#me getting a request about IT: ive been waiting for this one!

[birdie-in-arcadia]

You Know I'll Be Yours

This was an anon request, and it made my heart so happy to write. I hope you enjoy anon, and all my II girlies ;) This is similar to my past fic titled The Love You Want, featuring II instead of Vessel. Enjoy lovelies! <3

CW: 18+, all fluff and cutesy stuff, suggestive content near the end

Word Count: ~5.3k

The morning light filters through linen curtains, pale gold and feather-soft as it spills across the bed. It lands first on your shoulder, warming the skin there, then slowly drifts over the curves of your face where you're still tucked against his chest, breathing slow and even. 

II is already awake. He’s been awake for hours. Not due to anxiety, exactly; he’s just nervous and brimming with anticipation and excitement. He’s worried that the raucous thumping of his heart will wake you. He doesn’t move, he just lays still and watches you, studying the pattern of your lashes where they kiss your cheeks, the beauty marks dotted over your peaceful, angelic face, the way your fingers curl slightly in your sleep, still hooked around the hem of his shirt like a tether. 

His thumb brushes softly along your arm as he takes in every detail of you. He wonders if you’ll feel it when it’s time; if you’ll sense it in the air, the quiet charge of something about to change. He’s not good at surprises, not the grand kind anyway, and he’s even worse at keeping secrets, especially form you. But this day? This is yours, the whole day, all for you. And he’s been planning it down to the heartbeat, with the help of his closest friends III, IV, and Vessel. He smiles fondly as he looks down at you, both in knowing his plans for today, and hoping that you’ll say yes. 

When you finally stir, you do so with a sigh that’s more content than tired. You nuzzle into his chest and mumble something incoherent against his skin. “Mornin’, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with sleep. 

You hum in response, dragging your hand up his chest until your palm finds the space above his heart. “Your heart is beating fast,” you whisper, eyes still closed. He smiles, thinking of an excuse quickly. “S’cause you’re touching me, darlin’.” You open one eye and smirk up at him. “Smooth.” He breathes a soft sigh of relief that you believed his half-lie. Sure, your touch does make his heart race, but that's not the only reason this morning. 

“I try,” he replies, smirking down at you. You lean up to kiss his chin, then his plush lips. “What’s on the agenda today, then? You’ve been suspiciously quiet about it for the last week at least,” you ask, and he takes control of his facial expressions so he doesn’t give anything away. He shrugs with faux nonchalance as he replies, “Just a couple things. Thought we could do a little… nostalgia tour.” 

That gets your attention. You sit up slightly, squinting at him in the bright sun beaming through the room. “Nostalgia tour?” 

He stretches beneath the duvet, stretching his muscular arms above his head, grinning. “Mhm. Thought it’d be nice to revisit the places we hit on our first date. For old time’s sake.” You blink at him for a moment, truly touched at his thoughtfulness. “Wait… you planned that for us?” 

He laughs softly, reaching up to brush your hair back from your face. “’Course I did. I like reliving the best day of my life.” Your cheeks flush, and you bury your face in his chest again to hide it. 

He kisses the top of your head. “First stop’s Waterstones. Get dressed, bookworm.” You groan as you throw your legs over the side of the bed dramatically. “Fine. But only if there’s coffee involved,” you reply, feigning a grumpy tone. “There’s always coffee involved babe,” he says, chuckling. “I’m not a monster.” You smile warmly at him as you open your side of the closet to select your outfit for the day. 

The bookstore smells like it always has; dust and parchment, ink and wood polish. Familiar in a way that settles in your bones and swirls your belly with warmth. You trail your fingers along the spines as you walk, eyes scanning titles, but your mind is elsewhere. 

He’s being so soft today. Not that he isn’t always, but… this is different, more deliberate. You’ve caught him looking at you three times already since you walked in, and each time he smiles like he did when you said ‘I love you’ for the first time. 

You’re thumbing through a battered copy of Wuthering Heights when he appears at your side, holding a small parcel wrapped neatly in brown paper and blue twine. “What’s that?” you ask, eyes twinkling with curiosity. He hands it to you gently, grinning. “Open it.” You blink at him, confused. “In the store?” you clarify, cocking an eyebrow. He simply nods in response. 

You untie the twine carefully, peel back the paper, and gasp, your eyes going wide. It’s the same first-edition paperback you’d held in your hands the first time you ever came here together nearly two years ago. The one you put back on the shelf because it was a little too pricey, even though you couldn’t stop talking about it. Little do you know, he’d bought it for you then, in secret. He’d planned on giving it to you on your birthday as a surprise, but through moving houses and so many tours causing him to pack and unpack repeatedly, he’s misplaced it. He kicked himself and searched for it for months, and he finally found it a few weeks ago. He’d already been planning this for a couple months, but when he found that book, he immediately knew what he had to do. 

Inside the front cover is a pastel pink sticky note, and written in his handwriting: 

Chapter One, again. – Me 

Your throat tightens as the memories wash over you, and your heart fills with gratitude for the man before you. You’ve never felt so seen in your life. No one has ever paid attention to every detail like he does or shown that they love you instead of just simply saying it, and it makes you fall for him more and more each passing day. “You remembered,” is all you can muster as a whisper. He shrugs, cheeks flushing pink. “’Course I did.” You throw your arms around him before you can stop yourself, the book pressed between your chests. 

He wraps you up tightly, swaying a little where you stand. “There’s more,” he says against your hair. “Whole day’s full of it.” You pull back, teary-eyed and smiling. “You’re ridiculous.” He grins. “Only for you, babe.” You roll your eyes playfully as your gaze finds the book in your hands. “How did you even find this again?” you ask, genuinely curious as to where he could’ve acquired the same book you’d had your eyes on so many months ago. He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as he replies, “I’ve got my ways, darling.” You smile up at him, entertained by his crypticity as your eyes meet his aquamarine gaze. You pull him in for another tight hug, and he tilts your chin up slightly, capturing your balmy lips in a sweet kiss. 

The bell above the café door jingles as you both step inside, ushered in by the warmth and the heady scent of espresso and fresh pastries. The barista glances up from the counter and offers a familiar smile; you’ve been here before, and apparently, they remember. 

II guides you to a two-person table near the window, one that looks out over the sleepy little street. The exact table you sat at the first time. The scenery makes you smile before you even realize why. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says as he pulls out your chair for you. “You sat here, facing the window, and spent fifteen minutes arguing with yourself over whether or not to order a slice of carrot cake.” You blink, grinning sheepishly. “You remember that?” 

He smirks as he sits across from you. “You were trying to be polite, but you were practically drooling. I ended up ordering it for you.” You giggle as you reminisce. “And I said-” 

“‘You’re an enabler,’” he finishes with a chuckle. “But you still ate the whole thing.” You laugh softly, shaking your head as you pull off your gloves and tuck your coat over the back of the chair. “It was a really good slice of cake, in my defense.” 

“I made sure they had it today,” he says, matter-of-fact, like it’s no big deal. But your heart swells at his attention to detail. “Of course you did,” you acknowledge with a small smile. 

He orders your drinks and the infamous carrot cake while you people-watch through the window, the barista making quick work of your orders. It’s strange, how time folds in on itself; how moments from months ago can feel like they happened yesterday, especially when you're with someone who remembers the details as well as, if not better than you do. 

He sets your cup and saucer down gently in front of you after retrieving it from the counter. You ordered a chai latte with oat milk and extra cinnamon, and he opted for a simple cafe mocha. He kisses the top of your head before he slides into his seat with a soft exhale. For a few moments, you drink in comfortable silence, savoring your drinks and sampling each other's. You watch a young couple cross the street hand-in-hand, bundled up against the wind, their laughter barely audible through the glass. 

“You nervous?” you ask suddenly, looking over your cup. He blinks, confused. “About what?” You study his face for a moment before replying, “I dunno,” you shrug. “This nostalgia tour. You’ve been a little... twitchy.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He can feel his skin heat and he’s praying that you haven’t picked up on anything. “Twitchy?” he asks, smiling awkwardly. 

You raise a brow. “You keep fiddling with your rings.” He glances down at his hands, caught in the act. “Right. Busted.” Shit. You lean in, lowering your voice. “What’s going on in that head of yours, handsome?” He sighs, eyes softening as he looks at you, and it makes your heart stammer again, the weight of his gaze like sunlight pressed against your skin. “I was thinking about that first date,” he says slowly, attempting to cover his tracks. “And how you smiled when you saw the cake. How your shoulders relaxed when I made you laugh. You were nervous as hell that day. So was I, but... something about it just felt right. Easy.” 

You smile, remembering the exact moment he’s talking about. You were sitting right here, fiddling with your sleeve, trying to pretend you weren’t smitten from the moment he complimented your book choice in the shop a few doors down. 

He continues, his voice lower now. “And I remember thinking… if this is how it starts, I don’t ever want it to end.” He’s genuinely reminiscing now, caught up in the early memories of the both of you. 

The words knock the breath from your lungs a little. Your fingers twitch slightly around your cup, your voice caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. “Then don’t let it,” you whisper playfully. His smile is soft, laden with adoration. “Wasn’t planning on it, doll.” You have no idea.  

The cake arrives then; a neat, warm slice with cream cheese frosting, a cute carrot with a green top piped in the center. It’s somehow exactly how you remembered it. You split it down the middle, forks clinking and scraping lightly against the porcelain plate as you both dig in. It’s moist, sweet, and a little spicy, just like last time. Your eyes find the back of your skull as you savor the fresh delicacy. 

He watches you eat, eyes bright with something he isn’t saying yet. You dab at the corner of your mouth with a napkin and ask, “So what’s next on the tour?” He leans back in his chair and swirls the last of his coffee. “You remember the little bridge over the park stream?” You nod, one side of your lips curling. “Where you told me you liked my laugh.” 

“Yeah, that’s the one. That’s next.” Your smiles mirror each other’s, and he offers a cheeky wink. You blow him a kiss as you finish the last of your latte, and he pretends to catch it and plant it on his lips. 

The walk to the park is quiet, contemplative. Your fingers are wrapped snugly in his gloved hand, swinging slightly between your bodies. The sky above is its usual moody winter grey, but there’s no threat of rain thankfully, just a stillness, like the world is holding its breath. 

The bridge comes into view as you round the path; stone and iron, curved gracefully over the thin, winding stream. It’s mostly empty this time of day, just a few birds pecking at the frost-dusted grass and a jogger passing in the distance. 

When you reach the center of the bridge, he stops. “This is where I realized I loved you,” he says. You blink at him, heart skidding to a stop. “What?” you ask, a wave of shock spreading through your chest. “I didn’t say it then,” he says, eyes focused on the horizon. “It would’ve been much too early to tell you then. But I remember standing here, listening to you talk about... I don’t even remember what it was. Something random. And I just... I knew.” 

You stare at him, breath catching, eyes misting over. “That’s not fair.” He glances at you, smirking as he wraps a loving arm around you. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re making me cry on a bridge like we’re in a Nicholas Sparks novel,” you wail jokingly, wiping a stray tear as it falls from your lid. He laughs, pulling you fully into him. “It is a nice bridge.” You giggle tearfully as you bury your face into his tweed coat and sigh. “You’re gonna ruin me today, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t answer, but you feel his arms tighten around you, and something in your chest begins to flutter with the vague suspicion that this isn’t just a walk down memory lane. 

You don’t know where he’s taking you next. The park fades behind you, but your hand stays in his the entire way, his thumb brushing your knuckles like a quiet anchor. The sky above is dipping into evening now, streaks of gold melting into soft mauves, the streetlamps flickering on one by one as you walk. Everything feels still, like the whole world is standing off to the side, watching with bated breath. 

He doesn’t say much, just leads you through narrow alleys and tree-lined corners of the city that feel both familiar and impossibly cinematic in the moment. You climb a few flights of stairs before you finally realize where you are. 

The rooftop. Your rooftop. Well, technically it’s the roof above that indie bar you both wandered into on your first date, and when the place got too crowded, he’d suggested some air. You’d followed him up a side stairwell, not expecting much, and found this quiet little place above the noise. Barely more than a ledge, some fairy lights strung half-heartedly on the railing, and a busted AC unit; but it had felt like magic then, and it still does now. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you step up onto the rooftop. It’s different now, it’s been cleaned up. Those same lights are glowing above and in front of you, but there are more of them now, strung higher, and they appear to be a little brighter. A downy blanket with embroidered wildflowers is spread out, candles flickering in squat glass jars spaced carefully around like stars brought down to earth. 

You blink slowly, disoriented by the care and detail before you. You turn to him slightly, your eyes still on the scene as you gesture vaguely. “Did you...?” 

He nods once. “I’ve been up here every day this week,” he says gently, looking down into your starry eyes. “Setting it up. Making sure it looked how I remembered it. How you remembered it.” Your heart squeezes so tightly it hurts. 

He leads you toward the blanket, then stops just before it, turning to face you. His eyes are wide and glassy now, the nerves catching up to him, but he’s trying to hide them behind that lopsided little grin you love so much. You touch his chest, right over his heart, feeling how hard it’s pounding. 

“You okay?” you whisper. He swallows hard, nodding twice. “Yeah. Yeah, I just... need to get this part right.” You tilt your head, brows barely furrowing in curiosity. But then his hands find yours again, and you know something’s coming. You look up at him, a hint of concern melding with your expression of curiosity. 

He takes a slow breath. “I wasn’t sure I believed in all this, before I met you,” he begins, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Not just the romance, or love. I mean... the forever part. I think I’d convinced myself that love was a fleeting thing for me. A phase. Something that fades, something that leaves.” You feel your chest ache along with him, his pain laced into every syllable. 

“But then you came into my life, and you... you stayed. You didn’t flinch when I got quiet, or when I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed. You stayed through every late-night phone call and cancelled plan, and patch of silence. You stayed through my mess.” You feel your eyes stinging as your vision distorts slightly. His thumb brushes the back of your hand again, grounding you both. You notice his chin trembling, and it causes a surge of emotion to flood through you. 

“And I think it hit me the night of our first real date, on this rooftop, actually. You were laughing about something silly, something I said, probably, and I remember thinking... This is it. This is what people write songs about. What people wait their whole lives for. That thing I thought didn’t exist? It was you.” 

He’s crying now, just a little. Enough that it makes your throat close. “I still get scared,” he admits, his voice cracking. “I still wonder if I’m good enough, if I’m worthy of you. But then I look at you, my beautiful girl, and I realize... I don’t have to be perfect. I just have to love you, and I do. God, I really do. More than I ever thought possible.” 

You’re not breathing. Every environmental distraction around you has completely dissipated. The only thing that exists in this moment is you, II, and your trembling hands in his. Your heart is pounding like thunder and your skin is tingling. You have no idea what do expect from this. And then, he drops to one knee. 

It’s slow, careful, and reverent. Like even gravity respects what he’s about to do. His hand slips into the pocket of his coat, and when it comes out, there’s a little red velvet box resting in his palm. 

You stare down at him, completely stunned, your hands over your mouth as it hangs open in utter shock. His chin is trembling and his eyebrows knit together as one stray tear tracks down his cheek, his expression wrecked in the most beautiful way. 

“I know it won’t always be easy,” he says, voice shaky but sure. “But I promise I’ll choose you. Every morning. Every night. Every version of you, even the ones you think aren’t lovable.” Every break in his words is punctuated by a shaky intake of breath. He opens the box toward you. 

The ring is simple and delicate, something that suits your hand and your heart. A soft gold band with a stone that catches the light like moonlight on water. 

“Will you marry me?” His voice trembles as he asks the huge, life-changing question. 

There’s silence. Not the sort that screams of absence or apprehensiveness, but the kind that holds you in awe. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he reaches up and gently wipes a tear from your cheek. 

You nod, finally regaining control of your mind body. You nod quickly, breath coming out in shaking waves. When your mouth finally moves, you sputter, “Yes, yes God, yes I’ll marry you!” 

He exhales a laugh, relief folding him in half as he presses his forehead to your hand. You drop to your knees in front of him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him so tight he nearly falls backward. 

You’re both laughing and crying and clinging like you’ve survived a war and come out victorious. He kisses you, salty and smiling, trembling lips and shaking hands, the kiss of someone who knows what he’s got and isn’t ever letting go. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair, over and over. “I love you, I love you.” You laugh through your tears. “I love you too. My God, I love you.” 

He slides the ring onto your finger, and it fits perfectly, like it was made for you. Like he was made for you. You both stand as you find each other again in a tight, tearful embrace. You’re in disbelief of what just transpired. Am I really engaged? I didn’t just imagine that, right? You sneak a look at your left hand over his shoulder, and your heart soars when you see the shining ring there, and you’re floating as it sinks in just how real this is. You squeeze him tighter, and you feel a tear escape from the corner of your eye and trail down your cheek, its journey ending once it meets II’s shoulder. 

And then, just when the quiet settles... The rooftop door swings open. 

“YOU DID IT!” III’s raspy voice booms across the rooftop like a cannon blast. You both whip around to see all three members of Sleep Token piling out of the stairwell; III sprinting toward you, arms in the air, while Vessel and IV follow with less chaos but just as much joy. You let out a startled, laughing yelp as III practically tackles you both in a hug. “You sneaky little bastard!” he shouts at II, ruffling his hair. “You actually did it!” 

IV beams and embraces you both from the side. “Told you we’d make it perfect, didn’t I?” II chuckles as III chimes in, “Couldn’t have done it without us, eh bub? Don’t worry, no need to thank us.” III finishes, mocking aloofness, crossing his arms and turning away from everyone. “Always the theatrics with this one, I swear to criminy.” II says as he reaches for III’s shoulder, pulling him in for an embrace, both of them laughing heartily. 

Vessel says nothing at first, just pulls II in for a hug, once III’s had his turn, of course, and claps his back firmly, offering a sincere, “Hell yeah, man. Thrilled for you, genuinely,” before turning to you and offering his quiet, sincere congratulations. “Welcome to the family, love.” He pulls you in gently for a hug, his towering form dwarfing you as he pats your back, then pulls away. He offers you a warm smile and approving nod before turning back to gush about “holy shit he really did it!” with III and IV. You watch in awe as the three boys jump around together, already talking about wedding plans and what kind of cake you should have. 

And for the first time all day, II looks around and realizes this moment wasn’t just for you and him. It was about you and him, that he really couldn’t have done it without the guys. Without Vessel wrapping the book for him and placing it in his coat pocket the night before, ensuring that the sticky note was properly placed. Without III’s giraffe-like height to help him hang and wire the fairy lights overhead. And without IV, who kept everything and everyone organized so this whole day would go off without a hitch.  

It was also IV who kept II’s head on straight when he was freaking out about “what if she says no?” Everyone else already knew what he’s known for months, it was just about pulling it off and making it as perfect as you. You were always his one and only. And now, you’ve made it real, and the lot of you couldn’t be happier. 

The front door swings open, and you’re greeted with open arms by the familiar scent of home; clean linen, lemon balm, and the faintest trace of III’s incense. Your shoes thud gently against the tile as you and II step inside, still hand in hand, still buzzing with that sweet post-proposal glow. 

The others pile in behind you, loud and chaotic as per usual, carrying leftover takeaway boxes and a bottle of champagne that IV had insisted on buying for ‘celebration purposes’. Vessel shuts the door behind him, chuckling quietly as III drops his keys, again, with a dramatic groan. 

“That’s it. I’m drinkin’ straight from the bottle,” III declares, holding the champagne like a trophy. “Love is in the air, and I, for one, am thirsty.” 

