#they will be my boys and girl for like ever

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (02)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a tease !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02 ¡ 03

yourusername

liked by sarahcameron, rafecameron and 1,129 others yourusername me and gf on a mermaids date  🧜‍♀️ 

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sarahcameron GF 🙈🙈🙈 most beautiful girl ive ever seen ↳ yourusername BABYYY ily

sarahcameron do you want to be my wife ↳ johnroutledge Uhm ↳ yourusername leave little boy she doesnt want you 🧏‍♀️

sarahcameron cant believe we met its been SO long ↳ yourusername still in shock could you kiss me to make sure this is real?  ↳ sarahcameron come to mama 💋 

ryanontop God your ugly ↳ yourusername you’re*… spell right you illiterate fuck ↳ ryanontop Fuck off it was a typo ↳ yourusername you know damn well!!!!

cleoanderson WAIT WHAT

kiecarrera ??? HUH

kiecarrera IM SO CONFUSED ↳ cleoanderson ME TOO ☹️ ↳ sarahcameron hey 👋  ↳ cleoanderson girl you both got some explaining to do ↳ yourusername trust me i was as shocked as you are 😓

popeheyward Insane ↳ yourusername PIPE down fella (get it ahahaha) ↳ popeheyward That wasn't funny ↳ cleoanderson be nice to my girl >:( ↳ popeheyward Baby you're supposed to defend me ↳ yourusername YEAHHH CLOCK THAT HO

jjmaybanks whats for supper  ↳ yourusername saltwater

user1 PRETTY!!!! 

user2 so lovely 🥹

user3 DRESS ATE DOWN ↳ yourusername YEAHH tryna impress the hoes ↳ ryanontop Crickets ↳ sarahcameron not cool Ryan. ↳ ryanontop Sorry Sarah Cameron.

rafecameron Hey 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 ↳ yourusername uhhh uhmm  ↳ rafecameron ??? What ↳ sarahcameron what are you doing here ↳ yourusername yeah get out of my comment section ↳ rafecameron I’m not even doing anything 

rafecameron Sarah looks like a duck  ↳ yourusername shes my little duckling 🐥  ↳ rafecameron Oh I didn't mean that in a cute way ↳ sarahcameron hey >:( ↳ yourusername insult my gf one more time and ill fuck you UP ↳ rafecameron Oh?  ↳ ryanontop Uhh  ↳ rafecameron Yo wsg baby ↳ yourusername flirt somewhere else please dont start sexting in my comment section ↳ rafecameron Awe man :( but it's way more fun in public ↳ yourusername pardon me! there's children in my comments, please refrain from having sex here ↳ rafecameron You're the one talking about sexting, not me...

Involving yourself with Rafe Cameron, whom you later found out was good friends with your brother, was definitely not a part of your plan. 

Spending the next two months with him meant coming to terms with your actions, perhaps take responsibility for the mess you created out of this situation. Had you further dug into his information, paid attention to the last name splattered across your screen, you would not have ended up in the bathroom, contemplating whether going downstairs was a good idea. 

Avoiding him could be an option right now, but you knew you'd have to face him one day, whether it was today, or another. And while he stayed oblivious to the incident, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flushed your face everytime his eyes would lock with yours.

You somehow spent the afternoon together, his lingering gazes leaving you a nervous mess every time his eyes fell on you. He’d stare at you for a few seconds, letting tension heave through the air, almost as if it was the most casual thing ever, as if he’s not your brother’s best friend, someone so off limits, forbidden to the touch. 

Besides that, it was nice, you got to spend more time with Sarah, catch up with the girl and everything you missed out on in the past few hours she was gone. It distracted you from your embarrassment, eternally grateful, because you don’t think you’ll be capable of spending another minute within Rafe’s presence without exploding. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered up the courage to head downstairs, taking each step with haste. Sarah perked up when the hardwood creaked underneath you, causing you to come to a halt. Sarah called out your name, addressing you with the hand she waved in your direction, her excitement instantly replacing the frown spread across your face with a smile. 

“What took you so long?” Her lips jut into a pout, tucking her hair behind her ear. She welcomed you with open arms, chuckling when you accepted the embrace with a content hum “You know, I missed you.” 

“You were jus’ talking to me.” You muffled out, relaxing as the blonde rocked your bodies back and forth. 

“It’s not the same!” She exclaimed, pulling away for a moment. “It’s not everyday I get to see you in real life.” 

Ryan cleared his throat, in an attempt to earn yours and Sarah’s attention. To his satisfaction, he did, causing your gaze to shift back to the latter, instantly detecting the disgusted expression he had splattered across his face. 

“Can you save this for later, and please help me out?” Ryan questioned, making you roll your eyes. “You think I called you down so you could be all over each other?” 

“Shut up.” Sarah stuck out her tongue, teasing the latter from where she stood. 

You scrunched your nose, tensing when you sensed Rafe’s burning glare from the corner of your eyes. The boy’s glances were intense, almost as if he was staring at you for the purpose of undressing you with his gaze, and that, yeah, it never failed to knock a breath out of your chest, creating a flustered mess out of you. 

Sarah returned to her old position, standing behind the counter with you following in her steps, striving to see what they were up to. Your lips formed into an ‘o’ shape, peaking with interest when you noticed the deviled eggs Ryan was plating.

“That looks good,” you hummed, turning in Ryan’s direction, who conceitedly nodded, proud of the dish they had displayed on the counter. “Don’t people usually make these for thanksgiving, though?”

“That’s what I said!” Sarah agreed, giggling when Ryan grumbled, disapproving of your statement. 

“You’re acting like you’re not gonna eat them!” He elbowed your side, acknowledging you with his chin when you hissed, faking a pained expression. “Stop complaining and grab more plates, we need them for the mash potatoes.” 

“The only thing missing is the turkey, at this point.” You scoffed, mumbling to yourself, though Ryan could still hear you. “Where’s the plates?” 

“Uhh,” Sarah started, observing the cabinets behind you. She pointed to one of them with her finger, your eyes instantly following where her digit landed. “You can find some in there.”

With a nod, you shuffled to approach the stacked cabinets, aiming for the one Sarah was referring to. A groan instantly escaped your throat, gaze trailing up to the plates positioned on the top shelf. 

“Why on earth are these cabinets so high?” You whined, standing on your tippy toes to grab the dishes, merely to end up with nothing in your grasp. “And why are you putting plates on the top shelf?! None of you could reach them!” 

You extended your arm once again, stretching out your body in an attempt to seize the plates, losing your balance when you maintained the same position for a little too long, eventually failing to achieve what you were aiming for. 

Ryan mumbled a few words of complaints, rushing you to grab the plates faster, though he noticed that you were struggling, not offering to step in and help you. You paused for a second, calculating how you were going to capture the plates without asking for help, as that was a no in your watch. 

Right, you could use a chair, and although that was quite the embarrassment, it was the only option you had, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself. 

“Here, lemme try.” 

You tensed where you stood, breath hitching when Rafe shuffled behind you, his broad chest colliding against your back. Your vision blurred as you inhaled his scent, his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. 

Your gaze trailed up his arm, where it hovered over your shoulder, the brief contact sending goosebumps down your spine. And if you weren’t aware before, you definitely are now, enjoying the sight of him towering over you a little too much for your liking. 

The latter grunted as he reached for the plates, capturing them with a little difficulty. The sound instantly echoed through your ears, blinding you whole, that you had no right being this into it. Your mind wandered with thoughts you shouldn’t even ponder about, not as the boy was innocently stepping in to help, when your own brother couldn’t. 

“There you go.” Rafe muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He placed the plates on the counter in front of you, moving to catch sight of your reaction, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you were, mouth slightly parting with an exhale. “Did I startle you? Sorry, I was jus’ tryin’ to help.” 

“Right,” you said through a breath, blinking far too many times for your liking. “Thank you, I– that was really nice.” 

“Mhm.” He leaned his arm over the counter, admiring you with a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He stood still for a moment, almost as if he was seeking something out of you, perchance a reply, if that was even appropriate in this situation.

“What?” You asked, cluelessly staring back at him, fingers clutching the plates you had in hand. 

“Could you hurry up!” Ryan interrupted, causing you to jolt from where you stood, leaving Rafe hanging as you headed in your brother’s direction. “The food’s about to run cold.”

“You could’ve helped me grab them, dickhead.” You scoffed, failing to keep your eyes to yourself as you stole a glance in Rafe’s direction, breath catching in your throat when you spotted him yet staring at you, with the same mischievous smile he had from earlier. 

He’s only helping, you’re acting like this because it caught you off guard, right? Fuck, you were totally screwed, how were you supposed to act normal when Rafe was behaving like a gentleman, doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, whether it’s him helping you grab the plates, or him offering you a drink with the scorching hot sun. 

Either way, this was bad, for your mental being, and the boundaries you created for yourself. It’s only been a day, what will happen in the next few weeks you’re spending with him? You don’t know, but what you do know is that they’ll be hell, tortuous, even.

Sarah passed you the pot of mash, politely asking you to plate it, making it hard for you to refuse the request. You did as told, doing it as neatly as physically possible, with Ryan nagging over your head, telling you to be more cautious in the process. 

You managed to get what you were asked for done, with the boy pestering you nonstop throughout it, creating a frustrated mess out of you. Rafe offered a helping hand, arranging the plates on the table, for each person they were serving. 

The elders came through the front door, having been gone for most of the time they’ve been here, excusing themselves for what you assumed was a business meeting. You embraced your mom in a hug, presenting the food to her with your free arm, snickering when she squealed, taken aback by all the food displayed on the table. 

Dinner was chaotic, filled with chatter and giggles as everyone bonded over the food, getting to catch up with each other. Ward was quite the man, and while you did dislike him, witnessing all the times he was harsh to Sarah, you couldn’t dodge his curious questions, not when everyone surrounding you thought of you as angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You kept to yourself for most of the time, amused by Sarah and Ryan arguing over who cooked each dish, fighting to claim their credit. And as for Rafe, well, he was there, sitting besides Ryan, who was across from you.

“You’re oddly quiet, Bug.” Sarah suddenly started, talking over the elders, who were chatting about business. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh, yeah!” You nodded, flashing her an endearing smile, one Sarah contently returned. 

“It’s only ‘cause there’s people around,” Ryan clicked his teeth, having heard the conversation. “Trust, she’s such a brat, don’t encourage her to keep talking, otherwise, she’ll never shut up.” 

“Can you not?” You muffled through gritted teeth, kicking his foot from underneath the table. “Could you also move? You’re all up in my space.” 

“That’s uh,” Rafe choked out, taking a sip off of the glass of water splattered across his side of the table. “That’s my leg.” 

You froze your spot, eyes widening with shock when you peaked under the table, discerning that it was Rafe’s leg you were kicking, Ryan’s far back positioned inches away from his chair. Sarah mimicked your action, chuckling when she caught sight of the ridiculous sight, entertained by the situation. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I thought you were Ryan.”

“It’s okay.” He dismisses, flashing you a gentle smile. “Sorry for ruining your uh– plans.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryan jutted his lips into a pout, turning to glimpse at Rafe, whose face filled with concern. “You’re supposed to defend me. Why are you taking her side?” 

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, going along with the bit. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, cupping his face in a teasing manner. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry, I’ll be more cautious next time. Do you want a kiss, sweetheart?” 

Ryan nodded, nuzzling into the latter’s hand, letting his eyes fall shut when Rafe leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead. The mere sight made you sick to your stomach, with Sarah just as cringed out as you were, grumbling with detest.

Looks like you had some competition. 

“Can you not?” Sarah huffed, “We’re eating.” 

“She doesn’t get it.” Ryan shook his head with disappointment, withdrawing from the touch. Rafe agreed by nodding, patting Ryan’s shoulder before he got back to eating, acting as if that was the normalest thing they’ve done over dinner. 

Fancy plating was all fun and games until you had to do the dishes, and with the little work you did tonight, it did not look good on your watch. Ryan excused himself out of the list, with Sarah following behind, informing you that they made dinner, meaning it was your turn to do the dishes. 

Which, truth be told was fair, you totally understood where they were coming from, because if that was you, you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I’ll help out.” Rafe joined in, the suggestion creating a nervous mess out of you. 

That’s how you ended up in front of the sink, watching as plates piled up with every dish Rafe brought, instantly joining your side after he tidied up the table, wiping it clean to ensure a disinfected setting. 

Your contained giggles seeped through the silence, observing as Rafe clumsily scrubbed a plate, stumbling as it almost slipped from his hands. A sigh of relief escaped his parted lips, tightening his hold around it before it could further slither through his fingers. 

“You don’t need to do it.” You uttered, catching Rafe’s attention, who turned to face you with a smug grin spread across his lips, oblivious to the teasing smile you flashed him.

“Why?” He curled one of his eyebrows with confusion, scrubbing the plate with all his might, though it was past its limit. “Do you not want my help?”

“It’s not that,” you playfully rolled your eyes, rinsing off the excess soap. “It just looks like you’re struggling.” 

“‘That so?” He shot back, mimicking your action, copying your each move to make sure he’s doing it right. 

“Mhm.” You mused, letting silence linger through the air, atmosphere heaving with tension. 

“You know,” Rafe started, eyes glued to his gloved hands. “You’re different over text.” 

You almost drop the plate in your hand, caught off guard by the latter’s statement. Rafe maintained a blank expression, continuing what he was doing while you tensed in your spot, too dumbfounded to move, or respond. 

“I–” you stammered, abandoning the dishes piled in the sink, and focusing your whole attention on Rafe. “Why are you bringing that up?” 

“Should I not?” He questioned, stealing a swift glance in your direction as he cocked his head to the side, intrigued by how the conversation was flowing. “I mean, you did text me this morning, am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You said it yourself,” you started, suddenly feeling your throat go dry. “Ryan’s my brother, it would be best if we didn’t discuss this.” 

“Why not?” He muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like we’re doin’ anythin’ weird, y’know? I mean, you did leave an impression on me.”

“impression?” You repeated, jeered by his words as your mouth moved faster than your brain. “Did you know we’d be meeting here?” 

“Well,” he replied, rinsing off the soapy dishes. “I can’t say I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” You whispered, afraid others would overhear your conversation. “Had you told me, I wouldn’t have continued speaking to you. Do you know how awkward things are now that you’re here?” 

“Why?” Rafe hushed out, pausing for a second, before he turned to face you, now leveling his face with your own. “Am I making you nervous?” 

Your throat ran dry, taken aback by the question. Was he flirting with you? And if not, why did it have such a big effect on you? Tolling you with temptation in ways you knew were impossible, out of reach, even. 

“What?” You uttered through a breath, face flushing with heat. “No– no it’s just–”

“I’m just messing.” He snickered, amused by how flustered you grew, stuttering to mutter a coherent statement out. 

“That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled out, fluttering your eyes at the latter, visibly embarrassed by the reaction the boy received from you. 

“Right.” He chuckled, not sounding convinced at all. 

The next few minutes filled with tension, as you both fell quiet, letting silence heave the air. Rafe didn’t seem as affected as you were, maintaining a blank expression the whole time you were a mess, too embarrassed to be in the boy’s presence, who seemed oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere he had created. 

You instantly excused yourself to your room afterwards, telling the boy you were sleepy, though it was too early for bed. You needed a moment to yourself, even if it meant lying through your teeth.

Besides, you weren’t the only one who was gone, as Sarah was nowhere in sight, disappearing once you were done. She was probably talking to her boyfriend, hence you know how clingy they were with each other. 

You took a quick shower, freshening up before bed, immediately followed with your skin care routine, playing soft music in the background while you did so. You dressed yourself in comfortable pajamas, instantly slipping under your covers, letting the warmness engulf your body whole. 

Your eyes droswed with sleep, after a few hours of scrolling through your phone, not noticing the time, only acknowledging how late it was when you received a notification that earned your attention. Your breath almost hitched as you opened the DM, caught off guard by who it was from. 

It was Rafe.

a/n THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON THIS WTH!! i wasnt expectingt it ily mwahh!! & just a little fyi this story will have more irl parts, it wont be solely sm based as i alr have stated in the beginning! it will definitely have social media, but im not abandoning the irl part of it yk 😣 that being said, feel free to lmk if you want to be removed/added to the taglist :) (in order to stay on it, you need to interact with the posts)

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get a job

The mural appears on the building in the middle of the night but it's on the morning news show that moment the sun comes up.

