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[solflosuds]

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[cecoeur]

Can someone tell me why George is in a classic car in the Faenza city center and not Daniel or Yuki? RB, what kind of home race are you running here?

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[lightsoutnaway]

Happy Anniversary

PAIRING—Lando Norris x gn!reader (no pronouns or gendered language)

SUMMARY—Lando forgets your anniversary.

WARNINGS—None

WORD COUNT—1,150

You knew Lando forgot your anniversary when he said goodbye to you in the morning. He would have said something then if he had remembered. He had all day at work to remember though. You were holding out hope that he would at least remember during the day and do something at the last minute. But instead you got a text at around 5:00 from Lando saying he would be home late and you should eat without him. That was the last straw for you. You texted him back, knowing exactly what the text was going to do to Lando.

Okay, I’ll eat alone. Happy Anniversary.

The typing bubble appeared for a moment after you sent your text. It disappeared and then reappeared and then disappeared again. It appeared once more.

I’ll be home in ten minutes

Lando was true to his word. He was throwing the door open almost exactly ten minutes after he’d sent the text. He drove faster than he did on the track to get back to you.

“Baby?” Lando shouted as he rushed through the door. He was sprinting through the house looking for you. He found you seated on your bed quietly watching tv. He let out a deep breath of relief when he saw you. He had it in his head that you wouldn’t even be there. “Hi, love,” Lando greeted.

“Hi.” You didn’t look at him. You didn’t ask him how his day was. You didn’t tell him you had missed him. You didn’t pull him in for a kiss. You didn’t do any of the things you did when he came home. He felt like he wasn’t home at all.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Lando started rambling. He was moving across the room towards you. “I know I messed up. I’ve just been so stressed at work and it’s—”

“You don’t get to blame everything on racing, Lando,” you interrupted. Lando stopped about a yard from your side of the bed.

“Blame everything?” He asked. You took a deep breath.

“You can’t make it home for dinner because you have to work late. And you can’t come to my sister’s wedding with me because it’s during a race weekend. And you can’t come home with me when I visit my parents because you can’t leave while they’re working on the car,” you recounted the ways racing took precedence over you. Lando wasn’t sure what to say.

“Baby, I don’t want to fight,” he said quietly.

“Then you shouldn’t have forgotten our anniversary!” You snapped. He looked down at his feet.

“I know,” Lando said. “And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I won’t ever stop being sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you aren’t going to keep,” you said dryly. Lando never knew what to do when you fought. He was horrible at handling it, always so lost in the idea that you were upset with him.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll do anything. Everything. Whatever you want.” You looked at him, your eyes filled with anger.

“I want you to care about me.” Lando’s heart felt like it shrunk up at those words.

“I do care about you. I care about you more than anything,” Lando gushed.

“You care about racing more and we both know it,” you replied. Lando shook his head.

“No. I care about you more, baby. You’re my life. Racing’s my job,” he said.

“That’s not the way it feels,” you told him.

“I’m sorry,” Lando apologized again. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. I’ll come home on time. We’ll both go back to visit your parents next month. I’ll talk to Zak about a reserve driver in Miami so I can go to your sister’s wedding. Everything. I want you to have everything.” He looked at you, waiting, hoping that he had promised enough. That he could do enough to fix it. That he was enough.

“They’re just words, Lando,” you said after a moment. Lando was very aware that you weren’t calling him ‘Lan.’ He wasn’t fond of the new name.

“They won’t be, love,” Lando said. He closed the rest of the distance between you and sat on the edge of the bed beside you. He grabbed your hands and felt a wave of relief wash over him when you didn’t pull them away. “I’m going to do it all. I’ll book the tickets to your parents right now,” Lando said. “I’m going to be here. I’m going to be with you.” He felt his heart breaking. “Please,” he begged. “Let me be with you.” Your eyes softened when you realized how worried Lando was—what he thought was about to happen—how he felt that it was over between you.

“You are with me,” you assured him. You reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand. Lando leaned into your touch. “Just…keep it that way, please?” Lando nodded.

“Always,” he promised. There was a moment where he just soaked in your forgiveness. He let himself feel the relief of knowing it wasn’t over between you. “What do you want to do tonight?” He asked. “Tomorrow there’ll be dinner and presents and everything you deserve. But tonight I might not be able to do as much.” You laughed.

“Just get in bed with me, idiot,” you requested. Lando grinned. He took off his shoes and then climbed into bed with you. He pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around you and burying his nose in your hair. Your hand spread out over his chest drawing shapes against the soft sweatshirt he had covering his body.