“Only if you’re not too busy sobbing into your controller when I beat your ass at Mario Kart,” IV quips, already slipping off his shoes with practiced grace. 

“Oh, you wish,” III fires back, already halfway to the console cabinet. “Babe,” he adds, glancing at you and II with a wolfish grin, “you two playin’ or what?” 

II doesn’t even look at him. He’s still watching you, thumb brushing your knuckles because he just cannot stop touching you. His voice is low and sure despite his smirk. “Not tonight.” You smile deviously at him as you realize what he’s implying. 

“Figured,” III smirks. “We all know what your night’s gonna look like.” IV snorts. “Yeah, do us a favor and turn on your telly or music or somethin’. Set the mood and spare us the trauma.” Even Vessel cracks a rare grin, lifting a brow as he murmurs, “Don’t worry. We’ll stay in here.” He raises a hand and gestures toward the living room as the other guys snicker at his implication. 

You bury your face in your hands, groaning through a laugh. II just pulls you into his side, unfazed, smug even. “You lot are just jealous.” 

“Dead right we are,” III mutters, flopping onto the couch with an overdramatic sigh. “I want someone to worship me post-engagement.” 

“Can’t worship what’s not divine,” IV deadpans, dodging a pillow aimed squarely at his head as his husky laugh echoes through the room, along with a “fuck off, cunt” from III as he joins IV’s laughter. 

You catch II’s hand tugging yours again, gentle but persuasive. He leans in and kisses your temple, and the world softens instantly. “C’mon, angel,” he murmurs. “Let’s disappear.” You don’t need telling twice. 

The bedroom door closes with a soft click, and you hear II engage the lock right after. Everything hushes around you, and you enjoy the momentary quiet. It’s dimly lit, just the bedside lamp casting its honey-warm glow across the soft duvet and the scattered photos still pinned to the corkboard by the desk. You’ve barely removed your cross-body purse before II is turning to face you, expression unreadable for a moment. 

Then he breaks into that soft, stupid, perfect grin. “Well,” he says, hands on your waist, “congratulations, babe.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You too, you sneaky shite,” you reply lovingly, earning a chuckle from him. 

He hums, brushing his nose against yours, eyes half-lidded. “So... how d’you want to celebrate? Champagne? Cake? Dance party? Quiet sob on the floor?” 

“Mmm.” You lean in, trailing your lips just beneath his ear. “I was thinking something more... horizontal.” He lets out a breathless little laugh, hands tightening on your hips. “You tryna kill me on my big day?” 

“Just want to make it memorable’s all,” you answer cheekily, a grin spreading across your lips as you place featherlight kisses along his jaw. 

“Oh, love,” he says, dragging his knuckles down your spine as he walks you backward toward the bed. “You already did that the second you said yes.” 

You undress each other slowly, reverently, like every layer matters. There’s no rush, no hunger rooted in lust or adrenaline. Just the ache of adoration. Every kiss, every caress, is a thank-you. A promise. A vow before the vows. 

He lays you down with the same gentle hands that strummed your skin like strings the first night you made love. His kisses are soft, almost hesitant at first, like he’s still overwhelmed you’re really his for the rest of his life. 

And when he’s finally inside you, buried to the hilt, he breathes your name like it’s sacred. Like it’s the one prayer that’s ever mattered. You rock together slowly, forehead to forehead, breath syncing, the weight of the moment seeping into your bones. He whispers things against your skin; little praises, quiet I love yous, and the occasional cheeky, “still think you’re outta my league” or “you sure about this?” You giggle, kissing the grin off his mouth, and his hips stutter as he gasps into your throat. The truth is, you’ve never been more sure about anything else in your life. 

You come together like always; gentle, intense, completely undone, and cling to each other like the rest of the world has melted away. He whispers soft affirmations to you as you come down, and you fall more in love with him than you ever thought possible. 

Later, you lay tangled in sheets and each other, and he strokes your arm where it rests across his chest. You lay like that for quite a while, listening to lo-fi beats on the tv, and basking in the afterglow and the glory of what happened today. You rack your brain for a bit, and you genuinely cannot think of a time where you felt happier than you do right now, except for the moments on the rooftop today. “So,” he says, voice low and lazy as he breaks the silence, “what d’you reckon? Forest wedding? Beach? Vegas drive-thru with Elvis?” You snort against his shoulder. “Definitely not Vegas.” 

“Damn. I had the white jumpsuit all picked out and everythin’.” You roll your eyes, smiling. “Something simple. Maybe outdoors. Something that feels... natural.” 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Natural sounds good.” You trace slowly over the ink adorning his bare chest. “Do you think they’ll all cry?” 

“Vessel, maybe. IV might. III’ll sob like a baby and deny it until the day he dies.” You both laugh quietly, your fingers linking with his. “I wanna write our vows,” you say. 

“You wanna outdo me, you mean.” You laugh and gently slap his chest before replying, “Obviously.” He laughs again, belly-deep this time, and you feel it rumble beneath your cheek. “Bring it on, babe. I’ll write the most poetic, weepy, Shakespeare-level shit you’ve ever heard.” 

You lift your head. “Is that a challenge?” He leans up and kisses your nose. “It’s a promise.” You smile so hard your cheeks ache. “God, I love you.” He looks into your eyes as he quips, “I love you more.” You shake your head. “Impossible.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?” 

And just like that, the future doesn’t feel like a cliff or a fog. It feels like warm sheets and aching cheeks from smiling. It feels like love notes in grocery lists and kisses through coffee breath. It feels like home. He feels like home. And you’ll choose it, choose him, every morning, every night, and every time in between. 

@deathcapbunny @yourgirlisa @houseofsleeptoken @wormm-mom @lynzeequitlollygagging @blackcherrywhiskey @thedemonofsodom @mysticmorning1 @xnikix02 here you go! Let me know if you'd like to be added here :)

[stellamarielu]

soft

jack abbot x female reader

summary: jack gets injured on his shift and you’re there to help him get stitched up, making it impossible for him to ignore the soft side you bring out in him— especially when it makes his heart rate jump alarmingly high.

content: just a whole lot of fluff, reader is a resident on robby’s shift and jack has a capital c crush, i’m talking down astronomically bad, cursing, lots of cheesy banter between robby and jack bc i couldn’t help myself, reader is described to be upbeat and positive, very sunshine x grump coded, also the reader wears bright colors and patterns from time to time [sorry if that’s not your jam it just has to be that way for the plot, you get it], mentions of a brief altercation, mentions of blood and stitches, bad medical terminology [don’t yell at me i tried my best]

word count: 3.5k

author’s note: ok so hi this is my submission for the A DOCTOR A DAY event! but it's also a request from the lovely and talented @letsgobarbs so I thought I'd put them together and make this bad boy. thank you loops for the extraordinary idea, and thank you to my lovely babies, @clubsoft @ananonymousaffair and @letsgobarbs for putting on such an incredible little event! very very excited to see all the entires! my assigned dialogue was, “nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” and the color i got was green!

A reoccurring psych patient, and an elbow straight to the eye, landed Jack a seat in his own emergency department.

“I’m fine,” his voice came out with a twinge of annoyance, and a profusion of frustration as he side-eyed Robby from across the room.

But he was indeed, not fine. He was annoyed— borderline livid— at the current situation.

He should be on his way home, not sitting in an open treatment room with blood trickling down the side of his face.

It was completely unintentional, just an unstable patient throwing limbs in an effort to avoid an IV. What he thought would be his last case of the day, was now the reason for his friend making jokes at his expense, while Jack waited to get his brow sutured up so he could finally go home. 

“Yeah Okay. Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” Robby’s voice filled the room as he gathered supplies for the simple procedure.

“If Gloria found out you got a work related injury and walked out of those doors without somebody clearing you— on my shift? She’d have my neck.”

“Whatever, just make it fast.” 

All Jack could think about was how last night’s shift felt like the longest one he’d worked in a while. Taking a hit straight to the face was just the cherry on top of a dreadful night. The comfort of his bed was starting to look unbelievably far away as his presence at the hospital persisted long after it was supposed to.

“What’s the rush? You got a hot date I don’t know about?” Robby’s expression was a little too amused for Jack’s taste, as he placed a pulse oximeter on his finger.

“Yeah actually, her name is a breakfast bagel from Cal’s and 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.” Jack stared down at the contraption sitting on his pointer finger, almost chuckling to himself at Robby’s commitment to care.

“A pulse ox? You’re really serious about this whole Gloria thing huh?”

“Yeah she’s been on my ass lately. Plus you got hit pretty hard, gotta make sure you don’t go down on us. Your risk for a heart attack is only going up with your age.” The smug curl of Robby’s lips as he pulled at the latex of his glove, made Jack instinctively roll his eyes.

Before Robby could start stitching, Dana’s voice carried into the room as she passed by the open door, “Robby, we’ve got a motorcyclist coming in. Multiple open fractures, severe blood loss with trauma to the head, and a possible pneumothorax, about 3 minutes out.” 

Robby shot Jack a knowing look as if to say, sorry buddy, duty calls.

“Oh c’mon, you’ve got this in three minutes.” Jack was desperate to get out of the hospital and on his way home. He was right, they both knew Robby was more than capable of lacing up two or three quick stitches before he was needed on the incoming trauma.

“As much as I would love to sit here and miss potentially the best case of my day to be ridiculed by you, I’m gonna have to make your fucked up eyebrow somebody else’s problem. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you in good hands.”

The sudden smirk Robby shot his way, had confusion clouding Jack’s mind. It wasn’t until the smug attending was calling out your name, that Jack understood the motive behind Robby’s words.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me.” The murmured annoyance from Jack’s lips sent Robby chuckling.

The laugh was no doubt caused by the memory of a shared confession over a couple of beers not more than three weeks ago.

Jack and Robby went out for drinks on their day off. It was a regular occurrence, but that specific night was a little different, because that night, Jack let it slip that he thought you were pretty. 

The men were sat side by side at the bar, recounting some of their best cases of the week, when Robby brought up your impressive intubation record.

Jack’s comment on your abilities had Robby stunned into a quick moment of silence.

“Pretty and she knows how to clear an airway.”

It was a subconscious declaration of affection from Jack, spoken into his glass as he took a sip of beer. 

A meek confession that Robby clung to, because he’d always noticed it— the way Jack’s stare lingered a little too long on you in those fleeting minutes when your shifts overlapped.

It was impossible for him to miss his friend’s not-so-subtle flirting when you were around. He’d been patient, waiting for Jack to bring it up first.

“Just your type.”

Robby’s words met Jack in the same way, stumbling off his lips and into his glass before taking a swig.

You were one of Robby’s residents. One of his favorites actually. A phenomenal doctor, always one step ahead of everyone else and charting your own course without having to be told what to do, it made Robby’s life a whole lot easier. What didn’t make Robby’s life easier? Watching his best friend dance around his undeniable attraction to you. He knew better than anyone that Jack had been out of the game for a while.

In fact, he hadn’t seen him show interest in anyone until you came along. Over the three months of shy smiles and round-about compliments paid to each other in passing, you and Jack's interactions had become impossible for Robby to ignore. He'd even tried bringing them up multiple times to see if Jack would admit to having a crush on you, only for him to jokingly brush it off every time.

“You could ask her out, you know?” Robby kept nursing his drink, trying to look nonchalant because the moment he put too much attention on the topic, he knew Jack would shut it down. 

“Yeah, we’re not doing this.”

And there it was, right on cue. Shut it down, and brush it off, like he did every time.

“Oh come on Jack. She’s great, you’re great, I see the way your demeanor changes when she's around.”

“Oh does it now?” Deciding to indulge in Robby’s incessant need to meddle in his lovelife, Jack fed into his friend’s accusation with raised brows and chuckle on his lips. 

“Yeah you get a little softer.”

“And, what makes you think I’m not just tired after a long night of people griping at me.”

Robby let a brief blanket of silence fall over the two of them before adding one final thought to the conversation.

“Nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft.” Robby smiled as he said it. He knew Jack would give him a hard time for saying something so introspectively cheesy, but he also knew it would resonate with him whether Jack chose to admit it or not. 

“I’m sorry?” Jack nearly choked on his IPA at the abnormally poetic words leaving Robby’s mouth. 

“Did you just pull that right out of your ass or what?” He was giving Robby a hard time, but couldn’t deny the truth hiding in the statement. 

That night he went home and lost more sleep than usual thinking about you— playing out past conversations over and over again in his mind, just to hear you say his name, or to see the captivating curve of your lips. The visions kept him up, even if it was just glimpses of you in his memory.

Robby didn't bring up Jack's comment about you after that night.

A few lingering stares and silent chuckles slipped from him when he watched the two of you interact, but he decided against bringing up that specific conversation. He knew Jack would just dismiss him, and keep to his stubborn reservations when it came to you, so he didn't push. 

This was the first time Robby took a chance, venturing into the territory of Jack’s confessed feelings. The timing was impeccable, with him needing to find someone else to do Jack’s sutures. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to force the two of you to be alone in a room together. 

“What can I say? I like watching you squirm,” a low giggle remained on his lips as Robby aimed his words at Jack, just before you appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

Soothing with a gentle glimmer of energy, your voice flooded the room in mellow twilight and shimmering stars, hitting Jack’s ears in a way that instantly made his face heat up.

“Dr. Abbot here, took an elbow straight to the face first thing this morning. I was gonna stitch it up, but they need me on the incoming trauma.” Robby barely looked your direction as he spoke, but Jack couldn’t take his eyes off you, only a few feet from him, watching from the doorframe.

“Think you can handle it?” Robby glanced over at you as he joked, a grin stretching across his face.

“I’ve got it covered, boss.” You matched his playful tone, and the whimsical change of your voice made Jack’s eyes divert to the ceiling because— fuck Robby for doing this to him. 

“Make sure to keep an eye on his vitals, he took a pretty hard hit.” Robby’s voice carried from down the hall as he walked out of the room, leaving you and Jack alone.

You took to the space in front of Jack. 

Your body slid so effortlessly next to him, that he had to fight not to adjust his position under the sudden nervousness of having you so close. 

Drawing a quiet breath at the feeling of your thigh resting next to his, he sat still on the edge of the cot. You were on his right side, your left leg gently pressed against him as you leaned closer toward his body to get a good look at his face.

“Damn that’s bad. Someone really had it out for you this morning, huh?” Your fingertips barely touched his temple as you examined his forehead. An audible swallow pushed down his throat at the contact.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing, his body’s immediate response to your touch, or the fact that he’d nearly been taken out by a patient, and you were the one witnessing him in such a vulnerable position. 

“Yeah well, he had a really effective defense response. I'll give him that.”

Thank god his voice didn’t betray him. His words came out clear and concise, despite the fluttering in his chest at your body right next to his.

Then you laughed. 

He really loved your laugh. In fact, he went out of his way to make jokes just to hear it. It was soft, but rich. The kind of distinctive, infectious sound you could hear in a crowded room ten years later and know exactly who it belonged to. 

“Well, I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of it.”

The laughter fizzled from your voice and was replaced with genuine concern as you cleaned his brow. The gentle passes of gauze against his forehead made his mouth go dry, only because he knew it was your fingertips behind the motion.

“Somebody’s gotta take one for the team.” His response was quick as he focused on the words leaving his mouth, trying not to think about the way your hands were working so carefully to take care of him.

Your presence made him nervous enough, but your touch? He couldn’t get a handle on the distraction of your fingers on his skin, even if there was a veil of latex and gauze in between.

You bent further forward into his body, the warmth of your thigh pressing harder against his as your hands carefully angled his head where you needed it, fingertips underneath his jaw, and at his temple. He forced his stare to the floor out of fear that looking into your eyes would send him straight into cardiac arrest.

Looking down at your shoes, he memorized the pattern of your laces to keep himself from thinking about the mildly intoxicating scent radiating from your body. He’d never been this close to you before— close enough to get a whiff of something fresh and so distinctively you.

Maybe it was your shampoo, or laundry detergent? Perfume perhaps?

Shoes. Back to your shoes. It was the same pair of white sneakers you wore most days, but the green socks peeking out at your ankles made him grin. A subtle smile that he was sure you wouldn’t notice as you prepared a needle at your fingertips. 

You always wore a pop of color, something to bring your own personal style into the doldrum of the ER.

It was something he shouldn’t have noticed; the patterned shirts you sometimes wore under your scrub top, the red hair tie you left on your wrist every so often, the memorable collection of colorful socks you constantly sported with your tennis shoes…

The subtle excitement of your accessories matched the bright charisma you brought into the building every time you walked through the doors. You appeared every morning like his own personal ray of sunshine, equipped with an irresistible laugh, sweet smile, and lime green socks. 

“Are you feeling okay?” His sock induced trance was broken at the sound of your voice— abrupt and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good.” His eyes peered up only to notice your stare fixed on the pulse ox resting on his finger.

He almost forgot about it entirely, busy with the distraction of your proximity taking over his entire being.

“Your heart rate is just really high.” 

Of course it was. 

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest from the moment Robby called out your name earlier. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to move his hand further from your view, hoping to brush it under the rug, and get a move on with the mortifying interaction. 

“Are you sure? If he hit you hard enough to break skin maybe-”

“I promise. I’m fine.” He pulled out a tone in his voice that people usually didn’t argue with. It was a deep, commanding timbre that he had perfected over the years. It came in handy when he had an especially combative patient, or in this case an extremely beautiful woman hounding him for an incredibly humiliating confession as to why he couldn’t get a grip on his bodily reaction to her presence. 

“Whatever you say, Dr. Abbot.” Finally giving up the fight, you let a spirited air back into your words. Jokingly dismissing your concern, and trading it in for weary trust as you let him convince you that he was okay despite his alarmingly high heart rate. 

“But if you go AFib on me…” 

“I won’t,” his voice still held the same robust sound as he looked you straight in the eyes.

“Just stress.” He looked at you as he spoke, and the desperation in his eyes contradicting the tone of his voice.

His stare was tender, and almost pleading while his words spread through the room, sturdy and sure. 

“Or adrenaline or something… I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look away as he continued explaining the reason for his quickening pulse. You found it slightly unnerving, and undeniably endearing as he kept his eyes fixed on yours for far too long. His words began to trail quietly, slowly losing their robust momentum. 

Jack was in a complete daze. He made the mistake of looking up into your eyes, and now he was stuck, getting lost in the all too familiar color, illuminated by the concentration in your gentle stare. He was enamored.

“Well I’ll be quick so you can get out of here.” You reached down to grab some supplies before bringing your hands back up to Jack’s face, finally starting to suture his brow. 

“Although I’m sure Robby would’ve been done by now.” Your eyes zoned in on his injury, while Jack’s stare stayed trained on your face. 

“Eh, I’m glad you’re here and not him.” His voice was amiable and subdued, dripping with a delicate sound you’d never heard from him before. 

“Why’s that?” Still watching the careful work of the needle threading at his forehead, your eyes narrowed in focus, as the question formed on your lips.

“I’d have to deal with his smartass jokes. Plus, he’s too perky in the mornings.”

“And I’m not?”

He wanted to laugh at your question. Of course you weren’t too perky in the mornings. You weren’t too anything. You were perfect. 

“I don’t mind it when you are.” Your movements paused for a split second when the words left his mouth in that same strange, fragile tone.

You could feel his eyes watching- peering up, as you tried your best to keep your attention on your hands.

He felt you stop, internally panicking that he’d said something wrong, he kept talking. 