You stubbornly ignore the screen as you stare down at your bowl of cereal, the smallest of smiles on your face as you offer a dry cornflake to little Vince, who takes it and scampers off to eat it at the other end of the table.

"I wish you wouldn't let him up there," Mapi says and you roll your eyes.

"You let Bagheera up here."

"That's different."

"Is it because he's a boy? Is that it?"

Mapi lets out a little bark of laughter for a moment before flicking you in the ear. "I'm worried he's going to fall and hurt himself."

Your kitten peers over the edge of the table after eating his cereal, little legs wiggling in preparation to leap as his half ear flicks happily.

"I think he's survived worse."

Mapi rolls her eyes, plucking Vince off the table and placing him on the floor before she makes her morning coffee.

Ingrid's the one watching the news, her brow furrowed as she listens to the report.

"Well," You say, pushing out and up from the table," I'm going to head to school. I'll see you later."

Ingrid's eyes narrow at your abrupt exit and you don't slow down enough for her to open her mouth.

The path to your school is a familiar one, a fancy private school that Ingrid probably pays an extortionate fee to send you to but is still leagues above the boarding school you used to attend in Norway.

But you've still got a blazer to wear and a shirt and tie - not even one of those clip on ones. It's a proper tie that you've got to tie everyday.

Your skateboard wheels roll over the pavement, earphones thumping with music, as you approach the building. There's a teacher at the gate and they give you a look of disapproval as you come rolling past.

"Hoodie off, Engen," They say," You know the rules."

You roll your eyes as you continue on your way, making a show of stripping off the hoodie you've got on under your blazer just as you make it through the double doors - where it goes straight back on again.

School in Spain isn't really that different to school in Norway apart from the fact that everyone's speaking Spanish.

That's not really difficult either - Spanish that is. You've already got Norwegian and English, and Spanish wasn't really too complex of a language to learn either.

Sure, you've got a bit of an accent and sometimes have to take a moment to think through your grammar but it's nothing that makes it impossible to communicate.

"Off the skateboard, Engen," Another teacher says as you ride down the corridor on your board.

"Will do," You lie through your teeth.

The speed of your skateboard is the only thing keeping you away from the gaggle of girls that follow your every move.

Back at home, Mapi thinks it's hilarious. Ingrid says it's sweet.

You think it's annoying. It's bad enough to appear in the middle of the school year and have everyone automatically know who you are. It's worse when a group of giggling girls try to follow you around all the time. You kind of just want to fade into the background.

"I thought the teacher just asked you to get off that skateboard?"

You roll to a stop in front of one of the prefects.

"I mean...they didn't exactly say when I was meant to get off the skateboard? Just that I should get off it?"

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You know what they meant."

"Do you ever get tired of being so stuck up?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

"Do you ever get tired of pushing boundaries?"

You shrug. "It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, charm," She scoffs," Let's call it that. You know, I should write you up for dress code. You know you're not meant to wear hoodies to school."

"So I've been told."

"Or trainers."

"They're comfortable."

"Or leave your tie undone."

"I don't like the feeling on my neck."

"And that hairband? Black only."

"What? So I can't wear a red hair tie but you can wear pink ribbons? How's that fair?!"

"So now you're trying to fight with me about it?" She asks, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards," I really should write you up."

Your eyes narrow, nose scrunching up. "You're teasing me."

"What gave it away?"

"I hate you."

"No you don't, Engen. But I do have a note that I was meant to give you during registration. Here, you're excused after lunch. Your sisters are picking you up."

You stare down at the note from the office in your hand as she walks off with her stupid pastel pink hair ribbons.

"Hey! Mapi's not my sister!" You yell after her but she doesn't stop to argue with you about it.

You kind of wish she did.

You shake that thought away though, tucking your skateboard safely under your arm as you make your way over to registration.

School is boring like it always is, even though Ingrid's insisted on them giving you challenging work in the hope of keeping you engaged. She doesn't need to know that you're still skipping classes to hang out in the art rooms with that one eccentric art teacher that can't remember your name but does know the exact brand of spray paint that you love.

You're more than happy to sign yourself out for the day with your hood flipped up as you make your way over to Ingrid's car.

You take a glance back at the building, up to the second floor where that girl is sitting with her stupid pink ribbons, staring bored outside of the History class window.

You know she sees you and you know she sees you put your middle fingers up at her.

"Do you have to do that?" Ingrid asks as you slide into the back seat, slamming the door closed behind you. "You're going to ruin my doors."

"The club will just give you a new car," You say dismissively, plugging your phone into one of Mapi's many chargers. "So...Why am I being let out early?"

"We can't want to do something nice for you?" Ingrid hums, pulling out of the school gates and onto the road.

"Not at lunchtime on a Tuesday," You reply and Mapi snickers in the passenger seat," Don't you guys have training or something?"

"It's almost like you want to be in school," Mapi teases," We can always turn around and drive you back."

"I'm good," You say," But, you know, I haven't eaten yet. Can we grab something first?"

It's hours (and one burger) later that has Ingrid watching you from her passing exercise with Esmee.

Your white school shirt is stained with spray paint and she's ninety percent sure that it's never going to be white again. Your blazer is a heap on the floor and your hoodie sleeves are pushed up to reveal a pastel pink ribbon tied around one of your wrists.

You're totally in the zone though as you adjust your hastily made stencils and step back to review your work.

Ingrid's pretty sure someone could scream your name and you wouldn't even notice, too preoccupied with setting up base layers and a few shapes.

"How it's going?" Mapi asks," It looks..."

Well Mapi can't quite tell how it looks because it's just a bunch of colours and vague shape blobs to her.

"I think I'm going to make the focal point the Champion's League trophy," You say," And then everyone spread out around it."

Mapi tries to picture it but the vague blobs and splashes of colour look just like that to her, no hint of what you can clearly see within it. "Cool," Is all she can say in response.

"It'll look good," You reply," I promise."

"I trust you," Mapi says," I'm just a little sad that I'm clearly not seeing what you're seeing."

"Give it a few days," You promise," And it'll come together."

"I look forward to seeing it," Ingrid says as she approaches.

She's with Mapi, unable to see what you can in the splash of colour and swirls but she's seen enough of your work to know that it all starts off like this.

"Besides," Ingrid says, slipping her hand into yours," Maybe with this to work on, you won't go around tagging random buildings that make it on the news."

"You can't prove that was me," You reply, not taking your eyes off the wall in front of you," They were saying it could be Banksy or someone else trying to make a statement."

"Don't be stupid," You sister says," I can recognise your work anywhere."

[gooobraghhh]

Getting into the idea of forcemasc in a very st4t way. I mean I basically get to build my perfect boyfriend. I’ll dutifully make sure to administer your t shot every week, in nothing more than my underwear of course. After each shot I’ll be a good girlfriend and give you a nice and long blowjob to encourage bottom growth, instructing you how to hold my hair and push my mouth down into you like a proper man receiving oral.

I think I’d frequent your lap, sitting in it while I squeeze your rapidly developing muscles, examining your new facial hair, and telling you how hot you’re getting on t, how handsome you look with your new scruffy beard and how attractive your muscles are. There’s a good chance I’ll be grinding on you while I shower you with praise and with your new looks being so evidently attractive to a pretty girl like me why would you ever stop getting all manly for me.

I think your muscle growth would be a big part of it for me. I’d initiate a lot of play fights so that you can see how much stronger than me you’re getting, so that you know how good it feels to pin me down with your arms. I’ll watch you get flustered when you win, just to grab your hand and bring it to my hips or throat, telling you exactly what to do to me while staring at you with an expression that lets you know I’m still in control as always.

Then I’ll just reap the rewards of my work. Training you to grind your growing dick against my ass while I feel those strong arms of yours pin me to the bed. Then having you switch to a strap so I can get properly serviced by the man of my making. I’ll make sure to tell you how good you’re fucking me, instructing you the whole time, praising you when you do it in just the right way to make me cum and letting you know how good it feels when you fuck me like the man you are. In return I’ll make sure my boy toy gets all the blowjobs and handjobs he needs to be satisfied. If you feel extra kinky and want me to peg you now and again I’ll make sure to fuck you in your ass while I tell you how handsome you are.

I want to brag to other girls how good you’ve gotten in bed, how much you rock my world at night. Watch their jealous faces when I cling to my eye candy boyfriend in public. With how I’ve shaped you I’m sure there will be lots of girls trying to steal you for themselves but I know you know who you belong to. You’re mine, my perfect man to play with, and isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to be

[error-523scintilla]

As a bisexual woman from and living in Panamá, if someone proudly said out loud they’re an ally I would shed tears of happiness, considering that the default here is Not Being One. Actively someone reminding us we are loved and worth standing with even if technically Not Their Problem, opening themselves to criticism from most of the population, taking the risk, is such a sweet and impactful thing to do. We are few of the countries still not having equal marriage rights, and the piece of shit that our Monseñor is, having an iron fist grip in our politics, it won’t happen soon. So someone from outside the community actively saying they love us is such a beautiful show of love to us here.

When I do tutoring as a side gig with young boys and teenage guys, and they talk to me about stuff they see online, and repeat some mysoginistic bullshit they learnt online, I concerned but patiently ask them what they mean by that. When explaining it out loud I may answer with ‘that’s so mean why would anyone say that about a girl’ with a preoccupied face, and now seeing their favorite funny math teacher looking hurt makes them think ‘wait maybe this is kind of wrong and fucked up actually’. Before that moment, have they ever stopped to think how that was wrong, when all their pals normalize the same thought process? Isn’t that what mysoginistic men online prey on for them to not find out until it explodes on their faces? And now they see their loved tutor, who’s a woman, be affected by those kind of comments when they don’t feel I fit the rhetoric, and ask how much of that stuff is then actually false. To doubt what they’ve been fed, specially in a society like the one in my country. I plant the seed of doubt, and see it bloom. I gently guide them to a place of good while teaching math.

There was this kid in 5th grade before the pandemic who I saw weekly for a few months who one day proudly told me how he defended a girl in his class, who he even kinda disliked for unrelated reasons to this post, be picked up by some other boys for being a girl or some other bullshit I don’t remember. That the stuff they were saying were mean and false and made no sense. He was so proud of standing up for what he felt was wrong and following what his nice teacher had taught him, and I congratulated him for doing a good job. It made him so so happy to be recognized. He was such a nice kid. I hope he’s doing alright now.

Nooo mutual don’t put that “men fall down the alt-right pipeline bc women/feminists are too mean” post on my dash nooo mutual don’t try to say women need to be nicer when dealing with misogynistic men nooo mutual nooo

[priniya]

𝜗𝜚 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝜗𝜚

⋆ pairing. oscar piastri x verstappen!reader

⋆ summary. falling in love has never been on your radar, but when the cute, quiet guy finds his place in your heart, you try to cherish the rare, yet beautifully domestic moments. that is, until you hit the four years together mark and realise that your family probably doesn’t know.

GROWING UP YOU WERE CONVINCED BY THE circumstances that being loved must be earned. you had never put any thought into that — it was just the things were, at least that’s how you were brought up. if you did something your parents didn’t like, you were given a cold shoulder and — from time to time — a silent treatment. as a teenager, you came up with a… pretty saddening conclusion that love wasn’t worth it in the end, so you simply avoided any kind of romantic relationships.

to be completely honest, it wasn’t a hard task. all you ever wanted since you entered the awkward phase of your life, when you could make your own decisions, one of which was leaving your household as soon as it was only possible.

you had departed from your home around the age of fourteen, after lots of begging to let you study abroad had taken place. you were the youngest out of the three. your brother was already in formula one, when you were wearing a plaid skirt, a merlot blazer with the school’s logo, a matching necktie and a few more things that made max and victoria call you a posh, british girl. you didn’t mind it, you were glad to be out of the house, slightly distancing yourself from your family overtime.

the day you met oscar took place on the day of your eighteenth birthday. you and some friends had gone out to celebrate not only your birthday, but also your acceptance to the king’s college in london, giving you an opportunity to pursue your dreams of becoming a doctor. you were yet to tell your family about it, having lied to them about the date, wanting to have this moment to yourself.

you went out to a few bars before ending up in a club as the girls secretly wanted you to find a guy to go home with, since the last year and a half you had been constantly overworking yourself to get into your dream university, (“you got the school in the bag, now get some lad to relieve the pressure”).

oscar had been racing in formula renault at the time, but ever since you left the netherlands, racing hadn’t been on your mind for a long time — it probably should, considering your big brother was two points behind kimi räikkönen last season, however you had a feeling as if racing was the reason you were so disconnected from your family. your dad was racing in formula one, your mom was karting, your brother has been racing in formula one as well, and your sister shared the interest, while the love for partaking in the sport never appeared in your heart.

your chest was slightly pressed against the countertop, smiling at the bartender with a drunken look in your eyes, while he was preparing your umpteenth jägerbomb. jesus christ, you really needed that break. the alcohol running through your veins was really hitting you already as your body couldn’t stay still even for a second — your hips swaying to the beat. that was until you looked around the place and your eyes landed on a boy your age. he was wearing a white, printless t-shirt that clung to his body, turning your quick look-around into a staring situation.

if sober, your thoughts would stay where they should — in your mind, however… you were far from being sober. the proper social etiquette you were taught over the years at your boarding school were long forgotten as you shamelessly ogled the boy. he was simply gorgeous, breathtaking some would say.

“gals, i think i just saw an angel sent from heaven just for me.” you announced, your tone causing your friends to chuckle in amusement. you sound like a person who thought they just invented a cure for cancer. “i need to throw myself at him.”

“oh my god.” aliyah, your roommate from school, laughed, throwing her head back. it was hilariously unexpected to hear you say a thing like that — the girls have heard you talk about the boys you had hooked up with before, even intoxicated, but never this. you had never been so… so not-you. “this-this is the funniest thing, like, ever.”

“which one?” inaya scrunched her brows as she looked around, searching for a guy who could fit her imagination of a guy you would call an angel. she groaned in disappointment, once you discreetly pointed in oscar’s direction. “a white guy? seriously, yn?”

“i can’t help it.” you muttered, your shoulders slumping as the alcohol intensified every single emotion you have felt during the night. “i wish he would have my baby. or like a thousand of them.” your sighed, dropping your hand to your stomach, while one of the girls bursted out laughing at the absurdity of your words.

inaya could easily recall the day before your acceptance letter came in and your speech to the group chat about romantic attraction, relationships, kids, and commitment, concluded with confidence (“i’m gonna be that one, successful aunt that hates kids, but not that one niece.”).

“they would look cute together, though.” priya giggled, stealing glances at your boy, as if she wanted to hit on him, too. then, the thought of priya with your boy disappeared from your mind at the image of your best friend and her long-time boyfriend. right, she and james had been together for the longest time. “you should shoot your–” the universe was not having the girl speak, because a guy, seemingly confident, approached your table.

“hey, i hope you’re having a good evening.” he started in a nice tone, the girl beside you — the last of the four, ciara, seemed to melt against your shoulder, looking at the boy with heart eyes. “sorry to bother you, girls. my friend, that one over there, thinks you’re really gorgeous and would love to get your number, but he’s a bit shy.” he joked, having pointed to oscar, turning the second part of his monologue to you.

before any of you could’ve responded to him, a guy — the same one you called an angel — walked up to the six of you, groaning when he realised that his friend already had done what he threatened to do. “jesus, arthur.” the blonde ran a hand over his face, groaning in exasperation.

“i’m so sorry for him.” he let out a small sigh. “i told him not to bother you, but he’s like a toddler.” he tried to explain, earning a few quiet chuckles from all of you.

“ah, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” priya grinned. “you two look like you haven’t had a drop of alcohol yet, maybe wanna join us?”

oscar wanted to refuse, out of courtesy — he didn’t really care about the embarrassment brought upon him by the monegasque, although the look on your face was making his heartbeat quicken. he’d never felt like this before, it was crazy. he just saw you for the first time and his mind was filled to the brim with small ideas to impress you that were supposed to be shoved away as he opened his mouth to politely refuse the invitation. arthur, however, had different plans and sat next to the ginger haired girl, who quickly engulfed him in a conversation.

looking at him so up close was almost a life-altering experience. for the first fifteen minutes you had to remind yourself to breathe, so enamoured with the boy sitting next to you. after that period, you got even more entranced with oscar. once he started his small conversation with you, you couldn’t help but hang onto every single word that left his lips.

you’ve never felt like this before, so interested in what a boy had to say to you. you forgot about the detail that, if it wasn’t a joke, oscar thought you were gorgeous and loved to have your number. the conversation with him was easy, you didn’t have to do anything special to prolong it, neither did he. by the time the watch on your phone was showing three in the morning, james had already picked priya, inaya and aliyah up, leaving you and ciara with the two boys. you went out to a club to have fun, drink, and dance a bit, but it all was thrown into oblivion once piastri started a conversation with you.

