to get up early..".

I look at her puzzled.

"Um, actually... apologize for us for a moment!".

The stranger seems to be thoroughly amused by this situation.

I turn to her and whisper in her ear, "That sounds fun... come on, let's go with them!"

"With these guys?!" she says a bit too loudly.

Startled, I turn around, but he is engrossed in a conversation again and apparently, thankfully, hasn't noticed. After a seemingly endless discussion, we agree that I will go to the bar with them without her. But only with the promise to be reachable on the phone at all times.

Reluctantly, Cassady bids me goodbye with a hug and whispers in my ear, "Take care of yourself... and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Since my cousin has quite a bit of a checkered past, I don't even feel guilty promising her that.

When I agree to go with them, the stranger firmly takes my hand to guide me through the crowd out of the stadium. I'm initially a bit shocked by this strange situation, but fearing to lose him among the crowd, I interlock my fingers tightly with his and let him lead me out of the stadium.

The three of us, along with another man, take a seat on the backseat of a large black Audi. The men in the car are engaged in lively conversation about the game. Fortunately, I understand quite a bit about football and can engage in some discussion without sounding dumb, even though everyone else present is probably 30 years older than me.

After a short ride, we park in front of a small bar.

As we enter, the smell of smoke and alcohol greets me. The men take a seat at a round table, and I excuse myself for a moment to go to the bathroom.

There, I take off my sweater and am quite glad that I'm wearing a short black dress underneath. I take off my cap and let my hair down, then adjust it and try to fix my makeup a bit. I take a deep breath a few more times, looking at myself in the mirror. Then I go back, determined. But the table is empty. Startled, I look around, a thousand thoughts racing through my head.

But then I hear someone call out, "Here we are!" The voice comes from the billiard table. Relieved, I see Negan sitting on a sofa in front of the others. I walk purposefully towards them.

Two are already playing, and the clattering of the balls drowns out the conversations in the entire bar.

Since the couch is already occupied, I take a seat on the armrest next to Negan. He unabashedly looks me up and down and then offers me a beer.

"You look damn good..." he says directly, making my heart skip a beat and my cheeks blush.

After the men finish their game, I challenge him. He accepts with a smile, probably not expecting that I practically grew up at the billiard table. As he takes his first shots, he realizes it's not as easy as he thought, which pleases me.

Watching him concentrate more on the game makes me proud, and he looks even better doing it. As he leans closer to make his next move, he unexpectedly gives me a rather strong pat on the backside.

"Hey, unfair move!" I protest immediately, which only elicits a tired smile from him, but sends a strong tingle down in my lower abdomen.

But I manage to win against him, albeit very narrowly, which clearly annoys him. Afterwards, he has to endure some teasing from his buddies. Resignedly, he sits back on the sofa, and I proudly perch on the armrest again.

During the next round with his friends, we engage in animated discussions about their gameplay and continue drinking our beer. After a while, Negan starts touching my bare shin. At first, he just places his warm hand there, but then he starts stroking it slowly. The touches of his large rough hands are so gentle that they give me goosebumps. I enjoy this feeling and what it does to me to the fullest. I'm disappointed when he lets go of my leg, but only to offer me a vodka shot that the waitress had placed on a large tray in front of us. The drink is much needed, as my mouth feels incredibly dry.

We clink glasses, and I down the shot in one go. The sharp alcohol burns in my throat and then warms my stomach, shooting straight to my head. I can tell that Negan is watching my every move closely.

As soon as I place the empty glass back on the table, he puts his hand on my thigh.

"You look so damn sexy drinking it all in one go, do you like swallowing other things too?" he whispers unabashedly.

I almost slap him out of reflex, but as I look into his grinning face and his lustful eyes meet mine, my whole lower abdomen tightens, and I can't help but smirk. We gaze at each other for a while, and then I decisively say, "Why don't you find out.."

Without warning, he pulls me onto his lap, and before I know it, I'm straddling him, and he immediately starts kissing me. His lips are incredibly demanding. I place my hands on his cheeks to try to control the situation somewhat, while I completely forget everything around me and simply ignore the stupid comments from others.