“I just- you’re different.” The words stumbled out, losing a bit of their fragility as they tripped over each other in an effort to reassure you. 

Your brows furrowed slightly at the word and Jack was convinced he’d just dug a deeper hole to bury himself in. 

“Different?” The one word question left your lips as they struggled to withhold a smile. 

You were amused at the way Jack was fumbling over his words.

It was rare to catch him in such a flustered state. You chalked it up to the fresh wound he’d just received, and his abnormally high heart rate that he really should be paying more attention to. 

“Pleasant.” 

Then you stopped. Longer this time. It must’ve been at least 30 seconds that your fingers paused their threading, as you glanced down at the pulse ox between sutures. Sure enough his heart was racing again.

110 bpm.

You would be concerned about his inevitable descent into a questionable cardiac rhythm if it weren’t for the way his eyes were fixed on yours. His stare was so deliberate, you could feel your own pulse quickening underneath the growing heat of your skin. 

“Pleasant? How so?”

112 bpm.

“You just have this way of making everyone happy. It’s subtle. You’re always smiling and positive, but it’s never performative, it’s just who you are.”

A warmth spreads through your body at the compliment, rolling like waves as each of his words washed over you, completely enveloping you in a state of coy flattery. 

“You’re just easy to be around.” 

The heat threatened to reach your face, as he continued talking. His words were nearly a whisper with his voice floating up to you, low and smooth. 

“I like being around you.” 

115 bpm.

You open your mouth before you’ve even decided how you want to respond to Jack’s innocent confession, then unexpectedly, a voice that’s not yours fills the room.

“Still not done in here?” Robby came barreling into the room. His presence was loud and boisterous compared to the sheepish exchange taking place between you and Jack.

He stopped a few feet into the room. Seeing your body so close to Jack’s, with your hands still working at the injury on his forehead, and your eyes locked on each other, seemed to make him apprehensive about continuing into the room, like he was interrupting something.

“Jesus, let the man go home.” His chuckle echoed around you as he decided to come closer, inspecting your work. 

“That was fast. What happened to that being the best case of your day?” Jack piped up from underneath your touch. He was careful not to move his head as he aimed his question at Robby, eyes averting to the man standing next to you. 

“Yeah, it went south pretty quick.��� Robby’s voice finally found a level close to silence, as he watched in concentration while you tied off the last stitch. 

“You need some help there? I could send in one of the medical students-” He joked looking over at you. He knew you were quick. The way you were taking your time, being overly methodical with Jack, was out of character for you. 

“Very funny. I’m done.” You softly glared over at Robby as you took a step back, pulling your gloves off.

“See what I mean about the smartass jokes?” Jack’s eyes were on you, still holding a lingering softness from your unfinished conversation just moments prior. 

“Oh so I leave you two alone for a few minutes and you just use it to talk bad about me?” Pretending to be offended, Robby scoffed at the notion of you two discussing his comedic timing, watching as you and Jack just stared at one another.

“Something like that.”

Your response was hidden behind a smile while you and Jack stayed submerged in a brief moment of smitten eye contact and unquestionable curiosity, before you made your way to the open door.

“I’m gonna get back out there. Try not to take anymore elbows to the face Dr. Abbot,” You joked before taking a single step into the hallway, turning your back for a split second to look at him one last time.

“and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that, you were already halfway down the hall, onto the next patient.

Robby stared at Jack with a goofy smile forming on his mouth as your absence left the room silent.

“Don’t.”

The single word snapped from Jack as he brushed past Robby, leaving the room before he could be hit with his friend’s smug confrontation.

He left for the day, but not before stopping by the triage desk on his way out, purposefully walking past you just to get one last glimpse of your smile for the day.

the pitt masterlist

[tracksidebaby]

Sleepy Guy

Summary: Lando Norris cannot be left alone for longer than thirty seconds before he is fast asleep.

Requested / No

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55, mclaren and 992,901 others

yn.ln: he's just a sleepy guy

username: hes so cute i love him

lando: oi you muppet who said you could post that

| yn.ln: ignore him guys hes just grumpy because he needs another nap

| lando: it was one time, i dont even nap that much

| maxfewtrell: mate you were in my house for less than five minutes last week before you fell asleep on my couch

| yn.ln: @/maxfewtrell please start sending pictures to me, thank you

| lando: dont you dare max

username: i love these two together

username: creep

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, mclaren, charles_leclerc and 822,901 others

yn.ln: "it was one time" he said, "i dont even nap that much" he said. anyway heres lando napping at 1pm

username: this is the content we want

lando: stop posting pictures of me sleeping!!!

| yn.ln: no

username: dont let him stop you queen

username: iconic

Twitter /

Replies:

username: she is so funny😭

username: not her getting the grid involved

username: bestie why do you want pictures of him sleeping😭

| yn.ln: me and @/maxfewtrell are testing a theory

carlossainz55: texting you rn

| lando: you're dead to me

| carlossainz55: you are my best friend but she said i am legally obligated

lando: do NOT send my absolute numpty of a girlfriend pictures of me asleep

YN's Instagram Story /

Story replies:

maxfewtrell: where's the option of he was asleep before you hit post?

maxfewtrell: i give him less than 30 seconds

yn.ln: he was gone in 23

Story replies:

lando: i hate you

username: im in love with both of you

username: my parents omg

Instagram /

liked by: lando, carlossainz55, mclaren and 982,901 others

yn.ln: look who stayed awake long enough to take me out

lando: i love you 🧡

| lando: wait i take that back i just read the caption

| yn.ln: no take backs🥰

maxfewtrell: proud of you lando 💪🏻

username: lando is never living down the sleepy boy allegations

username: idk who im more jealous of

username: mom and dad are so hot

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, mclaren and 992,901 others

yn.ln: this is @/lando. his hobbies include racing and being unconscious

maxfewtrell: perfectly summed him up

| yn.ln: right like there's literally nothing else to know about him

| lando: nothing except for the fact that im in love with the biggest idiot in the world

| lando: introducing you two was the worst mistake of my life

username: hes so dramatic

mclaren: as long as he stays awake to race he can nap away

username: i would LOVE to see her camera roll

Instagram:

liked by: lando, mclaren, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri and 1,092,901 others

yn.ln: caught in the act 📸

lando: hiding your phone from you

| yn.ln: im just giving the people what they want

username: no but look how he looks at her

username: hes in love

username: i love how annoyed he acts in her comments but you cant deny that smile

YN's Instagram Story /

Story replies:

lando: he is dead to me

charles_leclerc: wow I thought I was your favourite

| yn.ln: send me pictures of the cute boy asleep and you will be

mclaren: WE WANT TO BE YOUR FAVOURITE

| yn.ln: admin, you know what to do

maxfewtrell: how are you actually getting them involved

| yn.ln: hey ive been around as long as lando, im a grid favourite!!

Instagram /

liked by: yn.ln, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, mclaren and 2,792,901 others

lando: rip to carlando 💔

username: wait what happened?!?

username: they fell out?? omg

| username: no no they didnt carlos just sent a pic of lando sleeping to landos gf

| username: wait what??

| username: fr im so confused

| username: omg no you have to go to @/yn.ln's page rn its sooo good

| username: its basically a page dedicated to lando sleeping and a few pics of her when she remembers

carlossainz55: I love you lando please forgive me

| lando: you picked your side, suffer

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, maxfewtrell, yn.ln, oscarpiastri and 2,792,901 others

lando: since my gf never posts nice pictures of me anymore, here's some from this month 🙄

username: LMAO HE HATES THIS

mclaren: our favourite couple

username: he rlly said i love her but shes annoying

yn.ln: god we're so hot, i love us

yn.ln: i love you

| lando: i love you too, even if you are annoying

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, lando, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri and 1,792,901 others

yn.ln: why yes this is a man sleeping on the floor of the paddock.

lando: you're not even here ?????

lando: tell me which one of them sent it

| oscarpiastri: 🤐🤐

| lando: YOU!?!? MY OWN TEAM MATE 😭

| lando: first carlando dies and now landoscar

| lando: the betrayals just keep coming

| yn.ln: it was a pleasure working with you, @/oscarpiastri

username: damn yn is just making friendships with everyone on the grid

| username: shes been around these guys ever since lando joined f1 they love her

Instagram /

liked by: lando, oscarpiastri, mclaren, maxfewtrell and 1,792,901 others

yn.ln: i mean...at least take the uniform off

username: hes so sleepy

lando: WHO WAS IN MY DRIVERS ROOM

| yn.ln: your mum sent me that one

| lando: YOU TURNED MY MUM AGAINST ME!??

| yn.ln: please we both know im her favourite

username: I feel like im reading their private texts

Instagram /

liked by: lando, mclaren, maxfewtrell, and 1,792,901 others

yn.ln: we have a date in thirty minutes, @/lando

username: ooo someones in trouble

username:  did he wake up tho

username: the others have all been good fun but this one feels like a fight if he doesnt wake up

username: obsessed with the fact she looks that good and yet the first two slides are him asleep

| username: on brand really

maxfewtrell: I'll pick you up in half an hour, no need to waste the night

| lando: stay away

Story replies:

yn.ln: love you🧡

maxfewtrell: lucky mate you'd have been on the couch

| lando: tell me about it

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 1,792,901 others

yn.ln: i mean, it's a step up from sleeping in fireproofs but come on

username: bro was too tired

username:  idk he looks comfy

username: still not the worst place hes slept

| yn.ln: fr sleeping with the luggage?? nothing to lando

lando: this is bullying

Instagram /

liked by: lando, mclaren, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, skysportsf1 and 2,792,901 others

yn.ln: how?? just?? how??

lando: who sent this one

| yn.ln this one was live on @/skysportsf1 baby

| skysportsf1: anything for you yn 🫡

| username: she even has sky sports on it omg

username: i fear for his safety in this one

lando: I wasn't even asleep here, I was just resting my eyes

| yn.ln: of course you were baby, that's why you stayed like that for twenty minutes until will woke you up

| blondie_wdj: shes right mate, you were snoring

Instagram /

liked by: lando, mclaren, maxfewtrell and 1,792,901 others

yn.ln: imagine looking this good after waking up from a nap 🥵 like what do you mean hes mine???

username: girlie is down bad today

username: she remembered he was hot

lando: still not great but ill take it because at least im awake

| yn.ln: still not great he says like he doesn't look like a fucking god

| username: oh we're being unhinged today i love it

lando: what do you mean "hes mine" like im not the lucky one but ok

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, mclaren, maxverstappen1 and 2,392,901 others

yn.ln: why yes this is a man sleeping on the floor of the paddock. (part two)

lando: alright. who sent it?

maxverstappen1: sorry mate

lando: I expected better from you

username: i cant defend him anymore

username:  i mean...he looks comfy but ??

yn.ln: i love this one

| lando: creep

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, mclaren and 2,992,901 others

yn.ln: I swear I left for less than thirty seconds

username: hes so cute

username: lando come on man

username: my favourite thing about these are that the posts arent even spread that far apart

| username: real like shes not having to wait days or weeks, its just a daily occurrence

lando: ok in my defence im jet lagged

| yn.ln: and all the other times?

| lando: i....have nothing

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, maxfewtell, lando, and 1,92,901 others

yn.ln: lando has never met a flat surface he can't sleep on

lando: im not even asking who sent them. the whole grid is dead to me

| yn.ln: he doesn't mean it guys, he just needs a nap 🧡

username: lmaooooo lando beefing with everyone

username: hes just sleepy

username: hes just jealous yn is everyones favourite

Instagram /

liked by: lando, maxfewtrell, mclaren, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 3,982,901 others

yn.ln: my sleepy boy 🧡 happy birthday, my love. I was there when the first picture was taken years ago and I’m still here to take new pictures today, to create new memories with you, to experience life with you 🥰 I am so so in love with you and so proud of everything you have done since you were that little boy I met and knew I had to be friends with because he was going to be incredible! Even if you are the sleepiest person I know, I could think of nobody better to come home to every night, to laugh with as we scroll through my photo gallery, to argue with, to love more than I have ever loved. I cannot wait to keep growing with you, to watch as you succeed, to watch you thrive. I love you baby 🥰 

lando: baby!!! I love you so much, more than words could ever say! I am so grateful that you want to be mine everyday, even if I fall asleep when you're mid rant. I love you baby, can't wait to celebrate with you for the rest of our lives

username: im far too single for this

username: the birthday post had to be of him asleep

username: they're so in love omg

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, maxfewtell, yn.ln, and 4,92,901 others

lando: got you, you muppet

yn.ln: this is....honestly fair

username: a long time coming

username: theyre so cute omg

mclaren: our favourite sleepy couple

[gladiatorcunt]

- MOLTEN LAVA CAKE / IV.

when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man

cw: kinktober prompt (creampie), unprotected sex & playing fast and loose with it’s possible consequences, yandere behavior, age gap (reader 20’s, capitano & zhongli 50s, baizhu 40s), power imabalance, non con somno (childe), dub con, innocence kink & lowkey medical malpractice (baizhu), reader has a pussy, implied kidnapping (capitano), if you squint childe & capitano’s sections are connected, frequent breeding kink type talk, manipulation & coercion, implied baby trapping, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

CEO!Zhongli

“Do be quiet, darling.” Zhongli grits, cupping your head with both of his palms and tugging you upwards. “I have no intentions of being an exhibitionist today.”

You arch off his grand wooden desk and gasp at the spark of pain in your neck, but you’d take that over drowning yourself in paperwork any day. Your boss’s cock is ramming into your ass at a porn star’s speed, the wet smacks of flesh slapping against flesh bounce off the one way glass walls.

This situation is the most cliché porn plot in the book though, the distant slightly emotionally unavailable boss bending his secretary over his desk and zipping down their pants. You had been running late that day, you forgot to set your alarm for Mr. Zhongli’s breakfast tea run and you had less cat food than you thought so you had to make a break for the grocery store.

By the time you scrambled in with a steaming cup of your boss’s favorite tea and his stack of reports to review and meeting requests to schedule, the older man was tapping his foot and crossing his arms. He didn’t look disappointed, not quite, but the gentle warmth in his eyes was gone and his small smile was flat.

In your desperation not to lose your job, this was your first and you’re only in your junior year of college, you follow him into his office and set down your things. Your cherry Marc Jacobs tote bag (bought by him, his papers and tea (bought by you with his money), your SINOCULTURAL orchid leather handbag (also bought by him, for variety).

Zhongli wasn’t the kind of pervy boss who’s hit on you before, you guess now that he was just lying in wait. You were the one that draped yourself over his desk with tears in your eyes, desperate and naive and relying on the principle of ‘sex sells’.

He’ll draft up a different beginning to your love story at your wedding.

“You take cock so well, perhaps we’ll have to have a discussion about adding this to your list of duties, hm?”

The condom sliding in and out of your walls makes you want to pout, but you know he has to have one. How he was able to pull a pack from his desk drawer on the spot is beyond you, you’re not quite willing to admit that you’d be so willing to keep your job you’d risk a baby and/or STDs.

“A-ah! Y-yes, sir, whenever you’re available, i-i’ll do anything.” You whisper over your shoulder and push your ass up, wanting the sight of his long cock disappearing under the thick cheeks to be as enticing as possible.

You clutch onto the golden plague bearing his esteemed name for dear life, muffling your sounds into the furniture’s lacquer, and let your boss pour all his stress into your holes. You tried to goad him into taking your ass but he gave you an amused chuckle and a firm pat to each cheek, chiding at you that he’d do it properly another time. He’s a gentleman under his silvered tongue and all his golden scales.

Zhongli seems to get fed up with the condom the closer he gets to his roaring orgasm, and all you’re able to let out in a punched squeal as he sharply pulls out and rips the condom off.

“This damn thing,” He huffs, snarling as he tosses the shredded scraps of plastic to the side, sinking back into your pussy in one go. “There, much better.”

You’re discovering that Mr. Zhongli is not the kind of man who groans unabashedly in the heat of the moment, he's prone to contented sighs and easy laughs. The closest you get to anything animalistic is the guttural grunt he lets slip as you clench around him near the end of his deep thrusts, milking him for all the cum this HR nightmare of a quickie can get you.

“One more thing before you go, be a dear and clean that up for me.” He points a black nail down at the puddle of cum expectantly, somehow having pulled his cock free with a wet flopping noise when you were too dizzy to notice, sinking back into his swiveling chair.

Sugar Daddy!Capitano

Your back hits the hotel wall, softened by Capitano’s hands coming to slide in between you and the surface.

“Mmfh- I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.” You shyly admit as your sighs fade into whimpers, the man’s stubble rubbing on your neck during his rain of kisses.

He laughs and his hot breath hits your pulse point, your heart skips a beat. “So you’ve told me. Don’t worry, you’re nothing but safe with me. I’ve already wired the initial 50,000 for our first meeting to your account, we don’t have to do anything that you are not comfortable with.”

You nod and run your fingers through his black hair, offering up more of your unmarked neck. Of course you’re comfortable, you were so nervous you could die hours earlier, but your first sugar daddy experience has turned out to be the ideal. Capitano made sure you were happy and pliant, offering ten times the amount of what most other men would just for this one dinner. What wouldn’t you be down with doing now?

He nips at your bottom lip, wrapping his burly arms around your chubby thighs and hoisting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and giggle as you fall onto the bed of the hotel’s presidential suite. You trade sloppy and clumsy kisses for less and less articles of clothing, he places your jewelry and your accessories neatly on the nightstand.

“So you don’t prick yourself or worry about losing them, bambi.” He explains and pulls you into another syrupy kiss.

You lose yourself to fit of giggles as he reverently kisses down your body. The next hour is spent with your new sugar daddy licking your pussy, eating you out like a man would gulp down an oasis after a lifetime of being stranded in the desert. You couldn’t say how many times you flood his awaiting mouth with your juices and seed, but you’ll always remember how his Adam's Apple bobs on every swallow. As if it nourishes him, replenishes his soul from inside and out, warms like a good hearty soup.

Capitano slithers up your body to stroke a finger down your face, “Are you ready for me, honey? You’re spewing like a fountain but we can always just cuddle.”

“No, I'm ready, I want this, want you. Please, Daddy, need your cock.” And your money, but mostly your cock right now.

You settle into your position on your back and spread your legs, you grab the back of your ankles and keep them that way. Bearing yourself for the hungry gaze of a man twice your age.

“Alright, needy love, aren’t you? Here you go.” He coos, lining up his fat dick with your slick entrance and sinking in.

You almost wish you had turned the lights off. The way his massive looks hovering above yours, muscles tense and waiting to be exercised. You don’t have to look down at where his cock feeds your pussy, it’s like you can feel what every nerve and vein is doing and touching in your guts. You’re so glad the conversation about being tested was had on the sugaring app, you’re both clean and on the pill so you thought why not indulge in another first.

“Gorgeous cunt. Worth so much fucking more than 50,000. You like France, bambi? I’ll get you a castle in the countryside, this pussy would look divine getting pounded in one of their foyer’s and over their balconies.” He groans, husky and scratchy, kissing you and grinding his cock deep in your quivering pussy like you just got married.

You have to show him how to take a video of his goopy cum dripping out of your puffy folds, spreading them with your fingers and pushing it back inside.

The next morning, you wake up to a bundle of fresh roses and a calligraphy note on the pillow next to your head. You smile and take it all in, but eventually you tug on last night’s clothes and grab your bag. You grin down at your phone, feeling the butterflies play war drums in your stomach, this going somewhere good. There are times when you can just tell.

