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tikitakatia · 1 month ago

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Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"Getting Caught In The Rain"

WC: 3.8k

Summary: Alexia’s trying again, but it only makes you realize that it’s been a long time since you felt like you were seen and understood.

Pt. 1

Alexia didn’t say anything when she got home. Just dropped her bag by the door, kicked her shoes off with the practiced heaviness of someone trying not to wake anyone up. Even though it was 5:42 p.m. and the hallway light was still on. You were in the kitchen, pretending to read, pretending to care about the last email from work, pretending you weren’t holding your breath for her footsteps.

She walked past you without a word, without eye contact, and you thought, same old story. The sting had dulled by now, like pressing on a bruise out of habit.

Until you heard her voice.

“You, uh… you moved the plant.”

You blinked at the book in your lap. Took a slow breath.

“Yeah.”

“It looks good there,” she added. You could hear the words straining. Trying to sound casual. Normal. Like conversation was still a thing that lived in this house.

You didn’t answer.

“I was thinking,” she tried again, stepping further into the room.

“Maybe we could get a new one for the windowsill? Something low-maintenance. Like… a cactus or whatever.”

A cactus.

You turned the page. “We already have one.”

“Oh,” she said, and you didn’t even need to look to know she was scratching the back of her neck. “Right.”

Silence stretched long and thin.

You looked up. She wasn’t looking at you, not directly, just sort of gesturing toward the counter with a weirdly shy motion.

“I saw this at the airport. Thought you might want it.”

That made your eyes flick up.

She stepped forward, sheepish. Like she didn’t quite know how to be here anymore. She held out a small paper bag, wrinkled from travel.

“It’s dumb. I just saw it and… yeah.”

You took it carefully, like it was a bomb that was about to explode in your face. Inside it was a snow globe.

Small. A little cheap. Inside, a tiny, glitter-dusted coastline and a red kayak.

You stared at it for a beat, then another, your fingers going loose around the base. It was the same coastline you’d kayaked on together four summers ago, the time she got sunburned and made you stop every ten minutes to reapply SPF like a paranoid grandma. The one trip you still couldn’t think about without smiling, even if everything after it had unraveled.

“I remembered it made you laugh,” she said, voice so quiet you almost missed it. “That trip.”

You ran your thumb over the plastic base. “You remember that?”

Alexia shrugged. “I think about it more than you’d think.”

Your chest twisted. Not in pain. Not relief either. Something more complicated, and heavy and unsure.

You didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t hand it back. And that was maybe the biggest thing you’d done all week.

That night, you left it on the kitchen counter. You didn’t know why. Maybe so she’d see you hadn’t ignored it. Maybe so you’d believe it was real.

And in the morning, she was gone again. Off to training. But there was a small plate waiting on the counter. French toast, your favorite marmalade, a halved orange with the rind scored for easy peeling. A mug of coffee with a splash of milk, and whipped cream in the shape of a heart like she used to do.

And a note, scribbled in her hurried handwriting:

Hope today’s kind to you, take care.

— A.

You stared at it for a long time.

Then sat down and ate the toast.

She was in Bilbao this time. Another away game. Another cold bed, another text that never came. The trinket still sat on the shelf, the whipped cream heart a fading memory. You didn’t know what you were supposed to feel. Grateful? Guilty? Hopeful?

So instead, you opened Chattr.

[go4goald2]: Important question: would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses.

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s 11pm and this is how you start???

[go4goald2]: You say that like it’s not the most vital debate of our generation

[lostinthecrowd]: I’d take the duck. 1v1. Eye contact. No mercy.

[go4goald2]: Bold. Disrespectful to the mini horses. But bold.

You laughed into your blanket, curled up on your side like a kid at a sleepover.

[lostinthecrowd]: They have tiny hooves. I’m not getting stomped to death by a barbie pony.

[go4goald2]: Tiny hooves, BIG ambition. Don’t underestimate ponies. They´re evil.

[lostinthecrowd]: I feel like there's a story behind this. Also can’t believe this is how I’m spending my night.

[go4goald2]: I can. And it’s perfect. Admit it.

You grinned. Tucked your phone closer like it was a secret you wanted to protect.

The conversation spiraled into weird snack combos, irrational childhood fears (yours: mascots, theirs: escalators), and an intense five-minute tangent on the politics of sock-and-sandal combos.

Your cheeks actually hurt from smiling. And somewhere between their rant about pineapple pizza and your confession that you once tried to cook pasta in a kettle, something softened inside you.

You typed, slower now:

[lostinthecrowd]: My partner did something nice for me today. Out of nowhere.

[go4goald2]: Whoa, plot twist. What kind of nice?

[lostinthecrowd]: Just… a small gift. Not flashy. Thoughtful.

[go4goald2]: You’re being suspiciously vague and I’m incredibly nosy. Spill.

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s tied to a memory. Something small, but really specific to us. A moment we shared years ago.

[go4goald2]: Okay wow. That kind of gift hits like a freight train.

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, it really did. Caught me completely off guard, I didn’t know how to react.

[go4goald2]: Because it reminded you what it used to feel like to be known?

[lostinthecrowd]: Exactly that. Like someone woke a part of me I forgot was still there.

[go4goald2]: Do you think it was intentional? Like… a real attempt?

[lostinthecrowd]: I want to think so, but then it just made everything feel more fragile.

[go4goald2]: It’s weird how one small thing can make your whole chest ache.

[lostinthecrowd]: It made me remember how much I miss her, or who she used to be. Or maybe who I used to be when we were still okay.

[go4goald2]: You still deserve those moments even if they’re rare. Even if they confuse the hell out of you.

[go4goald2]: And for what it’s worth… I'm really glad you told me.

You let your phone rest against your chest, pulse kicking up a little. It felt too good. Too soft. Too dangerous.

Because it wasn’t just that they cared. It was that they cared in real-time. Gave you space to unravel and didn’t shy away when the threads got messy.

Your lips tilted into a smile. Tiny, involuntary, like a reflex from some version of you that hadn’t been used in months.

Alexia hadn’t texted once. Not even after the match. Not even a “night.”

But this stranger had stayed up with you.

Held space for you.

Made you feel like a person instead of a ghost someone used to love.

And that flutter came back. Not a rush, just a flicker. A warmth that settled behind your ribs like the beginning of something.

You didn’t push it away.

But god, the guilt that followed.

You weren’t doing anything wrong. You told yourself that. Over and over.

But the truth was, your smile hadn’t looked like this in months.

And your wife hadn’t been the one to cause it.

You didn’t expect anything when you unlocked the door. Maybe a quiet hallway. The faint hum of the fridge. Your own footsteps echoing against the tile. It had become a rhythm now. Come home, drop your bag, exist in silence. You had stopped hoping to be greeted. Stopped wondering what mood she’d be in.

So when the smell hit you: sharp, burnt and unmistakably wrong, it made you pause mid-step. There was a bitter tang in the air, like overcooked garlic and something else. Something sour. A hint of lemon buried under the scent of a meal gone wrong.

You followed it to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

Alexia was standing in the middle of it, barefoot, her hoodie sleeves rolled up, her hair pulled back in that messy twist she only did when she was stressed. There was a pan smoking on the stove. A cutting board covered in unevenly chopped herbs. The sink was full of pots. And her face, her face looked wrecked in the most human way.

She glanced up when she saw you, startled. “Shit. You’re home early.”

You weren’t.

You said nothing.

“I was trying to…” she gestured vaguely to the chaos around her.

“Dinner.”

You stepped further in. Looked at the pan. Something once resembling chicken was stuck to the bottom, blackened and curling at the edges like it was trying to leave the scene of the crime.

“It’s your favorite,” she added quickly. “That lemon-herb thing. The one I used to make after we went to the farmer’s market on Saturdays. Remember?”

You did. Back when the kitchen smelled like warm citrus and clean herbs, when she’d dance barefoot to whatever song was playing, bump your hip and kiss your neck while the chicken rested. That version of the dish smelled like comfort. This one smelled like frustration and something sour unraveling.

“Something went wrong with the sauce,” she mumbled. “Or maybe I forgot how to… I don’t know. I was trying.”

And god, she looked so small at that moment. Not physically, Alexia was never small, but emotionally. She looked like a little kid caught drawing on the walls, holding out sticky fingers and hoping it still counted for effort. It knocked something loose in your chest.

Your heart didn’t break. It cracked. Just a little.

You stepped in. Reached past her and turned off the burner before the fire alarm could make things worse.

“We can save it,” you said quietly, even though you knew it wasn’t true.

She stayed where she was, arms hanging a little helplessly at her sides while you opened the fridge and scanned for solutions. There was a half-used tub of ricotta, a jar of pesto, and some leftover stock. You pulled them out without speaking. It was easier this way, fixing things with your hands and not your voice.

“I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to cook tonight,” she said softly, somewhere behind you. “You’ve been working so much, and I wanted to do something.”

You kept your back to her. “You could’ve just asked me to cook with you.”

“I didn’t want to make you do more work.”

“I don’t want to feel like a guest in my own kitchen.”

There was a long pause. Then the quiet sound of her setting down a spoon.

You poured a little cream into the pan, scraping at the burnt edges while the sauce hissed and fought you. You could feel her watching you closely and carefully. Like if she stared hard enough, she’d understand how to fix it all.

She moved to stand beside you. Too close. Her arm brushed yours lightly, and you flinched. Not because you were scared. Just because you weren’t used to being touched anymore. Not by her. Not kindly. Not like this.

She froze. You saw it from the corner of your eye. Her shoulders tensed. The guilt bloomed across her face. But you didn’t say anything. And she didn’t try again.

Instead, she grabbed plates and set the table while you boiled pasta and tried to coax the ruined sauce into something edible. It wasn’t good. But it was something.

By the time you sat down, the steam had mostly settled. She watched you take a bite, searching your face for any kind of reaction. You chewed. Swallowed. Didn’t make a face.

“It’s fine,” you said.

And she smiled, almost like that was a win.

Not a real smile. But something tired and tentative. Something that said thank you for not hating me tonight.

The two of you sat in that dim kitchen, eating a salvaged dinner that tasted like memory and ash. And for a moment you could almost remember what it was like to share a life that didn’t feel so quiet.

Even if you didn’t trust it just yet.

You didn’t go to bed after dinner.

Alexia did though. She didn’t say it directly, but you saw the way her shoulders slumped after the dishes were done, the way her fingers lingered awkwardly near your elbow like she might touch you and thought better of it. She murmured something like “I’m gonna lie down”, then disappeared down the hall with slow footsteps and a closed door that didn’t quite latch.

You couldn’t follow her. You weren’t ready to share a space that intimate. Not yet. Maybe not ever again.

So instead, you took a half-full bottle of wine from the fridge, grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the couch, and slipped outside. The balcony used to be your favorite spot together. Just two chairs, some tangled fairy lights strung along the railing, the soft hum of the city below. You used to sit out there for hours, her legs tangled with yours, music playing low from your phone while she pointed out constellations she made up on the spot. There was always laughter. Always warmth. That soft, lived-in kind of love.

Now it was just cold metal and silence. One chair is empty. The lights were still up but never turned on. Like the memory of joy had been boxed up and left to fade in the wind.

You curled into the blanket, set the wine between your knees, and stared out at the city that didn’t notice you anymore. This was your nest now. Quiet. Still. Full of grief that didn’t ask for attention, just stayed perched and waiting.

And then, like muscle memory, you opened Chattr.

There was already a message waiting.

[go4goald2]: I tried tonight. Made an effort and still fucked it up.

You exhaled, soft and surprised. A strange flutter of recognition sparked in your chest.

[lostinthecrowd]: That’s more than a lot of people do.

[go4goald2]: Doesn’t feel like enough.

[lostinthecrowd]: What happened?

[go4goald2]: I wanted to do something good, something small. I thought it would matter, but all I did was remind her how long it’s been since I got it right.

You rested your chin on your knee, letting the blanket shift around your shoulders. The night air was cool against your skin.

[lostinthecrowd]: The effort counts even if it’s awkward and late.

[go4goald2]: I don’t know. Sometimes I think it just makes things worse. Like I pop back up trying to play house and she’s already rewritten her life without me in it.

You hesitated before responding.

[lostinthecrowd]: What made you pull away in the first place?

The reply didn’t come fast. A full minute passed. Then two. You thought maybe they’d closed the app.

But then the typing bubble appeared.

[go4goald2]: I got busy. I know it's not an excuse, but it started with wanting to give her everything and to make things easier. Pay the bills, say yes to every work gig and be someone she could be proud of.