His fingers trail down my back purposefully, immediately gripping my buttocks tightly. Then he presses me firmly against his pelvis. Excited, I breathe against his open mouth as I feel his penis getting harder and pressing strongly against me.

Sensing my hesitation, he whispers softly, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing.. it's just pretty big.." I grin, feeling a bit embarrassed.

He smiles contentedly and presses me against him again, then gently kisses the sensitive skin on my neck and says in my ear, "Oh, don't worry, pretty princess, I'll order a taxi for us now, and then we'll go to my place where I'll pamper you so much that your little pussy will get nice and wet for me, and then my big, hard cock can slide into you slowly and effortlessly. How does that sound?"

His deep voice and direct manner drive me crazy. I nod decisively and kiss him again. I then take his right hand off my butt and guide it under my dress, directly between my legs.

"I'm already so wet for you, feel it!" I reply somewhat shyly.

His fingers deftly shift my panties aside, while his eyes scan my face precisely, enjoying every reaction from me. Slowly, he skillfully glides his middle finger through my cleft, causing me to involuntarily flinch.

"You're such a naughty sweet girl!" he remarks amusedly, as his finger leaves my most intimate place again, moistening my lips with my wetness. He then kisses me again, passionately sucking my taste from my lips. "You taste incredibly good.." he says contentedly.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You’re shown to a room of your own. It’s a luxury in your line of work. You often share the back of the truck or some cramped space with your boss. You look forward to a night without Syverson’s rumbling snores. 

As you remove your harness and vest, a knock thumps on the door. You answer and find a man with a pile of fabric in his hands. He gives it to you without a word and leaves, a rifle across his back. You frown and shut the door. 

The accommodations are acceptable. There’s a bed, a side table, and a fan. Nothing fancy but better than a cot or a car seat. Or your favourite, the ground. 

You hold up the patterned swath of silk and let it unfold. The long caftan is cool and sheer. It might not be your usual attire but it’s preferable to your dusty cargo pants and sweaty cotton shirt. You shake out your clothes as you undress then throw the swishy fabric over your head. You feel almost human. 

Another pounding comes at the door. You hear a snort as you approach and know before you answer it, who it is. Sy waits on the outside. He wears the same thing he showed up in; dirty cargo and camo. He blinks at you dumbly and grimaces. 

“What the hell is that?” He flicks a thick finger at you. 

“What?” 

“What’re you wearing, Iz? You look like my mammy.” 

“Shut up,” you jab him and turn back. You push your feet into your boots and tramp back to him. He chuckles at the clomp of the heavy soles. 

“Naw, I mean it, Iz, you pack that get-up or what?” 

“No, it was... given to me. I don’t know.” You cross your arms and look down with a shrug. “I thought... Well, it seemed nice.” You look up and narrow your eyes. “Wait, why’re you bothering me anyway?” 

“Hungry, ain’t ya?” He scoffs. 

“Sure.” 

“So come on, I’ll show ya the mess.” 

You cluck and step out into the hall. After settling from the jump, your stomach has turned ravenous. You wish you were at Retro’s, gnawing at hot wings and downing martinis. Alas, you have work. Well, you’ve had worse than this. 

“Thank,” you grumble. 

He’s quiet as you walk through the halls. Others pass or follow in your stead. He toys with a flap on one of his many pockets. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Mm? Oh, yeah. Kinda.” 

“Get that adrenaline kickin’ and you sleep like a black bear in winter.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” you chuckle. “Maybe you though. You’re pretty good at it.” 

“Good at what?”  

“Sleeping through the b—chaos,” you keep yourself from swearing. 

“Ah, I guess. Not much of a skill.” 

You shrug. He can be awkward sometimes. Mostly when he talks. When you first started, he didn’t say too much, now he tends to force himself too. 

“Here we are.” He points you to a door. 

You peer down the hall and step out of the way of the men in civvies milling around. Sy opens the door without knocking and nudges your lower back to urge you inside. You stumble in as a figure stands to greet you. Conrad smiles and tilts his head. 