The suite door is locked, a man’s voice outside asks if you’re ready to be taken back to the boss’s home. On the way there you look through your bag, a message from your intuition, and your birth control is gone. But there are listings for several foreign properties, with a sticky note attached to the first.

‘Tell me which ones you like when you get home. I have my broker on the phone.”

Stalker!Childe

It’s a routine for him, slip in under your window, sink onto your bed and straddle your sleeping body, and fill you up with his cum until your belly bloats. You’ve never noticed, he’s good at cleaning up. And if you have, you’re docile enough to let him keep at it. Let the rabid wolf keep pawing at your door with bloody paws, leaving a carcass at your feet and doing it all over again the next day.

You know it’s just your boyfriend loving on you in private until you’re ready to go public. He understands you’re shy, a lot of the partners he’s had in the past haven’t exactly been social butterflies, but baby it’s just little ol’ Ajax! He wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone his precious significant other, don’t be silly. He has these kinds of conversations with you through hushed whispers against your ear and trembling fingers slipping under the straps of your tank top.

Ajax always preps you, save for a couple of times in the beginning because he was too excited. He prefers doing it with his tongue, but he does love a good fingerbanging session. He’d never cause any pain that wasn’t fun for the both of you, cross his heart and hope to die. He even brings a back up inhaler that he stole from your pharmacist in case you lose your current one.

He grins as he shimmies you out of your sleepwear, you never much, another sign that you’re meant to be “Shh, lovebug, I hope you’re having the sweetest dreams right now. I’m just stopping by to say hi. I have to be quicker this time, I'm real sorry, bub.”

Some as-gentle-as-possible rough fingerbanging it is.

Ajax keeps his eyes peeled so wide they burn a little as he crooks and curls his fingers in your tight pussy, marveling at your groggy whimpers that sooner than later snowball into light moans.

“You looked stunning in your outfit today, I like looser tops on you. I can see your titties bounce, swear to god. The leggings were a nice touch too, wanted to jog over during your walk and smack the shit out of it. But that’s not the meet cute you deserve, is it cutie?” He grips your face in one hand, the free one that’s not knuckles deep in pussy juice, shaking your head for ‘no’ for you.

“I promise we’re gonna meet soon, it breaks my heart to see you look so lonely, bub.” He’s not fazed when you seem like you’re waking up, he just ‘aw’s and strokes his thumb on your clit until you’ve fallen back asleep. “I can’t wait. I’ve gone over everything a million times, what I’m gonna wear, what I’m gonna say, our first date, our “first” time, I'm so ready for it all with you.”

You’re adorable, your brow is pinching and you’re tossing and turning. Your soft moans become louder and since you’re a heavy sleeper that doesn’t live in an apartment (not that he’d stop anyway, he’s seen how your next door neighbors check you out when you’re not looking), he scissors his fingers and speeds up the thrusts of his hand.

After months of this and vigorous hours at the gym, his wrist has stopped cramping entirely. He slips his free hand under his jeans and clasps it around his leaking dick, jerking himself off as he finger fucks your perfect pussy.

“Oh, there it is, honey.” Ajax gasps, tightening his grip around his painfully hard cock just as your walls tighten around his fingers. “It’s okay, keep going for me, you can do it.”

He times his strokes to the thrusts of his fingers, his breathing in sync with every rise and fall of your chest. You’re so wet, you’re leaking around his digits, your pussy making a sick squelching sound

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, just from fingering your pretty pussy.” He pants, circling his thumb over the head of his weep dick and smearing his precum all over his length.

He’s moving so fast his hand is a blur, and he really doesn’t even register the sensation of fucking himself with his fist. Instead what he feels is the way your thighs seize up and your breath hitches, you arch your back off the bed in your sleep and that’s when he knows it’s time.

“Fuck, okay. Lemme get a little closer, lovebug, don’t want any of it to go to waste, right?” He keeps stroking his throbbing cock and blasting his fingers into your pussy, awkwardly trying to find his footing so he can get a good position.

He takes his fingers out of you and his heart squeezes in his chest when your hips buck after them and you whine.

“Here it comes, baby.” Ajax laughs at his own joke, positioning the tip of his dick right against your hole. With a shaky breath and an even shakier smile, he breaches your hole with only that part of himself, loving the way your cunt welcomes it in.

He laughs again when he floods your insides, crossing his fingers behind his back for this one to take. Don’t worry, it’s only a fantasy for now, you should at least have your first date before he knocks you up.

OBGYN!Baizhu

“Just lie back on the exam chair for me and we can begin.” Dr. Baizhu smiles warmly at you as you nervously play with your hands in the clinical room.

You nod, wanting to speak at little as possible. The chair’s paper covering crinkles and creases as you climb onto it, shuffling around before settling into a somewhat comfortable positon lying on your back. You look to Dr. Baizhu on your right, he’s available on your insurance and he has stellar reviews on any site worth trusting you could find. You’re just anxious anyway, and this is something you have to do, it won’t do you any good to get paranoid about all the things that could go wrong in a doctor’s office.

Baizhu’s eyes crinkle in the corners and he takes a seat on one of those rolling black stools. “So I take it that this is your first pelvic exam? Well, then be assured that you’re in good hands. It’s nothing scary, but I need to make sure your vulva and reproductive organs are in perfect working order.”

You laugh awkwardly and mutter back a “I know, I'm fine. Just a little tired, traffic was a nightmare.”

Your nerves already feel like they’re fading away, Dr. Baizhu’s voice is so pleasant and he has such a kind demeanor, you understand why this clinic was so eager to have him. The woman who signed you in was raving that it was his first day after leaving a major hospital, that they were so lucky and you were too.

“Now I'll have you slide down to the end of the table and put your knees in these stirrups, it’s perfectly safe and if you need to take a breather, please let me know.” He croons, allowing you the freedom and comfort to act on your own. He’d never want to make you feel panicked, as if he were forcibly restraining you.

The exams aren’t really a big deal when you’ve gotten over that hump, but Baizhu knows that first times of any variety can be scary. Especially for skittish patients such as yourself, with as much prey drive as a barn bunny being chased by a sheepdog.

You lie there and endure every probe and thoughtful hum. Your vulva is fine and Dr. Baizhu ends that part of the inspection with a quick pat to your mound, his lips twitching as if trying to resist the urge to kiss.

“Okay, now I'm just going to check out your cervix, keep still.” The man hums, smoothing a hand down your right calf from the stirrup to your knee. “You’ll feel some pressure, but nothing painful.”

“Really?” You bite your lip and eye the instruments on the little table by the sink.

Dr. Baizhu chuckles, “Of course. Some patients do experience pain, but it’s not a definite thing, everybody’s different. At most, you’ll feel a tad uncomfortable and exposed.”

So you brace yourself and expect to feel the cold metal of what looks like some kind of forceps. Instead you look down to see your doctor unbuttoning his pants.

He catches your eye and waves off your concern, “Cold metal just seems so abrasive for your first time. You might do better with a more… human approach, something to test how well you can stretch. Don’t worry, I'll put protection on, I'd be a horrible doctor if I didn't.”

Sure enough he slides a latex condom on, covered in tiny holes but you brush it off as being a part of the design. Baizhu’s cock twitches, feeling a sick thrill at how easy you are, at how he can whip his dick out and you’ll believe it’s in your best interest.

He doesn’t release you from the stirrups, and they rattle as he plunges inside inch by inch. Slowly and mind numbingly, to properly gauge your cunt’s ability to expand around the intrusion. You gape up at him, feeling far more than just a tad uncomfortable and exposed. His lips twitch again, torn between maintaining the facade and stuffing your cervix with his cock or breaking character and dipping down to kiss your adorably parted lips.

“I’d give you a piece of candy if that wouldn’t embarrass you. You’re doing great, just relax and the pressure will ease up.”

“Ngh- hah- O-okay, doctor. Thank you for helping me.” You don’t know why you say it, who thanks their doctors for doing a basic exam? But he groans and his hips rush forward all the same.

Your cunt is impossibly tight, which is to be expected but it’s not any less delightful to experience.

The paper underneath you makes you want to claw your eyes out as his thrusts force your back to slide back and forth on it. That, the stirrup straps clacking, and your shared soft pants are the only sounds in the locked room. It’s not as anxiety inducing as you’d expect, the planets in the office orbit around the doctor and as long as they think he’s in an appointment (and isn’t he?) they won’t interrupt. His eyes crease, he promises to give you a home visit when you’re done here, just to be thorough and make good on that promise of candy.

Something sweet for the embodiment of the cavities is in his soul, cunny strangles him tighter than a noose.

Dr. Baizhu shudders as you reflexively clench around his pulsing cock and attempt to kick out your legs only to be held back by the stirrups, “Don’t mind the mess, ‘s all par for the c-course, my dear.”

You squirt on his next thrust, and your tangy juices drip down onto the cold gray floor. The gooey cum that escapes the holes in the condom follow suit and form a little pool. Dr. Baizhu takes several pictures of your seed heavy pussy with his flip phone for medical reference.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ok so i saw a tweet that made me feral, so here i am with a request

It was based on a still from Thunderbolts* with Bucky in the kitchen wearing the tank top, the person said he looked like a dad waiting for the baby bottles to sterilise,,,, so true

I was thinking about #that bucky joining reader in the kitchen after dinner and doing it for the first time after having their baby 😵‍💫

so sorry it’s taken me way longer to get to than planned. thanks for requesting 💌

EIGHT WEEKS. 18+

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc. 1407 warnings. 18+ only! quickie in the kitchen, pinv (but not much smut, my apologies. ive written so much porn lately i fear my brain may explode) mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

For the last near eight weeks, shitty diapers, vomit and fatigue had been all you and Bucky had known. The excessively late nights and nipple pain all being traced back to the sweet, beautiful tyrant of a daughter that you recently welcomed into the world.

And while you were both worse for wear and stretched incredibly thin with the new change of dynamics in the household, you wouldn’t have it any other way — motherhood a great look on you and fatherhood just as good a look on your lover. 

Like anything, it all took some getting used to: the stress, running on minimal sleep, intense blinding irritation, but it was all made easier with the great support system you call a husband. All of his attention and time being divided between his two girls. And with time, you began to feel like your old self again.

By now, it was late and it was like you were each too tired to sleep, each of you barely functioning as you work through the household jobs. 

Bucky’s at the kitchen counter, his time split between bottle sterilisation and the dishes, while you’re at the sofa’s, organising and piling the excessive amounts of baby grows and other laundry. Each of you doing jobs to lighten the giant load.

You stack the clean laundry in the basket and set it on your hip, using your free hand to drag the laundry hamper with you as you walk. You set it in your shared bedroom and meet Bucky back in the kitchen.

You stand beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing as if to soak up the calm quiet. He presses a kiss to your temple and lays the side of his head atop yours, giving you a moment of attention while he focuses on the tasks at hand: carefully attaching bottles with lids so as not to contaminate the sterile vessel.

You wrap your arm around his back, snuggling into his side as you watch him. Whoever would have thought that the hands that were made for death and destruction could now be preparing bottles for your baby in a few rooms over. 

“Good news about the doctors today, huh?” 

He pauses and lifts his head from yours. So you turn and see his expression confused, brows furrowing.

“What news?” he asks, utterly perplexed.

“I texted you this morning,” you match his befuddled tone and reach into your robe pocket for your phone. “The doctor gave me the all clear. I told you about it as soon as I found out…” you mindlessly reiterate, eyes then beginning to narrow as you look at your screen. “Oh my god,” you whisper, and shake your head. “I never send it.”

“Is it bad news?” he questions, eyes softening slightly as they meet yours.

“God no, well… depends how you look at it,” you smile and turn your phone, showing him the screen.

He stills as he reads your unsent text, brows continuing to furrow. “What is that? Is that an eggplant?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why is it there?”

“It’s supposed to be sexy,” you playfully frown.

“Sexy?”

“Yeah,” you nod, pointing to the emoji beside the eggplant one. “See, the peach.”

“I don’t understand,” his head shakes, eyes flickering between you and your phone.

You inhale and close your eyes. “Okay, alright,” you focus on him. “I saw my doctor today, and she gave me the all clear…” you pause, watching the connections slowly being made in his tired blue eyes.

“So we can have sex?”

“So we can have sex,” you repeat, mirroring his tone and expression. 

Part of you questioned whether you should wait until the weekend, wait until you’ve dropped your daughter off with your family. It had been a long time since you’ve been properly fulfilled by your husband, everything but full penetrative sex to suffice during your weeks of healing. 

So this was quite the confliction.

You give it a moment's thought and meet his eyes again.  “Are you tired?” you ask.

“Are you?” he deflects and returns the question, wanting to hear what you have to say before he answers for himself.

“I mean…” you shrug your shoulders. “Yeah, very. But… a quickie can’t hurt, right?”

“Who doesn’t love a quickie?” 

“Exactly,” you smile and turn so your back is against the counter. You lift yourself up onto it, sitting on the edge with your feet dangling down.

He moves to stand between your knees and settles his hands beside yours. “And then this weekend…” he pauses and itches forward, lips ghosting yours briefly. “I can take you up to the lake…” he presses a slow lengthy kiss to your lips.

“Yeah…” you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him again. “What else?”

He pretends to give it some thought but the plan was already extensively created in his head. “I can make us some dinner,” he begins to list and reaches for the bow of your robe, tugging on it gently. “We can go for a walk around the woods, maybe collect some firewood. Sit on the deck and watch the sun go down.”

You drop your hands from around his neck and move to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, fingers mindlessly slipping into the top. You reach down the front and begin palming over his cock, eyes focused on his as you listen.

“Mhm-hm,” you prompt, eager to hear more.

“Well,” he pauses and reaches into the elastic of your underwear. “We can sit in the cabin, maybe have some wine by the fire…” he starts, voice drawing to a whisper, speech halting when he leans in to kiss you again. But he doesn’t continue on with his plan. Instead he grows quiet, quite like he was wanting to reserve the more intimate moments for a surprise. 

And so he slips your underwear down your thighs, the lifting of your ass from the counter aiding the removal. He watches the fabric drag across your skin, the material grazing flesh until it gets caught between your knees. You feel the resistance and lift a knee, letting the underwear fall from one leg and down the length of the other.

The hand you had tucked down the front of his boxers moves back up to the waistband, fingers resuming their prior finnicking into the elastic. You drop your hand from around his neck and join the one at the top of his pyjama bottoms — both of them hastily yanking on the fabric. 

Bucky helps, moving his hands from your underwear to his own. He gives both garments a heavy tug, each catching around the swell of his thighs — revealing just enough of himself as required.

He spits into his palm and smears it messily over his dick. You both watch the lewd display between you, eyes transfixed on the slight twitching of him, cock growing hard under his touch. 

Guiding himself closer he smacks his head against your cunt. The little slaps an attempt to speeden up his erection. 

He holds himself within his left, metal hand and spits once again into the palm of his other, only this time he smears it over your pussy — a makeshift lube saving you both a trip to the bedroom. 

Lining up with you, he teases at your entrance briefly, quite like he was refamiliarising you with the contact of his cock and himself with your cunt once again. He sinks into you slowly and both of your faces contort, the feeling of sheer, unadulterated, lustrous bliss growing with each passing inch.

Your arms wrap around him as if you’re in dire need of his touch, your hands squeezing tightly around his bank. And with the close contact, his forehead falls to press against yours, bodies close as you both delve into the bliss of what got you your daughter in the first place. 

Although this brief, fatigued session was about to reopen a massive can of worms for your sex life, it was clear that this time it may have to be cut short — the long awaited sensations could not quite be replicated by one to the other meant things tonight were bound to end prematurely. 

And so this little session might just have to serve as an appetiser, a taster for the weekend to come when you both finally get around to rekindling things properly in the bedroom.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[tiramissyoucake]

hi, I have a viltrumite mark request! do the gifts that he gives reader vary or to him they’re all the same? like if he’s really trying to impress her and get her on board with producing heirs, is he trying to get her the most valuable gifts he could salvage after his conquest or would he not know the value of the things he’d taken? idk if this makes sense but i love your writings about him :)

Tysm!! And IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE. He regrets destroying earth too thoroughly, there's nothing to salvage to give to you, even if there was there's a chance you'd just become more upset at the memory of what once was.

A shiny gem or two from a desecrated eco-system, pretty robes that survived fires that swallowed whole towns, anything he deemed too beautiful to be destroyed would be taken back, just like how he did with you when he saved you from the sinking ship that was earth

Though this gives me a blurb idea for a Stockholm syndrome type thing *rubbing hands together mischievously*

.

The doors to the bedrooms creaked open, your hands pausing from toying with a gem he brought back from a planet. (One that reflects everything it shows, you saw a glimpse of his smile as he picked it up, a fire, bloodshed, beautiful but daunting.)

"I'm home, love." He announced immediately upon seeing you, setting aside some sort of satchel and walking to you, throwing away the extravagant cape and cupping your cheek to give you a brief kiss, a happy noise vibrating from his lips briefly before he parted. "I have something for you."

'Oh, joy.' You mentally rolled your eyes, glancing up from where you were sitting. "Don't you think I have enough...?" You gestured to a full closet, a vanity littered with jewels you didn't even know existed.

"No, you'll want this, trust me." He took the satchel from where it was tossed, kneeling infront of you and opening it up. "I returned to whatever remained from Earth, and... you'll be happy to know that I missed a few spots."

Mark smiled as he brought out a few rectangular shapes; the familiar scent of paper albeit yellowed, the appearance of worn edges and cracked spines. Books. Actual books. By human authors.

Your expression lit up with.. something, he couldn't discern it as he put the books down in your hands as you shuffled through them, blinking rapidly as if this was a dream.

Familiar titles you've seen in bookshops returned to you, 3 parts from 'Before the Coffee Gets Cold', 'Pride & Prejudice', 'Dracula', collections of short stories, compendiums, you saw more small books between thicker ones.

You thought you'd be angry, yet you felt strangely happy to finally feel something you were familiar with.

"Do you like it?" His smile was so big it almost hurt his cheeks, your expression gave him hope. "Alien books aren't in a scripture you can read, a-and I know there isn't much to do around here when I'm gone..."

"It's perfect." It was so small, it was almost miniscule, you're supposed to be crying, angry to be reminded of your destroyed home. "I.. I'm really happy about this, this may be the best gift you've ever given me."

This was the most Mark has ever gotten from you, the most gratitude that felt genuine. "Books, hah..! Okay! Books, I'll get you more books! Earth books! I'll scour the entire galaxy for any remains of Earthen artifacts!" He monologued excitedly, his heart soaring as you set the books down and looked up at him.

"You look beautiful when overjoyed, I should've done this– mmf!" For once, you initiated contact yourself. Lips pressing against his, Mark melted into a moan as his arms looped around you, leaning up to take more from you.

"Thank you— I don't know how to explain but... thank you—" He shushed you, kissing the corner of your lips, your cheek, your forehead.

"I understand, there's nothing like... home." He begrudgingly called that failing planet your home, as opposed to Viltrum's accommodations. "You know... maybe you could read some of these to our children, in the future."

Your vulnerability was what he was waiting for, a chance to strike to bring up the conversation again. "You're kidding, I don't know if kids can read these..." You were too caught up in the worn cut-up corners of the book to use your usual mind-games, sighing. "... Mark, thank you."

You didn't notice the suspicious smile, the lidded dark gaze that appeared on his face as he stood up while you decided on which book to read. "You're welcome. You're always welcome, love."