[go4goald2]: But then it became… noise. So many meetings, late nights planning the next steps at work, connecting with investors and people wanting things from me all the time. Every time I came home, I felt like a shell. But she was still there, always waiting patiently. I didn’t know how to face her.

[go4goald2]: So I stopped showing up. Told myself I'd come back when I was less tired and more present. But I kept putting it off until it became normal to be gone.

You swallowed hard. Something about the rhythm of it, and the way they said “be someone she could be proud of” twisted in your chest.

[go4goald2]: And now I don't know how to come back. Not without her seeing everything I let fall apart.

[go4goald2]: I'm ashamed.

You stared at the screen.

Because how do you comfort someone whose regret sounds so familiar it might as well live in your house?

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s not too late, not if you mean it. Not if you’re willing to rebuild instead of rewind.

Another pause.

[go4goald2]: What if she doesn’t believe me anymore? What if I waited too long?

[lostinthecrowd]: Then show up anyway, consistency is louder than promises.

A breeze caught your hair, lifting it off your forehead. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, breathing through the weight in your ribs.

[go4goald2]: I want her to know I see her. Really see her. Not just when she’s upset, not just when she’s slipping away, but every day.

You didn’t respond right away.

Your thumbs hovered, useless, the words sitting heavy on your screen.

There was something about the way they phrased it, quiet and earnest. Like they meant it, even if they didn’t know how to say it out loud to the right person yet.

You sipped your wine and stared out over the city. The lights blurred softly against the dark, the breeze tugging gently at the frayed edges of the blanket in your lap.

You used to be seen like that. Or maybe you just liked to think you were.

You put your phone down for a second, face tipped to the sky, letting the silence settle where something like comfort should’ve been.

And when the tears came, they weren’t loud. Just slow. Private. The kind that don’t ask to be noticed. The kind you wipe away quickly, just in case someone walks out and asks if you’re okay.

But no one did.

The effort started showing up in little things.

Alexia folding the laundry before you got to it. Running to the store to pick up oat milk without being asked. Saying “Want to watch something?” instead of disappearing into the bedroom with her headphones and going on a call with her agent. She didn’t get it all right, she brought home the wrong brand of oat milk, folded the sheets inside out, and picked a movie you’d already seen twice. But she was trying. God, was she trying.

It wasn’t the kind of effort that made your heart swell. It made it ache. Because it felt like watching someone fumble through a routine they used to know by heart and now had to relearn from scratch.

On Wednesday night, she came home with takeout from that noodle place near your old apartment. The one you used to walk to in the middle of summer, sweaty and stupidly in love. She placed the bags on the counter like a peace offering and said, “Thought we could eat together tonight?”

You nodded. She brightened like it mattered.

She talked through most of dinner. Nothing serious. Just training, the new physio, the girl on the team who always forgot her cleats. You let her talk. Let her fill the space. She was trying to be light. Normal. Like maybe if she kept talking, she could talk you back into caring.

And for a second, you let her believe it was working.

After dinner, she hovered. You were rinsing dishes and she leaned against the counter, fingers tapping nervously against the edge. You knew that look. That “I want to say something but I’m scared of the words” look.

“I’ve been thinking…” she started, voice quiet. “About us. About how I’ve-”

Her phone buzzed. Loud. Jarring.

You saw the hesitation. The flicker of conflict.

But she answered it.

“Yeah?” she said, already walking toward the hallway. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got a minute.”

And just like that, the moment shattered.

You turned back to the sink, slowly rinsed out the last bowl. The water ran too hot, but you didn’t adjust it.

She didn’t come back in. You heard the bedroom door click closed a few minutes later.

The next night, she showed up with your favorite wine. The one you used to save for anniversaries or good news. She held it up like a trophy. “Got this on the way home. Figured we could split it and hang out a bit.”

You stared at the label. Something in your chest twisted.

“I can’t drink,” you said, keeping your voice even. “I’m on antibiotics.”

She blinked, thrown. “Oh. Since when?”

You shrugged. “Couple days. I’ve been sick.”

“Oh,” she said again.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Just set the bottle down and muttered something about putting it away for later.

You stood there for a moment after she walked off. Letting the silence settle over your shoulders like a too-heavy coat.

She hadn’t noticed.

You’d been in bed for two days. Tired, congested, barely eating. And she hadn’t noticed.

Not until you said it out loud.

Still. You weren’t made of stone.

There were moments where her effort chipped at something soft. The way she offered you tea that night without you asking. How she turned off the hallway light so it wouldn’t bother you when you tried to nap. How she lingered a little longer at the door when she left for training, like she wanted to say something.

But the thing that hurt most was how she still couldn’t say the one thing that mattered: I miss you.

She tried everything else. But not that.

Later, once the house had gone quiet and the wine sat untouched in the cabinet, you curled up on the couch with a blanket and opened Chattr.

[lostinthecrowd]: You ever feel like someone’s knocking, but it’s on the wrong door?

[go4goald2]: Jesus, yeah. All the time.

[go4goald2]: Weird coincidence… I always feel like I'm on the other side of that.

You smiled. A small one. Just for yourself. Sad. Quiet. The kind that doesn’t touch your mouth, only your chest.

[lostinthecrowd]: Someone brought me something today. Something they thought I'd love, but they didn’t realize I couldn't have it.

[go4goald2]: Ouch. That's… rough.

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, it’s like they remembered the old version of me. Not who I am now.

[go4goald2]: I get that. It's like when someone keeps reaching for the person they think you are, and you’re standing there, changed, wondering if they’ll ever notice.

[lostinthecrowd]: Exactly.

[go4goald2]: They probably meant well, doesn’t make it hurt less though.

[lostinthecrowd]: No. It doesn’t.

There was a beat of silence. Only the glow of your phone, the buzz of the city outside the balcony, and the heaviness in your chest that had nowhere else to go.

[go4goald2]: I think I want to want them again but I don't know if that’s the same thing as actually wanting them.

[lostinthecrowd]: I think that’s the loneliest kind of love.

The typing bubble appeared. Vanished. Appeared again.

[go4goald2]: What are you doing right now?

[lostinthecrowd]: Talking to you. Not sleeping. Being dramatic. The usual.

[go4goald2]: Good. Stay.

And so you did. Talking about nothing and everything. How certain smells always bring you back to childhood. How you hate the sound of ticking clocks. How lately, someone’s been trying to come back to you and you want to believe it matters. You really do. But there’s a part of you that keeps wondering if effort can still mean something after the silence has settled in too deep.

You didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. But you did. And they didn’t mind.

Alexia was down the hall. Lights off. Door closed.

You were somewhere else entirely.

Pt. 3

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camille-aurelie-deveraux · 2 months ago

Note

Hey! Could I please request reader comforting Oscar after he spins out of the race. She is being a good girlfriend, and Oscar really needs it right now.

Thank you!

Comfort in your arms

The energy in Melbourne was electric. The first race of the 2025 Formula 1 season was always going to be exciting, but for Oscar, it was even more special. It was his home race—the one where he had grown up dreaming of one day competing in front of his family, friends, and thousands of Aussie fans. But more than anything, he was happy because Yn was here with him.

They had been together for years now, their relationship built on mutual support, understanding, and an unwavering love for one another. No matter what happened on track, Yn was always there for him, just like he was for her.

Now, as he sat in his race suit, exhausted and frustrated after a chaotic Australian Grand Prix, all he wanted was to see her.

Oscar had started the race strong, maintaining his position in the top three for most of it. The car felt good, and for a while, it seemed like a solid points finish was guaranteed. But then, disaster struck.

Lap 42. He had been pushing hard, trying to close the gap to the car in front when the rear of his car suddenly stepped out mid-corner.

“Ah, no—no, no, no!” he shouted into the radio as he spun off the track, grass spraying in all directions.

For a moment, his heart sank, thinking it was all over. But with quick reactions, he managed to get the car pointed in the right direction and rejoin the race. It wasn’t over, but he had lost precious positions.

By the time the checkered flag fell, he had salvaged a P9 finish. Points, but not the result he had been hoping for at home.

Now, walking back to his driver's room, he could feel the frustration settling deep in his chest.

Then he saw her.

Yn was already waiting for him inside, her arms crossed as she leaned against the small couch, watching him with concern. The moment Oscar stepped through the door, she moved toward him.

"Hey," she said softly. "Rough one?"

Oscar let out a breath and ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Yeah. I really messed that up."

"You didn't mess up," she corrected, stepping closer. "You finished in the points after a spin. That’s still a solid drive."

He shook his head. "Not good enough. Not at my home race."

Yn sighed, reaching out to cup his face gently. "Stop that," she murmured, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "You drove an incredible race. One mistake doesn’t change that. You kept fighting, and that’s what matters."

Oscar leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "I just—" He exhaled, shaking his head again. "I really wanted a good result today. For everyone here. For you."

She frowned at that. "You don’t owe me anything, Oscar. I’m proud of you no matter what."

His chest tightened at her words. She always knew exactly what to say.

Yn reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, slow and reassuring. Oscar immediately melted into it, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

She kissed him again, lingering, making sure he knew how much she meant every word she said. When she pulled back slightly, their faces remained close, breath mingling.

"You did amazing," she whispered.

Oscar swallowed hard, his hands tightening on her hips. "I needed that," he admitted, his voice raw.

"Good," she said with a small smile. "Because I plan to keep doing it until you believe me."

A small chuckle escaped him, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear. He leaned forward again, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You’re too good to me," he murmured.

Yn’s hands slid up to the back of his neck, playing with the damp curls there. "You make it easy."

Oscar sighed and pulled her even closer, pressing slow, lingering kisses along her jaw before trailing down to her neck. He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, his lips warm and soft against her.

Yn let out a soft hum of approval, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"I really needed this," he admitted between kisses.

"I know," she whispered.

He kissed her again, firmer this time, pouring every ounce of emotion into it. She responded immediately, her hands gripping his race suit. He didn’t want to let go—didn’t want to think about the race, the spin, or the points lost. Right now, all that mattered was her.

Yn pulled back slightly, tilting his chin up so he met her gaze. "You are incredible, Oscar. One spin doesn’t change that. And no matter what happens on track, I’ll always be here for you."

His heart clenched at her words.

"I love you," he said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could even think about them.

Yn smiled, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. "I love you too," she whispered.

And just like that, everything felt a little bit lighter.

🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎

Hi readers! Please enjoy this little piece. I would be very happy if you would send me some requests. See ya till next time!

-Cami 🏎

#f1 x reader #Cami 🏎#formula 1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x female reader

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channieschaoscorner · 1 month ago

Text

New Beginnings - Part Two - Stray Kids x female!9th member

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Summary: You’ve made it to the survival show with your best friend but things are changing. You're friendship is turning into something else and its becoming something neither of you can understand.

Genre: Full on angst (I’m so sorry) 💔

A/N: You guys I need to apologise in advance for this one. No joke, I cried at one point writing this. I feel a little bit evil after the first part was a happy ending by my standards.

I also have like 4 more parts planned out for this so it’s turning into its own series (yay for me, not for your feelings.) I really hope you like it and again I’m so sorry but love you all lots 💕

Part one

Part Three

Masterlist

────୨ৎ────

The practice room clock blinked 1:42 AM. The rest of the group had long since gone home, too exhausted to keep going. You on the other hand were still there as per usual. You were sitting on the floor, rewinding a part of the track, while Chan sat nearby, notebook in his lap, tapping his pen against the page. He’d come in a little while ago, claiming the excuse of needing a change in scenery.

“Alright,” you said, standing and stretching. “I’ve got five more counts to fix. You still stuck on that bridge?”

“No…” Chan scoffed, even though he was absolutely still stuck on that bridge. “I’m almost done.”

“Bet you I finish this choreo before you figure out your lyrics.” You smirked, walking backwards toward the mirror wall.

“What’s the bet?”

“Loser buys snacks for a week.”

“You’re on.”

You turned the music up and jumped back into the steps while Chan hunched over his notebook, furiously scribbling. Every few minutes, you’d sneak glances at each other in the mirror — catching his eye, smiling when he stuck his tongue out at you.

At one point, you messed up a step and groaned loudly.

Chan looked up with a teasing grin. “Need me to help you out, or…?”

“Please,” you laughed, walking over. “Like you can even keep up with me.”

“I kept up with you for years.” His voice softened, and so did yours.

“Yeah… you have.”

A quiet moment stretched between you before you both shook it off with matching smiles.

“Focus, Bang Chan. I’m winning this bet.”

“Yeah, yeah, in your dreams.”

You kept working side by side, the night blurring into comforting warmth and quiet music, and the unspoken truth that neither of you cared who won anymore.

────୨ৎ────

The clock had slipped past 3AM by the time you finally gave up.