YOU COULD EASILY RECALL THE MOMENT YOU realised that life without oscar wasn’t what you’d ever want. it happened after a few weeks of constant texting, late-night calls and a bit less meetings at his/your place. at the tiniest thought of falling in love with him, your stomach started to hurt, because love wasn’t something you believed to have a happy ring to. your parents were divorced and they took it out on you and your siblings, sophie, your mom, wasn’t as bad as your dad, though.

oscar knew about your stance towards love, but took it upon himself to change it — and he suprisingly did. there wasn’t a thing oscar could do wrong to make you disappointed. despite the hectic schedule he had, you always spent at least ten minutes on the phone to just check in, which was the best part of your day most of the time.

medicine at king’s was killing you every day to the point, where once oscar was able to visit you, he had always made you something to eat, drew a bath for the two of you and took a nap with you. he never complained. for as long as he remembered, most of his days were fast paced — there were little to no slower moments in his life, so despite your insecurities that he must’ve hated you for being too exhausted to spend time with him, he liked just feeling your presence next to him.

your friends, despite the constant teasing, couldn’t be happier for you. you often denied yourself stuff that you probably should experience in life, as a result of growing up in a household where love was conditional. they knew that, it wasn’t a rare sight to see you crumble under pressure, before inevitably breaking down in front of them, so seeing you blossoming like that was not only refreshing, but also relieving.

you were starting your fourth year at the university, while oscar was in the middle of his first season of formula one. before the australian, you weren’t a fan, yet you couldn’t help but bawl your eyes out in pride and happiness, when oscar called you to tell you that he had signed with mclaren.

you had already known about the signing, when oscar came to your shared apartment later, so despite an upcoming test, you spent most of your free afternoon baking him a small cake to show him that his dreams are as important to you as they are to him. you definitely weren’t a great baker, but you tried your best and made a small, lemon flavoured cake with a light, orange-ish congratulations, formula one driver on top.

“baby, i’m home.” your boyfriend called out, entering the apartment as he was taking off his shoes, placing them on a shoe stand. you smiled to yourself at the sound of his voice, head turning to look at him. his hair disheveled, a stubble on his chin, and a slight hint of tiredness in his eyes that seemed to disappear once his gaze fell onto you.

“hey.” you replied as oscar approached you, sneaking his arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss on your lips. “i made you something.” you whispered, tilting your chin to have a better view of his face.

“yeah?” he asked, intrigued. “what did you make?”

“i baked a cake.” you nodded, almost as if it was something you did every other day. “because my boyfriend is officially a formula one driver. i’m super proud of you, you know? and it’s mclaren, too!” you added, a beam creeping up on your lips, your hands cupping his cheeks as you pressed lots and lots of light kisses against his entire face.

a chuckle rumbled in his throat at your silly display of affection, pulling you closer with ease. “i still can’t believe it.” he smiled in between the smooches. “i couldn’t have done it without you.” his voice dropped to a whisper laced with sincerity.

“ah, this is simply bullshit.” you responded, scrunching your nose. “you’re a great driver, baby. you would’ve done it anyway.” you matched the quietness of his tone, bringing your hand to run your fingers through his messy blond hair. “everyone knows that, especially zak and andreas.”

“you did help, though.” he muttered, relishing the feeling of your fingers in his hair. “you keep me sane.” his words earned him a quiet giggle from you. you tilted your head to the side, shaking it lightly, pulling him into a kiss.

it started off slowly and gently, now both of oscar’s arms wrapped around your waist, caging you into his loving embrace. before you knew it, his hands were squeezing your sides, sitting you on the kitchen counter, his body pressing against yours as your lips moved in sync. the pent up stress, pressure and exhaustion slowly dissolving, oscar’s stiff shoulders loosening as your fingers tugged on a strand of his hair.

his tongue has moved past your lips, when you heard a sound, making the two of you pull away from each other in reluctance. oscar’s mom often texted him, when you were either making out on the couch or having sex, almost as if she had a hunch about what the two of you were doing. as a result, you came up with a system that whose phone would go off and interrupt you, the person would have to do something in return for the other one. despite the annoyance of being interrupted, you beamed, knowing that it couldn’t be your phone. that was, until you noticed the smirk creeping up on your boyfriend’s face.

“not mine.”

a loud groan rumbled in your throat, unhappy with the result as oscar passed you your phone from the table. you let out a dutch curse word under your breath, noticing the contact’s name on the notification.

max.

you haven’t spoken to your brother since the end of that year’s season, when you called to congratulate him on his second title. making so much distance between you and your family ever since you were fourteen and in a boarding school was hunting you now. no one from your family knew about your relationship with oscar, despite being together since mid-july 2019. you didn’t want to change it, not because you were ashamed of oscar — that, you could never be — but because you were afraid it would ruin everything between the two of you, and deep down inside you, you knew that your heart would shatter into pieces if that ever happened.

oscar understood where you were coming from, he knew how much of an outcast you considered yourself to be as a kid, and how much work you put into getting away from the town you grew up in. he didn’t mind that he didn’t officially met your blood family, he knew that the friends you went to school with were closer to you and at that time of your life mattered more, so he couldn’t complain, knowing that this family accepted and liked him. your mood significantly dropped, oscar’s hand gently squeezing your thigh for some reassurance, nodding silently, a way of saying that you should call your brother back.

some people would say that your boyfriend was the reason behind the poor connection between you and your siblings, but he was actually the one, who often — subconsciously — made you reply to their texts and calls more, or even calling them yourselves to just check in as you often sent gifts to your two nephews and penelope. although you thought that it was too late to repair the relationship with max and victoria, oscar always told you that it’s nonsense (and he was, indeed, right).

“hey, sorry, i was studying. a cardiology exam coming up soon.” you explained as your brother picked up the call, your voice slightly sheepish as you avoided your boyfriend’s look.

“in december?” max asked. “i was calling to ask if you’re coming back for christmas?”

you sighed softly at the question, knowing that your reaction would probably upset your brother, which you didn’t want to happen.

“uh.” you started. “i–i’m not sure, yet.” an incoherent mumble came from the other side of the line, as you started to pick on the skin of your bottom lip. “i think i am, but not for too long. i have an early flight on the twenty seventh.”

you could see the smile rising on oscar’s lips upon your answer, you were conflicted whether or not you should go back. you missed your brother, sister and mom, but coming home always resulted in your sour mood and not-too-great memories from each year as you always ended up fighting with your dad over something insignificant that made you come back to london sooner than planned. this time, you were supposed to lay down the boundaries and try to have a good time, before flying to melbourne to spend some time with the piastris.

“it would mean a lot to all of us to see you.” max replied in a gentle tone, not wanting to accidentally guilt trip you into coming. “we miss spending time with you, yn.”

“i know, i’m sorry.” your voice broke, sadness washing over your body as you ran a hand down your face to stop yourself from getting too upset. it’s your boyfriend’s big day, you shouldn’t be crying over your familial situation, when it was such a happy day for him.

“i miss you all too.” you whispered, piastri’s hand gently moved up and down your thigh in a soothing mood, helping you calm down a bit. despite not understanding a thing you said since the conversation was held in dutch, he could tell that you were getting upset and it worried him. “i’m gonna be there, okay?”

DESPITE YOUR MOM’S QUESTION UPON YOUR relationship status during last year’s christmas, you didn’t drop a clue whether or not you were dating someone. you felt secure in your relationship with oscar, you didn’t want to jinx it. you started therapy just a few months earlier, but the anxiety to get past this awful feeling of revealing your boyfriend to your family was too much to do yet. you definitely wouldn’t do it without him by his side, and not when your father was around.

throughout the months of 2023, your relations with your mom, max, and victoria had improved significantly, which you were grateful for. by may, victoria’s oldest son, luka, considered you to be his favorite auntie and you really, really liked that feeling.

oscar noticed that you started to come out of your protective shell and he couldn’t be prouder of you. it was around summer break, when you decided that this year, you’d break it down to your family, no more avoiding the conversation you dreaded, but before — you would spend the summer break with your boyfriend in melbourne.

oscar, as usually on his days off, was still fast asleep, when you tried to get out of his grip in the morning. his arm had almost caged you to his side, but somehow — after fifteen minutes of trying to come up with an idea to get away without waking him up, you succeeded.

nicole was already seated at the couch with two steaming cups of coffee in front of her, almost as if she was waiting for you, which you knew she was. it was slowly becoming a little tradition you had with your boyfriend’s mom, you two would sit on the couch in their living room, casually chatting about something, while a movie played on the television in the background to your chatter.

“oscar’s still asleep, love?” she asked in a soft, yet chirpy tone as she noticed you walking down the stairs. your hair was still a bit messy, but nevertheless you looked gorgeous.

“yeah.” a chuckle escaped your lips as you took a seat next to her, taking the mug into your hands. “we stayed up watching a movie last night, apparently i had missed out on the magnificence of david fincher’s filmography.” nicole giggled, shaking her head.

“ah, yes. we’ve been through that, too.” she smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. “so, i’ve heard from hattie that you’re planning on going to suzuka with oscar. that’s, hm… how did she call it? a hard launch, right?” you smiled softly, nodding your head at her question.

throughout your entire relationship with the oldest piastri’s kid, you have been to few races, most of them being his formula renault and three ones, when the schedule didn’t overlap with any of your exams. during his first season in formula one, you were only at silverstone, but as a guest of max, making your first appearance in paddock since you were a baby. this time, you’d be there not as max verstappen’s younger sister, dressed in a red-bull jacket with your brother’s number on the back, but as oscar piastri’s girlfriend.

“that’s true, i’m really excited.” nicole’s warm smile upon hearing your response made you feel even more sure that you were making a good decision. “it’s gonna be my last year at king’s, and i really hope i’ll be able to come to more races to support him. i don’t want oscar to feel like i don’t care about his dreams or achievements.”

“i’m sure he doesn’t feel like that, love.” she reassured, reaching out to squeeze your hand with a slight nod. “you still haven’t told your family, have you?” nicole asked, her head tilted to the side in curiosity and empathy.

she was aware of your bumpy relationship with your family, so it wasn’t a surprise she’d asked that. you feared that oscar’s relatives would think you didn’t take him seriously, and even if they did, they never showed it.

“i want to.” you spoke quietly, having taken a sip of the drink in your hands. “it’s been going on for too long and i’m fully aware of that. i can’t see myself without your son, he’s… he’s probably the, uh, the best thing that ever happened to me.” the genuineness of your words was painfully evident. “i just want them to see that, i wouldn’t be the person i am without him. i’m also just… a bit scared of their reaction. i don’t want to hurt them.”

“i’m gonna be frank with you, love. i think they will be slightly hurt that you haven’t told them about oscar earlier.” nicole started, giving you a look full of compassion. “but you did say that they weren’t insisting on staying in touch with you as much as they do now, your relationship hasn’t been as good as it is right now, so after the initial shock, i think they’re gonna understand why you haven’t told them earlier.”

“thank you for saying that, nicole.” you replied softly, smiling at her with gratitude. “it gives me a bit of hope that things won’t go so bad.”

oscar got down an hour or so later, looking like he had just woken up, what was probably the truth. you’ve had a hunch that he would’ve woken soon, so you started preparing something for him to eat before he had to head out for his usual jog (which he skipped yesterday). his arms sneaked around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, while nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

you giggled at the sensation of his light stubble against your skin, when he pressed a few lazy kisses along your neck. “g’morning, baby.” he muttered, his voice still having that rought, just-woken-up ring to it. his slightly cold hands moved beneath your shirt, gently caressing your stomach, causing you to shiver at the contact. “what d’you gossip about with mom today?” he asked, continuing with his antics.

“ah, just stuff, love.” you replied, nicole’s petnames rubbing off on you. “edie with a friend will stay at ours before the summer break ends.” you mentioned his younger sister’s plan to come see london and all you got in a response was a soft hum.

“cool, cool.” oscar mumbled a few seconds later, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on your neck, making you bit back a moan. the corners of his mouth turned into a smirk at your reaction.

“ah, fuck off, lad.” a giggle escaped your lips as you turned to face him, having finished preparing some scrambled eggs for the two of you. “go eat, i promised max i’d call him.” after oscar stole a sweet and slow kiss from you, he sat down at the table, shamelessly watching you as you called your brother.

he knew that the situation was better, but he wanted to notice the tiny changes in your expression to comfort you within seconds. he probably wouldn’t understand too much of what you’d say, but before the season started, he’s began thinking about putting a ring on your finger one day, and proposing in dutch sounded like a good idea, so… he started learning on his own, just to be able to surprise you, but also show your family that he cared about the possible language barrier.

“hey, penelope.” you smiled as the four years old girl greeted you after picking up max’s phone. “could you please give me max?” from what you’ve known, max and kelly went to see her family in brazil, so hearing that p wasn’t asleep, wasn’t a surprise.

you could’ve heared ruffling on the other side of the call, before your brother’s voice rang in your ears. “sorry, i was outside.” he apologised. “p said you wanted to talk, everything alright?”

“yeah, everything’s alright.” you smiled at the hint of concern in his voice. “just wanted to ask when you’re flying back to monaco.” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“ah, around next week, i think. not sure though, why?”

“just… uh,” you looked over at oscar and smiled to yourself. “i just wanted you to meet someone. think you could make a quick stop in london before monaco?”

you could’ve heard max stiffle a small gasp and it made you want to laugh. they thought you’d never find someone, didn’t they? after looking at your nails, you turned your gaze to oscar, whose eyes were still watching you carefully. it was so endearing to see your boyfriend like that, so protective over you. you knew you made a good choice of not pushing him away, oscar must be your soulmate, there’s no other way. you sent him a small wink as you awaited max’s reply.

“someone?” he repeated the word. “as in friend? a boyfriend? god, i never thought i’d live to that day. he’s not fifty or something, right?” this time, you couldn’t hold back the laugh. piastri smiled at the reaction, actually relieved that you weren’t getting upset. he’s never seen you talk to jos, but he knew if that happened on his watch, the entire evening, day or week would be spend on comforting the shit out of you.

“what? no, jesus, you’re quite ridiculous.” you shook your head, a smile still present on your lips. “he’s my age, you idiot.” you rolled your eyes playfully, despite max couldn’t see you.

“but he’s good for you?” max asked for reassurance that you weren’t getting into a relationship, which would end up hurting you more than anything else. “he doesn’t hurt you, or anything? and you’re sure he’s your age? that doesn’t go well with your daddy issues.”

“i’m gonna pretend like i didn’t hear that last bit.” you joked, sitting down at the table next to oscar, taking his hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. “he’s super good for me. wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

the reasoning behind telling max before the summer break would end was simple, you didn’t want the information to mess with his performance, but also so he wouldn’t try and run your boyfriend off the track, or crash into him in a rush of emotions.

“alright, tell him to better treat my sister right or i’ll run him over with my car.”

OSCAR WAS TRYING TO CALM YOU DOWN AS YOU paced around your shared apartment, a few days after the conversation you had with your brother. your brother, who was on his way from the heathrow airport to your home.

“baby, it’s gon’ be alright.” he whispered, leaning close to your ear as he cupped your face in his hands, having brushing his nose against yours a few times affectionately. “max won’t sacrifice his relationship with you, solely because you haven’t told him about us. he’s gonna have to understand, alright? don’t stress out.” his thumb moved against the skin of your cheeks, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“you think so?” you asked, meeting his gaze as a small pout appeared on your lips.

“i know so, baby.” he soothed, trying to put your mind at ease, remembering how much hassle the situation had put on your shoulders, having heard you empty your stomach in the morning, when your phone went off once max had texted you that they have just arrived in london.

fourty minutes later, oscar was calling the security guard to let max, kelly, and penelope inside the building. the australian went back to the living room as you had planned beforehand, when you agreed on inviting them to your apartment.