[luveline]

Hii jade idk if this is something you would be into but ive been reading all of ur hotch fics that include a relationship with jack and reader and i was wondering if you would be interested in writing for a hotch and ex!reader fic, where reader and jack have a really really close relationship and hotch even depends on her to look after him at times if necessary. I was thinking she comes to pick up jack at the office and everyone is like we didnt know you were seeing someone???? And hes like im not but theres very obvious tension and heart eyes being shared between the two.

thank you for requesting ❤︎ fem, 2k words

You don’t see any of the BAU agents that you’d recognise in the office today, but it's alright, ‘cos you’ve spotted your boy. Jack Hotchner sits at a crowded desk that could only be Spencer’s with a glass of water held in both hands. He tips it up, drinking feverishly, a stream of it dripping down his front to wet his raglan t-shirt. 

You haven’t come by the office in a long time. Not since you and Aaron were dating, it must’ve been a year ago or more the last time you made it up for a rare lunch date. It had been quiet, then, his new agent Emily sent with Spencer to do some work with their tech girl. You’d smiled at Derek on the way in, you remember. Laughed at his joke about your ring finger looking a little light. 

You hide your hands behind your back. “Oh, hey, sweet boy,” you say, your voice carrying. You’ve no need for false cheer —it’s been too long since you saw Jack. You have no excuses. 

His head comes up at the sound of your voice. When he finds you making your way to the desks, he slides his cup down over the table and slips from his chair, unspeaking as he crosses the room to fling himself at your thighs. 

You bend down to kiss his hair. “Hi,” you say, kissing it again. Two quick ones. “Hi, Jack.” 

“Hi,” he says, matching your quiet tone. He feels trembly and strange in your arms, like he’s shaking. 

“Hi.” You loop your arms around his shoulders. He’s slender as a bird, but taller than the last time you’d hugged him. The silence drags, Jack’s hands screwed into fists in your jeans. “Sorry it’s been so long since I last saw you,” you whisper, for his ears alone, “I didn’t mean to get so busy.”

“Everyone is busy.”

“I know. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.” 

Pleased with this, Jack pulls away from you, and when he speaks he’s regained some of his volume, “Dad said I can stay with you for a sleepover only if you want me to.” 

“I want you to.” 

He beams. Offering a hand for the taking, Jack pulls you to Spencer’s desk and retrieves his blue backpack from the chair, its front a bright plastic print of SpongeBob and Patrick. He makes you take it, and you swing it over your shoulder. 

“Let’s go,” he says. 

“Wait a second, you gotta go up and say bye to your dad.” You wish you could send him up alone, dread a solid rock in your tummy that shifts to hurt with every breath. “Come on, lead the way.” 

As you’re going, Emily and Rossi catch sight of you on their way back from the kitchen. “Who’s that?” Emily asks, to which Rossi says, “How should I know?”

“You know who she looks like? Hotch has that photo on his lock screen…” 

You miss the conversation that begins between them, a step behind Jack as he enters Aaron’s office without knocking. His dad quickly looks up from his laptop and gives the phone by his ear a readjustment. “I’ll call you back,” he promises, putting it down. 

Something cruel twists around in your gut wondering who it is. Could be anybody. Just as easily a colleague as a friend as a new girl. 

“Dad, we’re going.” 

Aaron stands from his chair. “Thank you,” he says to you, so obviously stuck as to what to say next that anger pricks the back of your neck. You swallow every last bit of it down. 

“I told you whenever you need me to, didn’t I?” You get a look at him. Eyebags darker than ever, he’s skinny, tired, everything you hate to see. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

Where you’d expected to see anger, regret colours Aaron’s stance. He holds the back of his chair and sighs. “Of course I am.” 

You cross an arm over your stomach. That morning, getting dressed, you’d decided to wear something that might make him want you back, even though you know he wants you back. Something that might make him braver, then. Or kinder, more agreeable to what you need. You’re wearing the silver chain he bought you, just so he knows you still have it, over a leather-type jacket and his favourite pair of jeans. It felt good at the time and childish now, because he’s not doing any better without you, and you miss him so much you might fold first. 

“He asked to stay the night. What time do you want me to bring him back?” you ask. 

“What time were you thinking?” 

You let Jack drift into your hip. His small nose is surprisingly pointy. “I’d keep him forever if I could.” 

The stumble in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed. He smiles weakly. “Yeah, I know. You’re good that way.” 

Jack tips his head back to force your gaze on him, “Yeah, ‘cos dad says you’re good as gold.” 

Your smile wavers. “Does he?” you ask carefully. 

Aaron used to tell you that sort of stuff all the time. He had a way of picking a turn of phrase that you miss. He loved that one especially in his softest moments, tear stained and sniffling against him or smiling at something he’d said, he’d declare it, like everybody should’ve known it too. You’re good, he’d say, caressing your cheek, you’re as good as gold, honey. 

“Why don’t we say midday, honey?” 

“Okay.” You try not to give your own sermon on the way he uses the pet name, but it’s no use. He says honey like it’s yours, doesn’t matter that the last time you saw him you told him he doesn’t get to say he loves you, what use was that, any of it, when he wouldn’t step up to the plate. 

Listen, it’s not that you need to get married. There’s a part of you that thinks marriage is special, and there’s a part of you that knows it’s a license rather than any solid proof of things, but what you needed most from Aaron was commitment. Even if he promised it once out loud that you were permanent, and that he was going to be careful. But you’d asked and he’d hesitated and your reconciliation is about as near as a lily flower is to the arctic circle. 

“Jack, can you give us two minutes?” you ask, holding up two fingers. 

Jack looks out the door. “Can I go see JJ?” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” Aaron says, “come and give me a hug, okay? We’ll say bye now.” 

Jack does his flinging thing and ends up pulled to Aaron’s stomach. Rough hands spread over a short back, dulcet murmuring of love yous and miss yous lost in blonde hair. 

Jack leaves. Aaron is glad you’ve asked for time alone, it couldn’t be more obvious, with or without his training in psychic evaluation. You decide tiredly to take a seat in front of his desk, waiting for him to sit himself before you offer any more to him. 

He grips the edge of his desk between his finger and thumb.

“I didn’t mean to ignore your call,” you confess. Calls.  

He nods. 

“I was sleeping. Then…” 

“You don’t have to explain.” 

“I don’t want you to think I don’t want  to be with you, Aaron,” you say, careful again. “I want it a lot. And I’m angry with you because you don’t want it like I do.”

“You know I want that, too.”

“You don’t, though. I told you, either you start to look after yourself, or I go. And you aren’t looking any better.” 

“Well, missing you does this to me.” 

He says it with a sincerity that has you wincing.

“Don’t say it like that, like I’m making it worse,” you say, nearly glaring, “I’m trying to fix it. You work all the time and I thought I could understand it, but it’s not about missing you, it’s literally that you expect me to sit at home watching you work yourself to death, while Jack–” You cut yourself off short. Take a deep breath. “Sorry. I know you aren’t hurting Jack. Aren’t trying to hurt Jack, but...” 

Your murmuring sets off his own, “You can be angry with me, I deserve it.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. You own up to your mistakes but you don’t change. I can’t– I don’t even know what this is, but I can’t do it forever. I need you to…” You stare down at your lap. “Need you to fix this.” 

“I’m–” He bites his tongue. Then opens his mouth, speechless for a time. “I will. I’ll fix it.” 

“Will you?”

“I’ll fix it.”

You feel like you could fall to pieces in his arms, but you need him to do what he’s promising you, and crying while he rubs your back won’t help. “I’m so angry at you,” you say.

“I know.” 

You want him to say he loves you. He braces his hand on the desk.

In the bullpen, JJ holds Jack on her hip and tries to direct his attention to her, while the rest of the team turn their ears to the open door, listening. 

“Not his girlfriend, then?” Emily asks. 

Aaron moves toward you. Through the window, they watch as he chucks you gently under the chin. You move your face from his touch, speaking too quietly to hear from down here. 

“Are they fighting?” Jack mumbles. 

“No, honey, they’re not fighting, just talking.” 

“I’m going with her to sleep there,” he says. “For a sleepover. Dad said so.”

“Wow! What are you gonna do at the sleepover?” 

(It’s brave of Aaron to try and touch you when you’re divided. You’re both being brave. You’re honest with him. Anyone looking at you both can see how badly you want to give in, which makes it tough to watch as you stand and gather yourself away from him.) 

Your smile is shaky as you descend the steps from the landing, but it strengthens when Jack perks up. 

“Hi,” you say, greeting the agents that have circled around him with some renewed timidity. “Ready to go, baby?” 

“Can I say bye to dad again?” he asks. 

JJ sets him down. “As many times as you want,” you promise. 

Jack rushes back to his dads office. You watch as he trips over himself, and as Aaron comes to meet him by the door for a hug that turns meandering. 

“Be good, okay? And remember what we talked about, yeah?” He strokes his hair back to meet Jack’s eye. 

“What did we talk about?” 

“That she’s not mad at you, Jack. Only me. Okay?”

You wish you could hate him, but all you have is love and the urge to block his number. At least you get a night with your boy, sweet as he is.

Aaron catches your eye from above. His wan face fills with a determination that has your heart in a tumble —it feels like a promise, like the next time Jack comes to stay, he could come with him. All Aaron has to do is take a break. 

(You take Jack’s hand again and lead him out of the offices, and Aaron dials Strauss’ number. He’s not stupid enough to think that a month of vacation days can fix the things that are hurting you, nor could the simple promise ring with the pear-drop diamond that sits hiding in his desk, but he has to start somewhere, and he has to start now.)

(In the car, Jack asks if you’ll be coming home soon. You’re brave enough to tell him any day now.) 

[cheftsunoda]

walk with me…

charles x lewis x reader! but wait….………………sainz!reader….i know, crazy! i’m a madman, call the cops. potential plot (i’ll take anything at this point, lewis never gets poly fics and im starving!) readers’s been dating charles for a while, lewis comes to ferrari, reader and charles are down bad for him. what’s worse? reader hates williams blue and refuses to wear it even to support her brother. it drives carlos crazy and everyone else finds it hilarious!

i never request but your writing has moved me, got me reading about drivers i don’t even like, that’s crazy! love you, please never stop writing!

forza ferrari - cl16 & lh44

smau + blurbs

charles leclerc x !sainz reader x lewis hamilton

carlos sainz x !sister reader

yn loves her big brother dearly- but her heart has always been with ferrari...quite literally. yn and charles have been dating for a little over two years and even though carlos has departed and has a new team- he can never get yn out of ferrari red. he especially won't be able to after she starts dating both ferrari drivers.

fc : saradeanii on ig (and i used a few pics of alex lol)

(a/n) : thank you so much for the love my angel. im so glad you enjoy my work!! love u smmmm.

such a cute ideaaaa. big brother carlos has had me in a chokehold since i wrote heal your heart.

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f1gossipgirls

910,204 likes.

f1gossipgirls : YN Sainz was seen in the paddock decked out in Ferrari gear (this is the 6th time this season)...even when visiting her brother in the Williams garage. We love the dedication, YN!

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username00 : “support your brother” she is — from the wrong garage 😭

username8 : this woman would rather be set on fire than wear Williams merch

↳ yn_sainz : yes i quite literally would

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williamsracing : yn, please.

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↳ yn_sainz : idk who u r stop bothering me

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username10 : ferrari PR really hit the jackpot with this one

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lando : @/carlossainz55

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↳ charles_leclerc : @/carlossainz55

↳ georgerussell63 : @/carlossainz55

↳ yn_sainz : @/carlossainz55

↳ carlossainz55 : guys please. im aware. ive just given up.

↳ alexalbon : i tried to give her a williams cap and she threatened me and pushed it off the table with her fork.

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-

I walked confidently down the paddock, decked head to toe in my Ferrari jacket, red-tinted sunglasses, and a cherry-colored mini skirt I definitely didn’t pick for subtlety. Heads turned. Some fans cheered. Some of the Williams crew actually groaned. It was exactly the reaction I wanted. I spotted Carlos near the entrance to the garage, mid-chat with someone from his team. He didn’t see me yet, but I could tell from the way Lando caught sight of me and immediately started grinning that this was about to become a moment.

“Oh no,” Lando said dramatically, nudging Carlos with his elbow. “Don’t turn around.”

Carlos froze. “Why?”

“Your sister’s here,” Lando replied, already snickering.

Carlos sighed. “And she’s wearing it again, isn’t she.”

I didn’t even wait to be acknowledged���I launched myself straight into a hug. “Hola, hermanito,” I said in my sweetest voice, squeezing him tight.

He looked down at me, scowling. “Seriously? In my garage? Again?”

“What?” I blinked innocently. “This is my neutral outfit.”

“It’s red. And Ferrari. That’s the opposite of neutral ground."

Alex Albon walked by, did a double take, and cackled. “She’s got the entire Ferrari look on. I think that’s even a team-issued hat.”

“It is,” I said proudly, turning around. “Limited edition. Only for girlfriends, siblings, or traitors.”

Carlos threw his head back in pain. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh come on,” Lando chimed in. “At least she shows up. That’s love.”

“That’s delusion,” Carlos snapped.

“You’re just mad I’m color-coordinated,” I replied, smoothing my skirt like I was on a runway. “Besides, red brings out my eyes.”

“You could wear blue. Just once. Please.”

I gasped, horrified. “Absolutely not. I have standards.”

Lando was practically folded over with laughter, and Alex had pulled out his phone and was already recording us.

Carlos turned to his engineer and mumbled, “I’m an only child. I don’t know who that is.”

I just smiled sweetly and handed him a little Ferrari sticker I had in my purse. “Here. For morale.”

He looked at it like it was poison.

-

Leaving Carlos to sulk in his navy nightmare felt like a personal victory. I walked back down the paddock toward the Ferrari garage, flipping my ponytail over my shoulder and ignoring the looks I got on the way.

Charles was leaning against the garage wall, sipping from his water bottle, sunglasses on. He spotted me and smirked immediately.

“There she is,” he called. “Williams’ favorite enemy.”

“I’m a symbol of brand loyalty,” I said, grinning as I walked right into his open arms. He pressed a light kiss to my forehead. He gave me one of those squishy, familiar hugs that made me feel like home.

“How bad was it?” he asked, pulling away to adjust the collar of my jacket.

“Carlos is two eye twitches away from changing his last name,” I said sweetly. “I gave him a Ferrari sticker. Thought it might help.”

Charles laughed. “You’re the reason he’s going to age prematurely."

“Good,” I replied, just as Lewis strolled out of the garage, helmet in one hand, towel slung around his neck.

The second our eyes met, his smile stretched wide.

“Should’ve known all that noise was you,” Lewis said, voice rich and teasing. “I heard dramatic sighing all the way down the pit lane.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feigning innocence. “I’ve been a perfect guest.”

“She terrorized an entire garage.” Charles muttered.

Lewis grinned and looked me up and down—not in a gross way, just… appreciative. “I mean. If you’re gonna commit to a color, at least it looks this good.”

“You trying to win me over to Ferrari too?” I teased, stepping a little closer.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Who says I haven’t already?”

My stomach did that annoying fluttery thing, and I caught Charles side-eyeing us.

“Okay,” Charles said with a smirk. “Can we not flirt while I’m literally standing right here?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I said quickly.

“You definitely were,” both of them replied.

I rolled my eyes and held out my hands. “Well, come on then. Escort me, gentlemen. Let’s make an entrance.”

Charles looped his arm through mine with a sigh. Lewis took the other side like it was the most natural thing in the world. As we walked, I felt Lewis’ thumb brush lightly against the back of my hand. Just a touch. Barely there. But it lingered. And I let it.

-

yn_sainz

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 & 5,070,002 others.

yn_sainz : live laugh love ferrari

tagged : carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and scuderiaferrari

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username0 : the roblox meme im screaming. she is one of us.

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alexalbon : live laugh love betrayal

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carlossainz55 : can someone please tell her i drive for WILLIAMS now.

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↳ yn_sainz : who is william and why is he holding my brother hostage

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↳ carlossainz55 : i give up

lando : why weren't you like this when he was at mclaren

↳ yn_sainz : because mclaren sucks

↳ lando : honestly fair

scuderiaferrari : this year is our year.

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↳ yn_sainz : they are going to throw us in the same padded cell admin

↳ scuderiaferrari : no one id rather be stuck with

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charles_leclerc : forever glad you chose me...and ferrari

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↳ yn_sainz : even if you leave ferrari...i am staying.

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lewishamilton : no one was even paying attention to charles and i with you, roscoe and leo there :)

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time skip - mid season.

The cabin lights were low, casting everything in that dim golden glow that always made private flights feel like a dream. Outside, clouds rolled endlessly beneath us, cotton-soft and untouchable. Inside, everything was quiet. Calm. For once. Charles was somewhere toward the back of the jet, still half-typing something on his phone, while I wandered forward from my seat, stretching my legs. That’s when I saw him.

Lewis.

He’d fallen asleep curled on the corner couch—long legs bent awkwardly, hoodie pulled up over half his face, mouth parted just a little. His hand was still loosely holding his phone, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. I froze, just for a second.

It hit me then—how peaceful he looked. How rare that was. He was always on—smiling, focused, constantly carrying a million expectations that most people could never even understand. But here, in the soft hum of the jet, he looked like just Lewis. My friend. My… whatever he was now.

I grabbed one of the blankets from the overhead compartment and walked quietly over to him. Gently, I took the phone from his hand, setting it on the nearby seat. He didn’t stir. Then I draped the blanket over him, careful not to wake him. He sighed, shifted slightly, and then stilled again. I just stood there for a moment. Watching. Heart too full and too confused at once.

“Do you do that often?” came Charles’ voice, soft and low behind me.

I turned slowly. He was leaning against the wall, watching. Not upset. Not surprised. Just… knowing.

“Do what?”

“Take care of him like that,” he said. “Without thinking twice.”

I looked back at Lewis, the blanket rising and falling gently with his breathing. “I guess I didn’t realize I was doing it until recently.”

Charles nodded and crossed the space to sit beside me on the edge of the opposite couch. We both stared at Lewis for a long moment.

“I’ve been trying not to say it,” he murmured. “Because I thought maybe it would go away. That it was just the three of us spending too much time together. That it was… a phase.”

I didn’t look at him yet. I couldn’t. I was too afraid I already knew what he was about to say. So I said it first.

“I like him. Like I really do."

The silence that followed was heavier than the engines.

I felt Charles’ gaze flick to me. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”

I finally turned my head. His eyes were glassy, but he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he looked a little relieved to finally say it out loud.

“It’s not just a crush,” I added, needing to hear it spoken aloud. “It’s not… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know,” Charles said. “Me neither. And it’s not instead of you. It’s not one or the other.”

My throat tightened. “Same.”

We sat there in the stillness, in the weight of honesty, with Lewis breathing quietly just a few feet away—completely unaware.

“I used to think you were the person I wanted forever,” Charles said softly. “And I still do. But maybe he is, too. In a different way.”

I reached out, linking my pinky with his. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And I love you. I always will.”

A beat passed.

“Do you think he feels it, too?” I asked, the question barely more than breath.

Charles smiled faintly. “I'm not sure but I don't think he would light up like he does around us if he didn't.”