“Okay, truce,” you groaned, collapsing onto the floor with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll buy the snacks. I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“Deal,” Chan chuckled, dropping his notebook and flopping down beside you, shoulder bumping into yours. “But for the record, your choreography’s insane. The kids won’t survive this.”

“They’ll manage. They’ve got you, haven’t they?”

You turned your head, smiling at him, and he felt something tug in his chest. Something he pushed away and ignored.

“Yeah, well… I’ve got you too.”

It came out softer than he intended, and for a second, neither of them moved.

Then you grinned. “Damn right you do.”

You nudged his shoulder and sat up, rummaging through the snack pile you’d gathered. You handed him his favorite without even needing to ask.

“You always remember what I like,” he said, teasing, but something about the way he looked at you lingered. His eyes a little too gentle, a little too full.

“Well, someone’s gotta look after you. You’d live off energy drinks and stress without me.”

You sat cross-legged on the practice room floor, trading snacks and teasing each other, swapping old stories from your trainee days. Like the nights you snuck extra practice time, the times you had covered for each other, the little victories no one else had seen.

When you laughed at one of his jokes, Chan found himself watching you instead of laughing. The light in your eyes, the way your legs curled to the side, the warmth you carried like it was stitched into your skin. He didn’t realize how long he stared until you caught him.

“What?” You tilted your head and looked at him curiously.

He blinked. “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.”

You offered him a soft smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Chan.”

And you both believed that so easily.

Neither of you ready to admit the way your hearts beat too fast in these small, unspoken moments.

────୨ৎ────

The room was buzzing with anticipation as the Stray Kids members sat in a circle, waiting for JYP’s announcement. The survival show had already pushed you all to your limits, but today felt different, something unexpected was coming.

JYP entered the room, his usual calm presence settling over everyone. His eyes scanned the group, before his eyes settled on you. “Alright, everyone, I’ve been thinking about the next challenge. We’ve seen how you all work as a team, but now, I want to see how the two of you will collaborate.”

You caught Chan’s eye for a split second, your stomach fluttering. You tried not to let the nervousness show.

JYP continued, “So for this next stage, Chan and Y/N, I want you two to perform a duet. You’ll have to work together, not just as friends but as leaders. I want to see how well you can communicate and create something meaningful together.”

A sudden hush fell over the room. You could feel the weight of JYP’s words pressing down on you.

You and Chan.

A duet.

Together.

In theory it made sense. You had worked together as friends for years, as teammates, you shouldn’t be nervous but this was something else entirely. A duet was a performance that required you to put complete faith and trust in your partner.

“This stage is going to be emotional.” JYP continued, oblivious to the shift in the room. “I’m not going for something high-energy. I want to see how you both can bring vulnerability and depth. Show us something more. I believe in you two, so I expect you to deliver.”

The challenge hung between you and Chan, like a heavy weight neither of you could lift. It wasn’t just a performance. It was a test of what you could handle, and, more importantly, how much you were willing to expose. The vulnerability that JYP asked for wasn’t something you were used to. But now, it seemed inevitable, you were going to be forced to bare your soul on stage for everyone to see.

Chan’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, everything around you felt like it was in slow motion. The excitement that bubbled up inside you only added to the strange tension you couldn’t place. Was he feeling it too? You didn’t know. You both quickly looked away, pretending to play it cool, but inside, you were both trying to figure out what this meant.

Chan forced a smile, though you could tell it didn’t reach his eyes. “Alright, let’s do this,” he said, trying to make it sound easy. But his voice cracked just a little, and it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Are you two nervous?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed your stiff postures.

“Of course not,” you laughed, but it sounded a little forced even to your own ears. “We’ve got this.”

But even as you said those words, you knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

JYP smiled knowingly. “Good. I’m looking forward to seeing what you both come up with. Take your time, practice together, and figure it out.”

As JYP left the room, the younger members began to chat excitedly, their energy bouncing off the walls. You and Chan stayed silent. The sudden, unexpected reality of what had just been assigned to the two of you was starting to settle in and what it could mean not just for the group but for both of you if you failed.

Failure wasn’t an option, you decided.

No matter what was going to happen.

Later on, when you arrived for your first practice, you found Chan already sitting by the speakers.

“You beat me.” You teased, but it did nothing to ease the tension that had settled in you earlier on.

He smiled, but you could tell it was forced.

You opened your mouth to speak again but hesitated, you didn’t actually have anything to say but you desperately wanted to cut through the silence.

Chan’s eyes dropped to your hands, you were pulling the sleeves down, it was a nervous habit that he’d picked up on a few years ago. His stomach flipped uncomfortably at the thought of you being nervous with him.

“I think I’ve found a song for us to do.” He hit play without waiting for you to reply. You nodded along as the lyrics filled the room. It was emotional, filled with words of longing and love but also fear of losing their person. It was…

“Perfect.” You said, when the song ended.

“Do you think so?” Chan’s hand drifted up to his earlobe, twisting the earring that sat in it.

Your eyes narrowed slightly when he did so, was he nervous as well?

“It will be if we can pull it off.” You pushed through the nerves bubbling in your stomach.

────୨ৎ────

Over the next few days, you had settled into a more comfortable rhythm with each other. The initial awkwardness of having to be so emotional with each, pushed aside as the need to perform well consumed you both.

With the rest of the group preoccupied with their own challenge, you and Chan had been spending nearly every hour of your days together. It was a good thing that you were already friends before this as spending this amount of time with anyone would have most people ready to take each other's heads off from the pressure of it all.

Not you two though, thankfully you had become quite used to living out of each other's pockets in your earlier years when you had been each other's only friend.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been rehearsing today, only that it was dark when you arrived and it was dark now you’d seen when you went to the bathroom earlier. It was easy to lose track of time in the practice room. Caught up in the rehearsals and each other's presence, it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re going to kill me.” Chan groaned from the floor.

“You’ll live.” You walked over to him holding a water bottle, you nudged his leg with your foot.

He sat up wordlessly, taking the bottle off you with a nod. You ignored his hand brushing over yours, choosing instead to crack your knuckles as if that could remove the tingling sensation left there.

You sat down next to him, too aware that he was still staring at you and you shifted uncomfortably. Desperate to break whatever this feeling was, as Chan takes a long drink from his water bottle, you snatched it out of his hand mid-sip.

“Hey!” he coughs, laughing.

“What? Sharing is caring.” You grin, purposely taking an exaggerated sip.

“You better hope I don’t catch your germs.”

“Maybe I want you to.” It slips out too quickly, too easily, too… too much.

He holds your gaze for a second too long of eye contact.

Your smirk falters.

His gaze drops to the bottle in your hand, then back to your face. Neither of you says anything. You toss it back, and stand up quickly, walking back to your phone to turn the song back on.

“Come on, let’s run this again.”

Chan stands up, ready to jump back into rehearsal mode, ignoring the fact that his pulse is a little faster than it should be.

────୨ৎ────

*3 days until the final performance*

The final performance day was growing closer and closer.

You and Chan have been pushing yourselves to the limit. Only taking breaks from your own rehearsal to check in with the others and help them with their challenges. It took much needed energy out of you but neither of you complained out loud, all too aware of the responsibility on your shoulders.

This responsibility meant that you kept pushing your own practices back later and later until it was almost morning by the time you would finish up, head back to the dorms and get back up to do it all over again.

Tonight was no different.

The fluorescent lights hummed softly above you, casting a gentle glow over the near-empty practice room. It was one of those late nights again. The kind where exhaustion seeped into your bones, where your muscles ached and burned, and yet neither of you could quite bring yourselves to leave.

You sat on the floor against the mirror, legs stretched out, you head tipped back against the glass. A dull, persistent headache throbbed behind your eyes, made worse by the tight pull of your ponytail. You winced as you shifted accidentally catching some of your hair, you closed your eyes in an effort to block out the light for a few seconds of relief as Chan knelt nearby, rummaging through his bag for his water bottle.

He noticed your discomfort immediately.

“You okay?” His voice was soft, almost hoarse from hours of use.

You gave him a tired smile, your hand lazily reaching up to rub the back of your neck. “Headache.”

Chan hesitated for a second, his gaze lingering on you, watching the way your brow furrowed and your shoulders slumped. Without a word, he moved closer, gently batting your hand away.

“Here,” he murmured, kneeling in front of you.

Before you could argue, his fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, tugging carefully at the scrunchie that held your hair back tightly. His touch was careful, a little clumsy. Too intimate for something so simple. You closed your eyes at the warmth of his fingertips.

The soft, worn fabric slid free, and your hair spilled down around your shoulders. The release made you sigh involuntarily. A soft, relieved sound, and Chan felt it like a warm ache in his chest.

“There.” he said quietly, his fingers lingering a beat too long before pulling away.

You opened your eyes, blinking at him. The look between you both was heavy, something unspoken settling in the air around you.

He broke first, eyes falling down the scrunchie in his hand. He hesitated for a second before he tucked it into his pocket without waiting for permission, as if it had always belonged there. And maybe it did. You didn’t object either way, a single thought drifted in the back of your head that you were happy he kept it but you weren’t sure why.

────୨ৎ────

*2 days until the performance*

It was late. Too late, really. The only light in the practice room came from the dimming bulbs overhead which were absolutely going to need to be replaced from how much time the two of you were spending in here. The glow of your phones offered little lighting in the corner of the room. Both of you had been going for hours now, working through every single step, every little move, every note, perfecting it all for the survival show. But your body was beginning to protest, exhaustion creeping in.

You rubbed your arms, trying to get some warmth back into your cold skin. The chill in the air wasn’t helping, and you found yourself shivering, despite how much you had been moving earlier. It wasn’t that you had forgotten to bring a jacket, you had but gave it to Jeongin earlier who had forgotten his even though you reminded him this morning before you left the dorms. Now though in the stillness of the practice room, it was hard to ignore.

Chan, however, was still going, focused on the moves, gliding across the floor with ease, but you could tell his attention was partially on you. He kept glancing over at you, his eyes narrowed slightly in concern as he noticed you rubbing your arms again.

“Hey,” he said, finally turning toward you. His voice was soft, but there was an edge of worry to it. “You okay? You’re shivering.”

You gave him a small smile, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine. Just a little cold. I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t seem convinced. There was something about the way he looked at you, his eyes lingering for just a second too long, that made your chest tighten.

“Hold on a second,” he said, walking over to his bag, pulling out his hoodie. It was oversized on him, the dark fabric a bit worn at the cuffs, but it still had a comforting familiarity to it. You weren’t sure why, but just the thought of him giving you his hoodie made something stir in your chest.

He held it out to you, a gentle smile on his lips. “Here. It’s cold in here. You can wear this.”

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the hoodie. Something about it felt so intimate, like a quiet offering of care that you weren’t sure you were ready for. You had spent years being close to Chan, always side by side, but this was different. There was a subtle tension in the air now, a strange pull between you that you weren’t sure how to describe.

“Thanks.” you said quietly, taking the hoodie from him, your fingers brushing against his for a second. The brief contact sent a jolt through you, and you quickly pulled the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you in its warmth.

As soon as you slipped your arms into the sleeves, you could feel the familiar, comforting presence of Chan’s scent. It was like a shield, like a piece of him that was now wrapped around you. You didn’t know why, but something about wearing his hoodie made your heart race just a little faster.

You looked up at him and saw that he was watching you closely, his gaze soft, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something you didn’t quite understand. He looked… pleased? Maybe even a little proud, but it wasn’t just that. There was something deeper, something unspoken, a quiet kind of longing that lingered between you.

“You look good in it.” Chan said, the words coming out softer than usual, almost shy.

You felt your cheeks warm at the compliment, and you smiled, a little embarrassed. “Thanks.”

There was a brief silence, both of you standing there, not quite sure what to say next. But the tension between you was palpable now, the distance between friends blurring. It was still subtle, but it was there, hanging in the air.

“I’m glad it fits.” he added, and you could tell he was trying to make it sound casual, trying to downplay the strange energy that seemed to have settled around you both. But his eyes were still on you, and you couldn’t ignore the way his fingers absently tugged at the sleeve of his own hoodie, almost like he wanted to pull you closer but didn’t know how to.

“Yeah,” you replied, tugging the sleeves down over your hands. “It’s perfect.”

He smiled, but there was something in his smile that felt a little too heavy. It lingered a little too long, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same thing you were — that strange, unexplainable pull between the two of you that you were feeling more and more as these practices went on.

You should have said something, anything, to break the tension. But instead, you both stayed there, silent, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest but neither of you spoke, the words too difficult, too tangled in the space between you.