“auntie yn!” penelope smiled, throwing herself at you. you swiftly picked her up, masking the shakiness of your hands. “maxie said you have a boyfrieeeend.” she singsonged with a beam on her face. you could swear to god that in that moment you’d heard the faint sound of oscar’s laughter.

“max.” you gave your brother a look, while he just shrugged unbashedly. “what? it’s true isn’t it? where is that brit of yours?”

“he’s not british.” this time, max gave you a look that said he was confused, while you just shrugged, waving your hand at the three of them, before leading them to the living room. penelope noticed oscar first and murmured to you that he looked really pretty, a warm sensation spreading in your stomach, when the pretty boy smiled at you. the oldest verstappen might get angry or feel hurt, but at the end of the day, no one could do anything to break the two of you apart. you’d chain yourself to the aussie if it was necessary.

“wha— oscar?” max’s mouth fell agape as he took in the sight of your boyfriend, who gave him a tiny, sheepish smile. “hold on a second, what?” he repeated, puting a strong emphasis on the last word.

you weren’t sure if it was inappropriate for you to scoot a bit closer to your boyfriend, leaning against his side as your older brother tried to stomach the fact that the reason behind your often trips to australia was his on-track rival.

“but you were with kelly at the silverstone, not leaving her side at all?” his confusion was messing with your anxiety and you had to do your best to stiffle the laugh bubbling up in your throat.

“yeah, um… we didn’t met at silverstone.” it was oscar’s time to speak up as the bits of contact between you made him more relaxed. “we… have been already dating back then.” piastri explained calmly, his arm going around your shoulders to bring you even closer.

“so that’s why you cried!” kelly smiled at you as your cheeks flushed bright red.

silverstone was oscar’s best finish in formula one so far and seeing him end up almost on podium had melted your heart as you broke down in the red-bull garage. when kelly asked you what made you so emotional, you slipped a small lie, saying that it was because max earned another grand slam.

“you cried?” oscar asked quietly, his heart swelled with love.

“she had a full on mental breakdown.” piquet joked, your cheeks had turned its color from bright red to crimson. it was nothing to be embarrassed about, you loved your boyfriend with all your heart, you couldn’t help but be proud of him for almost every day since you got together. although, he wasn’t supposed to know about your little breakdown.

“i didn’t know about that.” oscar teased you a little, gently pinching your side.

“wait, because i still don’t understand. you were already dating at silverstone, when did you-did you start, then?” the red bull, who — rightfully — couldn’t wrap his head around the possibility that what you were doing right now, wasn’t a silly prank or tiktok of some sort, and you and oscar were actually together.

you opened your mouth to tell him the range of your anniversary, when oscar, like he was aked about it every other day, responded with; “eleventh of july, 2019.”

“fucking four years?” max asked, his eyes widening at the revelation. “four years and you didn’t tell?”

“i was scared that telling one of you would lead to telling dad, and i didn’t want him to say something that would ruin what we have.” your voice dropped insignificantly, oscar’s arm around your body tightening in compassion. “he’s been my rock, i didn’t want to risk losing oscar.”

your brother’s face softened upon hearing the explanation and just smiled. “i’m not taking what i said back. you better treat her right, or i’ll run you over with my car — on or off track.”

ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ yourname . . . at melbourne! dec 28th, 2026

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, inaya66 and 67 218 others.

yourname met this muppet in a bar after years of not believing in love (definitely not at the first sight), overworking myself and worrying all my friends that if i get into my dream university, i’ll have no energy to push forward. took me one glimpse of him (and a jägerbomb) to realise that i need to walk up and talk to him. big thanks to arthur_leclerc for walking up to us and trying to embarrass him.

no one could ever make me as happy as you. not enough words, papers and ink to describe even the quarter of love i have for you, two times world champion. seven years and more to come. thank you for showing me that love can be unconditional and that with you next to me, everything is possible.

(ps. a small sneak peak of one significant bean with us to come through life together xx)

comments on this post have been restricted. view all!

oscarpiastri happiest seven years of my life. nothing compares to the feeling when i’m with you xx

yourname stop cutting the onions (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

inaya66 couldn’t be happier for the two of you ☹️

ciarrrra thats a lot coming from u considering u didnt like oscar

aliyahbilal i wanna be you when i grow up

arthur_leclerc safe to say i’m gonna be the best man?? 😝

oscarpiastri don’t push it

arthur_leclerc i made you two possible

ciarrrra baby… she was on her way to him when u walked up to us…

oscarpiastri so WE kind of made u 2 possible :p

maxverstappen1 stop posting sappy stuff, and get here already bean misses her favorite uncle xx

landonorris yeah n you’re not the one

charles_leclerc boys… i have a dog u really think u stand a chance

yourname that’s really sweet that u think u ever stood a chance with alex, jack, and james…

maxverstappen1 over her own blood??

yourname stop shaming my daughter for her choices old guy

sebastianvettel lots of love and happiness to your little family

ciarrrra sign me up for babysitter duty pleaseeee i miss my beanie ☹️

aliyahbilal nooo me me me need to catch up on those nursery gossips with my bestie!!!

victoriaverstappen can’t wait to see you guys 🫶🫶 hailey misses her bestie

mclaren we are always told things last ☹️☹️☹️

yourname you know it’s not true admin why do you lie 🙁🙁

hattiepiastri best soon to be sil 🥳🥳🥳

yourname whats with you piastris and making me cry today!!!

nicolepiastri love you both lots xx

jackdoohan i’m the favorite?? need to come over with gifts asap🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

fin.

author’s notes! super hyped to post this fic 🥹 it’s honestly my baby that i’ve been working on and thinking about it 24/7 (even when i was supposed to be studying LMAO) huge shoutout to my whatsapp girlies esp catalina and sonny!!!! this is kinda not proofread so if u saw any mistakes (which definitely were there) pretend like u didnt 😝😝 part two with domestic dad!oscar and uncle!grid?? lemme know whatchu think <3 requests r open btw!!

[theonottsbxtch]

99 PROBLEMS | MV1

an: this is literally a crack fic, i had the idea when i was listening to 99 problems by jay-z and i was talking to @iamred-iamyellow please enjoy

summary: max never expected to one day have a 17 year old son. he didn't know he was a father. but now he's got to try and figure out how this nerd is his son. and also teach him how to live a little.

wc: 3.3k

Max never thought he’d be a single dad to a teenage boy, but shit happens.

One minute, he was in Monaco celebrating another podium win, champagne-soaked and grinning for the cameras. The next, there was a seventeen-year-old with his eyes and an attitude to match standing on his doorstep with a duffel bag. His name was Noah—“not ‘Dad,’ just Max”—and he wasn’t here to bond. No, Noah was here because apparently the universe thought karma would be funnier this way.

Max was on the balcony of his Monaco apartment replying to a few emails, the city’s lights flickering like a postcard behind him. He could hear Noah inside, rifling through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of “real food.”

“Hey, don’t knock the caviar!” Max called over his shoulder. “It’s got protein!”

“Caviar’s not dinner!” Noah fired back, slamming the fridge door.

Max smirked, chuckling a bit. The kid had a point. The life of a Formula One champion didn’t exactly prepare him for raising a teenager. Most days, it was all jet-setting, high-end sponsorships, and a new girl on his arm by sundown. It was messy, but it was his kind of messy. Now? Now, he had to figure out how to squeeze fatherhood in between the chaos.

“You seriously live like this?” Noah asked, stepping onto the balcony, holding up one of Max’s custom helmets. His tone wasn’t admiration—it was judgement.

“Like what?” Max said, not looking up from his phone.

“You know, like...this. Cars, women, parties. I mean, isn’t it exhausting?”

Max chuckled low, pocketing his phone. “Don’t have time to be tired.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Right. So, uh...where do I fit in this circus?”

Max turned, his smirk fading just enough to let a flicker of honesty show. “Haven’t figured that out yet. But we’ll make it work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Max glanced back at the city below. “Now, go grab a drink or something. Just...not the champagne.”

And that’s how it started: the driver, his kid, and a life moving faster than either of them could control.

Max hadn’t had a conventional childhood and he could tell this kid did, well as conventional as it was to be dropped off at your dad who you’ve never met’s house a few weeks before your 18th birthday.

He thought that maybe while he was here he could teach him a few things, take him to a few races or something. 

Max didn’t really know what to do.

The private gym was tucked into the corner of Max’s penthouse, all sleek machines and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. It was rarely used. Most of Max’s training happened at the Headquarters. or with his team, but Noah had been dragging his feet around the apartment all week, so Max figured a little sweat might do them both some good.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, tossing a pair of dumbbells onto the mat. “Let’s see if you’ve got anything in the tank. Ever lifted before?”

“Sure,” Noah replied, unimpressed. He sat down on the bench press, giving the machine a once-over like he was deciding whether or not to trust it.

Max crossed his arms, watching as Noah pushed through a few hesitant reps. “Not bad. But if that’s your warm-up, we’re in trouble.”

Noah glared, setting the weights down with a clink. “Not all of us need muscles for a living.”

Max laughed. “Touché. So, what do you do for fun then?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You know, like hobbies, friends, maybe a girlfriend?”

Noah shrugged, grabbing a water bottle. “Not much. I play some video games, read, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

“Read?” Max frowned. “What, no parties? No sneaking out? You don’t go out?”

“Go out where?” Noah’s voice had that dry teenage edge to it. “I’m seventeen. I lived in America my whole life. You can’t even get into a bar without a fake ID there.”

Max froze mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve never had a drink?”

Noah gave him a look like he’d just asked if the sky was blue. “No?”

Max stared at him, dumbfounded. “God. If only you knew what I was doing at your age when my dad had his back turned.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Oh, let me guess. Clubbing in Paris. Drinking champagne with supermodels. Living the dream?”

“Belgium, but close,” Max said, leaning against the bench press. “Keg parties in the back of some guy’s trailer in Hasselt. Terrible beer, worse decisions, and my trainer yelling at me the next morning. Still, though. I can’t believe you’re seventeen and haven’t even had a sip.”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Noah muttered.

“Not a big deal?” Max barked out a laugh. “Mate, by seventeen, I’d already figured out my go-to drink order. Vodka tonic. Not classy, but it got the job done.” He leaned in, his grin borderline mischievous. “We’ve got some work to do.”

Noah held up his hands, shaking his head. “Oh no. You’re not turning this into some wild ‘how to live’ project.”

Max raised his eyebrows, mock-innocent. “Hey, I’m just saying. Gotta live a little.”

“Maybe I don’t want to end up like you,” Noah shot back.

Max laughed again, but this time it came quieter, almost thoughtful. “Trust me, buddy. Nobody ends up like me. Now, come on. Two more sets, and then I’ll show you how to make a proper protein shake. Don’t worry—I won’t spike it.”

Noah snorted, shaking his head as he got back to work. It was just another morning, another disagreement, but Max couldn’t help feeling like they were inching closer to something real. Something like family.

By the end of the week, Noah was starting to think his dad was running some kind of unofficial competition.

On Monday, it was Marie. She was Monegasque, blonde, and talked like she was auditioning for a perfume ad. “Bonjour, mon cher,” she’d purred at Noah, ruffling his hair like he was ten. Max had barely noticed her leave, too busy scrolling his phone for his next big sponsorship deal.

Tuesday brought Yasmin, a Brazilian model who walked around the apartment in Max’s oversized shirt, pretending not to notice Noah glaring at her from the couch. She’d tried to make conversation, something about school and books, but Noah had just shrugged until she gave up.

By Wednesday, it was Clara, who had an annoying laugh and kept calling Max “babe” like they’d been married for years.

Thursday was a whirlwind—two girls, both of whom Max forgot to introduce. One of them waved awkwardly at Noah as they left, heels clicking on the tile floor.

By Friday, Noah wasn’t even fazed. He sat at the kitchen counter, eating cereal while Max brewed coffee, shirtless and looking entirely too smug for a guy running on five hours of sleep.

“How?” Noah finally said, his spoon clinking against the bowl.

Max glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “How what?”

“You know.” Noah waved vaguely toward the hallway where yet another pair of heels had disappeared moments ago. “Them. How do you...?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he poured his coffee. “Not that complicated.” He took a sip, leaning against the counter like he was about to deliver some ancient wisdom. “They like fast cars and big dreams. I’ve got both.”

Noah squinted at him. “Yeah, but don’t they know what they’re getting into? Like...you’re not exactly giving ‘dad of the year’ vibes.”

Max laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “Oh, they know. Trust me, they all think they’re the one who’s gonna ‘change me.’” He set his mug down, smirking. “Spoiler alert: they’re not.”

Noah frowned, stirring his cereal. “Doesn’t it get old?”

“What?”

“The whole thing. Girls coming and going. Don’t you ever want...I don’t know, something normal?”

Max tilted his head, studying him for a second. “Normal’s overrated. Besides, why are you so interested? You got someone back in the States?”

Noah snorted. “No. Not unless you count my English teacher who used to give me extra credit just to stop talking in class.”

Max grinned, pushing off the counter. “Smart kid. Learn from me, though—don’t waste your charm on teachers. Save it for someone who can actually keep up.”

Noah rolled his eyes, standing up to put his bowl in the sink. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” Max said, raising his coffee in a mock toast, “I’m still your dad. Crazy how that works.”

Noah shook his head, walking out of the kitchen. But as he headed toward his room, he caught himself smirking. Max was a mess—there was no denying that. But, annoyingly, there was something kind of fascinating about watching him pull it off.

He had to give him some respect. Three time world champion but he lived his life like an unbothered bachelor that didn’t have a multi-million contract under his belt.

Two days later, Max was standing in front of his wardrobe, trying to decide between a black shirt and a white graphic tee. He ended up tossing the black top onto the bed, shrugging into the white tee. His phone buzzed on the nightstand—a message from the group chat reminding him that their table was already reserved at Jimmy’s.

Max grabbed his watch and headed toward the living room, adjusting it as he walked. Noah was sprawled on the couch, scrolling his phone with the kind of disinterested focus only teenagers could pull off.

“You wanna come?” Max asked casually, pulling his car keys from the counter.

Noah didn’t even look up. “I’m seventeen.”

Max leaned against the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I’m Max Verstappen.”

Noah gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, that’s not how laws work.”

Max stepped into the room, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with one hand. “Relax, kid. You’re with me. No one’s checking your ID.” He raised an eyebrow, adding, “Unless you want to stay here and eat more cereal while I’m out having the time of my life.”

Noah hesitated, sitting up slightly. “What, and hang out with you and your harem of club girls? Hard pass.”

Max grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s not just girls. My friends will be there. Good music, good drinks, a little chaos. You could use some chaos.”

Noah snorted. “I don’t think I fit your ‘chaos’ aesthetic.”

Max walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to fit. You just show up, keep your head up, and let the good times come to you. Trust me, kid—it’s not rocket science.”

Noah looked at him, torn between scepticism and curiosity. “And if I hate it?”

“Then you call it a night, and we’ll come back. No harm, no foul.” Max shrugged. “But at least you’ll know what you’re missing.”

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if anyone tries to buy me a drink, I’m out.”

“Deal.” Max grinned, slapping him on the back. “Now, go change. You’re not wearing that.” He gestured vaguely at Noah’s hoodie and sweatpants.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s not wrong; it’s tragic. Go put on something that says, ‘I’m seventeen, but I could still be cooler than you.’”

Noah rolled his eyes but got up and headed toward his room. Max leaned back against the couch, chuckling to himself. This was either going to be a disaster or the most fun he’d had in weeks.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah emerged in dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked.

Max whistled. “There you go. Almost looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t push it,” Noah muttered, grabbing his jacket.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, swinging an arm around his shoulders as they headed for the elevator. “Welcome to the good life. Try to keep up.”

Jimmy’z was everything Noah expected and nothing he was prepared for. The place was loud, packed, and drenched in neon lights that pulsed to the bass of some remix he didn’t recognise. Max walked in like he owned it, breezing past the bouncers and slapping hands with a few familiar faces on his way to their table.

The VIP section was cordoned off with velvet ropes and framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. A couple of Max’s friends were already there, leaning back with drinks in hand, laughing at some story one of them was telling.

Max clapped a hand on Lando's shoulder, said something about ordering another round, and then turned to Noah with a grin. “Alright, kid. First drink’s on me.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to drink?” Noah muttered, looking around nervously.