I looked back at Lewis. His hoodie had slipped slightly, revealing the curve of his jaw, the line of his lashes against his cheeks. We’d spent months traveling together, laughing, getting closer without ever naming it. Somewhere along the way, our friendship had started to feel like something sacred. Like a secret we were all quietly protecting. I wanted to wake him. I wanted to say, Do you feel it too? Is this real? Are we already a we? But instead, I leaned into Charles’ side and rested my head on his shoulder.

“We’re going to have to tell him eventually,” I said.

“Eventually,” Charles agreed. “But for now…”

We watched him sleep. For now, this moment—honest and quiet and full of possibility—was enough.

-

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, lando & 7,090,002 others.

yourusername : ferrari family vacay

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↳ yn_sainz : don't play w me rn admin. i'll drop the addy.

↳ scuderiaferrari : omw. taking the company jet.

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franciscagomes : you literally own the color red. like no one has ever looked as good as you do.

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↳ yn_sainz : love u love u love u. come gimme a kisssss

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carlossainz55 : you do know that we are family?

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↳ yn_sainz : yes we do share the same name and dna carlitos

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↳ yn_sainz : you lost your invite when you started driving for that william guy

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charles_leclerc : best vacation ever. ❤

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alexalbon : how does one even own this much red??

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↳ yn_sainz : the same way you own that disgusting blue color

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username10 : yn!! carlando, charlos or carbono??

↳ yn_sainz : the feeling of watching your brother and boyfriend fall in love with each other is gut wrenching and alex is annoying me atm so carlando.

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↳ alexalbon : what she say fuck me for??

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↳ lando : i knew you liked me yn

↳ yn_sainz : do not get your hopes up. i only deal with you because carlos is madly in love with you.

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-

The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in that golden-hour haze that made the ocean look like melted gold. The yacht rocked gently beneath us, anchored just far enough out that the only sounds were waves lapping against the hull and the occasional burst of laughter. I was curled up on a sunbed with a drink in hand, still wearing my bikini but now draped in one of Charles’ oversized Ferrari hoodies. It smelled like salt and sunscreen and him. Leo was snoring at my feet, paws twitching in his sleep.

Lewis walked over first, shirtless and sun-kissed, holding two cold lemon drinks and offering one out without a word. I smiled up at him.

“You’re spoiling me,” I said, taking it.

“Someone’s gotta,” he teased, settling down beside me and slinging an arm over the back of the lounger. His fingers brushed the back of my neck and stayed there—casual, but warm. Familiar.

A few seconds later, Charles flopped down on my other side, still damp from his swim, curls dripping onto the towel wrapped around his shoulders. “Leo’s living his best life,” he murmured, reaching to rub the sleeping dog’s belly.

“Leo’s not the only one,” I said, smiling into my glass. Because how could I not be? With the sea breeze in my hair, Charles pressed against my side, and Lewis’ fingers now gently tracing patterns at the nape of my neck.

Charles looked over at Lewis and nudged him with his foot. “We should do this more often.”

“What, take a yacht out and pretend we don’t have media day in 48 hours?” Lewis smirked.

“Exactly,” Charles said. “We’re very busy people. This is bonding.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I laughed.

“I mean,” Charles said, reaching over to pluck my drink and take a sip, “If the PR team asks, I’ll say I was just strengthening teammate relationship.”

Lewis chuckled. “And what about her?”

“Oh, she’s just here for emotional support,” Charles said with a wink, handing me back the glass.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the warmth in my chest.

We lay like that for a while—Lewis’ hand moving slowly up and down my arm, Charles humming something under his breath as the sun dipped lower. Everything about it felt easy. Natural. Like the three of us had fallen into some kind of perfect, delicate rhythm without even trying.

Eventually, Lewis turned his head toward me, voice quieter now. “You happy?”

I looked at him, then over at Charles. At the soft smiles, the lazy closeness, the way we just fit—like maybe the sea wasn’t the only thing we were floating in.

“Yeah,” I said. “I really am.”

Charles leaned in and kissed my cheek. Lewis took my hand. And for a long, quiet moment, none of us needed to say anything else.

-

Charles was still asleep back on the yacht, one arm draped dramatically over his face, Leo curled up on his chest like a weighted blanket. I’d watched them both for a minute before I climbed down the ladder and stepped onto the sand, the heat of the day still lingering beneath my feet.

Lewis was already down there, walking barefoot along the shoreline with his pants rolled up to his calves and sunglasses perched lazily on his nose. He turned when he saw me, a slow smile spreading across his face—soft, warm, something private tucked in it.

“You escaped,” he said.

“Charles is unconscious,” I replied, falling into step beside him. “Leo’s his emotional support."

Lewis laughed, low and rich. “That dog lives the life."

We walked in silence for a while, the waves licking at our feet, the sun brushing the horizon in molten amber. The wind caught my hair, and I felt him glance over. Twice.

“You look happy here,” he said finally, voice softer now. “Not just today. Lately.”

I looked up at him. “I am. You’re part of that.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“You think I don’t notice?” I asked, gently bumping my shoulder into his. “You bring me my favorite juice every morning. You always walk slower when I’m tired. And you’re the only one who can get Charles to stop overthinking for five minutes straight.”

He looked away, like maybe it was too much to meet my eyes just yet. “Yeah, well. I like seeing you smile.”

I stopped walking. So did he. The breeze moved between us, teasing the hem of his shirt, curling around the silence stretching long and charged.

Then, so quietly I barely heard it-

“I think I’m in trouble with you.”

I didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because you’re with him.”

His eyes searched mine. “And I shouldn’t—”

He kissed me. It was quick. Messy. Barely even planned. His hands stayed frozen at his sides, like he hadn’t meant to do it, like his body betrayed his mind. My breath caught, my heart thundered. He pulled back immediately, eyes wide, regret crashing over him like a wave.

“Shit,” he breathed, taking a step back. “Shit—YN, I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

“Lewis,” I said, stepping toward him, catching his hand. “Hey. Breathe.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his curls, pacing half a step away. “You’re with Charles. I can’t be that guy. I won’t be that guy.”

“You’re not,” I said quietly. “You could never be.”

“I crossed a line.”

I touched his chest—right where his heart was racing under his shirt. “You didn’t cross it alone.”

That got him to stop moving.

“Charles and I… things with him are real. But they’ve also changed. We’ve both changed. And what’s been happening between the three of us isn’t a secret. We’ve just been too scared to say it out loud.”

He looked at me then. Really looked.

“You’re saying he knows.”

“I’m saying,” I said carefully, “that Charles and I talked about you on the flight here. About how we feel. About the possibility that this—you—is more than just something we’re trying to ignore.”

Lewis swallowed hard. “And what did you decide?”

“That we’re not pretending anymore,” I said. “And that we should be honest—with you. And with ourselves.”

His expression cracked, a flicker of hope breaking through the storm cloud guilt.

“So,” he said slowly, his voice low again. “I didn’t just ruin everything?”

I shook my head. “You kissed me. That’s all. And maybe that kiss… meant more than either of us are ready to say out loud yet. But it’s not wrong.”

He reached for my hand this time, gently lacing his fingers through mine. “I’ve been trying so hard to be careful with you. With him. With this.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s what makes you you.”

He smiled, a little broken, a little disbelieving. “So what now?”

I looked back at the yacht in the distance, sails swaying. “Now? We walk back. And maybe when Charles wakes up, we tell him what happened. Together.”

“And after that?”

I squeezed his hand. “After that, we stop pretending we’re not falling into something that’s been waiting for us all along.”

He leaned in, slower this time, forehead brushing mine. And when his lips met mine again—softer now, no panic, just warmth and truth—it felt like something we had all already agreed to, even if we hadn’t spoken it yet.

-

By the time Lewis and I climbed back up the ladder, the sky had gone pink and deep lavender, the stars barely starting to blink through the haze of the day. My hand was still tucked into his, both of us quiet, steady, unsure what the next few minutes would hold. But when I stepped onto the deck, I knew. Charles was awake.

He was sitting on the padded bench, hair a mess of flattened curls from sleep, hoodie half-zipped over his bare chest, Leo tucked under one arm like a pillow he refused to give back. His legs were lazily sprawled out in front of him, but his eyes—sharp, clear, knowing—were locked on us before we could even speak.

“Oh,” he said lightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So I was right.”

Lewis froze beside me. I held my breath.

Charles tilted his head. “You kissed her.”

It wasn’t angry. He didn’t look upset, just… open. Curious. A touch amused. He was watching us like we were characters in a movie he already knew the ending to.

“I—” Lewis started, instantly dropping my hand. “I didn’t mean to. It just—happened, and I freaked out, and I told her it was a mistake, which it wasn’t, but—”

“Lewis,” Charles interrupted gently, raising a hand. “It’s okay.”

Lewis blinked. “It is?”

Charles smiled, soft and crooked. “Yeah. It is.”

I stepped forward then, close enough to see the faint pink still clinging to his cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he laughed, shaking his head. “No. I think I’m mostly relieved.”

“Relieved?” I echoed.

Charles looked between us—me still in his hoodie, Lewis standing like he was waiting to be exiled. Then he stood up, slowly, walking over until he was right in front of us.

“Because now we’re not dancing around it anymore,” he said. “Now we can actually say it.”

My voice dropped. “Say what?”

He looked at Lewis first. “That I love her.”

Then he turned to me. “That I love you.”

And finally, back to Lewis—his voice lower now, heavier, but full of truth-

“And that I think I might love you too.”

Lewis’ breath caught. So did mine. There were no fireworks. No dramatic music. Just the sound of the waves against the yacht and Leo sighing in his sleep. But it felt louder than anything I’d ever heard.

“I’ve known for a while,” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “That this thing between us... all three of us... it wasn’t just in my head.”

“It wasn’t,” I said softly. “Not for any of us.”

“I’ve been trying not to screw it up,” Lewis said. “Trying to be respectful. But I—I haven’t stopped thinking about either of you.”

Charles stepped closer. “Then maybe we stop trying not to feel it. And just figure it out together.”

Lewis looked at me, eyes wide and soft and unsure.

I nodded. “I want that.”

And then, before I could even breathe again, Charles reached up and took Lewis’ face in his hands and pressed the gentlest kiss to his cheek. Lewis looked stunned. Beautifully stunned.

Charles turned to me. “Come here,” he whispered.

And I did. Right into the space between them. Between us. The three of us stood there, on a yacht rocking gently in the open sea, wrapped in something that finally, finally had a name. Not confusion. Not guilt. Not chaos. But something real.

And just as the sun vanished behind the horizon, I whispered, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Lewis smiled, pulling us closer. “God help your poor brother when he finds out."

-

I don’t know what time it was. Just that the track was buzzing, the garage was loud, and Charles was supposedly off doing media rounds, which left Lewis and me alone in his driver room with five stolen minutes and a locked door. Or… so we thought.

Lewis had me perched on the edge of the little leather sofa, fingers in my hair, lips pressed softly—then not so softly—against mine, his free hand sliding over my hip like he very much wasn’t thinking about the race happening soon.

“Five minutes,” I whispered against his mouth.

“I only need three,” he murmured with a smirk.

I swatted his chest, laughing, just as—

BANG.

The door slammed open.

“CHARLES! Have you seen my—WHAT THE HELL?!”

Lewis physically flinched back from me like he’d been electrocuted. Carlos stood in the doorway, eyes bugging out of his skull, pointing directly at us like he’d just walked in on a crime scene. I froze. Lewis looked like he saw a ghost. A very angry, spanish ghost.

“I—SHE—YOU—NO.”

“Carlos—”

“NO. NOPE. I AM HAVING A FULL STROKE.”

He started pacing, hands on his hips, eyes wide as saucers. “Why are you kissing him? Why is he kissing you? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING IN CHARLES’ ROOM?!”

Lewis opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He looked like a guilty golden retriever.

Carlos pointed at him again. “And YOU! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ZEN! You’re supposed to be—like—YODA or something! WHAT HAPPENED TO YODA?”

“I—I can explain—” Lewis stammered.

“Can you? CAN YOU REALLY?” Carlos turned to me. “And you! Miss Ferrari Cult Leader—you said you hated drama!”

“I do!” I protested. “I just happen to also… love charles and his teammate. Who loves me back.”

Carlos made a noise like a deflating tire. And then—perfectly timed, calm as ever—Charles strolled in, towel around his neck, water bottle in hand.

“Ah,” he said casually. “You found them.”

Carlos whipped around. “YOU KNEW?”

Charles took a long, slow sip of water. “I encouraged it, actually.”

Carlos choked on his own spit. “You what?!”

Charles shrugged. “It’s very healthy, emotionally. We communicate. We’re very evolved.”

Carlos blinked. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means your sister is in a consensual, loving throuple and you need to calm down before your heart explodes,” I said sweetly.

Charles high-fived me. Lewis still looked vaguely traumatized.

“I need to sit down,” Carlos mumbled, dropping into the armchair like it had betrayed him. “Is this why you won’t wear Williams blue?”

“That’s always been unrelated,” I said.

“Unbelievable,” he groaned.

There was a long pause. Then, finally-

“You’re dating both of them?”

I nodded.

“Like—romantically?”

“Yes, Carlos.”

“Like—kissing and cuddling and—”

“CARLOS.”

Charles dropped into the seat next to him, patting his knee. “You’ll adjust.”

Lewis finally cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, man… I respect her. And you. I’d never do anything that wasn’t right by both of you.”

Carlos stared at him. Then stared at Charles. Then stared at me. Then back at Lewis.

“You’re all lucky I love you,” he muttered, before pointing sternly. “But if you hurt her—either of you—I will run both ferrari's off the track."

Charles raised his water bottle in salute. “Fair.”

Lewis nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Carlos groaned again. “I’m going to the Williams garage. At least there no one’s dating my best friend and Lewis Hamilton at the same time.”

He stood, dramatically, and paused at the door. “Also, you two owe me therapy. And maybe some dinner."

Then he left, muttering in Spanish. The door closed. A beat of silence.

Then Charles leaned against the wall and smirked. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.”

Lewis exhaled hard. “I genuinely thought he was going to punch me.”

“You’d deserve it,” I teased, looping my arm around his waist. “But it’s okay. He’ll be fine.”

“He’ll recover,” Charles added, coming to wrap an arm around my other side. “Eventually.”

I smiled between them. We were chaos. But we were ours.

-

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, lando & `11,034,003 others.

yourusername : i love ferrari sm that i decided to date both of their drivers.

tagged : charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

-

view 354,035 other comments.

williamsracing : oh great so we really don't stand a chance.

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : never did

lando : how is carlos?

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : traumatized but we fed him lobster and alcohol so he is healing slowly

scuderiaferrari : how does it feel to be living MY DREAM? 😭

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : ily

charles_leclerc : mes amours ❤

liked by yn_sainz and lewishamilton

carlossainz55 : my worst nightmare come true.

liked by yn_sainz, charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

lewishamilton : happier than ever. love you both ❤

liked by charles_leclerc and yn_sainz

-

[nathanbatemanfucker]

A Breach in Reality

request: If you're taking requests ive been GNAWING for a joaquin x fem reader where they go on an undercover mission to a riiiiiiich ahh gala as a fake couple and they end up kissing to not get caught🤌

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: undercover trope, colleagues to lovers, internal angst/insecurity, kissing

wc: 1,572

an: these two are so adorable! thank you for sending in this request anon. I truly hope you enjoy <3

danny ramirez characters masterlist

The mission brief was simple: infiltrate the gala, extract the intel, get out without blowing your cover. The two of you had prepared well, going over your aliases, asking each other questions that someone might want to know, making sure all the gaps were filled.

What you didn’t prepare for is how tight and warm Joaquin’s hand would feel on your waist in the silky gown you’re wearing. Or how good he’d look in his polished suit, black and sleek. How good his cologne smells when you walk hand and hand. How his eyes seemed to roam a little more than usual; you brush that thought away easier than all the others. Of course he was looking at everyone, at you more closely.

He leans close to whisper against your ear as you walk up the marble steps of the venue. He has to say it because it’s true. “You clean up nice, princesa.”

You barely hold back a smile, rolling your eyes at him playfully. “You’re just saying that because I’m your fake date.”

Joaquin’s gaze is sincere. “I’d say it if you were my real one, too.”

You have to look away from his brown eyes because you don’t detect any dishonesty. But you know that you shouldn’t get involved with someone you’re working with, especially with how infrequent you see him. You don’t want to get attached to the idea of having him this way, even if your mind has forced you to dream about it once or twice before.

You value reality and protection of yourself, of your heart over everything. It’s why you haven’t let yourself go on a date in over 5 years. The last time you opened up in that way, you couldn’t remember who you were when it all finished.

The gala is all champagne flutes, soft jazz, and people with money to waste. You keep your arm looped through his, playing the role of the doting partner while you both scan the room for your target. He’s pressing you closer than necessary, his body heat seeping into your skin, but you don’t pull away. You don’t want to.

What’s one night letting yourself feel the affection of someone else, especially when it’s already known to be a farce. No harm, no foul.

“Target’s heading toward the east wing,” you murmur, eyes trained on the man with the silver cufflinks. The pin on his suit indicates he’s exactly who you’re looking for.

“Copy,” Joaquin says smoothly. “Let’s move—”

“Un segundo,” you cut in quickly, pressing into him more firmly to stop him. “Su seguridad está mirando.”

Two guards in suits that linger just far enough to not draw attention to the untrained eye have turned to look directly at you both, eyes narrowed like they’ve seen something they shouldn’t. Like they see right through you.

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate. He shifts in front of you, hand sliding to your jaw like it belongs there. “¿Confías en me?”

You raise a brow at him, like he’s asked you a silly question. And he has, you wouldn’t have agreed to go on a mission with him if you didn’t trust him. “…I’m literally undercover with you.”

He grins mischievously, eyes glittering in the low lighting. “Close enough.”

He kisses you then.

It’s delicate and unexpected, and you’re too caught up in the perfect way his lips feel against yours to remember the mission for a split second. The reality you had just promised yourself you would stay in slips away. His hands stay gentle but sure, holding your face like you’re something fragile, like he’s been waiting for an excuse.

You melt into it—just for a second, just until the guards look away. At least that’s what you tell yourself, because the thought of breaking the kiss never crosses your mind.

It’s him who pulls back, leaving you both a little breathless.

“Convincing enough, yeah?” he asks, trying to sound casual but his voice is rough. He’s clearly affected, but you chalk it up to a natural response from the body.

You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah. They’re uninterested.”

Neither of you moves. He’s still cupping your face, his thumb absentmindedly running over your cheek. And your hands that had moved to ground you during the kiss are still fisted in the fabric of his suit. The mission calls you forward, but something heavier hangs between you—hot, unspoken, electric.

You clear your throat again, loosening your hold on him, still not daring to meet his gaze. “Listas?”

He lets out a breath. “Listo.”

The mission wraps up without a hitch. The target successfully caught, the intel procured. You’re back in the van peeling off your heels with a weighted sigh and trying not to think about the way Joaquin kissed you like he meant it.

Except, how are you meant to not think about it?

You’ve replayed it at least thirty times on the way back to the safe house, each one more embarrassing than the last. Because the thing is, it didn’t feel fake; not for a second. And now you’re stuck wondering if that was just him being good at the job, or if maybe it meant something. Something more.

That’s not a question you’ll let yourself ask though. Reality. Protection. You repeat the words to yourself multiple times.

You’re still in your dress, sitting stiffly on the couch while he moves around the tiny kitchen grabbing water bottles and energy bars like it’s any other mission night. Like he didn’t short-circuit your brain with one very public, very effective, very affectionate kiss.