“I don’t like to presume things about you Americans but it is rather uncourteous not to knock,” he reproaches. 

“Eh,” Sy grunts. 

“Then again, it is you,” Conrad snickers back. He moves around the table in front of him. There’s a bottle of wine and glasses, a few cans of beer, and food that isn’t served in tin or vacuum seal. “And you, I do hope the attire suffices. It was all I could scrounge, I regret.” 

“Uhhh, it’s good. Er, pretty.” You look down and touch the silk. 

“Feel free to take it with you. That colour is immaculate on you.” 

“Ha, er, thanks.” 

Sy marches forward and claims a seat with a huff. He shows no patience as he reaches for the dish of seasoned chicken. You come forward and Conrad rounds the table to pull out another chair. You thank him as you sit and your brutish boss glances over at the gesture. 

“Shiraz? Does that suit you?” Conrad grabs the bottle wine and a glass. 

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. 

“Yes, but I hate to leave a women disappointed,” he winks and pours you a glass. 

“What’s in here?” Sy interrupts as he holds up a bowl. 

“Olive? Rosemary, bit of red vinegar. How about a brew, eh?” He grabs a can and offers it. 

“I’ll have what she’s havin’,” Sy insists through a mouthful. 

“You may help yourself. As you have done.” Conrad clunks down the bottle between your and Sy’s plates. 

He sits and offers to serve you before he does himself. You don’t mind the attention though it does strike you as a bit overdone. You have an extra scoop of curry as the aroma drives you mad. 

Conrad watches as you taste the wine and Sy slurps from his own glass. Your boss tuts and puts it down heavily. He scrapes his plate loudly with his fork as you only just start to poke at your own fare. The other man is uninterested in the meal as he stares you down. 

“Please, you must tell me, how did you end up here at my table?” Conrad purrs. 

You chew slowly and look over at Sy. He narrows his eyes and shovels more food into his mouth, a dribble catching in his beard. You stir the rice with your fork. 

“I applied on a job board and interviewed and--” 

“Ah, that sounds rather proper. Syverson, I thought you more the type to snatch up beautiful women.” 

“Hm?” Sy grunts around a mouthful. 

“And yet, a creature like this should be cozened. To have her jumping from planes? Tsk tsk. Oh, don’t tell me he’s had you living on beans and sleeping in dirt.” 

“Her job...” Sy sneers over. 

“It’s exciting, actually. My old job was just the same desk, same walls. I couldn’t even get the time off to go parachuting for fun so... not so bad.” 

“Thrill seeker? Mmm, that’s intriguing. Have you ever been rock climbing? Not in a gym but on a real mountain?” 

“You got barbecue sauce?” Sy interjects. 

Conrad laughs again. He stands and goes over to the footlocker against the wall and opens the lid. He pulls out a bottle of a southern brand of sauce. The same you stocked for Sy. Hm. 

“I have to be prepared for anything, not least of all the way you get when you’re hungry.” Conrad struts back and sets the bottle at Sy’s elbow. “I must admit, I wasn’t ready for you, darling.” He sits again and you’re certain there’s a low growl from your other side. No matter the perks, managing men is never simple. 

[disneyprincemuke]

third time's a charm * fem!driver

notes: mocky rewritten now please leave me alone with that milo crap i just want rocky to have a boyfriend for the plot... the original mocky fics will still be up, they're just no longer relevant... i will be reposting a new version of mrs all american in a bit </3

everyone say bye to milo, hello matt cornett and also shoutout to the president of mocky nation her name is tine, thank you for helping me find the inspo and brainrotting with me to relaunch mocky <3

"why are you so pissed?" george frowns, turning around to pinch her cheek. "it's just a club. you've been to clubs before."

she huffs, folding her arms over her chest. "i wanted to stay in bed. remember how you had to drag me out of bed?"

george shrugs as he purses his lips together. "technically, logan dragged you out of bed. not me."

she scowls at him. "whatever."

she looks around the club with furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes. while she's not one to shy away from a good party, it's just a bad night for her tonight. she'd already originally planned on staying in her hotel room with a pint of ice cream and watching a movie.

she's simply not mentally prepped for a party night.