“You’re not supposed to get caught drinking,” Max corrected, flagging down a waitress. “Two rum and cokes. Easy on the rum for him,” he added with a wink.

Noah sat awkwardly, trying to ignore the curious glances from Max’s friends. When the drinks came, Max slid one across the table. “Here. Cheers.”

Noah picked up the glass and took a cautious sip, immediately grimacing. “This tastes like gasoline.”

Max burst out laughing, nearly spilling his own drink. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a milkshake, but you’ll get used to it.”

Noah frowned but kept sipping, each drink slightly less terrible than the last. By the time the glass was empty, he didn’t hate it—but he definitely wasn’t in a hurry for another.

“Alright,” Max said, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Time for your next lesson.”

“Lesson?”

“Yeah.” Max grinned, nodding toward the dance floor where a group of girls was laughing and swaying to the music. “How to get a girl.”

Noah blinked at him. “I’m seventeen.”

“And you’re eighteen in three weeks,” Max shot back, smirking.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “How do you even know that?”

Max sipped his drink, looking almost offended. “I pay attention. I’m not that bad of a father, you know.”

Noah snorted. “Debatable.”

“Hey, come on,” Max said, leaning forward and pointing at him with his glass. “I’ve got three weeks to turn you into someone who doesn’t spend prom night sitting in the corner playing Angry Birds. Let me work my magic.”

“I didn’t go to prom,” Noah mumbled.

“Exactly my point.” Max gestured to the dance floor. “Now, watch and learn.”

Noah shook his head, but he couldn’t help smirking. Watching Max in his element was like watching a lion stalk the savanna. Ridiculous, over-the-top, and somehow annoyingly effective.

Noah leaned back in the plush booth, his gaze flicking nervously between the drink in his hand and the dance floor. “This feels illegal,” he muttered under his breath.

Max, already halfway through his second rum and coke, let out a loud laugh that turned a few heads. “Illegal? We’re in Monaco.” He gestured broadly at the glittering club around them, as if the name alone erased all laws. “The girls here don’t care how old you are, as long as you’re pretty enough.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “And what if I’m not?”

Max leaned forward, smirking. “You’re my son, so of course you are. Trust me, kid, you’ve got the genes. Now, you just need the confidence to back it up.”

Noah rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, sure. Because confidence is something you can just magically summon.”

“Exactly,” Max said, snapping his fingers like it was that simple. “It’s all in the attitude. Look, you don’t need to be the smartest or the funniest guy in the room. You just need to act like you know something they don’t. Makes them curious. Curiosity’s half the battle.”

Noah stared at him, unimpressed. “That’s the dumbest advice I’ve ever heard.”

Max grinned, sitting back and gesturing to the waitress for another round. “And yet, here I am. Multi-millionaire. World champion. Living proof it works.”

“Yeah, but you’re—” Noah hesitated, then gestured vaguely at Max’s whole presence. “You.”

“Exactly. And you’re half me. Which means you’ve already got a head start.” Max leaned in, lowering his voice like he was letting Noah in on a secret. “Here’s the trick: don’t overthink it. If you go out there looking like you’ve got something to prove, you’ll scare ‘em off. Just...be cool.”

“Cool,” Noah repeated, deadpan. “Got it. Thanks for the groundbreaking advice.”

Max smirked, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Fine. Don’t believe me. But if I come back with two numbers before you even finish that drink, you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow.”

Noah shook his head as Max strolled off toward the dance floor, impossibly confident and infuriatingly charismatic. It was hard not to admire it, even if it made him feel like an awkward kid in comparison.

He stared down at his empty glass, debating whether to order another drink or just leave, when a girl about his age walked past and glanced his way. She gave him a small smile, and Noah froze, his heart racing.

Max’s words echoed in his head. “Just act like you know something they don’t.”

Noah took a deep breath, set his empty glass on the table, and stood up. His palms felt clammy, and every nerve in his body screamed at him to sit back down. But then he caught Max watching from the floor with an infuriating smirk before turning to whichever woman he was talking to this time.

Don’t overthink it, Noah reminded himself. Just be cool.

The girl was standing near the edge of the dance floor with a friend, laughing at something on her phone. She looked up as he approached, her eyes flicking over him in curiosity.

“Hey,” Noah said, trying to sound casual. “You looked like you needed saving from a bad joke.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And you’re the knight in shining armour?”

“Something like that,” Noah said, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Or at least I’m not the guy who made you laugh like that.”

Her smile widened, and her friend nudged her playfully before disappearing toward the bar. “Smooth,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you use that line often?”

“First time, actually,” Noah admitted, his lips twitching into a nervous grin.

The honesty seemed to win her over. They started talking—light, easy banter—and before Noah knew it, she was laughing at something he’d said about his dad being a “professional bad influence.”

From the booth, Max had a clear view of the whole thing. He nudged Lando, grinning like a proud idiot. “Lan, look!” He pointed toward the dance floor. “The son of a bitch did it!”

Lando squinted, then let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “He’s my kid. Of course he’s got it in him.”

Noah returned to the table a while later, looking flushed and slightly dishevelled. His lips were swollen, and there was a faint lipstick smudge on his cheek.

Max raised his glass in a mock toast. “Atta boy!”

Noah slid into the booth, trying to suppress a grin. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Max said, slapping him on the back. “You’re officially part of the club now.”

Lando smirked. “Better keep an eye on him, Max. He’s almost got more potential than you.”

“Potential? He’s a damn prodigy,” Max joked, laughing. “First drink, first girl, all in one night. Kid’s got a better batting average than I did at his age.”

Noah rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. As much as his dad’s teasing drove him crazy, there was something undeniably cool about seeing Max so proud.

“Alright,” Max said, clapping his hands together. “Now that you’ve got your feet wet, let’s see if you can do it again.”

Noah shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. One’s enough for tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “But just so you know—you’ve officially graduated from boring.”

For once, Noah didn’t argue.

the end.

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he start, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you as he slides in some more, your walla wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so food for me."

just a few strokes after he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement. His palms make his way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow @travelingtwentysomething @shoujo-wizard @stripey82 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @cr0w-culture @notaqueenakhaleesi @bookworm0690 @r0seprincess @estrellami-1 @little-annie @dreamercec @tinyplanet95 @rawrx3ky-txt @bexinator3000 @justalittledrainbamage @scarletyeager @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @mydysfunctionallife @maverickricky @silentiumdelirium @i-amthepizzaman @samsoble @foolishness-and-confusion @dragonmama76 @gregre369 @thewickedkat @lexr86 @martinskis-lydias

[willowed-wisp]

GHOST AS A DAD [ simon riley ]

- Never wanted kids, he was so careful not to get you pregnant but with the amount you guys fuck, it was bound to happen.

- You’re scared when you get that positive test… you cry out of fear that you’ll have to get rid of the thing you had always wanted.

- It took you a week to gain the courage to tell him, you just left the pregnancy test on the kitchen table and left for work. You wanted to let him sit with it for a few hours.

- When you did return home, he sat on the sofa- elbows to knees looking down at the test. How long had he been like that?

- You waited for him to speak, while you shuffled around with that nauseous feeling bubbling in your stomach.

- It was late in the afternoon so you started chopping some vegetables for dinner, “I’ll call the termination clinic in the morning…” Your voice mulled over the slices weighing down on the wooden chopping board.

- Fingers crawled along your waistband as he rested against the sink. “No. You’re not.” You rested the knife down.

- “I thought you didn’t want kids…?” Your eyes on the verge of tearing, looking back at him. Your cool, mysterious man… finding purchase in those deep dark eyes.

- His bare hands wrapped around you- resting under your shirt. “I can’t put you through tha’,” His light hair tickled while his chin rested on your shoulder, “You’re the only person I’d wanna do this with.”

- He was there for the first and second of your pregnancy. Simon held your hair back while you threw up almost every day and he rubbed your back.

- Simon is very careful when having sex with you, but he soon realised that you feel everything 10x as much. And your sex drive is through the roof, he’s never been so needy in his entire life… you were so desperate for him and he wanted you just as much.

- Simon gets deployed during your 7th month. He doesn’t want to go… nearly refuses. Unfortunately he can’t do that.

- You’re stressed after he leaves. But his family takes care of you- he asked for them to.

- When he lands back on British soil, he immediately phones you. You pick up, and the cry of a baby is all he hears before he drops the phone and falls to his knees.

- He’s crying, actually in tears. “Is Y/N alright, LT?” Of course Soap was the one to see him like that.

- Simon nods, laughing, “I’m a dad…”

- He’s never driven so fast in his life, and you’re there on the sofa he had been 8 months ago with that test in his hand. This time you cradle a little human in your arms, swaddled like a bundle.

- He drops to his knees once more, ripping his mask off. And your warmth covers him with the little sighs coming from the now awake baby.

- Simon fell in love. He didn’t know if he was looking at a son or a daughter.

- You two didn’t want to know the gender.

- “Simon Riley… meet your daughter…” He melted again, face red and brown eyes bloodshot as he cradled the little one in his arms. Dotting into the identical eyes staring up at him.

- That’s when he held her close, head against his chest. “My little princess…” He hummed so gentle, rocking her slightly.

- He is so girl dad coded. He’ll be so sweet with her and she’d always come to her dad if anything was wrong

- Your little girl would play with his masks all the time, it never annoyed him- only making him giggle. Telling her to stop so playfully and boyishly, that you’d never seen him so soft-hearted before.

- You most likely have at most two more children after your daughter- maybe one girl and a boy.

- Simon definitely teaches your children self defence from a young age. Safety was everything and he wasn’t always around to protect them.

- He’s there every award ceremony he’s on leave and is the most doting father ever.

- Your children’s friends are terrified of him, until they get him talking- then they’re like ‘your dad’s cool.’

Did you want a part 2 of this?

———

masterlist

[livelaughloveluffy]

idk but I just feel like luffy, ace, sanji (obviously lol) zoro, and law would have a thing for plus size reader, who is sweet and naturally gets along with almost everyone but can also be a bit naive

plus size reader - monster trio, ace, law, and eustass

a/n: thank you so much for the request!!! it's definitely something that has fallen in my inbox before and i would love to write about it because i totally agree that these men would loveeeee plus size women 😌 (i'm 100% biased but shhhhhh lets not talk about that) i definitely took some creative liberty while writing this so i hopefully you enjoy!!

a/n: in typical fanfic writer fashion, i'm like actually so miserably sick right now, i have a really bad cough, my head hurts so bad, i feel super hot, and i can't even take cold medicine because of my antidepressants 😭😭😭 so if i start to not make sense, thats why 😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

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monkey d. luffy

-he's such a cuddly baby. luffy will 100% wrap his arms and legs around you, like a little koala, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he just wants all of you, all the time.

-the captain of the straw hats never ceases to amaze you with his strength as he often picks you up with such ease to either hold you close to him, with your legs wrapped around his waist, or to throw you over his shoulder, carrying you around the thousand sunny without a care in the world. luffy typically picks you up when he's extra excited to see you, needing to have you as close as possible. his grip on your body is always so tight, over his dead body would he ever let you fall.

-luffy refuses to believe that you don't see the beauty in yourself. his eyes widen in pure shock when he overhears you talking about your insecurities with nami. since that day, whenever you hear the captain talk about you, it's always with the phrase "the prettiest girl alive", with the widest smile on his face.

-he just can't help but constantly cover you with kisses. luffy is so proud to be able to have you, and he will happily shout from rooftops about his love for you, so shame about pda is absolutely nonexistent. it's a frequent occurrence for the captain to run up to you, smother you in kisses, and then run off to his other shenanigans.

roronoa zoro

_he's so proud to have you. when the two of you are together, he shows you off as if you're the shiniest trophy. his arm tightly intertwined with yours as the two of you hold hands walking the town of a new island. the green-haired boy always wants you as close to him as humanly possible, your bodies are always pressed next to each other, as if you were glued together, when side by side.

-zoro, who can pick you up with ease. when you are hugging him, he'll lift your feet off the ground, arms tight around your waist and spin you, only to then throw you over his shoulder like its nothing, taking you back to his bed. in a similar vein, he also often asks you to help him train, practically begging you to sit or lay on his back as he does hundreds of push-ups with ease. even if you try to protest and say you're too heavy, he'll scoff and pull you in for a tight hug. then picks you up and puts you on his back, making you cross your legs around his waist, and begin his training anyways.

-he's extra protective with you. especially when you two are exploring a new island, his hand is tightly gripping your waist as you walk side by side, and if you ever ask him why he'll turn to you and reply "just need to let everyone know you're mine." with the faintest hint of a growl in his voice. glares at anyone who dares to look your way for too long.

-the swordsman who is infatuated with your love handles. whenever you are just standing somewhere on the sunny, he'll come up behind you and grab your hips, pulling your body back into him. he'll rest his chin on your shoulder and when you ask him what he's doing he'll just reply with a simple "mmm, just missed you." drinking in the closeness of your presence.

black leg sanji

-the way this man is absolutely obsessed with curvier women. sanji constantly tells you how much of a goddess you are "mon amour, you're even more beautiful than aphrodite herself."

-the curly-browed blonde worships you and your body. when you are in only a bra and underwear in front of him, he takes his time to admire the absolute work of art you are. getting on his knees to stare up at you, placing his hands one on each of your thighs, working his way up to your stomach and hips, kissing along where his hands had just been. this becomes a ritual for him. he absolutely refuses to do anything more serious before getting to take his time adoring and worshipping you.

-sanji is constantly reminding you of how beautiful you are. he's saying it loudly, whispering it in your ear, and everything in between. you hear compliments from him a minimum of 100 times a day, and with the way his eyes widen and sparkle, you can tell how much he truly means it.

-he's genuinely heartbroken if he every found out that you didn't like your body or if you feel a bit insecure. sanji's eyes suddenly well up with tears as he explains that it hurts him to the core that you would see yourself so completely opposite to the way he sees you, "you're utterly ethereal, mon cheri. a work of art too perfect for this world." and he'll do anything to prove how much he means it. he'll leave gentle and delicate kisses all over your body and skin for hours, murmuring praises under his breath the entire time.

portgas d. ace

-ace was absolutely loud and proud about how attractive he found you from the very first time he laid his eyes on you. his gravely voice could be heard shouting across the moby dick "lookin' good, gorgeous." with the widest smile.

-the freckled boy will slide his hands up under your shirt, gently moving them up and down your hips and torso. ace has a carnal need to feel your skin, and there's nothing he loves more than getting to rest his hands on your stomach, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and leaving kisses down your neck as he does so.

-he loves to grab your ass. at first, ace tried to be subtle about it, starting by resting his hand on the smalls of your back, and slowly letting it fall lower until he reached your ass, and waiting a little bit before giving it a gentle squeeze. but as time progressed, he got more bold and unabashed about this form of pda, he's totally unbothered by the stares of the other crewmembers of the whitebeard pirates, returning their looks with the smuggest smile you've ever seen.

-ace will never let you forget how stunning you are. whenever he gets the chance, he'll be whispering in your ear about how gorgeous you are, how he's never seen anyone as beautiful as you, how he's so lucky to have you, and many other similar sentiments.

trafalgar water d. law

-like luffy, law is a lot more cuddly with you. often teleporting to stand right behind you, wrapping his arms around the center of your torso, pulling you close into him, his voice whispering in your ear "hi, beautiful." he always has a hand on you, whether it's on your thigh, your back, intertwined with your own hand, he simply can't resist you. the cruelest form of torture to the captain is not being able to touch you.

-praise galore. the captain is always finding subtle ways to praise you, trying to casually slip his compliments in during conversations. law often address you as "beautiful" or "my pretty girl", making it rare to hear your name slip from the law's lips.

-law is also extremely protective over you. his sharp eyes and stinging glare shoots at anyone who looks at you in a way he doesn't agree with. his hand holding onto your waist, pulling you close into him, with your head resting against his shoulder is law's ideal way to walk side by side with you.

eustass captain kid

-he's soooo loud about how attractive he finds you. it's an every day occurrence for you to hear the red-haired captain shout "oi, hot stuff, come bring your fine ass over here!" across the deck of the victoria punk. it's more common for kid to call you "hot stuff" or "doll" than it is for him to use your actual name, to the point that when you hear the captain using your name rather than a pet name, you genuinely think you're in trouble.