You couldn’t explain why, but in that moment, wearing his hoodie felt like the closest thing to being wrapped up in his arms. The idea of that alone made your cheeks burn, and for a second you were scared that he would know exactly what you were thinking about.

As you both returned to your positions without a word to continue rehearsing, you caught him stealing glances at you. Every time you caught his eye, you quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

“It’s just a hoodie.” You kept telling yourself but you knew it wasn’t. It was everything. The way he cared for you, the way he always looked after you. You didn’t understand it, but you knew that it was something you didn’t want to lose

────୨ৎ────

*Final rehearsal*

It had been a long night of rehearsals. Endless runs of choreography, fine-tuning the moves for the performance tomorrow. You could feel your body aching and protesting from the exertion, but the weight on your chest was made heavier by the other person in the room.

You were hyper-aware of the space between you and Chan, of the quiet tension that had been building for days. To say it was confusing you would be an understatement. This had never happened between the two of you before, you’d always felt comfortable with him but now? Every moment alone felt charged, like there was a bigger force behind what was happening and you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t talk to the one person that you would do normally, how do you tell your best friend that your friendship is starting to make your head hurt?

Chan stood across from you, sweat beading on his brow, his breath coming slightly faster than usual. His eyes met yours for a brief second, and you froze. The moment stretched on, like a pulled rubber band that was about to snap, but neither of you moved, neither of you spoke.

Chan’s gaze dropped to his feet for a second, and you felt an inexplicable urge to break the silence, to say anything to break this strange, heavy feeling in the air. But before you could find your voice, Chan stepped closer, the space between you narrowing.

“Let’s run it again,” he said, his voice low, a little breathless.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, your heart racing as your eyes followed his every movement. He was so close now, too close, but neither of you seemed to back away. It was like your bodies were drawn to each other without your permission.

You forced your feet backwards, ignoring what felt like your own nerves protesting against you and found your starting position. He remained still, watching you carefully, he knew you were on edge and wish you’d tell him why. It was driving him insane, he wanted to ask you what was wrong but was afraid of the answer you would give him.

He shook his head, as if he could shake the stress straight out of it and found his own position. The music kicked in and the two of you began to move. Despite what you both were feeling, you couldn’t deny that you performed well together. Countless months of training as trainees had meant that you were familiar with each other's movements. The only difference in this routine was the meaning behind it, the powerful lyrics about love and longing were dragging up something in the both of you that neither of you had been prepared for, and so you both continued to shove it away and pretend it didn’t exist.

The final moment in the performance was always hard to pull away from. It ended with one of Chan’s hands on your waist and the other holding your face. Your own hands rested on his chest. The more it was rehearsed, the harder and harder it became to force yourself to step out of his embrace.

The music ended and once again, in his arms you felt suspended in time, your body held close by him, the feeling of his chest rising and falling under your fingertips. The music had faded into a quiet hum. Both of you were standing there, breathing in sync, eyes locked for a second too long.

You felt his hand on your waist, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stood there, unwilling to move and tired of arguing with yourself that you needed to step away. The moment stretched on, thicker than any choreography you’d rehearsed before. Something felt different. Your chest tightened, and your heart picked up speed, as if it could escape your ribcage at any moment. You were terrified that he could hear in, no idea how you could explain this if he could.

Chan didn’t move, didn’t break the connection. Neither of you dared to speak, both of you caught in the tension that hummed between you like static electricity. His fingers flexed and gripped your waist tighter. His thumb moved ever so slightly on your cheek, so fleeting he could argue that it didn’t happen at all.

His eyes flickered to your lips, and just for a brief moment, everything stopped completely. The air was so thick you felt dizzy, certain that without his grip you’d have fallen in seconds. The closeness, the quiet, the stillness overwhelming.

It was almost too much to bear.

And then, so gently, so slowly, as though drawn in by an invisible force, Chan leaned forward. His lips brushed against yours, like a soft whisper, barely a touch, like a question that didn’t need to be answered. His breath mixed with yours, warm and uncertain, leaving you paralyzed for a moment, unsure if it was even real.

You felt the ghost of his lips against yours, soft and fleeting, and then it was over.

He pulled back, but still neither of you moved. You were both frozen, staring at each other as if you’d crossed some kind of invisible line. The reality of what had just happened hung between you like a dense fog. Neither of you could breathe properly, the weight of the moment pressing down harder with every passing second. You could feel the cracks starting to appear between you.

“I—” Chan’s voice cracked slightly, as though he were trying to find the words, but they weren’t coming.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say anything, but no words came. Your throat felt tight, like it was holding something back, something too heavy to say out loud.

“Sorry.” Chan muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head, your hand instinctively going to your lips, the heat of the moment still burning.

“It’s… it’s okay. I don’t know what—” Your voice faltered, and you could hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears, loud and deafening.

Neither of you knew what to say.

“I just… I need a minute,” you said quickly, your breath shaky as you stepped back from him. You couldn’t stay in the same room with him, not now, not after that. You were too scared, too confused.

Chan nodded, his hand dropping from your waist, clenching into a fist at his side. “Yeah. Me too. I just… I didn’t—”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. You grabbed your things quickly, your hands trembling as you shoved them into your bag. Every movement felt clumsy, like you were trying to outrun something you couldn’t understand. You didn’t dare look at him, not now. Not after that.

Chan opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but he didn’t. He just nodded slowly, his face strained, as if he was trying to understand everything just as much as you were.

You didn’t look back when you walked out of the practice room. The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, but it didn’t do anything to calm the storm inside your chest. You felt your heart pounding, your thoughts a whirlwind.The kiss had been so soft, so fleeting, almost like it hadn't happened, and yet, it had managed to change everything.

What had that kiss been? Why did it feel like everything was changing between you two, and why did it terrify you so much? You were scared. You were scared that you’d lost him. Scared that if you let yourself feel what you wanted to feel, you’d ruin the one thing you’d always relied on.

No.

It was nothing, right?

Nothing but a slip-up.

You repeated that like a mantra to yourself, ignoring how your chest ached, your thoughts swirling, your heart tangled in the mess of emotions you didn’t have words for. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You didn’t know if you were relieved that it was over so quickly or terrified of what it could mean. You didn’t know if you’d be able to face him again tomorrow without feeling the weight of what had just happened.

An image of the performance tomorrow in front of the others appeared and you banished it far from your mind, as far as it could possibly go.

The thought of losing him, of messing up what you had. It terrified you more than you wanted to admit. You wanted him so badly, and that terrified you too. You couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not after everything the two of you had been through but you couldn’t stop going back to it.

How could you possibly stop thinking about it?

He had kissed you.

No matter how hard you tried, how hard you pushed them away, it kept coming back. The closeness, the feeling of his lips against yours. It was soft, gentle but there was something hovering behind it. Something full of longing, full of things unsaid.

And it terrified you.

You didn’t know what that kiss meant but you knew one thing:

You couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen, couldn’t pretend that you didn’t want to kiss him again, that you didn't want to turn around run right back in there to him and despite all of that, you knew you were going to have to.

So for the first time in years, you walked home alone. You kept pushing yourself forward, reminding yourself how much of a mess this would cause if you admitted the truth, admitted how you actually felt, what it would do to you both so you ran.

Ran further away from the JYPE building, further away from that stupid practice room and further away from him.

────୨ৎ────

Taglist: @m-325 @imeverycliche @mythicmochi @hynjnnie @mbioooo0000

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Taglist <3

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buntanteen · 20 days ago

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svt fic recs list <3 - svt 10 year anniversary: hoshi - sfw & nsfw

summary: 10 sfw & 10 nsfw hoshi x reader insert fics :)

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

✩ sfw section ✩

1. ❥ hoshi bf texts - @lololololchips

the witty bickering and banter is EXACTLY what hoshi wants kjgfbdjk

2. ❥ how to get rid of nightmares - @cheolism-archive

as someone who used to get really bad nightmares...the cuteness of kwon soonyoung would take away allll my fear

3. ❥ babe for the weekend - @studioeisa

i LOVEEEEEEEEEE an exes fic and this deliveredddd

4. ❥ dating hoshi feels like.. - @ssentimentals

i just knowwww that dating hoshi would be such a fun experience

5. ❥ kisses with hoshi - @gi4hao

ALL THE KISSES WITH SOONIE PLSSSSSSSSSS

6. ❥ 10:47pm - @odxrilove

our lil sweetheart ahhhhhh

7. ❥ too much communication!soonyoung x reader - @xinganhao

i was CACKLING throughout this entire fic. soonie is just like me in this djkfgbfdk

8. ❥ fanboy hoshi - @rubyreduji

fanboy hoshi is one of my fAVOURITEEE genres of him heheh

9. ❥ bf!soonyoung thoughts - @boorines

bf!soonyoung who should be MYYY bf (

10. ❥ love languages: kwon soonyoung - @cxffecoupx

soonie and i both being physical touch, cuteness aggression & gift giver ppl??!?! HELLL yeah

✩ nsfw section ✩

1. ❥ bark (like a dog) - @toruro

*ahem* ARF ARF AWOOOO??? (this was INTENSE in such a good way)

2. ❥ The Biggest Fanboy - @hoshifighting

he's a cute ass dance teacher for kids?!?!?! and he can banter like that?!?!?! AHHHHHHHHHH

3. ❥ warm - @cheolism-archive

tiddy lover!hoshi agenda strikes again hehe

4. ❥ tiger stripes (stretch marks) - @hoshifighting

pretty tiger stripes deserved to worshipped!!!

5. ❥ kwon soonyoung as your friend with benefits - @woozivrsefactry

the perfect lil fwb :)) wbk

6. ❥ 08:42 - @eomayas

i'd quit any job if it meant he'd fuck me like that kjgfbd

7. ❥ how hoshi fucks/hoshis' hip game - @hoshifighting

y'all, take deeps breaths while reading this cuz oh myyyyyyyyyyyyy gAWDDDD (his hip game is no lie)

8. ❥ riding him on the couch - @toruro

had to take a lap around my room after this one cuz WOOOOOOFJSKBK

9. ❥ in front of chan and everybody - @rubyreduji

HOSHI AND THE PFU DON'T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEE KJDBGDFKJ

10. ❥ waking you up with oral - @nsfwhao

i think i'd fucking cease to exist if i woke up with soonie between my legs omgkdfjgb

365 notes · View notes

chaostudee · 10 months ago

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ferrari part two , charles leclerc

summary : y/n is touring her new album whilst charles is fighting for the championship yet they still find the time to support one another. warnings : none a/n : you can read this as a standalone but if you want here is part 1.

y/nusername night 42 in los angeles last night, love you all dearly. can't believe that the next show is our last one 😭😭 these past few months have been the best of my life and i'm not ready for it to end. anyways next week las vegas <3

liked by charlesleclerc, larray , sabrinacarpenter and 3,910,919 others.

user9229 okay charles i get it

y/nloverr you were amazing literally best night of my lifeee

charlesleclerc my pretty girl

y/nusername my pretty boy <3

f1fan_891 now that i've heard ferrari live i can finally die happy

sabrinacarpenter forever in awe of you

landonorris can't wait for this tour to end, acc can't bear listening to charles whining about how much he misses you 🙄

kikagomez my stunning bsf <3

charlesleclerc disappointing day for me after a dnf after the first lap because of engine difficulties but well done to carlos for earning some well needed points. on to las vegas next.

liked by y/nusername, carlossainz, landonorris and 5,820,001 others.

user9292 charlos forever ❤️

f1fan we love you charlesss

carlossainz we'll bounce back stronger 💪

y/nusername ily

charlesleclerc ily more angel

f1wagupdates i need y/n and charles to reunite already plsss i miss my parents

landonorris sorry mate but thanks for the free position :)

charlesleclerc i-

y/nusername guess where i'm heading???

》 user929 OMG ARE MY PARENTS ABOUT TO BE REUNITED

》 f1fan OMG OMG

》 y/nmyfave SCREAMING

》 kikagomez wish you were coming to see me :,(

》 y/nusername immm sryyy we have to meet up soon

charlesleclerc

y/nusername recharing with ml before las vegas.

liked by charlesleclerc, kikagomez, gracieabrams and 3,920,720 others.

gracieabrams why are you guys acc the cutest tf

kikagomez parentssss

y/nusername me with you and pierre

user929 i love them more than my own parents

f1fan oh that's not- user929 but in the sense that-

f1wagupdates yayyy finally something for me to post :)

y/nusername

y/nusername tonight was the best and worst. the best because i got to spend it with my bestfriends and the worst because now it's time to say goodbye. this tour has changed my life and has helped me through rough times, i hope it did the same for you <3. i want to say and thank you to my team, all the people behind the scenes and especially to you my fans (my bffs). lastly i want to thank the most important person in my life @charlesleclerc, i love you dearly and your endless support for me makes me fall in love with you more everyday. you are my whole world forever. forever and always.

liked by charlesleclerc, nicsturniolo, sabrinacarpenter and 5,910,929 others.