"hey, where are you going?" george frowns, hand chasing after the girl that's already weaving through the crowd flawlessly. "don't leave me."

"i'm going to get myself a drink," she smiles slightly. "it's on you, remember? because i came to be your designated driver."

george throws his head back with a soft hiss. "but soda is crazy expensive in these places."

she shrugs simply. "should have thought of that before you dragged me out tonight."

"and we thank you for that, rocky," fernando grins, slinging an arm around her. he presses a kiss on her cheek before guiding the two towards the counter. "your sodas are on me tonight."

"thanks," she laughs softly. she looks around when they reach the counter. "what's with the last-minute visit to the club anyway? weren't you guys also already in bed like normal people were?"

"my friend said i couldn't leave vegas without visiting this place," george admits with an excited nod. "we're in vegas, mate, and we just finished the race. let's just have fun."

"but i'm your designated driver."

"you keep saying that but you know i offered, right?" logan snorts, coming up next to her with a beer bottle in his hand. "nobody forced you to be designated driver."

"yeah, well, you guys forced me out of bed. i'm not in the condition to drink," she mutters, dropping her head slightly. "and i don't feel like drinking tonight. i want to be in the hotel with my pint of rocky road ice cream and a trashy romcom on my ipad."

she grins when fernando hands her the can of pepsi and turns back around to scan the crowd. there has to be somewhere she can run off to find some silence to be with her own thoughts. one person in particular catches her eyes, another guy sitting on the couch in the far corner typing away on his phone.

he lifts his head momentarily and by some force, he turns and immediately catches her eye from across the room. he forces a small smile to his face, prompting one from her before he looks down at his phone again.

she shrugs and starts to pick up her feet to explore the club with logan.

and 20 minutes later, she finds herself in a quieter part of the club. a balcony up at the second floor overseeing some view of vegas that she's growing to like quite a bit.

if she's being honest, being the sober one for a change is nice. or is it because she's now collected an insane amount of blackmail content on her friends?

a breeze of wind gushes over her, startling the girl hunched over and leaning on the railing. she turns around with a soft gasp and a hand to her chest when a man stands with the door handle in his hand, looking just as shocked as her.

"i-" he smiles politely. "i'm so sorry, i didn't know anyone was out here. i'll just go."

she furrows her eyebrows as a soft giggle passes her lips. "it's a public space. you don't have to go just because i was here first."

he purses his lips together. "i was trying to be respectful and polite," he squints his eyes as he finally lets go of the door. he walks over to her with caution. "if you wanted company, you could have just said so."

"i was also trying to be polite," she shoots back with a small and sarcastic grin. "i think i saw you earlier. on the couch being gloomy. clubs not typically your scene?"

he shrugs. "not as of lately. i'm matt, by the way."

she introduces herself as well – first name only and stops at that. if he didn't go in-depth with his introduction, she doesn't see a reason why she should.

and they spend the entire evening together, up until logan stumbled through the same glass doors in fits of giggles because george had hit his head on a lamp and told her it's time to go.

she never gets his full name, which is just a shame. nothing to tie the evening back to him; not a social media handle or anyone in the group that she went to the club with could find his face in the backlog of their evening before it became a haze.

"lily, oh my gosh, there's no way," she mutters, eyes widening as her hand comes out to smack her friend's shoulder. "it's the guy i met in vegas after the race."

"what?" lily says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "how sure are you that it's him? and, where?"

"over there," the younger girl slurs, covering her mouth as she giggles loudly. "at the bar. should i go and say 'hi'? do you think he remembers me?"

lily shakes her head and pushes her towards the direction of the bar. "it doesn't matter if he does. just go and say hi to him," lily encourages with a giddy smile on her face. "you've got your margarita, rocky?"

she nods with a soft huff. "you're right. i'm already shit faced – what's the worst that could happen?"