-eustass is so touchy. he literally cannot get enough of you, his large metal hand is always grabbing your ass or your hip, with his other hand running all over the side of your body. he's also not above leaving red lipstick stains all over your neck (and chest if you're wearing a top with a lower neckline). he leaves zero room for anyone to question who you're with.

-kid is obsessed with throwing you around, he's constantly picking you up and carrying you around the victoria punk. he'll put you up on his shoulders, loving the way your thighs squeeze around his head. throwing you over his shoulder, metal hand on your ass to make sure you don't slip. holding you by your waist with your legs wrapped around his. it's rare for you to be with eustass and for him to not be carrying you, its like second nature to him. and this man gets so fussy if you want to be put down. softly growling in your ear "make me.." while tightening his grip on you, refusing you to wiggle free from his grasp.

-the red-haired captain is genuinely angry if he hears you, or anyone else, talk poorly about you. nothing pisses him off faster than hearing untrue statements about the love of his life. the piercing glare he'll shoot your way if you start to talk down to yourself could kill. eustass will pull you close to him, whispering in your ear, the slightest hint of a growl in his gruff voice as he says "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

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tags ♡: @3v37773 @twiishaa @dindjarins1ut @thepotatocatto @peachycat17 @irethepotato @dreamcastgirl99; want to join the taglist? click here!

a/n: i really struggled finishing this because it's lowkey hard to think straight with my head pounding but you'll have to pry my laptop out of my cold dead hands if you think i'm going to let being sick stop me from writing some fanfic 😌

a/n: also sorry for cutting law's part a little short, i literally can't look at my computer any longer 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[fictionalmenxyn]

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

Pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fingering, p in v, no mentions of protection (wrap it!), breeding, self pleasure (Rafe)

꥟꥟꥟

You had come over to hang out with Rafe. You both haven’t seen each other since yesterday since college was busy for you both. Rafe needed his daily dose of you, so he spammed texted you to sleepover.

So here you were, lying in his bed. Wearing just his old football jersey and a pair of Calvin Kline underwear. You laid in his bed watching tv. Rafe was playing cod with the guys. His headset on but one ear off just in case you wanted to chat or needed anything. He sat in his gaming chair at his desk. His eyes glued to the monitor, but occasionally glanced over to you.

You watched the tv on his wall, enjoying the company and finding it funny how the boys talk in chat.

You felt drowsy, your eyelids felt heavier each blink. You moved your head into the pillow more, turning over to lay on your stomach as you went to sleep.

Rafe glanced over to you as he heard you shift around in bed. His eyes raked over you. Seeing the jersey had rode up resting on your kid back. Showing off one of his favourite things about you, your ass. He could stare at it all day if he could. His hands on it most of the time. But it was the fact that you laid in his bed. Tangled up in the covers, wearing his jersey. Looking peaceful and relaxed, that made him hard in his sweatpants.

He groaned as he looked down at his sweats, seeing the newly formed tent. He didn’t bother putting on boxers as he had only just got out of the shower and just wanted to throw something on. Besides he does it most of the time when he lounges around.

He turned his attention back to the game. Trying to calm down the hard on in his sweats. But he can’t help but look over to you every so often. He couldn’t do anything about it yet. You were asleep. And he wasn’t the type to do such things without you knowing. He knew better.

He moved his right hand over his bulge. His controller in his left hand. The guys and himself were in the lobby of the game. Some of the guys either going to the bathroom or getting snacks. He quickly muted himself.

Moving his hand into his boxers, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Stroking the long length of his as he thought about you sat on top of him on his gaming chair. Like you have many times.

He just couldn’t budge it. Not even his hand was helping anymore. He had enough. He was going to climb into bed and sleep it off. He quickly made an excuse for him to end the game with the guys. He logged off and turned his ps5 off.

He climbed into bed beside you. Pulling you close to him. Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He soon fell asleep. Then to be only woken up at two in the morning. He groaned to himself when he felt his hips subconsciously grid against your side.

He was tried, so were you. But he had to get rid of it. And he’d know you’d most def would help him.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. Then whispering in his deep husky tired voice “baby… need you to wake up f’me…”

You turned over, rubbing your eye “hm?”

He grinned softly “c’mon… I need some help… you looked so good in my jersey earlier… I couldn’t shift it…” he pressed his hard on against your hip to show you.

You resting your forehead against his lips “but ‘m tired, Rafey…” “I know, I know, could you just stay awake? I’ll do all the work… just relaxed and help me out, yeah?” God his voice did things to you no one could ever explain. His raspy along with the deep mess of the accent and his overall tone. Sent shivers down your spine.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, then your neck. Gently turning you over and lifting your right thigh up more. He moved his hand along your side and down to your entrance.

His palm against you, already feeling your underwear to be damp. He smirked lazily “that’s my girl…” he moved his hand in slow, lazy circles.

You moaned softly, he pulled your underwear to the side. Moving his middle finger inside of you. He lazily pushed it in and out. Curling his finger every other time. You pushed your ass back into his hard on. Causing him to groan and rock his hips into you.

He slipped his ring finger into you next. Prepping you for him. Causing you to tiredly rock your hips against his hand.

He pulled his fingers away and move his hand into his sweats. He then tugged his sweats down just enough to let his cock out. He was hung. No doubt about it. All the girls in college would die to get what you got most nights. But you took it all the way each time. Nothing like the girls he had in the past. Nothing compares to you.

He ran his tip along your slit, gently pushing it inside. Causing you to moan softly. He went in, inch by inch.

He moved his hand to your jaw. Holding it and turn your head enough so he could kiss you. As he would lazily and slowly thrust in and out of you.

You liked this side of him. Most of the time you both were rough or loud. This was quiet and relaxing for a change.

He bit your bottom lip gently as he pulls away a little. He looked into your eyes with pure lust. His lips brushing against yours as he mumbled “so fucking tight f’me… best fucking pussy, all mine, baby, yeah? All mine…love it so much” you moaned softly. Looking into his eyes with tiredness and attraction. God the look you’re giving him right now drove him insane.

He kept moving his large length in you. He moved a little so he was on top of you more. Getting a better angle and also going deeper in you. Causing you to moan a little louder. He moved his left hand next to your head in the bed, stabilising himself. As his right went under the jersey and over your breast. Massaging your breast as he rest his forehead on the side of your head. He breathing heavy and ragged.

He felt you tighten around him, causing him to groan lowly “fuuuccckk…”

He picked up his pace, you were about to moan when he shoved his hand over your mouth gently. He whispered “gotta stay quiet, baby, I don’t want the guys hearing how good I make you feel… don’t wanna wake em up now, yeah?” You nodded.

As you feel your climax approaching, Rafe smirked. Knowing your body inside and out. He knew you were close. He picked up his pace more. The room filled with heavy breathing and cheek smacking.

Your jaw slackens as you tighten around him and finish. He groans “thaaatss it, come all over my cock, yeah? Mhm fuck, so hot…”

He moved his mouth to your ear “want me to come in ya? Want it, baby? I know you do, tell me, do you?” You nodded “yes, Rafey, want you too… so bad, please…” he smirked.

Feeling himself finishing in you was amazing. Knowing it was him that made you feel this good and him being the one to finish in you, was a dream to him.

He stayed there for a moment. Giving you a ‘thank you’ kiss. He mumbled against your cheek “thank you for helping, babe… did so good f’me… I’ll treat you in the morning, you don’t have class till the afternoon… I’ll eat you out all morning, hm? Wanna do it so bad, been craving you…”

You nodded eagerly, one of your favourite things he does was just that.

He gently pulled out, watching his seed go down your thigh. He grabbed some tissues on the side of his bed and wiped it. Knowing you’d probably not want to sleep with it all over you.

Tossing the tissue into the trash can. He laid back beside you. Pulling on his sweats again. And wrapping his arms around your waist. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall back asleep.

And best believe he kept his word for the next morning.

꥟꥟꥟

[a1ecmcdowell]

LIVEWIRE — jj maybank x reader.

livewire (n) — an energetic or unpredictable person; a force of nature. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthat boy is a livewire; he'll ruin you, or die trying.

. . . or, jj's crashout — featuring you.

includes, SEXUAL CONTENT! MDNI. kinda pwp. crashout!jj. best friend!fem!reader. forced proximity. high stakes. dirty talk. jj is vocal. p in v. unprotected sex ( do not do this they r just so ridiculous & horny ). ( semi ) public. he has absolutely no pullout game but he's forgiven for it </3

NOTES. if the door logic doesn't make any sense realistically ... that's not my business. i'm not writing for realism i'm writing for the JJ GIRLS who want 2 fuck CRASHOUT JJ. also my apology for the quote in the tagline ik its too soon still but i joke 2 cope.

Red and blue littered the autumnal afternoon sky, sirens overshadowing the lyrical chirps of the birds, the scattered winds blowing red and orange leaves down the Kildare streets. 

JJ Maybank is a fucking force to be reckoned with. In his wake, town hall’s alarms reared their deafening screeches, the aforementioned chilly winds blowing in handfuls of leaves to scatter the podiums and the foldout chairs. There’s a lone chair on its side in the middle of the well-kept grassy front courtyard. There’s glass burrowing itself in the dirt, reflecting the golden sun’s light at every which way when you turn your head. 

The other pogues are screaming at him to go, to run, and he’s shocked for a moment. Stood like a deer in headlights at the actions that he took. Who knew how much one boy was capable? All of the destruction that two hands could elicit? 

Oh, and what an empowering thought it is, too: realizing what you are capable of doing when you are pushed to the brink. 

There’s that look in his eyes, before he turns on his heels and takes off into the wood, disappearing like a speck in the small bit of forestry separating town hall from the rest of the downtown area. 

You know what that look means. This is merely the first in his rampage. Fire burns blue in the thin line of his irises, everything else overtaken by adrenaline and fucking rage. 

“Someone has to—” Kie starts, and you realize that you’ve been staring straight ahead at the trees he vanished into, eyes locked on the exact path he took. “Someone has to go, go make sure he’s okay—” 

Sarah’s eyes lock on yours. John B grimaces for a second, like he’s considering it, before he looks at you, too. Kie’s words, albeit vague, had never sounded so directed before. Pope—

Pope is getting tossed against the hood of a cop car, and suddenly, the pogues aren’t looking at you anymore. Their gazes break and shatter away from you like the shards of the window surrounding your feet. 

Your heart is racing. You. Chase him down. And what did they expect you to do? To tell him that this wasn’t him, and to stop while he’s ahead, and to hold his hand and guide him back to safety away from the cops’ sirens and cars that had already broken away from the crowd to hunt for him? 

No. This was JJ, and he wouldn’t stop while he was ahead, and he was going to take the cops on his tail like a challenge to keep going until he cracked — or they did. 

You were the only one that ever understood him, really. That was why their eyes immediately shifted to you when the topic came up that someone had to find him, because even while they wanted to help, they would only drive him further away. Not you. Never you. 

You’re turning on your heel and sprinting before anyone can realize what you’re doing. Not the screaming kooks, demanding lawyers and justice to the unlistening winds. Not the pogues, banging on the remaining cop cars to free him, free Pope, stop this fucking madness— 

It’s like a thin line is painted on the ground between you and JJ. An invisible rope, loose but growing more taut the closer you follow on his tail. 

You follow it. Follow that red string into the trees, letting it tug you along until you break out of the shadowy wood and onto main street. 

A car alarm blares. Glass shards on the trunk of it, surrounding the asphalt around it. You slow to a stop to avoid catching any of those sharp, loose pieces in your shoes. Even now that the imaginary red line has faded, you can see traces of where he went in the path of destruction he made. 

A shop’s window busted a few feet away from the car. A street pole sparking and buzzing lowly, electricity humming through the air like a siren’s song, tempting anyone it came across to touch it. Touch the livewire. 

Just a few feet away, there he is. JJ has an outdoor seating chair in his two hands, and he’s seconds from tossing it through the glass window of the cafe it was in front of. 

“JJ!” You shout, your voice faint beneath the sound of the car alarm, the sparking of the electrical fire, the hum of electricity buzzing all around you. 

His head swivels to look back at you, and he looks fucking vicious. He looks like no matter what you say, he’s not going to stop. Not here. The electricity coming from the dented-in box on the street pole is feeding directly into his veins. 

“Not supposed t’be here,” he calls back, and now that fury is directed at you. As if he ever could have stopped you from following the breadcrumbs he only ever left for you. “Can’t fuckin’ stop me.” 

You crunch glass beneath your feet as you run toward him. It’s too late to do anything about the cafe window; its pieces spill onto the glossy wood floor, some splayed onto the sidewalk. 

“Who said I’d try and stop you?” You ask him once you’re close enough. His hand runs through his mussed blonde hair, tugging the strands straight up. 

His eyes flit to you, eyebrows raised behind the loose strands falling back down over them. “M’not letting you get into this shit, too,” he says just as sternly. “It’s my fuckin’ life I’m ruining.” 

“Why?” you ask him, and it is a genuine question, even though you don’t think he’s going to answer. So you start to spit out your own theories. “Because of your dad? Because of what Luke did?” 

His eyes drop to the ground, squinting like he’s looking for something through the shards surrounding his feet. The bat. The end of it sticks out in front of your shoes. 

You bend down to grab it, holding the hitting end out toward him. His eyes are so dark when they glance at it, and then back up to you. His eyes were always oceanic, but now they seemed to be drowned out by the stormy black clouds that were his pupils. 

JJ’s eyes linger on yours. He’s never really made an effort to read you before, more of a take it on the chin sort of guy when it came to how people were, and what they meant to him. But he studied you now, and it was almost unnerving, trying to guess what exactly he saw reflected back to him. 

His fingers close around the hitting end of the bat in a tight grip, using it to pull you closer to him. He’s holding it out to the side, just so that it can’t go taut and rigid between the two of you, allowing you to be tugged closer than you would have been able to be. 

His breaths come in furious pants, audible once you were close to him. He was a livewire. He was sparking, burning everything he touched, trying to take it all to the ground. 

Destruction was always so pretty when it was at his hands. He did everything with purpose, whether it was for the good of who he cared about, or for his own grievances. 

And this sort of destruction, the kind you saw his eyes fall into once you were close enough to share breaths? It was golden and fiery, and full of promise that would break the thin line between your friendship and something else. 

You knew it in the same way that you knew how to follow that red, invisible line to him. Red because it was a bad idea, a waving red flag, telling you to stop, stop, stop. But it connected the both of you, regardless of its color; so how were you expected to?

“Feelin’ hungry?” JJ asks, voice low and almost sinful with the way that it rasped. 

You don’t mean to balk, but you do. It wasn’t a question you expected him to ask, but the double meaning in it, the innuendo laced words, had you stifling on your own words. “For what?” 

The bat slips from his grip, and it falls to hang loosely at your side. “We broke it, we buy it,” he says with a nod toward the shattered gap in the cafe’s window. “Or… not buy it.” His eyebrows bounce when he looks at you, and he leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Did you think I was talkin’ about something else?” 

Your face flushes. Then, you drop the bat to shove at his chest with both hands. “Shut up.” 

“What, you feelin’ all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tryna get some fugitive dick before it’s tossed in the slammer?” 

Your face is hot, the trail of heat from your reddened cheeks traveling like a river stream to your lower stomach. “Shut up, JJ,” you seethe, though it has none of the fire you wish it did. You didn’t know why; you had so much of it running through your blood then that it should have made you sound more fiery than you did. 

“Uh huh,” JJ cackles, his hand lifting to the back of your shoulder, pushing you toward the broken window. Once you’re a few steps ahead of him, his hand claps on your ass. “Andele, andele! Cops on the horizon.” 

It takes every bit of your willpower to not whirl around and smack him back. You don’t, because unfortunately for you, the sting only adds to your stomach becoming molten liquid, and for the other, more pressing matter, of the cops’ lights glowing red and blue at the very end of the street. 

You duck into the hole in the glass, feet crunching down on pieces of glass and debris. He follows immediately after, though when he slips into the building, it’s more stumbling than anything graceful. 

“Head t’the back,” he huffs, nodding toward the push-to-open door behind the front counter. “M’not gettin’ fucking caught before I fuck up that goddamn realtor’s house.” 

Arguing with him is a bit useless. JJ’s never been one to listen to anyone when his mind is set on something. You knew this from the moment that you took off in his direction to find him. Still, you almost open your mouth to make the effort to stop him, so at least you could say you did try. 