“I’m sorry,” Lando whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You deserve better than me.” You let out a small laugh. You leaned up so you could press your lips to Lando’s. His lips were slow and tender against yours. He was savoring this after he had felt the fear of never kissing you again. You hummed in satisfaction when you pulled away.

“Maybe,” you said and smiled down at him. “But you’re the only one I want.” Lando smiled up at you. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. He knew you were too good for him and he was grateful for every moment that you gave to him. You were perfect. You were the love of his life. You were the thing that mattered most. Lando wasn’t going to mess that up ever again. He leaned up to press one more quick peck to your lips before raising his hand and pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes.

“Happy Anniversary, baby,” Lando said softly. “I promise I’ll do better for the next one.” He said it partially to ensure himself that you would have another anniversary. You smirked.

“Guess I’ll have to keep you around then.”

[thatsdemko]

Monaco lover - d.ricciardo

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: with Daniel not racing, he begins to find new hobbies with his wife.

warnings: established relationships + fluff

a/n: only right I post for daniels bday!!

the basket in his hand is beginning to get heavier by the second, as you keep adding fresh fruits and vegetables from the little local farmers market.

you’re more than hours away from the loud music, busy streets, and the infamous Monaco circuit. your new home is a perfect escape from the city of formula 1.

it was Daniels decision to move away from the big lights and party animals after he no longer had a seat on the 2023 grid. he wanted a reset on life, and there was no perfect way to do it than far away from the cameras.

“you think we have enough to feed everyone?” you look at the overgrowing basket in his arms. leaves of lettuce and kale are hanging out brushing against his thighs as you walk up and down the slow streets.

“more than enough.” he assured you with a chuckle. it’s been weird to have Daniel home so often. you don’t hate it, formula 1 once took the man you loved and wore him down into a shell of himself. now away from the McLaren and happily in a reserve seat for Red Bull, you can begin to see that smile brighten everyday.

“well then let’s go home and wash everything, I’m starving.” you loop your arm through his and let him lead the way to your car, one he knows he won’t get caught or stopped in.

it’s not hard to be recognized, he’s had neighbors stop him while mowing the lawn or gardening with you, but they mostly respect your space unlike the people of Monte Carlo, where the flashing of cameras never stop.

“what are you going to eat first? those strawberries looked really tasty.” he sets the basket in the back seat, before opening your passenger door planting a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I was thinking about those peaches, but now that you say the strawberries, I might have to join you on that.”

“not if I finish them first.”

—

you can’t tell if he’s bored or if he genuinely enjoys cutting the grass, gardening, and the small town farmers markets. you know there’s a certain thrill he’s missing, and maybe he does all these things to occupy his mind of the itch to get back.

but right now, he’s deep into a conversation with your neighbors about the lawn and your backyard garden. he’s showing them the vegetables, herbs, fruits, and flowers he’s planted like they are his children.

it’s weird to you, to see him this way, because all you ever knew was Daniel ricciardo, the racer of fast cars. now he’s the friendly helpful neighborhood hand.

“so you and the misuses are going away next week? where to?” you watch Daniel mock the man’s stance, hands on his hips nodding along as they walk to the backyard.

“just Miami, we shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

“Miami? what are you doing down there?” he asks, quizzical look taking his face. the perks of being away from the chaos of Monte Carlo, meant not everyone in this little small town knew Daniel. and that included your elder neighbors who loved you both dearly.

“just some work stuff, nothing crazy.”

“I thought you were unemployed?”

Daniel laughs, you can hear it from where you sit on the couch, “it’s a lot more complicated than unemployed.” and it truly was, while Daniel was bringing home the big bucks from not driving for mclaren, he anxiously awaits an opportunity for a Red Bull seat this season. some say unemployed delusions, Daniel calls it optimism.

he shakes his head, “you kids these days, you keep me on my toes.” he pats Daniels shoulder, “make sure you two come over later for dessert, okay?”

“oh we wouldn’t miss it.” Daniel waves him off before going inside to find you still wrapped up in the blankets, but this time wide awake with a smile.

“you have fun with your friend?” you sit upright crawling onto your knees to meet him for a kiss. he just laughs wrapping his arms around your neck and pressing s kiss to those lovely lips he calls home.

“I hope when I’m older I turn out to be just like him. tan, happy, and always making dessert.” he laughs a little hoping his future turns out like that. he’s already got the most perfect wife, and soon enough he’ll have the most perfect little family.