He tosses a bottle your way without looking.

You recognize it for what it is; an interrogation tactic that the both of you have been taught. Meet a need no matter how small and the person is more inclined to give you the information you need.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

“Sure.”

You open it and take multiple sips, in an attempt to stall. But there’s nowhere for you to go. If you avoided the conversation tonight he would simply ask you in the morning with more eyes watching. At least here the two of you could talk about it alone. You won’t go down easily though.

He finally turns to face you, leans against the counter like he’s waiting for something. His expression is patient and no less warm than always.

“So,” you say, like it doesn’t feel weird. “Impeccable job out there, as always.”

He nods slowly. “You too.”

Silence.

The air’s thick with everything you’re not saying, and you start picking at the label on your bottle because suddenly you don’t know where to look.

Joaquin finally pushes off the counter and walks toward you. Not in a hurry, he’s calm and collected. Deliberate. His voice is soft when he asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say too quickly. You pause, voice softer when you speak again, “I’m fine. Just… y’know. Debrief brain, long night, longer morning coming. I miss my bed, my cat, eating real food.”

He tilts his head. “It’s not the mission you’re thinking about, right?”

You go quiet, opening your mouth to deny his line of questioning but nothing comes out. You’re rusty when it comes to dating or feelings of any kind— almost feeling like an antiquated machine.

He steps closer, enough to kneel in front of where you’re sitting. His hand rests gently on your knee—not pushing, just grounding.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he says apologetically. “The kiss. I didn’t plan it— I wasn’t thinking that it would make you uncomfortable. Pero, querida… fue real.”

You finally look at him, wide-eyed unsure of what to say. It was real. He meant it. He meant to kiss you.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while,” he admits, his thumb mirroring his movements from before, stroking the curve of your knee. “The op just gave me an excuse.”

Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “Oh.”

He gives a breath of a laugh. “That’s all you’ve got?” he teases.

You blink. “No, I mean—yeah, I mean—I— well.”

He squeezes your knee in an attempt to comfort you, “Breathe, princesa. It’s just me. You can tell me anything.”

At his urging you pause to take a breath, finally able to say, “It didn’t feel fake to me either.”

That earns you a soft, slow smile. Joaquin settles more firmly on his knees in front of you, ducking his head so that you have to meet his gaze. “So how about we try it again sometime,” he says, “no mission, no cover story—just us?”

You grin, a little shy. A little anxious. Isn’t this what you’ve been trying to avoid? Reality and protection. But this reality as far as you can tell. You look at him, your eyes searching, skimming through the depth of his brown eyes. You’re met with nothing but warmth, with reverence and hope.

“Are you asking me out, Torres? Really?”

“Damn right I am. If you let me,” he adds after a moment, voice gentler.

You let yourself look at him—really look—and for once, you stop fighting the warmth that blooms in your chest every time you’re with him.

“Yeah,” you say. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”

He pushes up, hand cupping your cheek like before so that he can kiss you.

And this second kiss?

It’s slower, softer— more thorough with no eyes watching and all the time in the world.

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae :))

I know this is kinda similar to one of your other fics, and also weirdly specific haha so I totally get if you don’t want to do it, but would you be willing to do an

emt! Maruaders x reader who’s getting surgery, and has a panic attack in the pre-op room bc the nurse and anesthesiologist are just being really dismissive of her, and the Marauders get protective and intervene, and comfort reader?

This is based on irl experiences—I’m not scared of anesthesia, I’m scared of not getting properly sedated/anesthetized during procedures. I have lots of health issues and ended up with ptsd because during one of the procedures that was supposed to be ‘deep sedation’ (where you’re technically awake but you’re completely doped up and don’t feel/remember anything), they didn’t give me the proper dosage, so I was fully awake and literally sobbing and screaming and the nurses and doctors were just like ‘no we gave you the meds, you’re fine, you’re not in pain’. So now I have panic attacks when I get procedures done if I feel like i’m not being listened to, and that something similar could happen again😅

That sounds so scary babe, I'm so sorry that happened to you! Thank you for the request <3

cw: hospital, not-super-compassionate reponse by healthcare professionals, panic attack, I feel like probably a lot of this is inaccurate/against most policies so sorry about that

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 573 words

“Sweetheart, sweetheart.” James’ hand is clamped over your IV, his other arm around your shoulder as he wards off the nurse. “You’re okay, my love, just—could you give her a bit of breathing room, please?” 

His voice sharpens when he speaks to the nurse, and though you know that tone isn’t meant for you, it rubs against your already frazzled nerves to send hot tears tumbling down your cheeks. The two other people in the room, the nurse and anesthesiologist for your surgery, both look more harried than alarmed at your upset. 

“We have to take her back—” the nurse begins to say. 

A sob wrenches out of you. “Wait—wait, wait, please—” 

James shushes you, pressing his forehead to your temple. “You’re okay, angel. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay.” You quiet, and he stamps a kiss to your wet cheek. “She said she needed a minute,” he tells the nurse. “Just give her a bit of time, she can relax if you let her.” 

The door to your room opens. You begin crying anew as Sirius and Remus come toward you. 

“Hey,” Sirius coos, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He’s a good deal taller than you standing by the bed, your face pressed to his chest. “What happened, baby? You were so calm just a few minutes ago.” 

It’s all you can do to sniffle against his shirt. In your periphery, you can see the nurse and anesthesiologist take a step back to make room for your boyfriends. Earlier, you were told it was a rule that you were only allowed to have one guest come into the pre-op room with you; it appears that circumstances have led them to bend the rules. In quiet tones, you can hear James explaining to Remus how you’d asked for a moment to prepare yourself before being given a sedative, and how the anesthesiologist beginning to go ahead with it anyway for the sake of time had led to your fright. 

Sirius must be listening, too. His grip on you shifts, his hand cupping the back of your head protectively. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Remus sounds compassionate. He takes your hand, fingers twining with yours, and James finally lets go of your IV, reassured you’re not going to try pulling it out again. “That must have been so scary. You’re alright now, though, yeah? Take some breaths.” 

You try, feeling the heat of your tears on Sirius’ shirt. He rubs your back encouragingly. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you choke out. 

“Shh, you’ll be alright,” Remus reassures you. “I understand you felt rushed, but it was only a misunderstanding. Everything can still go perfectly. Soph knows what she’s doing.” 

Your anesthesiologist—Sophie, as she’d introduced herself—offers a sheepish smile. 

“And,” Sirius says pointedly, “they’re going to listen to you. Okay? I promise.” 

Your breaths are coming easier now. It feels good, hiding in Sirius’ front; you can almost pretend everything outside of this doesn’t exist. 

“Okay,” you say tremulously. 

You feel Remus raise your hand to his lips. “There’s our girl.” He kisses your knuckles. “Keep breathing like that, love. You’re doing beautifully.” 

“Can you please stay?”

“Yeah,” James answers before anyone else in the room can, “they can stay.” 

“Do I have to go back now?” 

“No, lovie.” He rubs your leg soothingly. “I know your team’s got a schedule to keep, but I’m sure they can spare a few minutes. Take your time.”

[slutzforbueckers]

hi bby! first, congrats on 1k!! proud of you and cant believe ive been here since one of your first fics 🥹🥹

second, can i request fluff prompt 15: “am i your lockscreen?” “you werent supposed to see that.” its set RIGHT after paige and y/n make everything official after MONTHSSSS of going on dates and flirting and hanging out. its subtle, like a canid picture paige took of y/n or a mirror pic from one of the dates or a picture from a game that one of the photographers took. but its on paiges phone, and y/n only notices because she couldnt find her phone. so she goes to grab paiges phone to call it and paige freaked out about it and got all nervous.

such a softie

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: none

♡— synopsis: after you and paige make things official, your first thought is to call your best friend and spill the news. the only problem is that you can’t find your phone and when you reach for paige’s phone you see something you weren’t meant to see.

♡—a/n: ilyyyyyyy

❥•°❀°•༢

you were still smiling from ear to ear when you settled back in the passenger seat. paige had just kissed you for the first time—she’d just made things official between you. her hand found yours and she interlaced your fingers.

“wait! i have to tell jana. she is the one who introduced us.” you screeched. paige just laughed and shook her head, her cheeks still a little flushed.

you reached for your phone, which was supposed to be right next to you but when your hand met the seat it wasn’t there. you frowned and lifted your hips a bit, patting around under you.

“what’s wrong?” paige asked, her brows coming together slightly. she turned in her seat and leaned forward a bit.

“my phone, i can’t find my phone.” you slid off the seat and kneeled in the floorboard, looking around. it was dark out so you couldn’t see as good. paige looked around her seat even though she knew it wouldn’t be there. “i literally just had it. give me your phone—i’ll call it.”

you reached for her phone and paige panicked,

“i—i’ll do it,” she blurted, way too fast.

you blinked. “what?”

“i’ll call it,” she repeated quickly, already scrambling for her phone in the cupholder.

you paused, eyebrows drawing together in confusion as she fumbled to unlock it. “okay, that was suspicious,” you said, watching her carefully.

“no it wasn’t,” she replied, avoiding your eyes.

you leaned closer, eyes narrowing just a little. “why don’t you want me to use your phone?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“paige.”

your hand moved toward her phone again, but she instinctively snatched it out of your reach with a speed that made your jaw drop.

“paige!” you laughed, half-shocked, half-suspicious now. “what is going on right now?”

she hesitated, then reluctantly, so slowly, she handed the phone over. you tapped the screen and it lit up—and then you froze. there was a picture of you on the lock screen, it wasn’t obvious though—it was you with your head tilted back mid-laugh.

it was from one of those late night runs to the diner—the “not-a-date” dates. it was old though, obvious by the necklace you wore, which you lost months ago.

“am i your lockscreen?” you asked, blinking at the screen like you weren’t sure you were seeing it right.

paige closed her eyes like she was in pain and you couldn’t help but smile. “you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“you’ve had this for a while, huh?” you turned her phone off and placed it back in the cup holder, leaning over the center console. paige turned her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“maybe.” she mumbled, turning back to look at you. your heart flipped at little, your smile getting wider.

“you’re such a softie,” you whispered, grinning as you leaned over the center console to kiss her. she let out a bashful laugh against your mouth, one hand slipping around to cup your cheek.

“only for you.”

[slut-for-slutty-fictional-men]

saw you were looking for requests!!

ive been thinking of how lando would be sooo gentle with a reader who hasnt ever been loved properly like he would absolutely spoil her till the end of the world even if she refused

like he'd get her favorite flowers and take photos of her all the time and tell her he loves her 24/7

omg yes, I love this! He would be so sweet and caring without even thinking about it! I wrote this pretty quick, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

Like You Deserve

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft Romance Warnings: Mentions of past emotional neglect, low self-worth, crying, healthy relationship dynamics, tooth-rotting fluff Word Count: ~1200 Summary: You’ve never been loved like this. Not gently. Not completely. Not without strings or apologies. But Lando? Lando loves you like it’s the easiest thing in the world — and slowly, impossibly, you begin to let him.

Masterlist

The first time you cried in front of Lando, it was over something stupid.

At least, that’s what you told him.

It had been a long day. One of those heavy, dragging ones where everything feels just slightly off. You got the wrong coffee order. Your boss snapped at you. Someone bumped into you on the train and didn’t say sorry. Nothing huge, nothing tragic — just little paper cuts you’d bled from quietly.

And then you got home, and there they were.

Peonies. Your favorite.

A bouquet in your favorite color, sitting in a glass vase on the kitchen counter. No note. No announcement. Just waiting.

You stared at them like they might disappear if you blinked.

And when Lando came in from the other room — curls damp from a shower, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows — and smiled at you like you mattered, you burst into tears.

He crossed the room in seconds. “Hey—hey, love, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Covered your face. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. You didn’t want to need this as badly as you did.

But he didn’t get frustrated. He didn’t sigh, or say you were being dramatic, or ask if you were hormonal.

He just wrapped his arms around you, warm and firm, and said softly:

“I’ll get you flowers every day if it means you cry like this less.”

You laughed — wet and broken — into his chest.

You’d never been loved like this before.

Not gently.

Not without earning it first.

You try not to talk about your past much. It’s messy. It makes people uncomfortable.

But Lando notices things.

He notices how you flinch a little when he raises his voice — even if it’s just from laughing too loudly.

He notices how you apologize three times for interrupting him, even when you didn’t.

He notices how you never ask him for help, even when you’re clearly overwhelmed.

And worst of all, he notices how surprised you look every time he does something thoughtful.

“Stop acting like I brought you the moon,” he says once, when you gasp at the takeout he brought after your long shift.

You smile tightly. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

“To being fed?”

“To being… seen.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look away.

Instead, he cups your jaw, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Then get used to it, love. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts taking photos of you when you’re not looking.

You notice it one morning, scrolling through his phone while he’s in the shower. A whole album labeled with your initials — filled with candids.

You sipping coffee on the balcony. You in one of his hoodies, asleep on the couch. You laughing at something off-camera, head thrown back, eyes bright.

You look beautiful in all of them.

You don't recognize yourself.

When he comes back in, towel around his shoulders, he sees you looking.

Your voice is small. “You keep pictures of me?”

Lando blinks, confused. “Course I do.”

You set the phone down like it might burn you. “I just… no one’s ever done that before.”

He crosses the room. Presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Then they were idiots.”

One night, weeks later, you break.

Not in the loud, dramatic way. Not like glass shattering. More like a hairline crack that finally gives way under pressure.

You’re lying in bed, curled into his side, his fingers playing absentmindedly with yours. Everything should feel perfect. Safe.

And still, you ask:

“Why do you love me?”

Lando’s hand stills.

You almost wish you could swallow the question back down. But it’s out there now. Ugly and trembling and raw.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Forget I said anything.”

“No,” he says, firm. “Don’t do that.”

You can’t look at him. “I just don’t get it. I’m a mess. I’m anxious. I second-guess everything. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be—”

“Stop.”

His voice is low, but not angry. Just steady.

He tilts your chin so you have to meet his eyes.

“I don’t love you in spite of those things. I love you because of who you are.”

You blink, throat tight.

“I love that you care too much. That you remember the name of every mechanic on my team. That you leave me little notes when I travel. That you’re still soft after everything life’s thrown at you.” He swallows. “I love you. Full stop. No conditions. No fine print.”

You’re crying again.

This time, you don’t try to hide it.

And when he kisses you, slow and reverent, you let yourself believe — just for a second — that maybe you’re not too hard to love after all.

You stop apologizing so much.

You start texting him first.

You let him buy you flowers without flinching.

You even let him take a photo of you on your bad hair day, after whining for a full ten minutes about how awful you look.

(He posts it anyway — captioned, “Cutest human alive, don’t fight me.”)

And when he tells you he loves you — casually, easily, every day — you finally start saying it back without fear.

Because he never makes you earn it.

Because he says it like it’s your name.

Because he means it.

Later that night, you’re tucked into the passenger seat of Lando’s car, the city lights flickering past like fireflies. His hoodie swallows you whole — sleeves too long, hood up, wrapped around you like a second skin — and your legs are folded beneath you, socked toes pressed to the leather seat.

The radio’s playing softly. Something nostalgic. His hand finds yours without looking.

He does that now — reaches for you without needing to think.

And you let him.

Your fingers settle into the spaces between his, perfectly matched. His thumb rubs gently across your knuckles, slow and soothing. You watch the motion like it might slip away if you blink.

“I think I’m starting to believe you,” you say after a long stretch of silence.

His eyes flick to you, quick and warm. “Believe what?”

“That you love me.”

The smile that blooms across his face isn’t wide or showy. It’s quiet. Soft. Reverent, almost. Like he’s been waiting to hear that from you.

“I’ve never said anything truer,” he murmurs.

You turn your head, studying him in the warm dashboard glow. One hand on the wheel. One hand in yours. The same boy who brings you flowers without a reason. Who kisses your shoulder in passing. Who sees you.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, voice barely a breath.

Lando squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to do anything, love. You deserve it just by being you.”

You blink fast, throat catching. He doesn’t look away.

“Let me keep showing you, yeah?”

You nod, heart thudding hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in your entire life, you believe it.

A/N: i really loved writing this, felt very healing (I need therapy lmao) anyways please send me requests! I love reading yall's ideas! also feel free to ask me any questions if you want hehe :)

[norrisainz33]

stroints || ls18

summary: you attend your first ever grand prix as lance's partner and he has a great season opening weekend!

pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

fc & warnings: none & slightly suggestive at the end. you are responsible for the content you consume!

requested: yes! thank you so much for your request xx

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

view all story replies

chloestroll: wait i love them both. i say wear the white on race day and blue on quali day

ynuser: ooooo good idea! i was considering wearing some aston merch on sunday and one of these on saturday but maybe i do what you said instead

chloestroll: oh i mean aston merch would be cute af too

ynuser: hmmmmmmm too many decisions here bc i also have this super cute jean set that maybe i’ll wear on race day instead ugh idek

lilyzneimer: either way you're going to outshine everyone you're radiant

ynuser: thank you baby girl 😭

lance_stroll: trying not to drool over how fcking gorgeous you are

ynuser: lance stopppp 😭😭

lance_stroll: it’s true!! i’ve somehow bagged the most beautiful girl in the entire world

ynuser: you’re such a sweet talker

lance_stroll: 🤷🏻‍♂️

lilymhe: the white top is to die for pls that one

ynuser: thank you for the input doll

yourbff: hear me out. white top with that gorgeous big gold necklace our favorite man got you

ynuser: no because you’re so right. that’s it! that’s the fit for quali!

flavy_barla: omg personally i'd pick the lace top

ynuser: yesss i think it 100% is the winner

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 18,188 others

f1gossip: is this lance stroll’s lucky charm? meet lance’s new partner, y/n y/l/n, who is making her race day debut! the couple's romance has been the talk of the town ever since those sizzling new year's eve photos were spotted on chloe stroll’s story. will y/n be the secret weapon aston martin’s been waiting for this season? only time will tell!

view all comments

user1: oh….. she’s literally so pretty?

user2: cut the tapes! ive seen enough! shes my new favorite wag

user3: god i hope she brings lancey good luck. he needs it fr

user7: no he really does. i just want the best for him this season

user4: did y'all see the way shes wearing an L necklace

user1: stop im too fragile for this

user5: WHO is this diva

user2: if u find out lmk! i just tried to scroll her insta and its private but she seems so normal

user5: lowkey... i think she is just a normal girl... i found her linkedin and she out here having a full time job

user2: this has to be rage bait... shes living my dream

user5: no truly. im so jealous but also im rooting for her?

user6: why did i not know about her sooner?! do we think lance can fight?

user8: he can't fight us all!

user33: no one cares abt her or stroll

user1: the hate is so forced gtfo

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

view all replies

yourbff: you gotta warn a girl before posting something as scary as that first slide (i say this with love)

ynuser: SCERAMING hes just a goofy lil guy

yourbff: if you say so girly pop

chloestroll: leo and i are curled up and ready to watch uncle lancey bring it home!

ynuser: omg even little leo is watching?! its his first race too <3

chloestroll: we gotta support our favorite uncle!!!!

astonmartinf1: send us that first pic im begging

ynuser: only if you agree to post it on every social media channel you have

astonmartinf1: he's not gonna like that... but for you.... anything xxoo

ynuser: admin you are my favorite

astonmartinf1: and you're mine but don't tell anyone i said that

lilymhe: adjusting to the paddock life?