*comments on this post are turned off*

y/nusername pookie is looking fire tonight 🔥

》 charlesleclerc pookie looks fire all the time*

》 y/nusername true

》 user111 the way he looks at herrrr god he's so in love

》 f1fan ugh get married already

charlesleclerc great race today, definetly think that this was because of my lucky charm @y/nusername.

liked by y/nusername, maxverstappen, carlossainz and 6,199,810 others.

y/nusername so fucking proud of you <3

liked by charlesleclerc

maxverstappen great race man

charlesleclerc you too mate justaninchident they are never beating the lestappen allegations.

carlossainz manifesting a charlos podium for the next race 🤞

user920 yayyyyy charles back on the podium

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@sweetestgirlintown111

@mxryxmfooty

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grogumaximus · 2 months ago

Text

Max Verstappen and Gianpiero Lambiase's radio exchanges about the rain between laps 34-47 | Australian GP 2025

LAP 34 ; safety car deployed due to Alo crash

GP: Max, we have double yellows, exit turn 7, Alonso in the barriers, left hand side. Safety car deployed. Dash positive.

Max: Can we take new tyres or not?

GP: yes.

Max: Do you think that's better? It's not ready for slicks.

GP: Understood, Max. Recharge on please.

Max: Like the dry line is not good enough. you're gonna crash. (..) Like if any rain drops, I'm in trouble.

GP: Understood, Max. Most cars fit in slick tyres.

Max: Uh okay! Fucking hell! Yeah, ok, we can do it, fuck it.

GP: Box and pit confirm, Max.

Max: Yeah ok, slicks.

GP: Tyre 8.

*pitted for mediums. McLaren/Mercedes/Ferrari drivers on hards*

LAP 36

GP: For info! McLaren hard tyres. Russell hard. Leclerc hard.

GP: There's the potential of some rain before the end of the race.

LAP 37

GP: Max, expecting some rain in around 15 minutes. Could wet the track. So we just need to—

Max: Okay, just have all tyres ready first.

GP: Yep, understood. So, let's just be sensible as particularly as you bring these tyres up to temperature from cold.

Max: From where is the rain gonna hit first, do you think?

GP: Okay, it will be the start finish straight at turn 1, Max.

LAP 38

GP: Could be some drops over turn 13 and 14, Max.

Max: Yeah, it looks pretty dark here.

GP: Yep.

LAP 39

GP: So in around 4 laps, Max. At this pace, we are expecting a short sharper shower. Could require a switch back to inters.

LAP 41

GP: Ok, Safety car is in this lap.

*Max complains about the backmarkers*

GP: So, just be sensible. Left hand side tyres, please! You know where. it will be 16 of racing laps as I say we are expecting some rain.

LAP 42

GP: 4 Minutes to the rain.

GP: mode 6. Look after the tyres whilst they're cold.

LAP 44

GP: Look out after the tyres, Max.

GP: Rain coming in one or two laps.

*Both Nor and Pia end up in the gravel, Max overtakes Pia for P2*

*Max stays out when Nor pits. Pia gets stuck*

LAP 45

Max: I need to box next lap. Keep an eye on it!

GP: Understood, Max. Take care! Take care!

Max: Still dry here. Completely dry.

GP: Understood, Max.

Max: How is it over there?

GP: So, it's wet 11, 12, 13, 14, Max. so, caution back at the end of the lap.

Max: We are boxing?

GP: Give us your thoughts, max? Just let us know by turn—

Max: It's dry until here.

GP: Let us know, turn 13.

Max: Here it's very wet. Like, it's quite slippery.

GP: Take care, your first two sectors are done.

GP: Stay out, Max!

LAP 46

Max: I can't see the radar you need to tell me when it's coming.

GP: Yeah, understood.

Max: It looks like the rain is coming here now. We need to make a decision.

GP: Understood, Max. We will let you know.

Max: No rain here.

GP: So, currently first sector still quicker than Norris. Sector two the same. Sector 3 only 0.4 seconds slower. Stay out for now. I will let you know.

GP: Box Max. Box. Box and pit confirm. Tyre 3.

LAP 47

GP: Safety car deployed. Dash positive.

Max: I mean, it's quite clear though, that the rain/radar? was coming to the whole track. We should've boxed a lap before.

#they r soo on the same wavelength. all the time its insane #especially between laps 44-46. soo good #he was sliding all over the pitlane when he pitted at the end of lap 46 🫠#max verstappen #gianpiero lambiase #my post #had to include when he complained that he should've pitted one lap earlier. nothing would’ve changed

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kitkat5628 · 10 days ago

Text

Dick and Barbara being the Bat-Kids' parents:

Dick and Cass:

Batman: Family #7 (2002)

Dick and Jason:

Detective Comics #526

Nightwing: Year One

Worried father protecting his child's innocence (he ain't anyway)

Dick and Steph:

Batgirl #7 (2009)

Batgirl #5 (2009)

Arguing about their children's behavior😔

Dick and Tim:

Batman: Gotham Knights #8

Is he holding Tim's hand while they're walking?😭🩵 This reminds me of when I used to walk holding my parents' hands.

Titans: Bloodpact #2

Worried father who reunited with his baby

Dick and Damian:

Nightwing #20 (2016)

Robin #5

Reassuring his baby.

Babs and Cass:

Batgirl #25 (2000)

Batgirl #67 (2000)

While their relationship surely changed, they still absolutely love and care about each other.

Babs and Jason:

Task Force Z #8

Ignoring the whole context, she is being kind and there for him.

Babs and Steph:

Batgirl #3 (2009)

Batgirls #2 (2022)

Also reassuring her children and letting her cry in her lap🩵.

Babs and Tim:

Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood #3

Nightwing #42 (1996)

If you zoom in (hoping the quality doesn't suck) there's a note that says: "Helping Robin school project". Mom helping her baby with homework😔🩵

Babs and Damian:

Batman: Pennyworth R.I.P. #1

Mom standing up for her baby and trying to shove back some sense's in her baby's biological father. It kinda surprised me how she was the only one standing up for Damian like this. But I don't mind.

Bruce acknowledging all this:

Batman/Catwoman The Gotham War: scorched earth

Barbara's dream world, by the way:

Batgirl #11 (2009)

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idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy · 2 years ago

Note

Heyyy!!! Can you do something where earth42 miles is playing video game and your sitting in his lap or something like that🙏🏾 love your work btw😻

VIDEO GAMES - MILES 42

A/N: Hey bestie! Ty for the compliments :) and ofc I can!!

WARNING: I dont speak spanish so I will be using google translate, lol. However, if anyone is a translator and can help me out please do!

BE PREPARED FOR: FLUFFFFF, KISSING, IT MIGHT GET A LIL HEATED, LANGUAGE (USE OF THE N WORD, BUT ONLY 1 TIME LOL) , LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY

Currently, you were laying down on your boyfriend Miles's bed while he sat in his chair playing his stupid game. Call of booty or whatever it was.

"Gotcho ass bitch, you owe me $40 nigga" Miles yells while laughing.

You sigh rolling your eyes. He invited you over here just to scream over his headset the whole time like I might as well go home then.

He spins around in his chair staring at you and his eyebrows clench together as he sees you frowning. "What's wrong ma?"

You scoff "Oh nothing it's just my dumbass boyfriend invited me over here just to give me no attention but no biggie!" Sarcasm laced in your tone.

He starts laughing again while he takes his headset off and manhandles you until you're in his lap.

You feel those special butterflies flying around in your stomach.

He starts kissing down your neck and you giggle as it starts to tickle

"Sigues enojado bebé?" He hums, your shirt muffling his voice a bit.

"What if I'll teach you how to play to make it up to you and we can play together" He proposes as he makes his finger crawl up your thigh and his lips never leave your neck.

You a blushing mess at this point.

"Ok" you giggle obviously flustered and turned on.

He puts his headset on top of your head as he turns the game back on, when he logged into the game he yells into the mic real quick, "Yall watch how ya talk my girls on here."

He spends the rest of the time holding his hands over yours and helping you kill all the people, you and him know you're not really doing much work, but it's too much of an intimate moment to ruin.

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #miles morales x reader #miles 42 x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #m a c e ’s c r e a t i o nミ★#★1 0 0 0 +★

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moonlight-records · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii, I was wondering if I could order a custom 1633 vinyl? I was thinking classical with a hint of jazz. And maybe nr. 1, 19, 22, 24, 26, 33, 36, 42, 46, hits (E) <3

Shots Fired (MV1 x CL16)

pairing: Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc

Prompt: "Don't freak out, please It's not as bad as it looks." "“I can never let you out of my sight." + "Come back, the bed's cold without you."

wc: 4.1k

tags: friends to lovers, married, mafia au, mafia!max, sugar baby!charles, injured!charles, domestic lestappen, smut!! jealous!charles, face sitting, age gap: younger!charles and slightly older!max, daniel is a tired nurse, spare him, max is a simp, liam is jealous, moonie can't write fighting scenes, nothing graphic injury wise, have fun!!

a/n: we're back baby! request are being answered & opened! also red tags are what anon requested, non bold are added from me! also sorry not sorry bout the length!

“Schat! Are you almost done? We have to go!”

Charles jumps and almost smears his lip gloss onto his cheek. He huffs slightly and checks that his lip gloss is good before capping it. He hears the bedroom door open and brings his gaze away from the vanity mirror to his husband walking in. Charles smiles brightly as Max walks towards the vanity. Charles hums when Max gently kisses his forehead before his breath catches as Max’s hand rests on his throat. It’s taking every ounce of self control not to turn and start undoing Max’s belt and drop to his knees and—

“Schat,” Max murmurs into his ear.

Charles shivers harshly as a soft gasp escapes. Charles is trying to think of anything and everything that isn’t about how hot his husband is and how hot and bothered he was getting. Charles lets out a soft groan when Max squeezes his throat for a second before his hand is gone and Charles is left breathless. Opening his eyes, green meets blue and he wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

“Hm?” Charles asks finally.

“I asked if you were ready. We have to go.”

“Oh!” Charles snaps out of his haze as he looks back to the vanity. “I’m ready.” He decides and turns to Max with a smile before gently tapping Max’s chest to move back and he does. Charles takes his hand as he stands and giggles when Max pulls him to Max’s chest as Max plants gentle kisses over his face. “Mon chéri, we have to leave.”

Max offers a hum as he leans down to kiss Charles neck. Charles parts his lips gently as his hands find their way to Max’s hair. Tangling his fingers, Charles tilts his head to give Max more access. “Max,” Charles says breathlessly as Max just continues to kiss and nip at Charles neck, grabbing his thigh and hoist it up around his waist. Charles easily wraps it around Max’s waist and groans, feeling Max’s hard on pressing against him. “Max,” Charles manages to say.

“Charles,” Max murmurs as he catches the younger male chin in his fingers as green eyes meet his. He lets his thumb trace under Charles' bottom lip, tempted to show up to this meeting covered in Charles lip gloss all over his face and neck and collar but decides against it. “Promise me you’ll be a good boy for me tonight?”

“I will,” Charles says breathlessly. He leans into Max’s chest a bit more, nails gently scratching Max’s scalp. He grins seeing Max’s eyes flutter for a moment before the grip on Charles’ chin tightens for a moment.

“You remember the rules?”

“Mmmhmm.” Charles slowly unwraps his leg from Max’s waist, “Stay close to you when we enter. Sit next to you. Always have someone with me if I leave the room. Stay with the others if you need to have a solo chat. If I feel uncomfortable during the meeting, sit in your lap and tell you. Say pistachios if I want to go home.” Charles thinks for a moment if there’s any other rules he’s missing before he remembers, “oh! As much as I hate this rule, if things turn ugly to get the fuck out of there as fast and safely as I can.”

“Good boy.” Max grins. He gives Charles a quick peck before forcing himself to peel away from Charles. He grins seeing the blush that crosses upon his husband’s cheeks. “Now come on. Shouldn’t be that long of a meeting.”

The meeting was in fact, not that long before all hell broke loose about twenty minutes in. Charles’ anxiety had been going crazy the second they walked into the warehouse. He knew that Max caught on immediately when Charles clung to Max closer. He tries to reassure the younger male that it was fine and just off because they were meeting at a warehouse and Charles takes a deep breath, nodding in agreement.