"well, you still have to be pleasant, you know that, don't you?" lily whispers in a firm tone. "just go and strike up a conversation with him."

with that advice, lily gives her one last push towards the bar. she turns back momentarily, raising her eyebrows at the redhead, pointing shyly at the boy's back turned towards her. lily nods and beckons her the other way.

she drunkenly tries to climb the seat next to him, sucking in a deep breath as she tries to find the words to say.

"that seat's take-"

"hey, gorgeous," she slurs, resting her elbow on the counter of the bar table, cheek pressed against her palm.

"ah, you!" matt immediately says, tilting his head with a wide smile. truthfully, he's remembered her voice for months since he first met her in vegas.

but her friend had yanked her out immediately, rambling something about an oscar needing to be taken home before he starts to projectile vomit everywhere. he remembers her giggle as she was pulled away by the blonde, turning around momentarily to bid him goodbye and thank him for keeping her company for an hour and a half.

he wasn't able to find her then. only got her first name and nothing else. he doesn't think of her as much as he did when they first met, but he does regret not getting anything else from her.

he should have. he just hadn't realised that their time would have been cut short so abruptly.

"yeah, me." she grins, biting down on her bottom lip. "we should really stop meeting like this. don't know what it says about us as individuals."

"well," he trails off, leaning back slightly, "you're kinda wasted this time around. i'm still sober – i was dragged out by my friends."

she laughs, "constant theme for you to be in places you don't wanna be. i quite like drinking; i'm typically the life of the party."

"then why are you here sitting with me at the bar? i've just been sitting here, you know," he says softly, looking around the club to try and find her friends for her, "you're not going to be the life of anything if you stay here with me."

"aw, don't want me around, malt?" she slurs with a giggle. she halts her giggles immediately, covering her mouth. "i'm sorry! i mean matt. your name is matt."

"new nickname just dropped."

"shut up!"

they share a laugh before they let the loud music overcome them. they sit in silence, the girl leaning forward to take a sip of her margarita. now she needs to find something to talk about before he gets bored of her.

"i like just sitting and talking with you, by the way," he starts softly, leaning towards her slightly to ensure that he could hear her. "you're pretty cool. and cute."

she hiccups, her body frozen in her seat as she stares at him with wide eyes. and she does the one thing she doesn't think she should have done: she makes fun of his accent.

now, she'd only typically do this with logan, who's very much accustomed to her defence mechanism of making fun of and mimicking his accent. but for a person she's only met twice and has spent a total of 2 hours with in her life, he's surprisingly taking it well.

they sit there for the next hour and a half – again – before liam comes stumbling with a film camera in his hands. he gushes sweetly, and drunkenly, muttering something about how the younger driver is finally finding a partner.

then he forces them together, snapping a picture and shoving it into the girl's forehead before padding away to terrorise oscar and lily once more.

"aw, i look so cute!" she squeals, scrunching her nose as she leans against matt's shoulder to look at it. "you should keep it, malt."

"what? no, your friend took the picture. i can't possibly take this with me," he laughs, offering her the polaroid picture. "you take it."

she shakes her head, eyes closed and lips pursed. "you should keep it to remind yourself how cute i am from time to time."

he raises an eyebrow, a small grin playing on his face. “are you sure? it’s really okay.”

she pushes his hand away and grins. “i don't forget cute boys that i meet – keep it so you don't forget how cute i am."

next to him, he hears somebody squealing. “oh, is that liam lawson? and logan sargeant?”

logan. now that’s a name he’s heard before, the first night they met in vegas, the young girl scolding the man who interrupted their time together to drag her out.

she winds up getting dragged away by her friends again, an older blonde man being the one to do it this time. she blows him a kiss as she is dragged out of the bar, waving at him as she’s yanked from the seat next to him.

and when he gets home, he searches for liam first. it was the easiest to misspell and google did its thing helping him correct it so he could find the driver.

it led to logan, the american's name being directly tied to liam's from the time being teammates in f2. and then oh–

she’s an f1 driver. with andretti. how could he not have connected the dots that evening they met at a club at the vegas strip?