ynuser: kind of? every time i breath a camera takes another picture of me. i'm terrified they're going to get something embarrassing

lilymhe: hahahaha i mean odds are high that they will. remember what i said and just try to ignore them and act natural. i swear the media can smell fear

ynuser: that must be why they're always around. im sure im radiating it

lilymhe: deep breaths y/n/n its ok

lance_stroll: WHY

ynuser: omg get off ur phone you have a race to score points in

ynuser: oh now you wanna leave me on read ok

flavy.barla: if you need someones hand to squeeze through the the first few laps... you know where to find me babe

ynuser: no i literally am on my way. they haven't even finished the formation lap and i'm going to throw up

lance_stroll has made a post

liked by chloestroll, estebanocon, ynuser, astonmartinf1, boss, scottyjames31, yourbff, flavy.barla and 897,443 others

lance_stroll: a fantastic start to the season! thank you to the team and everyone who worked so hard over the off season to get this car where it is. lets keep this momentum going!!

view all comments

user1: a double exclamation???? you must be over the moon my stoic king

ynuser: stroints!!!!!! this calls for a celebration

lance_stroll: yes it does ;)

estebanocon: wait count flavy and i in to this celebration??

flavy.barla: yes please!!!

ynuser: well duhhhh

user5: need photo evidence of this party so bad. f1gossip im counting on you

user2: yayyyyyy lance!!!!

chloestroll: leo and i are so proud of you

scottyjames31: thats our favorite uncle right there!

lance_stroll: love you guys 🤍

user18: y/n made the win photo dump im crying. she's def his good luck charm, i hope she comes to every race

astonmartinf1: well done lance! 💚

user22: thats our goat!! can't help but notice you're ahead of that horse team in the standings... lets keep that going boy

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 22,258 others

f1gossip: because you all asked so nicely and we couldn't not deliver..... we got some intel that a certain driver, his new partner, their friends and a few other drivers are out celebrating the start of the season in melbourne this evening

view all comments

user1: AHHHHHH MAN

user5: my goat! you always pull through. idk how u got eyes everywhere

f1gossip: and thats a secret ill never tell xx

user3: WOW lance looks good af im about to start drooling..

user4: y/n one lucky girl thats for dam sure

user5: no genuinely i am so envious

user6: i just fell to my knees in a walmart parking lot

user12: lance i was unfamiliar with your game

user18: esteban and alex are there too so cuteeeeee

user22: he needed this

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

view all story replies

yourbff: girl get off that phone! I am SICKENED by the last photo

ynuser: god forbid a girl have hobbies

yourbff: you right. my bad ms pillow princess

lance_stroll: hheheeh you're so pretty

ynuser: eheheh no you

lance_stroll: i can hear you giggling from the bathroom

ynuser: you caught me

lance_stroll: get back out here

ynuser: yes sir

chloestroll: looks like you guys had a good night.. not sure i needed to see that last photo tho

ynuser: the best night!!! had to make sure to properly celebrate a great start to the season! and yeah sorry pls look scroll away and pretend you didnt see it

chloestroll: hahaaha well i hope next time scotty and i are there with you guys to celebrate together!

ynuser: ugh yes i hope so too 🤍🤍

flavy.barla: petite fille!!!! ohhh thank you for letting este and i tag along this evening i had a blast

ynuser: you are literally always allowed to tag along my love. i seriously am obsessed with you

flavy.barla: feeling is mutual. lets run away together

ynuser: done

lilymhe: petition for us to party after every race together pls you are literally the most fun

ynuser: omg stop YOU are the most fun! but yes ofc lets hang out and do everything together plssssss

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: thank you sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[ducktoo]

How to take care of Jiwon

IVE's Liz x Reader

Note: Anon, hope this was something you were asking for (I think). Twas' a fun prompt and I enjoyed it frfr. Feel free to DM me ur thoughts!

(This German girl do be looking cute-)

“Again?”

You don’t even look up from your computer screen. You already know who it is.

There’s a quiet giggle, followed by the sound of someone shuffling through your things. You sigh, rubbing your temple before shooting a glare at the intruder currently invading your workspace—none other than Kim Jiwon(or Liz), your childhood friend turned global idol, standing beside your desk like she owns the place.

“Can you not touch my stuff?” you grumble, snatching a framed photo from her hands before she can get any ideas.

She blinks at you innocently. “You keep this here?”

You glance down at the picture, already knowing which one she’s referring to. It’s an old, slightly faded photo from elementary school—Liz, missing her two front teeth, flashing a peace sign, while you stand beside her with the grumpiest expression imaginable. You had never liked taking pictures, but Liz had insisted back then. Looking at it now, you don’t even remember why you agreed to keep it on your desk.

“It’s just decoration,” you mutter, setting it back down.

Liz hums, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. “Sure, sure.”

She doesn’t leave. Of course, she doesn’t. You’re already used to this little routine.

Despite her packed schedule, Liz always finds time to drop by your office whenever she’s at the company. She claims it’s because she’s curious about what you do, but you know better. The real reason? She just enjoys annoying you.

She picks up your stationery, taps at your keyboard, sometimes even steals your coffee—because “staff coffee tastes different.” You tolerate it because, well… it’s Liz. You’ve known her since you were kids.

It’s still crazy how you both ended up here…especially after how you reunited.

-

To this day, you still don’t know how the hell that situation happened.

You had only been working at Starship Entertainment for about a month at that point. Just a regular staff member, trying not to get scolded, running around delivering paperwork, managing schedules—nothing out of the ordinary.

Then came that time.

One of your first bigger assignments had been to handle some logistics for IVE’s new comeback. Simple enough. Make sure the equipment was working, ensure the space was ready, help with any requests—it was routine.

What wasn’t routine was somehow ending up in a storage closet with a girl in a hoodie, a bucket of spilled cleaning supplies, and the worst case of déjà vu you’ve ever experienced.

…Let’s back up.

That day, you had been in a rush, carrying a stack of documents for the management team when you took a wrong turn down a hallway you didn’t usually use. It led to one of the storage rooms, where cleaning supplies and extra equipment were kept.

The door was slightly open.

Then, without warning—

CRASH.

Something—or someone—barreled right into you, sending both of you stumbling backwards into the closet.

The door slammed shut behind you.

Silence.

For a moment, you just laid there on the floor, trying to process the fact that you had just been body-slammed into a janitor’s closet. Your head throbbed. You could hear the faint creak of a mop falling somewhere nearby.

And then—

“…Wait. Grumpy?”

You froze.

That voice. That stupidly familiar voice.

Slowly, you looked up.

And there, crouched in the dim light, staring at you like she had just seen a ghost—was the one and only. Your childhood friend. The same girl you hadn’t seen in years.

In a janitor’s closet. With you.

What. The. Hell.

“…What are you doing here?” she asked, blinking rapidly.

You stared at her. “What are you doing around here in the management area?”

“I asked first!”

“I work here!”

That seemed to short-circuit her brain for a second. Her eyes widened, then darted to the staff ID clipped to your shirt. Slowly, realization dawned on her face.

“…You work at Starship?”

“Yes?!”

"Since when?!"

"Since I got hired, duh!"

Liz opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. She blinked.

Then—

She burst out laughing.

“You—You actually work here?” she wheezed, clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, this is unreal. This is so unreal.”

"Tsk." You scowled. “Glad to see my suffering is entertaining you.”

“I can’t believe this! We literally grew up together, lost contact, and now you’re working for my company? This is insane.” She wiped at her eyes, still laughing. “And—wait, you of all people? You always hated dealing with people!”

“Yeah, well, life’s funny like that,” you muttered. You rubbed your temples, exhaling through your nose. “Okay, but why were you sneaking around?”

Liz suddenly looked away, suspiciously avoiding eye contact. “No reason.”

“…You were stealing snacks from the staff area again, weren’t you?”

Silence.

“…Maybe.”

Unbelievable. Some things really never changed.

-

And that was how you reunited.

You had spent a solid fifteen minutes stuck in that closet with Liz before someone finally found you two. The rest of the staff had been utterly confused, and you had to endure Liz wheezing with laughter for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, she had made it her personal mission to annoy you at work.

Which brings you to now.

“Alright, stay put. Don’t touch anything,” you warn as you stand from your desk, stretching your arms before grabbing your phone. “I need to get some files from the storage room.”

Liz, perched on the edge of your desk like she owns the place, swings her legs lazily. “No promises.”

You narrow your eyes. “I mean it. Hands off.”

She hums innocently, lips curling into a playful smile. “Of course, of course.”

You don’t trust her one bit.

Still, you leave, because you have to, but you throw one last suspicious glance over your shoulder before stepping out.

The door clicks shut…and Liz immediately disregards your warning.

“Don’t touch anything,” she mocks under her breath, rolling her eyes. As if she could ever listen to that. "Bleh. What are you, my mom?"

She stretches her arms with a yawn, then lazily lets her fingers drift across your desk, poking at whatever looks mildly interesting. The keyboard? Tap. A stack of documents? Poke. Your half-empty coffee cup? Swirl.

And then she sees it.

A small, slightly worn notebook tucked beside your monitor, the corner peeking out as if daring her to take a look.

Curious, she pulls it free and flips it over in her hands. The second she reads the cover, her breath catches in her throat.

"How to Take Care of Jiwon the Annoying Child"

She blinks. Once. Twice.

Then, a slow, delighted smile spreads across her face.

“Oh?”

Her heart beats a little faster as she carefully flips the first page. The handwriting is neat—your handwriting. She skims over the lines, amusement bubbling in her chest.

Jiwon gets grumpy when she hasn’t eaten. Always have snacks on hand.

She giggles. “So that’s why you always have extra snacks.”

She flips to the next one.

She gets sleepy after eating too much. Don’t let her nap on the practice room floor. Would be annoying to tend to the sick Jiwon.

A small gasp escapes her lips. “Wait, is that why you always wake me up first?”

Another page.

If she’s sad, buy her ice cream. Preferably chocolate.

Her heart flutters. You really do notice everything, huh?

She keeps reading, her amusement growing. But then—

The notes start getting weirder.

If she starts humming randomly, she’s in a good mood. If she’s humming AND staring at me, she’s plotting something. Probably my usual dose of suffering.

Liz snorts. “What do you mean?”

DO NOT let her near a stray cat. She will try to take it home.

She gasps, clutching her chest. “That happened one time, trust me–”

If she says ‘Trust me,’ DO NOT TRUST HER.

Liz bursts into laughter. “Damn it! Okay, fair.”

The notes only get more ridiculous.

She once ate an entire cake by herself just to prove she could. Do NOT challenge her to food-related dares.

If she looks too smug, she probably stole my drink.

If she looks too cute and uses her dumb aegyo, she’s about to ask for a favour.

Her giggles come uncontrollably now. She flips through the pages quickly, eager to see what else you’ve written. But then—

The shift happens. The notes stop being ridiculous. They start being… something else.

When she’s nervous, she fidgets with her necklace. Let her hold onto my sleeve instead.

Her fingers touch her necklace instinctively. "Huh…you do wear long sleeves every time we meet…"

Liz acts tough, but she cries at sad movies. Keep tissues ready.

Her laughter softens. "No I don't…mostly…"

She overworks herself even when she’s exhausted. Sometimes she just needs someone to tell her to rest.

Her heart clenches.

And then, the last note. It might have been scribbled out but…She stares at it. She couldn't unsee it after once.

If she ever gets too tired, remind her she doesn’t have to do everything alone. Remind her that I’m here….

Her grip tightens on the notebook.

She rereads the words, once, twice—three times.

She always knew you cared. In your own way—grumbling, teasing, acting like she was the most annoying person in the world. But this? You had written this down. As if it was important. As if you wanted to remember, just in case.

As if she mattered.

Her chest feels warm.

The door creaks open.

“Alright, I got the—”

Your words cut off when you see her holding the notebook.

You freeze mid-step.

Liz is holding the notebook. Jiwon is reading the notebook.

Your stomach drops.

She looks up at you, notebook still clutched in her hands, her expression unreadable.

You stand there, the file folder limp in your grip.

Then, slowly, a mischievous glint appears in her eyes.

“You mother f—”

Before you can even lunge for it, Liz hugs the notebook to her chest, scrambling to her feet. Her breath comes out in an excited rush.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, eyes sparkling. “You do care about me!”

You feel actual panic set in. “PUT THAT DOWN. KIM JIWON.”

She takes a step back, holding it tighter. “No way! This is adorable! You—You actually wrote down how to take care of me?!”

You can feel your dignity slipping away.

“I— It’s not what it looks like—”

“Ohhh, let’s see what else—” She flips back to the earlier pages, reading aloud dramatically. “‘If she’s nervous, let her hold onto my sleeve instead.’”

Your ears burn as your hand subconsciously rolled up your sleeves in embarrassment.

"Oooohh, you're wearing long sleeve today as well, huh?!" Liz gasps, looking up at you with exaggerated shock. “You let me do that? Willingly?!”

You grit your teeth. “GIVE. IT. BACK.”

She twirls away, flipping through more pages. “Wait, wait—‘If she looks too smug, she probably stole my drink.’” She gasps in fake offense. “So that’s why you glare at me whenever I take a sip.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Jiwon—”

She keeps going, eyes darting across the pages. But then—

She reaches the last note again.

Her laughter fades.

Silence stretches between you.

She rereads the words, her fingers brushing lightly over the ink. Then, slowly, she lifts her head.

The teasing glint in her eyes is gone. Instead, there’s something softer. Something more sincere.

“…You really meant this?” she asks, voice quieter.

You shift uncomfortably. “U-um…I—”

Her gaze lingers on you for a moment. Then, before you can react, she lunges at you again, but this time, she hugs you.

You stiffen immediately.

“…Ya.”

She squeezes you tighter.

“Shhh,” she mumbles into your shoulder. “Just let me hug you, you tsundere.”

You stand there, unmoving, ears burning. Your hands hover awkwardly before—finally—you sigh and pat her back.

“…You’re so annoying.”

She giggles against your shoulder. “I know.”

After a moment, she pulls back, grinning. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

You roll your eyes, snatching the notebook from her hands before she can react. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to serialise this and give it to your members.”

She beams. “That sounds fun actually.”

[n0vazsq]

Underneath the (ice) sheets | MV1 x Reader

pairing . . . max verstappen x figure!skater!reader

summary . . . When Max suddenly starts appearing in Switzerland between races, fans get suspicious and decide to start researching. What they didn't expect to find was that his girlfriend was an olympic medalist figure skater

request . . . idk

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none! just one usage of the words 'fuck' and 'bitches'

alexavia yaps . . . FINALLY i started to write this after 829 centuries!! my first tumblr smau so i hope you guys like it <33 for the users its gonna be their names w no space bc im lazy also ignore the name i didnt know what to name it! it's a bit short but i'm on a writing grind so yes we can ignore that

maxverstappen1

liked by schecoperez, redbullracing, charlesleclerc and 709k others

maxverstappen1 taking a much needed break from racing

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username this is so pretty oh my god

victoriaverstappen so kind of you to invite me!!

maxverstappen1 yeah yeah

victoriaverstappen whatever you say, lover boy

username lover boy?? my delusions tell me hes visiting someone

charlesleclerc come visit us soon lover boy

maxverstappen no??

charlesleclerc enjoy your visit to switzerland then

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, alextrustova and 210k others

yourusername would much rather skate in the lake but i got fined last time

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username mother is posting again!!

username HOW DO I BECOME Y/N'S FRIEND?? URGENT

yourbff buy her food

alextrustova tell her coach that she didn't eat snacks

username she's so pretty omg i saw her in the olympics

username i'm so delusional to think that i can be with her

username max in the likes??

username as a f1 and y/n girly thats my dream relationship

username it's not fair why is she so lucky i need her luck

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, yourbff, schecoperez and 672k others

maxverstappen1 i tried my best

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username WHO. IS. THAT?!??!??!?!?!??!

schecoperez tell her i said hi 🥰

maxverstappen1 sure

username WHY is y/n here?

username max is in switzerland.....y/n lives in switzerland.....she's an olympic skater......

username wait because y/n has the same jacket and skates as the girl in the pic??

dannyric lover boy is risking it

maxverstappen1 like you didn't give me a 40 minute lecture telling me what to post

dannyric so?? ive got everyone guessing who ms figure skater is

maxverstappen1 DANIEL

dannyric sorry? it's not like i said her full name or something

maxverstappen1 daniel i know you're about to type her full name i swear to god i won't let you live to see tomorrow

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, dannyric and 341k others

yourusername when he's fast on and off the rink and his name rhymes with axe>>>>

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username girly literally hard launched

username yall STOP playing with usss

username i don't need any more pics i know who it is

username the innuendo?? y/n isnt as innocent as we thought

username cleanse yalls minds hes an f1 driver

username why is everyone such a dirty thinker :sob:

username i came here from max's insta and isn't this the same bow the girl he posted was wearing??

username WAIT I SEE IT???

username YALL ITS HER I SAW THEM TOGETHER IN ZURICH

username NO WAY WE JUST CRACKED THE MYSTERY

f1waggossip

liked by f1gossip, motorsportwags, pierregasly and 192k others

f1waggossip fans spot y/n l/n and max verstappen together in a romantical date in zurich! its reported that l/n and verstappen have been dating for over a year, and that max's swiss trips were to visit his lover.

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username MY GOATS ARE TOGETHER OH MY GOD

username its legit a dream come true

username they werent even trying to hide it oml

username WHEN WILL THEY CONFIRM

username max's type is himself because she's the verstappen of figure skating

username LITERALLY

username realest thing i saw today

maxverstappen1

liked by dannyric, yourusername, schecoperez and 720k others

maxverstappen1 guess the secret's out. i love you, schatje tagged: yourusername

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username IUYEGDFVGBSHJIUEYGDHJIO

yourusername my no.1 skating partner <33

maxverstappen1 and my no.1 supporter ❤

dannyric photo dump coming very soon yeah?

yourusername make sure to put good pics of me

maxverstappen1 it's impossible to put bad pics of you because you don't have any

dannyric DISGUISTING

username my parents

username they're my parasocial relationship

username do they need a third??? a pet?? i can bark, meow, tweet, anything really

username can they adopt me omg

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, dannyric and 827k others

yourusername: i'd jump in a lake and get fined if it meant i spend eternity with you tagged: maxverstappen1

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username MY WIFE GONE TO A MAN?!?!?!?

username girl really was mad about that lake fine

maxverstappen1 and i'll say 'fuck' and touch rear wings a million times just to spend a moment with you

yourusername you drive me insane

dannyric you were already insane

username two stubborn bitches in one relationship couldn't be more romantical

username "THAT SHOULD BE ME"

username the way this could be about max or y/n lmao

landonorris does this mean you'll finally let me skate with you and max?

daniel3.jpg

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, yourbff and 382k others

daniel3.jpg finally got to post photos ive been waiting months to post. these filters don't do your romance justice. here's to my favourite couple, cheers to many more! tagged: maxverstappen1, yourusername

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username when will it be me

yourbff thank you from saving me from the third wheeling daniel, really appreciate it!

daniel3.jpg no problem! really enjoyed taking those photos (i didn't)

yourusername you're our favourite third wheel daniel <3 we love you!!

maxverstappen1 we love you a lot danny

daniel3.jpg aww, my heart. so when can i stay at y/n's cabin??

yourusername you're not max

maxverstappen1 🥰

yourusername <33

username they're so in love it's disguisting

username i need this

username love, such a lovely thing

[maxlarens]

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they’ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”