Ten minutes later, Charles was digging his nails into his thighs while sitting next to Charles. His original plan was using their code word and going home but Liam was eyeing Max just a bit too much for his liking. Flirty smile, bedroom eyes, only directing his attention to Max. Listen, Charles knew that Max was a catch. He was older, 29 to be exact, compared to Liam and Charles who are 22. Max was not only older but scary and powerful and a man that got what he wanted. Everyone wanted Max either on their side or in their bed.

Though the ladder was out of the question, since Charles and Max were married and Charles made sure Max understood if he tried something stupid like cheating that Charles, though not being in the world of the mafia till recently, would make Max regret his decision. Something that had been instituted since they first started sleeping together even if it was just a sugar baby / sugar daddy arrangement.

Still, now Charles was Max’s husband (a bit conversational in the mafia world but probably because Max was never one to settle down let alone get married) and Charles wore that title with pride so seeing Liam trying all the stops to lure his husband to his bedroom made Charles blood boil. Thankfully, Max wasn’t exactly the brightest when it came to advances and everything went over his head but Charles was hyper aware. Still, Charles continued to dig his nails into his thighs to keep himself stationed from leaping over the table and strangling Liam.

“We’ll be right back.” Max announces as he stands. Charles looks at Max, silently pleading to his husband not to go but Max places a gentle kiss on his forehead, murmuring that he’ll be right back before Max leaves with Daniel and VCARB people. Now it was the rest of VCRAB and RB men lingering around with Charles and Liam.

“Are you done trying to throw yourself at my husband?” Charles finally asks.

“Not like you’re doing much for him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean come on, look at you.” Liam gestures, “you’re nothing more than a simple whore. You can’t be convinced that he married you out of love. Red Bull and his father have been pushing for Max to get married. He probably picked the first person to appease them. Won’t be long till he cheats on you with someone in the mafia world.”

“If that was the case, he wouldn’t have kept me around.”

“Oh please, you’re a cheap fuck.” Liam smiles innocently, “of course he’d keep you around.”

Charles stares at Liam and returns the smile. “Is that so? I’m just a cheap fuck?”

“Of course, why else would he keep you around?”

“Because he thinks of me more than a cheap fuck.” Leaning forward, he clasps his hands together. The change in demeanor makes Liam uneasy. Good. “You may not know this but we’ve been seeing each other for about…two and half years. I made it very clear from the start that I was not going to be played a fool. If he wanted nothing more than sex, that was fine. He got what he wanted and I got what I wanted. But,” he holds a hand up before Liam can say ‘I told you so’. “I told him to be honest. I wasn’t going to catch something from him being reckless so if he was seeing someone else, that’s all I needed to know and he held up to his end and I held up to mine. Though all the other people he was sleeping with faded out and yet,” Charles looks around before back at Liam, “I’m still standing.” He holds up his hand, pointing to his wedding band. “And I have a wedding band so.” Charles can see the pure jealously and anger flash through Liam’s eyes and he smiles victoriously, “so, if anyone looks like the cheap fuck here,” leaning in slightly, Charles gives a fake pity look, “It’s you.”

Anger flashes through Liam. He shoots out of his chair and Charles leans back in his quickly. Then men turn before gunshots ring out somewhere else in the warehouse. Everyone instinctively jumps or ducks. Charles hits the floor as shouts start and now gunshots are ringing out closer. The worst time for a fight to break out since he hears gunshots ring out in the room and he looks hearing a body hit the floor. He freezes, seeing the blood ooze from the body and he realizes that not only is he caught in the middle of a shoot out but Liam now has an excuse to kill him.

Like hell would Liam kill him.

Crawling under the table, he sees feet running and too many voices shouting and everyone fighting. He fumbles around and gets a hold of the guy's gun before crawling back. He quickly checks and sees the man never had a chance since it’s loaded before crawling out from under the table. He moves to a crouching position and sees his window to the door which is wide open as the men are either dead or running to find their leaders and Charles tries to run for it before he’s slammed into the wall. Charles groans and catches himself from crumbling to the ground. He leans forward, just missing getting pistol whipped in the head before seeing Liam winding back for another hit.

“I’ll make you regret your words, slut.”

Charles was a lot of things in life. A sugar baby. A prince among Monaco. A cheap fuck when he started out. Fine. But a slut? Charles had very set rules for himself. He only slept with one guy at a time while the other sugar daddies, back when he wanted a married man, were just looking for a friend. But now he wore Verstappen’s ring and name with pride and like fucking hell would he soil the name by being labeled a slut. Charles sees red as he lunches forward tackling Liam to the ground. He’s disarmed but manages to disarm Liam as well as they roll around. He manages to straddle Liam and starts swinging. He’s landing hits, he knows he is, until Liam manages to turn them. Charles tries to block but blood is running on his face now as he manages to catch Liam’s arm and bites. Liam yelps as Charles keeps his grip until Liam yanks his arm away and Charles spits. He got him to bleed and Charles managed to sit up enough to give him the momentum to head butt Liam off of him. Wiggling out from under, he stumbles and smacks his head on the table trying to stand before he stands. His head hurts and he’s dizzy but the sudden pain that shoots through his arm brings him back as he stumbles back against the table, holding his arm.

He’s bleeding and he sees a bruised Liam standing, panting while holding a knife. Shit. It’s now a life or death situation. Liam lunges again and Charles dives out the way. He cries out cause the knife clips his side but doesn’t sink in. Still, it’s a deeper cut than what he wanted as he crumbles to the ground. Scrambling, Charles manages to grab the closest gun by him and he turns, firing. Liam shouts and stumbles back, holding his arm. The knife hits the floor and Charles springs to his feet and swings, gun making contact with Liam’s side. Charles, in a fit of rage and adrenaline rush, just keeps swinging on Liam.

“Charles!”

Charles’ head snaps up, hearing Max. “Charles! Where are you?! Charles!”

Charles stumbles out of the meeting room seeing the dust has settled. Max’s suit is a bit disheveled but he’s fine. Charles relaxes as he stumbles but his pain is settling in. He hisses as he drops the gun to hold his side and five heads turn in his direction, weapons drawn.

“Charles!” Max shouts before snapping at his men to lower their weapons as he rushes over before stopping seeing the state Charles is in.

“Charles—” Max starts, swallowing the lump in his throat as anger rises in him. Charles shouldn’t be hurt. Why was he hurt? Who let him get hurt?

"Don't freak out, please. It's not as bad as it looks."

“I can never let you out of my sight." Max counters. “Charles what the fuck happened? Why didn’t you leave? You’re suppose to leave.”

“Fight broke out in the room.” Glancing back at the unconscious Liam who was in worse shape than Charles, Max follows his gaze. He hears Max’s breath catch as Charles looks back at his husband. “Also, Liam wasn’t really happy when I called him a cheap fuck for trying and failing to get you in his bed.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true!” Charles starts and grits his teeth as the pain is becoming too much, “he swore up and down that you were going to cheat on me and didn’t like me countering all his points so when the fight broke out, at the worse time, he tried to just take me out of the picture and I’d be damned if I let him kill me.”

“Charles—”

“I’m your husband first, sugar baby second.” Charles argues.

“No—I mean yes you’re correct.” Max starts as he’s carefully wrapping an arm around Charles before leading them out of the warehouse. “But I was going to say you’re fucking insane, you know that?”

“Isn’t that why you married me?” Charles looks at Max.

Max looks at Charles before breaking out into a grin. “Damn fucking right I did.” He murmurs before kissing Charles. Charles returns the kiss happily and grunts gently when Max pulls him closer. He can feel Max’s hard-on against his thigh before Max breaks the kiss, murmuring apologies.

“Let’s get you home and patched up before I show you how much I love you for being just as insane as me,” Max murmurs. Charles giggles and nods, leaning against Max as he basically carries Charles to the car and carefully gets into the car.

Charles rambles about the events leading up to the fight with Liam, mainly because Max demands him to keep talking. He can tell that Max is worried that he’ll pass out from blood loss and Charles lets a hand rest on Max’s thigh, gently rubbing soothing circles as he continues to give Max a play by play.

Daniel is waiting outside as they arrive at the Red Bull estate. He gives out a low whistle when Max and Charles make their way to the front door. “Jesus, what the fuck happened?”

“Some idiot in VCARB thought they could get one on me. Whole fight broke out.” Max grumbles as Daniel gently takes Charles from Max. “Liam got Charles.” He adds through gritted teeth. “If you excuse me, I have to talk to the remaining men from tonight.”

Daniel nods and helps Charles inside and to the medical wing of the estate. Daniel nods along to Charles who’s retelling his events once again as Daniel cleans and stitches Charles up. He informs Charles that he used dissolvable stitches for his side so no need for removal and his arm thankfully didn’t require stitches. He can shower 24 hours later and he needs to part the area around the stitches dry and no soap. He can’t swim or take a bath for a bit and he needs to wear looser fitting clothes while healing (which Charles is fine with because that means wearing Max’s clothes) as well as not doing a lot of activities that could strain the stitches. For his eye, he needs to ice it for the swelling to go down and just rock a black eye. The other bruises and very minor cuts will heal on their own but Daniel entertains Charles by putting red band aids on the minor cuts and gauze on the bigger bruises as a visual reminder to Charles that he’s injured.

Charles thanks Daniel when he comes back with some orange juice and snacks that Charles enjoys. Slowly, he gets off the table and thanks Daniel before wandering back to the main part of the estate. He sees Max waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest. He’s tapping his foot anxiously and Charles frowns. Seems that his chat with his men went sour which understandable. “Mon chéri?”

Blue eyes snap to him and Max relaxes but frowns. He moves to meet Charles and gently pulls him closer by his hips, murmuring, “Fuck, is it that bad? What did Danny say?”

“Said I have to wear looser clothes for a bit. No swimming or baths,” which sucks for Charles because he loves a good long bubble bath from time to time but whatever, " I can shower in 24 hours and have to pat the area dry. No soap around the area. He’s going to drop gauze off for me so I can change them. The side has dissolvable stitches so no need for removal but my arm will need to have them removed but he’s going to pop in and check. I need to ice my black eye. Everything else will heal normally but they’re just visual reminders. He said any second longer and I would’ve been in some deep shit cause I was teetering the blood loss territory but I’ll recover.”

“Okay, come on let’s get home, you’re probably exhausted.”

“Please.”

“Maaaaaax!” Charles whines, “Come back, the bed cold without you.”

Max lets out a laugh from their bathroom hearing Charles compliments. He finally wanders out from their bathroom in his boxers and leans against the door frame. He’s trying to behave. To follow Daniel orders but it’s hard when Charles looks like that.

Charles is currently lounging in their bed in one of Max’s shirts. Muscles flexing and hair a bit messy. He’s looking at Max with big green eyes as they start darkening while he lets his eyes roam before they’re blatantly staring at Max’s boxers and Max smirks.

“Aren’t you going to show me how much you love me? For beating Liam?” Charles asks innocently and Max silently asks Daniel for forgiveness as he makes his way over to Charles.

“You need rest.” Max murmurs as he climbs onto bed. He lets one hand rest on Charles' chest as he hovers over the younger male. “You know, doctors orders and all that shit.” He teases.

“But you said—”

“I know,” Max cuts him off gently. He leans down to kiss Charles and pulls back gently, “and I will. Promise.”

Charles makes a little happy noise before his hands are on Max, pulling him down for a bruising kiss. Teeth clash slightly before they find their rhythm. Max nips at Charles' bottom lip and slips his tongue into the younger male’s mouth. His tongue explores Charles’ mouth as he’s done time and time again, lapping up all the moans that Charles lets out. Max shifts himself, holding himself up on one elbow while the other hand ventures from Charles, resting gently and teasingly down to where his boxers should be. Instead, he’s met with bare skin and Max lets his fingers brush against Charles’ half hard on and that gets a gasp out of him.

“Eager, much?” Max teases with a smirk.

“A bit,” Charles breathlessly states. Max chuckles lowly as he moves to kiss Charles' jaw before moving to his neck as he lets his fingers gently run up and down Charles cock. He bites and sucks at Charles' neck letting the other squirm, earning gasps and soft moans from his husband before a whine escape from Charles' throat.

“Max, please.”

Typically, Max would give Charles what he wants. A heated make out session while opening him up, listening to the other become a puddle in his hands before turning him over and fucking him senseless but that wasn’t an option. He could do missionary but he would falter and give Charles the rough sex he wants and he also can’t leave bruising fingerprints on his sides. He could do one, but it wouldn’t be even and that would drive Max nuts.

Then the idea finally struck him.

Pulling back, Max climbs over Charles before laying next to him. “Sit on my face.”