he finds her instagram with no problem. and then he follows her.

there's a chorus of screams by the dj booth of the club, shot glasses and cocktails glasses up in the air before they take swigs of their individual drinks.

a race win for the sole woman on the grid – a truly monumental moment for everybody involved. so you can only imagine what it means for the 21-year-old to finally have her name added to the long list of race winners.

and here's matt, stepped into one of the random clubs in miami after attending the race.

so he attended the miami gp to see her. it's not weird, he was just interested to see her in action. seeing her race highlights from the 2023 season simply did not do her justice.

it's only a coincidence that she's won the race today.

but his luck had its cut out for him; he didn't come across her all weekend no matter what he did or where in the zones he went to. so, he'd given up. just let his friends drag him to some random club nearby, rumoured to house a couple drivers from the grid to party.

and would you have it: the race winner is standing at the dj booth sipping on a glass of cocktail with a pair of headphones on her head as she dances to the music.

he keeps an eye on her for the next 10 minutes, eager to finally introduce himself once more. when she finally leaves the dj booth, to get a refill of her cocktail he assumes, he stays at the bar where he sits.

but she doesn't see him. just stands quite a distance from him, rocking back and forth on her feet with puffed cheeks and drumming her hands against the marbled counter.

so he finally takes the courage to stand up and talk to her.

"well, well, well. look who it is." he sees her stand a little straighter, head tilting before she turns on her heel. she keeps herself steady with a hand gripping the countertop tightly. "third time's a charm, right?"

she clenches her jaw, trying to hide the smile that's growing on her face. "third?"

"right," he laughs, throwing his head back slightly, "you were pretty shit-faced that night. a club in new york? couple months ago in february?"

he sees her slowly realise and remember the second time they'd met, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. "oh, my lord! i remember that!" she shrieks with her hands over her cheeks. "we had to leave; we had a flight early in the afternoon when sebastian dragged me out. i didn't do anything embarrassing, did i?"

he makes a face, slightly contorted as he briefly looks up to the ceiling as if to think of it. "well..."

she hunches over. "oh, god! i'm so sorry! i can't imagine what i did!"

she turns around as her cocktail is refilled, thanking the bartender and letting him know which tab she's under. though, it didn't really matter – how can the bartender not know which tab to charge her under she walked in with max verstappen and lando norris?

"congrats, by the way," he says softly. "i saw you earlier."

she tilts her head again, turning as she sips on her drink, what seems to be a glass of mojito. "what?"

"the race?" he furrows his eyebrows with a grin, pointing over his shoulder towards the window. "you won, didn't you?

she looks down shyly, nodding. "right. i did. thank you." she takes a deep breath and takes a seat on the high seat behind her. "you were at the race?"

he nods, "just gave it a try. pretty enjoyable, actually."

"i hope you liked the show," she grins, making slight jazz hands. she lifts her eyebrows. "which reminds me – let me get your instagram before we forget and i never chance upon you again. i'd be damned if i'm dragged out again tonight without being connected with you anywhere."

so she pulls out her phone and hands it over, him typing his username in while he contemplates. "actually, i already follow you."

"oh?" she squeaks, tilting her head as she looks down at her phone and wide eyes. "you do?"

"yeah," now it's his cheeks that slowly flush, dropping his head slightly, "i'm friends with sabrina."

"carpenter! i love sabrina!" she celebrates and giggles. "you're saying you talk about me to your friends?"

he shrugs, "i did. she confirmed to me it's you in the polaroid picture – found it when she was ransacking my wallet."

"you kept our picture in your wallet!" she coos, hands patting her cheeks as she drops her head. she can't even ignore the way her heart is racing in her chest. "how cute."

"are you leaving soon?"

"i'm the race winner – nobody leaves until i do," she presses her lips together with a grin, "max's rules."

"i mean miami. are you leaving the country soon?"

she grins. "i'm here for another week. why do you ask?"

"are you doing anything tomorrow evening? i'd love to take you out on a date."

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