He cuts in front of you, stepping around the chair he tossed through the window, hopping over the countertop. He stops when he’s leaned against the door, holding it propped for you. 

“I’d say ladies first, but someone’s takin’ their sweet ass time,” he prods, nodding in gesture to the kitchen. 

You scoff, shaking your head, as you circle around the counter, shoving your shoulder into him when you duck underneath his arm. “Some of us aren’t so akin with vandalism.” 

“Some of us,” JJ mocks, his fingers digging into your ribcage as he falls into step behind you, “need t’lighten the hell up.” 

“I’m sorry, but are the cops not literally outside? End of the road?” It’s useless to humor him and his pestering, but it makes your heart beat a little bit faster, so who are you to make it easier for him and just go along with his ploys? 

He tsks. “Semantics.” His head spins around as he takes in the room surrounding them; typical bakery style kitchen, mixers and cutting boards and ovens, sinks lined up on the back wall. There’s tall fridges and deep freezes on one side of the wall, and parallel to it was— “Aha, there we go.” 

JJ cuts in front of you again, doing a little hop and a skip as he bumps his hip into this new door, tugging the handle down as he opens it. “Pantry, or whatever,” he scoffs, his face twisting up, “doesn’t matter to me what the hell it is. Gonna have to camp out in here, you and I.” 

Of course you were. You’d signed up for this, getting involved in this round of his criminalistic habits, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have the right to be annoyed. Weren’t you lot chased by the police enough as is? 

Still, you step into the pantry, the smell of chocolate chips and something else sugary hitting your nostrils the moment you’re inside. Boxes of ingredients line the shelves, including the ziploc bag of chocolate chips. 

JJ’s snatching it up before you can even process it, diving his hand into it and popping the handful between his plush lips. “Told you. Break it, we bought it.” 

Your eyes roll. Vandalism and theft. Probably a hefty sentence, nothing that either of you could afford with Poguelandia on the brink of destruction and your debts already piled high. 

He zips the bag back up and tosses it back on the shelf. “Walkin’ around like you got a stick up your ass, sweetheart,” JJ muses, his fingers closing around your elbow. “Told y’to relax, didn’t I?”

“No,” you say slowly in response. “You told me to lighten the hell up.” 

One side of his mouth quirks in a half smile, dimple gracing his cheek in the process. “Semantics,” he repeats, and he uses the grip he has on your arm to tug you back into his chest. “I could help you lighten the hell up.” 

“I sincerely doubt it, JJ,” you huff, your expression as unimpressed as one’s could be. “You’re the entire reason—” 

His mouth crashes against yours before you can finish that sentence. His mouth is as soft as it looks, the inner shell of his lips chapped. He tastes like weed, like the taste of it is so familiar in his mouth that it embedded itself into his taste. 

You almost don’t kiss back. It’s one of those things that feels like a bad idea because it is. That pointless rule about no kissing on other pogues went out the window the moment Kie and Pope got their hands on each other, but it still felt wrong, to break one of the rules that cemented the glue that held this group together. 

You kiss him back anyways. The moment that you start to respond to his advances, his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, pushing his way in. He starts walking the both of you backwards, deeper into the pantry, until your back hits the wall. 

JJ’s hands drop to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly to wrap your legs around his waist. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him further in until his chest presses against yours. 

His hands let go of you, the press of his body against yours on the wall and your legs tight around his waist keep you held up. His fingers close around the hem of your dress’s skirt, tugging it up. 

Your eyes pop open, falling down to your exposed panties pressed against his denim jeans. When you glance back up at him, lips still lightly pressed to his, they’re blue again, and glimmery. 

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, stealing another kiss in the process. “Just… tryna get your mind off of—” 

“The manhunt?” You finish for him, and he laughs breathlessly against your mouth. 

“Mm, m’not doing a great job at distracting you, then,” he teases, one of his hands letting go of your dress, the other fisting the fabric as he holds it up. The free hand’s fingers slide down, down, down, until their tips are pressed on the edge of your panties. So close he could probably feel the slickness leaking through the fabric. 

“This all for me, baby?” he asks with that infuriating amusement curled around his words. “Or is it the danger of all this, too? Like bein’ an outlaw with little ol’ me?”

You aren’t even going to dignify him with an answer. Your bottom lip wedges itself between your teeth, your hands curling into fists against the fabric of his shirt. 

His middle finger starts to rub slow, lazy circles over your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your panties, his lips parted like he’s going to say something stupid about the whine that falls from your mouth—

When the sirens get so loud that it echoes around the small pantry. They don’t dissipate, either, which means…

“The door,” you choke out, nodding behind JJ to the pantry door. He’d shut it behind the both of you, but there’s a lock by the top of it, one of those chain link ones. “The lock—” You try to clarify, your brain a bit muddled. 

JJ’s head turns to glance behind him, and you watch his eyes dance up to the chain, too. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Such a damn worrier.” 

“I’m not—” 

Always useless arguing with him. He cuts you off by gripping at your thighs again with his lithe fingers, lifting you off of the wall and tugging you into his chest. 

You grab fistfuls of his shirt so you don’t fall backwards at the sudden movement, your lips curled into a scowl. 

He doesn’t seem to notice. He holds you in his arms as he walks to the door, pressing your back against this one so he can remove one hand from your leg, and lifts it to chain the lock. 

“Better?” he teases, and you’re about to scowl at him again when you watch the smile drop from his lips. 

Just as suddenly as he’d yanked you from the wall, he’s dropping to the ground, your body falling right along with him, knees crashing into the hardwood floors as you land into straddling him. Your mouth opens to gasp, or swear, or gasp and swear, when his fingers close over your lips. 

The cops. You hear them, then, the muffled voices and muddled words. Through the crack beneath the door behind JJ’s planted ass, you see their flashlights, too. 

His eyes meet yours, and he nods once, his expression grim. You blink, and his eyes are again filled with that glimmering mischief that never, in his life, has meant something good. 

And it was truly delinquent of him this time, as his hands drop to the button and fly of his jeans. Your mouth opens and closes in protest, because there’s no way he’s thinking that you two are going to fuck on some cafe’s pantry’s floor with cops right there—

“Oh, get that look offa your face,” he whispers, nosing your chin up and stealing a kiss when you’ve met his eyes again. “As long as you be quiet, what’s the big deal?” 

“You have nothing but awful ideas in that head of yours,” you snap in a low whisper, through your gritted teeth. “I’m not having sex with you right now—” 

JJ’s eyebrows raise. His eyes fall down to your slickened thighs, to the panties beneath the dress pooling his waist that he knows are wet with your arousal. 

“Fuck you.” It’s so pathetic to say, such a weak argument, but it’s the only thing that you can even think right now. Your heart is pounding in your chest with adrenaline and need and the fact that you can feel his hard dick straining in his jeans against your pussy.

JJ tips his head in a nod, his lips still quirked. “Aye aye, captain.” 

He undoes the restraints on his jeans, and his fingers disappear into the flyguard. Your eyes bounce between his face and his hands, his expression contorted in pure concentration that would be adorable if it wasn’t so seriously not. His tongue’s poking between his teeth, panting like an excited puppy, and you just want to—

“Hop on, baby,” he says triumphantly, and those stupid lips curl into an even more stupid grin. His hands pat his thighs to draw your attention downward. 

Fuck.

Your eyes must darken at the sight of him, hard and leaking precum, because he starts cackling like there aren’t police on the other side of the door, trying to cuff him and throw him in the backseat of a police car. “C’mon. Don’t be stingy now, baby, I see how bad you want it.” 

There are rare moments that JJ is right. Broken clocks right twice a day, or something like that. When he’s right, he’s always dead on, and it’s infuriating. 

You glance up at the little window in the door, and for then, at least, it’s clear. No shining flashlights beaming into the pantry you’re both camping in… 

You make bad decisions far less than JJ does. Still, like broken clocks, you both align sometimes. 

Lifting your hips off of his lap, his hands grasp at the backs of your thighs, guiding you onto his waiting cock, slapping it lightly against your pussy a couple of times before he lines himself up and drags the swollen head of it down your folds beneath your panties. He doesn’t give any warning before he pushes himself into you, a hard thrust that brings him all the way to the hilt at once.

Your lips fall open in a sharp gasp, and just barely does his hand make it over your mouth before the moan falls out of your mouth. One hand over your mouth, the other on your ass, guiding you into moving.

“As much as I love that mouth of yours,” JJ groans into your ear, low and rough like the words are being pried out of his lungs and torn through his ribs, “gonna have to keep it down this time.” 

He’s such a fucking hypocrite, though — the moment you adjust to the size of him filling you completely, stretching your inner walls to accommodate to him, and you start to move on your own? His head tips back against the door, guttural moans underneath his breath. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he manages, and you slam down on him again, his hand dragging your hips forward to grind your aching pussy against his pelvis in slow circles. “Oh, fuck, baby—” 

“Shut up,” you muffle through his hand, even though it’s getting to you too, his palm stifling every gasp and breathy whimper before it leaves your parted lips. 

His hand clasps tighter around your mouth, his heavy, half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “You’re not the one in control here, baby.” 

It’s easy to forget, with him stretching you out and being relatively gentle right now, that he’s higher than he’s ever been. Adrenaline turns people into carcasses of themselves; wearing them down to the bone, using every scrap of energy available. 

His blown pupils are glimmering with it. He’s daring you with nothing but a look to see what happens when you keep running your mouth. His hand relents its hold on your mouth, and the other stills your hips as you stay suspended halfway down his cock.

The whine you let out is something you’ll deny later. The gravelly laugh he lets out is something that indicates he won’t let you. 

JJ smears his hand across your mouth, taking the saliva from the corner of your lips and spreading it across them, your cheek, before his two fingers slide into your mouth. “Not so bossy now, are you, baby?” he asks under his breath, as he thrusts his fingers in and out, as he slams his hips up in that same relentless pace as them. “Not so bossy when I’m fucking that mouth and that pretty little pussy.” 

His words burn from your lower stomach to up your spine, electric everywhere they reach. You can do nothing but take it, your hands on his shoulders for some sense of stability. 

Each thrust has the tip of his cock against your cervix, has his fingers clawing along your tongue as he presses them down on it just enough to pry your jaw open. 

“Lemme see that smile, sweetheart,” he murmurs, those two fingers spreading out into a V, forcing the corners of your lips up and into a wide grin. You sneer, and all that does is make him pound into you harder. “Don’t act so fuckin’ fussy, you’re gettin’ what you wanted, aren’t ya?” 

His fingers press on your tongue again, and your lips close around them again. It’s a good distraction from the way you want to scream. Not like you’d ever put that thought in his head with his ego. 

JJ slows his pace, but each thrust is just as hard, so deep in you that you can feel each of them, each minute detail; the thick head of his cock against your cervix, every inch that stretches you further with each of those thrusts, the obscene sound in the silent room of skin slapping against skin. 

“Baby, m’not gonna last much longer,” JJ pants into your ear, his voice still as rough but with an air of desperation. “Not like this, not with how fuckin’ good you’re bein’ for me, nice and quiet while I fuck your juicy pussy— fuck, baby.” 

He drags his fingers over your lips again, this time down, down the valley between your breasts, your stomach, your navel, until they’re planted right in the hot wetness of your folds. They find your clit and begin to rub the swollen nub, slow and gentle and completely at odds with the brutal fucking. 

You’re good, though, even without his hand covering your mouth. Even with—

A flashlight beams through the glass window above the both of you. Your eyes glance up to see it, and JJ’s staring at the spotlight of gold in the center of the room, just inches from his extended legs.

It flicks left, right, and you see the glimmer in the eyes of the officer right there, face pressed to the glass, hear the doorknob jangle against the chained lock—

JJ doesn’t stop. His pace becomes quicker, more erratic, more desperate. Your jaw trembles with the effort to keep your parted lips from making any sound at all, the precipice so close that you’re terrified of whatever noise is going to come out of your mouth when you cum. 

The beam from the light swings away, disappearing as the officer walks away, muffled words through the walls separating you and JJ from them. 

It’s just in time, too, because you cum with a soft and breathless gasp, your walls pulsing around his cock, your head falling forward to bury into his collar. His moans begin to shudder in your ear, and you know that he, too, is cumming. Feel it seconds later, when your head starts to clear from the haze of ecstasy, as the warmth of his cum fills you, his cock twitching inside of you. 

JJ lifts his fingers from between your legs and pops them into his mouth, the sound of him sucking the essence of you off of them making your legs tremble around him. “Like fuckin’ sin,” he whispers reverently. 

He’s so pretty like this. All spent and molten, softening cock inside of you like an extension of you now. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing stray hairs off of your face in the process. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, just as reverently as before, voicing the same thoughts you’d been having about him. 

“You’re so stupid,” you say in response, not capable of telling him how much you love him, feeling it to be the wrong time, too cheesy, another thing he’ll tease you about later. 

It’s there, though, on the tip of your tongue. I love you. And you do, so much that it aches. This man that’d been your best friend since you could remember anything. This man who sacrificed everything constantly for everyone. 

He wouldn’t have to sacrifice anything anymore, you wanna say. He could rest now, you wanted to say, too. 

But it feels wrong. And there’s always another time to tell him when it doesn’t just seem like bliss-driven thoughts. There’s always another day.

notes, thoguht my grief was over but the ending made me cry for some reason that's how u know this death hit deep bc why am i crying over like four lines in a Smut pls

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

I Could Give You A Ride

✰ summary: would you want to give a ride to a bartender you randomly meet at a bar? oh, i think you do. but don't forget, it could end earlier than you expect!

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (bartender!choso x fem!reader, alcohol use, mature language, drunk reader, kissing, neck kissing, tit sucking, reader is riding choso's fingers, quick ending because of choso's excitement lol)

✰ a little note: i originally planned a completely different ending, but i ended it in another way with this silly and funny idea that came to mind. i love my cute emo boy Choso <3

✰ word count: 3.4k

I guess it was about time.

Yes, it was definitely time, because you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself back. Watching like a creep wasn’t an option anymore; you had to take action. That way, you could confirm your certification as an official creep.

But every time you hyped yourself up, telling yourself “I’m doing it now!” your enthusiasm would fizzle out, and you’d return to sipping your drink.

Why had you even come here in the first place?

After a long work week, you definitely deserved a drink. And, as luck would have it, the handsome and sweet bartender came as a bonus with great cocktails.

Sitting in the right corner of the wide bar, nursing your fourth mojito, and sneaking glances at the bartender, you couldn’t help the unnecessary fluttering inside you. It had all started last week when one of your close girlfriends discovered this place. It might’ve been a bit too quiet for a girls’ night out, but as long as you were gossiping, nothing else mattered.

One of your friends had been mid-sip when she suddenly froze, pointing toward the handsome bartender making drinks at the counter. You, along with the rest of your friends, had turned to stare, mouths agape, as he shook the cocktail shaker like a pro.

“Oh my God… I wish he’d shake me like that,” your friend had blurted.

Eyes still glued to the emo bartender behind the bar, you’d replied, “Since when are emos this hot?”

The shock of your words had been enough to grab all your friends’ attention because it had been ages since you’d expressed interest in anyone.

“I knew there was still hope! Finally, someone’s got you wet,” one of them teased.

Rolling your eyes, you’d shot back, “Girls I only said he’s hot, okay? Anyway, he can be as cute and attractive as he wants, but he’s definitely not someone I’d want to sleep with. Can we stop being creeps and get back to our girls’ night?”

Despite their reluctance, they’d agreed, and the evening had continued.

Of course, you wanted to sleep with him. That feeling had been there from the moment you first saw him. Ever since that girls’ night, all you could think about was that bartender going down on you, giving you orgasms over and over again.

As you racked your brain over how to return to this bar, you finally gave in to temptation and dragged yourself here on a Friday as a well-earned reward.

Sure, you wanted to see the hot emo bartender again, but the cocktail you were sipping was a nice bonus.

When you walked in, there had been empty tables around, but you’d chosen a seat at the bar instead. After all, you’d come here for one reason.

When you locked eyes with the bartender, he smiled at you and walked over, politely asking what you’d like. After ordering your mojito, you’d watched him intently as he prepared it.

The way he precisely measured the ingredients and poured them into the shaker, the way his tattooed, muscular arms flexed as he shook it—it had you pressing your thighs together, trying (and failing) to ease the ache between your legs.