“What?” Charles asks, coming out of his haze.

“I said, come here.” Max murmurs and gently pulls Charles to straddle him. His dick twitches seeing Charles straddling him while naked. Even if he’s decorated in gauze and bruises Charles looks like perfection. It’s unfair, really. “Turn around,” Max says gently and Charles complies. “Ah, no.” Max grabs Charles' throat swiftly but gently when Charles goes to get Max out of his boxers. “Remember, I said I was going to show you how much I love you. Now scoot up—”

Charles hesitates for a moment before listening. Max gets his hands on Charles' ass and, as gently as he can, pulls Charles back. He chuckles hearing the other squeak and scramble to find purchase before he steadies out.

“Max!” He scolds and turns his head to scold the other but stops at the sight. Max brings his gaze up to Charles but he’s already got his ass cheeks spread and tongue sticking out. Charles nearly cums right then and there as Max keeps eye contact as he licks a long stripe over his hole. Charles gasps loudly and puts a hand on Max’s chest. “I—fuck—Max—”

“Just sit there and let me hear all of your pretty noises.” Max states roughly.

Charles makes a noise of shock but nods quickly. He bites his bottom lip harshly as a pathetic whine threatens to escape past his lips when Max licks another one, purposefully slow. He yelps out of surprise when Max smacks his ass harshly. “Charles.” He threatens

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Charles sputters out quickly.

“Good boy.”

Charles mewls gently at the praise before Max is diving right back in, switching between long and calculated licks to quick kitten licks. Charles puts both hands on Max’s chest to steady himself, moaning and gasping softly. He gasps loudly before it melts into moan when Max lips his tongue in. He digs his claws into Max’s chest, earning a groan from the older male.

Dipping his head, Charles' mind swims with pleasure. He can’t even keep up with Max since he switches up his actions quick and fast, keeping Charles on his toes. His cock twitches and his eyes roll into the back of his head slightly when Max moves his hands to his thighs to keep him trapped, digging his nails gently into the flesh. In retaliation, Charles leans back, dragging his nails up Max’s chest as he starts rocking his hips back against Max.

Charles feels the familiar tightening in his lower stomach. Like a spring being wound up and tightening more and more and someone holding it down. He’s babbling nonsense while riding Max’s tongue begging for mercy from his own body. If he could just reach his hand up and—

Max switches to suck his rim gently and Charles comes undone. The tight feeling in his lower stomach pops like a spring being released and he’s coming. It hits him hard and feels like the spring had a boxer glove attached and hit him hard in the stomach. He’s clawing at Max’s chest, hips sputtering but continuing to move as he rides out his orgasm. His legs are shaking slightly when his orgasm finally stops and he whines when Max gives one more kitten lick before gently placing a kiss on his rim. Charles, thankfully with the help of Max, climbs off of Max though his eyes are glued to Max’s obvious hard on. He hums as he goes to the waistband of Max’s boxers again before Max catches his wrist gently, panting.

“Charles—you’re suppose to be resting.”

“I know, but like hell I’m letting my husband,” Charles purrs, “go to bed while edging himself so shut up and let me blow you.”

Max stares at Charles before letting out a laugh. As much as he wants to argue that Charles needs to rest and he could just fuck into Charles mouth, he can see the fire in Charles eyes and it makes his cock twitch and it reminds him just how tight his boxers are.

“Fine. You can blow me. Then you have to rest and let me take care of you.”

“Okay, deal.”

#moonlight records releases #???#max verstappen fic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #mafia au #mafia!max verstappen #lestappen fic #lestappen au #mafia!lestappen #sugar baby!charles leclerc #mafia lestappen au #lestappen smut #lestappen domestic au #i had fun writing this #thank you anon!

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spyder-junkie · 2 years ago

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EARTH 42 MILES MORALES X READER Part 3

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

this one was short because we’re bringing mama Rio in the next part

The next thing you notice about miles is he is NOTT a good texter.

nonetheless, you work with him, trying your best to pick a day where your schedules to meet up.

“Dont worry about it, mami. Just be cute when I get there.” Miles’ voice rings out through the phone as you look for an outfit. You can hear the clicking of his game controller through the phone.

Its 12:00pm right now, Miles was coming to you meet you at 1:30

“Mkay.” You mumbled, putting different shirts up to your chest in the mirror.

“Ill see you when you get here.” You say, looking at the phone.

“nos vemos pronto, hermosa.” He says, hanging up the phone.

you take extra care while getting ready. You were not quite sure if this was a date, but spending the day with Miles still had your stomach in a twist.

You close the clasp on your necklace just as your phone dings with a text from miles.

You grab your bag, jogging through your apartment to the front door.

Miles bares a little smile when your eyes meet his.

“You look nice, ma” He says, stepping aside so you can lock the door behind yourself.

“Youre not too bad yourself.” You smile,

Miles leads you away from your apartment building and down the block. Its mildly warm outside, and the sun is out.

As you walk to begin to notice Miles’ hand continuously brushing yours. Then slowly his fingers crawl into your palm until your hands are clasped together.

You look over at miles, who is exaggeratedly looking at the sky and pretending to whistle with a goofy smile.

You giggle, holding his hand tightly.

You didnt even know Miles had a sense of humor.

“You feelin’ icecream?” He asks suddenly, pointing to an icecream spot on the strip.

“Always.” You reply, letting him lead you inside.

The place is cute, summer beach themed, and empty momentarily.

Miles smirks down at you as you browse all the flavors in the display case.

“What are you gonna get?” You ask, not looking away from the glass.

“Vanilla.” Miles’ answer is quick.

“What? Thats so borninggg.” You say.

“I havent really gotten into crazy flavors.” He shrugs.

You shake your head.

“Pick a flavor for me then.”

You look back at him, then at the case again.

You choose brownie for yourself, and cookies and cream for Miles.

And as soon as the woman behind the counter hands you the cones, Miles is at the counter, paying for the both of you before you can protest.

The two of you find a bench down the block to sit at afterwards, enjoying your ice creams peacefully.

“You like it?” You ask, gesturing to his icecream.

“Mhm, its real sweet.” He says

“Wanna try?” He extends his cone towards you.

You shyly take a lick from his ice cream, savoring the flavor thoughtfully.

“Its good.” You smile.

“Wanna try mine?” Miles doesn’t think too hard about it, pulling in a bit of yours with his lips.

His face scrunchs up for a moment.

“Yours is MAD sweet.” He says.

“You dont like sweet things?” You ask, turning to face him on the bench.

“I like you.” He says suddenly.

“But nah, im not huge on sweets.” He goes back to eating his ice cream

The two of you go to a park afterwards, spending the day outside.

Youre still there just as the sun begins to set.

“Its gonna be dark soon.” You say, staring up at the sky with your head in Miles’s lap. He was seated upright on the grass, you laid against him.

“Imma walk you home, ma.” Miles says, looking down at you, while you watch the sky.

“Gonna make sure there arent any more men following me?” You joke.

“That shit wont happen again, not while Ive got you.”

And he means it.

He keeps his hand in yours on the walk home, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

When the two of you reach your door, hes giving you a pretty smile.

“Be careful, okay?” Miles’ eyes widen as you press a small kiss to his cheek.

“Im always careful.” He says, pressing his hand to his cheek

you give him a flat stare.

“Aight aight, not always. Mi mal, hermosa.”

You shake your head, wishing him goodbye with a warm smile.

tags: @kezibear @urmotherswhor3 @ladylovegood-69 @thetoetickler @cumbermovels @cozmicwonder @yams-ley @sh-tposter2021 @vampjacinda @roadkillmeal @animechick555 @the-smut-plug @iluvdi0r @stevenknightmarc @yoashh @kitsunna @caffeine-mess @arachnenotes @erensbbg @nightshxdex @el-chiste @3alvatore @sh-tposter2021 @miatjie @agstuffsworld @ella34435 @iluvdi0r @pulling-out-my-eyes @vakiui @bigpepperpicker @swaggybae @tsukisaiki @osebb

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ririright · 14 days ago

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The “Hayden on Ice” Series:

“Tiny Blades, Big Dreams”

Husband! Hayden x Wife Reader

1 — 2 — 3 — 4 — 5

Hayden’s NHL Dad Era begins… too early.

Hayden had been pacing since breakfast.

“Okay, we have his mittens, his helmet, his extra socks, his knee pads—should I pack a backup jersey? Like, for vibes?”

“It’s not a tryout,” you reminded him gently, sipping your coffee. “He’s three.”

“He’s three-and-a-half, and today is the day he discovers his natural talent. I can feel it.”

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:02 a.m. – Local Community Rink

The moment you walked into the cold-smelling rink, Hayden inhaled like it was sacred air.

“Ah, Zamboni fumes. Feels like home.”

Barron, meanwhile, stared at the ice like it was a betrayal. “It’s slippery.”

“That’s the point,” Hayden whispered, already tying tiny skates with shaky hands. “He’s going to glide like Marner.”

“He just tried to eat a puck,” you noted.

“He’s teething. That’s not a personality trait.”

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:15 a.m. – First Attempt

Barron stepped onto the ice, wobbled violently, and went down like a sack of potatoes.

Hayden gasped.

You reached to help, but he held out an arm. “No, let him… let him find his center.”

Your toddler lay dramatically on his back like a snow angel, grumbling, “I’m cold. I wanna snack.”

“He’s got grit,” Hayden said, misty-eyed. “That’s what we need. The Leafs lack that in the second round.”

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:29 a.m. – Slight Progress

With a traffic-cone for support and Hayden shouting “bend your knees!” like a bench coach, Barron began slowly scooting across the ice, wide-eyed and proud.

“I AM HOCKEY BOY!” he shouted.

“YES YOU ARE!” Hayden roared from the boards, slapping the glass. “THAT’S MY SON!”

The other parents flinched. You mouthed I’m sorry.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:42 a.m. – Snack Break & Strategy Talk

Back at the bench, Barron was munching Goldfish crackers while Hayden squatted next to him like a seasoned NHL scout.

“Look, bud, when you get your first shift, don’t be afraid to drive the net. Playmakers are cool, but goal scorers? That’s legacy.”

“He just asked if Zambonis are edible,” you said.

“They’re not,” Hayden replied confidently, “but they are magical.”

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

11:05 a.m. – Final Lap

With legs like spaghetti and cheeks flushed red, Barron did one last lap—arms out, tongue stuck out in focus.

Hayden recorded the whole thing.

When Barron tripped and landed on his butt, he grinned up at you both and declared: “I’m the champion of falling down.”

Hayden pressed a hand to his heart. “Leafs legend in the making.”

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

Later that Night

You found Hayden at his laptop with six tabs open—“Best beginner skates,” “Toddler stick-handling drills,” and “Mini Leafs Jerseys: Custom Name Options.”

“We’re not enrolling him in the draft, Hayden.”

“Not yet,” he said wistfully. “But maybe by kindergarten.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen fluff

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elswhore · 20 days ago

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

1. "do you like that?"

2. "spread up f'me."

3. "no panties?"

4. "where do you think you're going?"

5. "this okay?"

6. "say that again."

7. "tell me what you want."

8. "say something."

9. "do you even love me?"

10. "stay still."

11. "please look at me"

12. "come sit on my lap"

13. "keep talking, i dare you."

14. "all you had to do was ask."

15. "you think they can hear us?"

16. "are you glaring at me?"

17. "just a little more."

18. "please stay."

19. "make me."

20. "teach me?"

21. "just once."

22. "why are you staring at me?"

23. "one more?"

24. "yeah? you like that?"

25. "shut up."

26. "go on, i want to hear you say it."

27. "dont laugh!"

28. "its freezing."

29. "give me a hug?"

30. "how much did you hear?"

31. "you smell good."

32. "it's not funny."

33. "is that my shirt?"

34. "im so sick."

35. "i miss you."

36. "i need you."

37. "stay with me."

38. "i only want you."

39. "stop please."

40. "should i stop?"

41. "come back here."

42. "sit."

43. "are you flirting with me?" 'you finally noticed?'

44. "are you sure you can take me?"

45. "look at me or i'll stop."

46. "let me see."

47. "you gonna behave?"

48. "do that again."

49. "speak up."

#ignore

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rdmasevi · 30 days ago

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Red Flags & Rose-Tints

Title: “Red Flags & Rose-Tints”: a Formula 1 x Kpop fanfiction

Pairing: Sunoo ( ENHYPEN ) x Reader Male ( Formula 1 Driver )

Genre: Slow-burn Romance | Slice of Life | Celebrity AU

Warnings: None

Summary: A stoic Ferrari F1 driver who avoids the spotlight meets ENHYPEN’s Sunoo, a K-pop idol used to adoration—sparks fly, not from instant chemistry, but from the quiet unraveling of walls neither meant to let down.