Apparently, emos could be insanely attractive.

Lost in your admiration of the hot bartender, you’d snapped out of it when he placed your finished cocktail in front of you. Your eyes darted from the drink to him, noticing the self-assured smirk on his face as if he knew you’d been ogling him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you’d managed a flustered thank you before taking a sip. His smirk had only widened as he walked back to the center of the bar to prepare another drink.

The pattern repeated itself after that. You’d raise your empty glass for another order, he’d collect it with a smile, and you’d shamelessly ogle him as he made an even better mojito than the last.

How long could this go on? You weren’t sure. You wanted to talk to him, to get to know him, but the fear of rejection kept holding you back. It didn’t help that you hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in ages, so your confidence was shot. Besides, he was working. Why would he stop everything to chat with you? It felt ridiculous.

Maybe the timing just wasn’t right. Or maybe you were just lying to yourself.

Lost in thought, you stared at the remnants of your mojito when a small shadow appeared in front of you. Lifting your head, you found yourself staring into a pair of beautifully lined eyes.

His face held a mix of a smile and an inquisitive expression, as if he were trying to figure you out. The woody scent of his cologne surrounded you, and whether it was the alcohol or not, the sight of his tattooed forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves made him look extra tempting.

Had they been this good the first time you saw him? Oh, absolutely.

You wanted to take back everything you’d said last week because you definitely wanted to fuck him now.

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

You stood there speechless, continuing to stare at the bartender you found so attractive. When you finally managed to collect your words and decided to speak, you answered in a soft voice, “Uhmm, I don’t know.”

He laughed sincerely at your response. He’d smiled at you before, but hearing him chuckle like this stirred a completely different feeling inside you.

“Usually, people on their sixth drink are in party mode, but for you, it seems to be causing depression.”

You were never someone whose mood dropped when drinking. On the contrary, you became more cheerful and energetic. And yet, here you were, struggling not to press your lips against this emo bartender’s—

Wait. Did he say sixth drink? Because you were pretty sure you were just about to finish your fourth.

With a puzzled expression, you asked, “Sixth drink?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re on your sixth one now.”

Shit. There was no way you were drunk. Who even gets drunk on cocktails? Sure, six might be a bit much, but you’d definitely had more before.

Covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, you tried to process what had just happened. But that warm, masculine chuckle reached your ears again, and you slowly pulled your hands away to look at him.

“I should’ve stopped you after your fourth. I noticed your eyes starting to droop a little,” he said, his face showing a hint of concern. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Oh, no, thanks. Normally, I’m a pretty resilient drinker.”

“Sure, I can see that,” he teased, his tone playful and a little mocking.

His words stung a little, so you frowned and tried to prove your point. “I’m serious. I could have six glasses of whiskey and still be perfectly fine.”

Determined to show him you were still steady, you attempted to stand up—only to stumble slightly, prompting the sexy bartender to reach out and steady you.

His long, veiny arms reached across the bar to catch you, holding you firmly. And wow, how many tattoos did this man have?

“Jesus, you scared me, sweetheart.”

Plenty of people had called you “sweetheart” before, but you weren’t sure anyone had ever said it as beautifully as he just did.

“Your voice is so… soft.” You weren’t sure why you said that. You probably should’ve just thanked him for catching you, but instead, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

“If you sit back down on the stool, I can talk to you more. What do you say?”

Within a second, your drunk self processed his words and obediently sat back on the stool. All for the sake of hearing that soft, beautiful voice again.

“Okay, you can talk now, emo boy.”

“Huh! So you’ve already given me a nickname,” he said, leaning on the bar as he got closer to you. “Tell me, did you come up with it while secretly staring at me all this time?”

Well, so you weren’t a secret creep. Apparently, you were a very obvious one. At least that made you a little less terrifying. You felt your cheeks heat up. You didn’t know how he’d noticed you watching him, but in your drunken state, you gave the best response you could muster.

“Guess I’m not the only creep who likes staring at people.”

The handsome bartender’s cheeks flushed at your remark, and you let out a small laugh. There was nothing cuter than a flustered guy.

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“What can I say? I love making handsome bartenders blush when I’m drunk.” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, gently caressing them. It felt like you were touching the softest thing in the world. He closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying your touch. But then his sharp voice broke the moment. “If you keep this up, I’ll bend you over this counter and fuck you so hard that make you scream loud enough to scare off all the customers.”

Your eyes widened in shock. That had to be your drunk mind playing tricks on you. There was no way he’d actually said that. You were just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you said, as if to reassure yourself of the truth.

“Okay?” he repeated, confused.

“I accept, emo boy.”

He let out a sweet laugh. “You accept me bending you over the bar and fucking you until you scream?”

“Uh-huh, exactly that.”

“I only said it so you’d sober up and realize what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

A small pang of disappointment hit you. No, scratch that—it was a huge pang of disappointment. For a second, you’d hoped he meant it, that he actually wanted you.

Sure, he could make amazing cocktails, but if he didn’t take the number-one bartender rule—never play with drunk customers—seriously, then he clearly wasn’t taking his job seriously either.

“Uh, I see. I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice low as you averted your gaze to the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

“Shit, I—look, it’s 11:30 right now, and we close in half an hour. I can’t let you go home alone in this state, so please—”

You interrupted him, your tone tinged with irritation. “That’s not necessary. I can handle myself.” You pulled out your wallet, placed some money on the counter, and said, “The drinks were great. Have a good night.”

Fueled by your disappointment, you sobered up just enough to stand without stumbling and made your way to the exit.

But before you could leave, you felt a hand on your arm. Turning around, you locked eyes with the “cute, handsome, and deceitful bartender.” He looked at you with a sorrowful expression, like a wounded deer. He knew full well he’d hurt you.

Closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh and began to apologize for your unnecessary outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and overreacting to everything. There was nothing wrong with what you said. I’m just a regular customer, and honestly, I shouldn’t have touched you like that in the first place. I’m really—”

“Please let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. I can’t let you go like this on your own.”

How could you say no to that? He looked like a sad puppy, waiting for your forgiveness. And as much as you wanted to storm off and leave, deep down, the thought of being out alone at this hour scared you.

“Waiting half an hour wouldn’t hurt,” you said, offering him a small smile.

The bartender seemed to understand that you’d let go of your anger, and he returned your smile. He guided you to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area and promised to finish up quickly so he could join you.

The seats were much softer here. Sure, you’d endured the hard barstool for the handsome bartender, but this felt like heaven. Setting your bag beside you and leaning back, you closed your eyes. You told yourself you’d just rest them for a moment. But you didn’t realize when sleep took over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you woke up, your eyes opened easily. The bar was dimly lit, with only a faint glow above the counter. The customers had left, and the handsome bartender was sitting on one of the stools, engrossed in his phone.

Why hadn’t he woken you up?

As you got up and walked toward him, he looked up from his phone and turned his gaze to you. That beautiful smile, which suited him so well, appeared on his face.

“Hey, you’re awake. I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you could use the rest to sober up. Feeling better?”

He didn’t have to be this sweet. You silently swore to yourself that you’d never come here again, but his kindness only made you like him even more.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let out everything you’d been holding inside. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I saw you last week. I came here today, using the excuse of treating myself, just to come here and see you again. I’m not good at this, and it makes me really nervous. You made it clear you’re not interested, but I still wanted to tell you how I feel, even if I never get to see you again.” By the time you finished speaking, you realized you were out of breath. You had blurted everything out in one go. You might’ve embarrassed yourself further, but at least you felt relieved.

“So, you’re saying you’re a professional creep?” His tone was anything but serious, and when you looked at him, you noticed the barely contained laughter on his face.

You started laughing, a mix of nerves and amusement, and nodded. Pulling your phone from your bag, you checked the time—12:30 AM.

“It’s late; I should—Hmph.” Your words were cut off by his lips pressing against yours. It wasn’t the first time you’d been interrupted tonight by him, but if all interruptions were like this, you’d gladly welcome them.

You dropped your phone and bag to the floor, letting your hands find their way to his long, black hair. The man in front of you kissed you with passion—not rushed, but deliberate, as if he’d been craving your lips all night.

When he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to carry you to the bar counter. His lips tasted of mint and strawberry.

Alright, you definitely needed to ask him about that lip balm later.

When he pulled back to catch his breath, you managed to speak. “I thought you weren’t interested in me?”

His light-colored eyes, framed by black eyeliner, stared at you guiltily. “Since the moment you sat on that stool, all I’ve wanted was to taste your lips.” His fingers brushed over your lips gently. “So fucking full and soft. I know the rest of you is just like this, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in to kiss you again, you stopped him, finally asking the question that had been on your mind since the moment you saw him. “Are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you planning to keep the mystery alive?”

He kissed you softly before pulling back. “Choso.”

“Hmmm, do you know what I’m thinking right now, Choso?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

“You’re going to give me a ride home tonight, but in return, I want to ride you too.”

His eyes widened, and even in the dim light, you could see his cheeks flush. For someone who looked so tough, he was surprisingly shy. Leaning into his ear, you whispered, “Will you let me?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his earlier dominance now replaced with a more submissive tone.

“Then take me to the lounge area, Choso.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Choso carried you to the lounge. As he walked, you placed wet kisses along his neck, occasionally nibbling his skin, which earned soft groans from him.

When he sat down on the couch, he placed you on his lap. His hands found your breasts, kneading them gently, while his lips latched onto your neck. You weren’t sure which of his actions was more pleasurable—the way his lips sucked on the sensitive spots of your neck, or the way his fingers teased your nipples through your clothes.

Why choose when you could have both?

“Shit—Choso, this feels so good. Please… I don’t just want your fingers,” you moaned eagerly.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging at your top.

“Yes, please.”

The moment he got your top off, leaving you bare before him, his hands stilled, and he stared at your breasts. He looked like a child who had finally gotten the toy they’d been dreaming of, his mouth slightly open in awe. Slowly, he lowered his head to your right breast, placing soft kisses around it.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured between kisses. “Absolutely *smooch* perfect *smooch* and *smooch* so soft.”

After kissing all around your breast, he let his tongue flick over your nipple. When your moan filled the room, he glanced up at you and licked it again, this time keeping his gaze locked with yours. Once he broke eye contact, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently.

“Oh, God, Choso—fuck, fuck… they’re so sensitive,” you whimpered. The way he suckled your nipple made you feel like you might lose your mind. When his fingers found your other nipple and began teasing it, you arched your back and tangled your hands in his hair, silently begging for this to never end.

“Choso—I’m—I’m—”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice breathless. “Fuck, sweetheart, I could come just from sucking on your tits.”

“Do you want me to suck your—”

He placed a wet kiss between your breasts and looked into your eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight is about you. I just want to make you feel good.”

His hands slipped under your skirt, tugging your black thong down your hips before his fingers brushed along your slick folds.

“Choso—ugh, please, just put them in,” you begged.

Obliging, he slid one finger inside you, pumping slowly at first.

His long, thick finger found your G-spot almost immediately, pressing against it in just the right way. As your moans grew louder, he added a second finger and increased his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with more urgency.

“Shit—shit, you’re so tight. If I fuck this pussy, I’ll come in two seconds,” he muttered, his voice strained as if he was barely holding himself together.

“Ahhh, Choso, right there—right—UGHH CHOSO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You cried out as his teeth gently bit down on your other nipple. Your hands found his hair again as you whimpered, “More—I want more.”

Noticing the way your hips bucked to meet his movements, Choso chuckled against your skin. “I think—I think I’m falling for you. I’ve never seen a pussy this—fuck—this wet before.”

“It’s all for you, Choso. Just—just keep going, and I’m going to—ughhh.”

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Choso let out a low growl, swearing under his breath as your hips stilled. He gently pumped his fingers inside you a few more times before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, licking up every drop of your release.

As you lay there catching your breath, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his shy, muffled voice.

“Uh, um… can we take a little break?”

Though you didn’t know why, you nodded understandingly. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed. “You—you didn’t notice?”

Laughing at how adorably flustered he looked, you leaned in and kissed him softly. “Notice what, emo boy? If it’s about how good you fingered me, I think we both know how much I enjoyed it.”

“That’s not it…”

Now you were genuinely concerned. “Choso, I don’t understand. What happened?”

Avoiding your gaze, he glanced around the room before finally meeting your eyes with a resigned sigh. “I… I came, too.”

“Oh…”

Alright. You hadn’t noticed that.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, you burst into laughter, making his embarrassment even worse. Determined to make it up to him, you gave him the best blowjob of his life.

And then, as promised, you rode him until you were both drenched in sweat, your moans echoing loud enough for anyone outside to hear.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

choso kamo art by @yappdoll on X.

[iichfilwypj]

treasure box | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x reader ღ warnings: none! ღ wc: 757

“Hurry, get into my room before my mom sees you and starts talking your ear off!” She giggled as Percy held her hand, gently pulling her after him.

They stepped into his room, and she couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on the familiar blue walls, the car posters, and the soft gray comforter she hadn’t seen in what felt like ages.

If she loved anything more than her own house, it was being at his place. 

They sank to the floor, their backs leaning against the bed. Percy instinctively moved as close to her as he could; those two weeks she’d been away on vacation had been agonizing for him.

“Please, tell me everything. What are the beaches like?”

They started chatting, with her describing her trip and him listening carefully, asking a question now and then to make sure she kept talking. He had to admit, he had missed hearing her speak more than he cared to say.

At some point, when Percy was in the kitchen getting them some drinks, she remembered the little something she’d brought for her boyfriend. She hurried to her backpack and dug out the blue seashell she’d picked up.

It was lovely, with different tones of his favorite color and tiny white specks that sparkled. Definitely pretty. She stared at it for a while, suddenly realizing how silly the gift seemed.

Come on, he could probably dive to the depths of the sea and collect a whole bunch of them. 

“Oh, what’s that?” Suddenly, the boy entered the room, setting the glasses down on the bedside table and moving behind her. He rested his jaw softly against her shoulder and peeked at what she was holding.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She tried to tuck it away again, but he covered her hands with his, stopping her. She sighed, a little flustered. “It’s a gift. It’s kind of  dumb, really… I don’t know, I saw it and thought of you-”

“It’s the prettiest seashell I’ve ever seen, love.” He interrupted her, and though she didn’t turn, she felt Percy’s smile against her neck, followed by the lightest kiss pressed there. “I love it!”

He held the gift, studying it carefully under the loving gaze of his girlfriend, who had turned to look at him.

Without a word, he made his way to the desk, opened a drawer,  and pulled out a white wood box. She moved closer, her gaze following every movement as he used a small key from the drawer to unlock it. 

“What do you have there?” She asked, her voice filled with intrigue. Percy turned to face her, lowered himself onto the bed, and gently patted the space next to him, encouraging her to sit by his side.

“Look,” he said once she was beside him. “this is like my little collection of you. Gifts, things you leave behind, things that remind me of you… See this? It’s the bracelet you made for me a few months ago! And this earring? You left it here when you lost the other one –I held onto it, just in case you ever found its match.” 

He carefully showed her each item inside: photographs from the early days of their relationship, ticket stubs from every date, and even the smallest gifts she had given him. He had kept everything, every little detail they had shared since they met.

But what stunned her most wasn’t the collection itself, but the way he remembered each detail; each memory, each moment, and even the feelings those tokens had stirred in him.

She stood on the brink of tears when he finally finished showing her everything.

“This is so beautiful, I never expected anyone to do something like this for me.” She said, watching him as he slid the seashell back into the box and set it back in its place.

“Why wouldn't I do that?” He crouched in front of her, holding both of her hands in his and caressing them tenderly.

He truly couldn’t understand it; this girl deserved the world, and anything she offered should be protected and cared for like a little piece of herself she was giving him.

“I love you, and I love everything that comes with you.” He finished, giving her hands a kiss. "Every thing, moment, and detail I share with you is a treasure -I need to keep it somewhere, don't I?"

She smiled, leaning in and wrapping her arms around him tightly. Her eyes closed as she held into the moment, murmuring a small 'i love you' in his skin. As response, he held her closer, leaving kisses in her temple.

She had always thought these kinds of things only happened in fairy tales, that guys like that didn’t really exist.

So glad Percy wasn’t just any guy.

everyone has, like, a memory box, right? RIGHT? ok but do i want to be in love or just prove that i can be loved?