Rain speckled the paddock in Monaco, but it didn’t cool the heat buzzing in the air. The kind of electric anticipation that came before a Grand Prix weekend. Teams bustled, media scrambled, and sponsors strutted. The Ferrari garage was a fortress of precision, and at the heart of it stood him—Formula 1’s most aloof star.

He was fast, calculated, and untouchable—on and off the track. No-nonsense, no interviews unless required, and definitely no time for the glitter-dusted world of celebrity fandom. Red suit zipped up to his neck, visor down, and walls up even higher.

Which is exactly why when the team’s PR rep told him they were inviting a global K-pop group to the garage for a "soft brand collaboration," he nearly walked out.

“You're serious?” he asked, arms crossed.

"ENHYPEN is one of our biggest Korean markets. It's fifteen minutes. Smile. Take a picture. Then go back to pretending no one exists."

He didn’t smile. He never did. But he stayed.

——

Sunoo arrived in a cloud of effortless charisma. Platinum blonde under his bucket hat, skin practically glowing under the paddock lights. Cameras turned like sunflowers to him. Other drivers gawked. Engineers whispered. Sunoo was used to it.

He wasn’t used to this.

The driver barely glanced up from his telemetry screen when the group walked in. His teammate was already laughing and chatting with Jungwon and Heeseung. But the Ferrari lead? He didn’t even say hello.

Sunoo blinked.

Maybe he didn’t hear?

“Hi!” Sunoo chirped, stepping forward, hand extended. “I’m Sunoo. From ENHYPEN.”

The driver finally looked at him. A pause.

“I know.”

A beat. Sunoo waited for the rest—the smile, the fangirl moment, the you're even prettier in real life—but it didn’t come.

“Do you want a photo?” Sunoo asked, defaulting to fan-service mode, tilting his head the way he knew made hearts flutter.

“No,” the driver said bluntly. “I’m working.”

Sunoo’s mouth opened, stunned into silence.

Was that... rejection?

——

Later, back at the hospitality suite, Sunoo couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“I think he hates me,” he told Jake, stealing a grape off his plate.

Jake laughed. “He hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.”

“But I smiled,” Sunoo said, indignant. “I shimmered.”

“You did,” Jake agreed. “And he still didn’t look twice. Kinda iconic, honestly.”

——

Over the next two days, their paths crossed again.

Sunoo watched from the pit wall during free practice. The way the driver moved inside the car, part machine, part beast. Controlled fury. Nothing about him was performative. It was pure, raw intent.

On Saturday, they passed in the paddock. Sunoo nodded. The driver barely blinked.

By Sunday morning, it had become a game. A dangerous, stupid game.

Backstage before the race, Sunoo cornered him near the espresso machine.

“Do you actually not like me,” he asked, “or are you pretending because it’s fun for you?”

The driver looked at him, finally really looked. No helmet, no gloves. Just two people in a motorhome kitchen, and one of them used to stadiums full of screams.

“I don’t know you,” he said simply. “I don’t like people who assume they’re already liked.”

Sunoo reeled, more fascinated than offended.

“And you,” the driver added, “walk around like the world owes you attention.”

Sunoo bristled. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is racing,” the driver said. “But here we are.”

——

Then came the crash.

Lap 42. Turn 6. A Red Bull clipped him. The Ferrari spun into the barrier, carbon fiber shattering in a symphony of horror.

Sunoo watched it happen on the big screen, blood draining from his face.

No matter how cold or distant he was, that man had become more than just a racer to him. He’d become a mirror. One that didn’t show him adoration, but reality.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Then the team radio crackled.

"I'm fine."

Sunoo exhaled so hard he nearly choked.

——

After the race, Sunoo slipped away from his group. He found the driver in the back of the garage, icing his shoulder, still in his race suit. Bruised but alive.

“You scared me,” Sunoo admitted, standing awkwardly by the door.

“You were watching?”

“I always watch.”

Silence. Then:

“I still don’t want a picture,” the driver said.

Sunoo smiled, something softer this time.

“Good. I don’t want to be another fan to you.”

That finally earned him a real look. Not the polite nod for cameras. Not the distracted glance. But something searching.

“What do you want to be, then?”

“I don’t know,” Sunoo said, voice quieter. “Maybe just... someone real.”

The driver nodded slowly. Then patted the empty stool beside him.

Sunoo sat.

Neither of them said anything for a while. But they didn’t need to.

Sometimes, the best kind of attention is the kind that asks for nothing back.

My main masterlist

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lilghostiequinni · 1 year ago

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For All the Times Before

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: driver!female reader(no mention of y/n) x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffyish, Severe Injury, Probably incorrect use of Medical Terms

Summary: She drives with her big brother. Who would've thought Red Bull would have a woman driver; well, maybe it's because she's related to Max Verstappen. Or maybe she's just that good.

Requested: NO / yes

A/N: I did have to take a few creative liberties about the rest of the season.

One can only do so much when being compared to another, especially a sibling, but you prove them wrong at every step. Every single step, you prove you deserve to be racing, that you deserve your seat in Red Bull.

You show you deserve where you got to on your own, no help needed from your father or your big brother, all on you, not a single mistake made by you.

It's proven even more when you pass your brother for points in the race to win the 2024 World Championship, but that's not planned is the total disaster the Las Vegas Grand Prix turns out to be.

It started with the mishaps that happened during free practice on Friday, then the mechanical problems from qualifying on Saturday. Now, even though she made it through and started P2, she was still in the front row behind Oscar in P1 with Lando in P3 and her brother following with both Ferraris after that.

It was going swimmingly, the problems were fixed, and the only obstacle left was finishing in points position in this Grand Prix.

For the first few laps, everything was fine; it was a great race start, which allowed her to overtake Oscar for P1 by turn 1, with Oscar falling to P3 after being overtaken by Lando before lap 1 was over.

By the end of lap 2, you still had P1, but Oscar had fallen behind Max and Carlos for P5, having to hold off Charles for the position.

From lap 3 to lap 28, the places had changed, gaps stayed the same, and there were virtually no position changes from places of point position.

On lap 28, a safety car was deployed out because the cars of Ocon, Riccardo, and Magnussen bumped each other, sending each other into the wall of the race. It wasn't so terrible that they had to stop and restart the race, as everything was able to be moved out of the way and to the pit lanes after just two laps.

Laps 29 - 33 were everyone just getting back on track with the race.

With lap 34, the gaps that had been shortened had expanded exponentially, essentially giving the first five places the ability for a free pit.

Going into lap 35, those huge gaps shorted.

36 - 42 were rather uneventful in terms of what usually happens toward the end with place fighting, everyone stayed in their places, and gaps stayed relatively similar.

In lap 43, Lando tried overtaking multiple times but was forced to back off as Max approached from behind, trying to overtake Lando when he wasn't trying to overtake you.

Onto lap 44, you saw a significant gap gained between you two, almost 12 seconds of a gap, but just as you had been watching Lando, you had been watching Bottas.

It was in lap 45 that it started to go shit Bottas was in the middle of trying to overtake Sargent when they both got the blue flag, and both tried to move over, resulting in a slight accident as you passed, no real damage to your car.

Then lap 46, that gap to Lando stayed in around 12 seconds, but you made it all the way back up to the drivers in 8th, 9th, and 10th place, Gasly, Hulkenburg, and Stroll.

Nothing seemed wrong at first.

Stroll was in 10th. He got the blue flag first, and Hulkenberg was able to pull ahead of him. When he got the blue flag, he wasn't able to pull to the side after he slowed because Stroll was in the way of the rear of his car.

When he tried to pull ahead to get over, Gasly was in the way, having also gotten a blue flag.

You tried to pass as Hulkenberg had to serve to move into the middle of the track to miss hitting the other two drivers, but his front tire got caught in your rear wheel, and you spun out, hitting the wall and not being able to get back in the race.

The rest of the grid was given a red flag just after it happened, and it was seen you were not able to move your car and you weren't responding.

Lando had driven past you, not knowing if you had responded, just hoping you were okay as he made his way to the pit.

But when he pitted and was told you hadn't responded, he was almost able to get back in his car and on the track before he was stopped by his engineer.

So, not able to do much more, he went over to Red Bull, who allowed the exception, knowing how important you are to Lando and Lando is to you.

"Please respond," Lando pleaded to himself as he was given some headphones.

"Ow," was the first that came through your side of the radio.

"Can you get out on your own?" Your race engineer asked.

"No, my leg is stuck, and everything hurts. I want Lando," You say over the radio. It isn't rare that you want your boyfriend after a race or when you get sick or hurt, being extra clingy.

"He'll meet you at med-bay. The med-car is on its way, almost to you, Angel," Your engineer said, using the nickname you'd been given by the entire grid.

You had gone to the med-bay only to be there until the ambulance came.

It was when Lando was allowed in that you learned that the last few laps of the race had been canceled and the places that were last gotten in lap 44 were where people ended, and points were given though the FIA and Formula One were reviewing the causes of the accident and other things that had happened during the race, as usual.

You had been brought to the hospital, and Lando had ridden with you, both per and against your request, wanting your boyfriend and also wanting him to stay and be able to change before having to go in.

When you arrived at the hospital, you were taken for tests, and Lando was to stay in the waiting room as other drivers had arrived at the hospital.

You had been brought back to a room and both your brother and Lando had met you there.

"She's a little out of it, but a doctor will be in shortly. She should be good by then." The nurse said as she went to walk out of the room.

Both men nod, and Lando sits on the side of your bed as Max stands at the foot and looks over his sister, though he knows that he can't see the internal injuries you may have.

Around an hour later, you had woken from the drug-induced sleep and were not so woozy when the doctor came in.

"Hello, Ms. Verstappen, I am Dr. Kruz, and I looked over your tests. You have a linear fracture to your left tibia and a transverse fracture to your left fibula, with minute fractures to a couple of your ankle bones, a couple of small chips, and a fracture to your outermost metatarsal, again on the left side. You also seem to have minimal internal bleeding in your abdomen and a few rib cracks on your left side, with a few bone bruises throughout your ribcage. There are also a few cracks along your left arm that should be fine within a few weeks. I'm sorry to say that you might not be able to finish the season, but I am also not your primary doctor to know enough about how you heal." The doctor tells her.

"I just want to be able to race in that Abu Dhabi in about a month," You tell her; it's one of your favorite tracks, and you'd rather race it to win than miss it.

The doctor gives her a small sad smile before she also leaves to allow the information to sink in.

"You will still probably win the championship; you have points ahead of everyone; it's two races. There aren't enough points to be given out," Lando tries to comfort her.

"I know, but I still want to earn that title, to prove to everyone and myself that it doesn't need to be handed to me," You say to your boyfriend.

It's safe to say that you pushed your recovery more than your trainer, engineer, and doctor would like, but you were back in that car under two weeks later, having appealed to your doctor about the break you would be taking in between seasons.

He reluctantly agreed, having only the major breaks in your left leg and foot to be careful about, and the internal bleeding was relatively better, and you, the primary one you went to in Monaco, came with you to Abu Dhabi.

The team also added some more support to your car and some little monitors for your heart rate and everything else medical, and your doctor stood in the paddock watching over your vitals as you raced, starting P4 behind Lando, Max, and Charles, after a mishap in qualifying.

All gave you a fair race, but you were still able to pull away in first place in the last five laps of the race as you felt pain starting in your leg; you just took a couple deep breaths to calm down, focusing down on the task at hand.

You were so focused on just getting it done you didn't realize that you had just crossed the finish line with a checkered flag signaling the end of the race and your win.

"You did it, Angel. You are a world champion," Your race engineer said over the radio.

You breathe a sigh of relief and just sit on the side of the circuit just before turn 5.

"Do you cool down lap and get to pit," Your engineer says as you pull in the circuit as you do your lap.

You finish the lap and just wait in the car as it's a little difficult to move still, and you lift the visor of your helmet and wipe the tears from your eyes.

Lando and Max come over to your car and help you out, helping you balance on the top of your car with one leg and throw your arms in the air in victory.

YOu get your helmet off and kiss Lando's helmet as he and Max help you away from the circuit and to the way in then to interviews.

A/N: Yes, I did one of these on my own with a reader, not an oc; it felt right. But which do you prefer? I'm done for the night; tomorrow, the first part of my Lando series will be out.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

#ln4 #lando norris #f1 #formula 1 #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #lando x reader #red bull f1 #red bull racing #red bull team #red bull formula 1 #oracle red bull racing #formula one

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