“he does make some stellar desserts. his wife is lucky, I wonder when my husband will start making me desserts.” you joke recalling when Daniel attempted to make boxed brownies, and somehow burnt them to a cracker.

“I’ll just stick with growing you fresh fruit and veggies, how about that?”

“I’ll take it.”

[cheriladycl01]

It’ll come eventually, promise! - Lando Norris x Driver! Reader

Plot: You are there for your boyfriends first race win!

Starting in Miami was always a great feeling. But what was even better was having been promoted to F1 for the 2024 season and getting to drive it as one of the top 20 drivers in the world.

When Lawrence Stroll dropped Aston Martin to bankroll a new team at the end of 2023, Lance moving was without a doubt a thing happening. But that left a free seat open at a high mid field team. Which they were more than happy to get you on board with considering your racing history.

Fernando in the few races you’d got to know him had became an excellent mentor and had taught you lots and you were thankful for him. He was like your on grid dad.

You’d had a decent season so far.

P10 in Bahrain - your first race and you were in the points only a few seconds behind your teammate.

P6 in Saudí - where you were able to drive with your old Prema teammate Oliver Bearman who was just behind you in P7.

P5 in Australia - where you got to celebrate your boyfriends first podium of the season.

P12 in Japan - some unforeseen issues in qualifying leaving you in P16 and having to climb your way up.

P6 in China - happy to celebrate both your points finish and your boyfriends first P2 podium of the season.

And you didn’t want to disappoint in Miami, not when there was so many people riding on your going well. F1 Academy where there looking up to you, and all of the stars that normally attended Miami.

Thursday came around and you were in the paddock messing around in TikTok with Fernando. Everyone loved you guys as the ‘dad and daughter duo’ where everyone could see how much he genuinely cared for you and wanted you to succeed. He always would praise you and boost your confidence when talking about you in interviews like many others making your have a huge fan base after only being in F1 for a few months.

Friday came around and you were still feeling great, the Miami heat was blazing and you and Fernando had been making TikTok’s to the Will Smith song that had been trending on F1 TikTok with the build up and anticipation for the weekend ahead.

Getting in the car for FP1 and you were flying. P5 … Alonso down in P19. He was too stressed though. But you were beyond excited knowing you got P5 without pushing too hard as your engineers had just asked you to get used to the track in an F1 car.

It was your boyfriend who you’d snuck into his hospitality just to give a massive cuddle when you text you saying he needed you, that wasn’t having a great weekend.

Despite the vast amount of upgrades brought to his car he’d only come in P16 where as Oscar who had half the upgrades he did was cruising up in P2 and he was frustrated to say the least.

Next was the Sprint Qually which you’d actually been doing well in for the other in China the previous week.

You went coming in a measly P10, not enough for points.

Lando was even more annoyed with starting in P9 on the same row as you, not that he thought he was the better driver or anything but right now he definitely had the better car and he just couldn’t work out why it wasn’t performing.

“Baby, it’ll come eventually I promise” you sighed that night as you held him closely in your shared hotel bed. His head was rested in your chest as all of his worries and woes were let out.

He always thought so negatively of himself and you hated it, in your eyes he was the most amazing person ever.

“But what if it doesn’t, what if I never win and … I’m just a wash out of podiums and missed opportunity” he said looking up at you, and his eyes made you cave. He looked so sad and helpless.

“Lando… I promise you. When the time is right, you’ll get that win. You’ve worked so hard for this and it’s something you deserve. Baby, you are the most driven and ambitious person I know and you will be a world champion. In my eyes you already are” you told him softly and he just pulled you tighter to him as he nuzzled into you more, so thankful for you being in his life.

Come the next day, and it was the sprint race. You managed to get yourself into the points coming in P6 having overtaken Lando and those ahead. Once Lando saw you going for it he knew he had to get up there with you!

He started to push it a little too much and ended up with a DNF. It was a very disappointing weekend thus far considering the amount of upgrades McLaren had brought to the team.

Qually begun and you were all the way down in P11 after your car malfunctioning in Q2 meaning you didn’t get into Q1.

Lando had a better qualifying coming in just ahead of his teammate. He felt a lot better going to bed with you that night and it was more him comforting you than the other way it had been the other night.

“Baby, you got all you could out of that car. You literally couldn’t do anything else your engine shut down!” He exclaims as you hadn’t really spoken to him all night. You’d been silent at dinner and once your got back to the room.

He pulled you into a hug as you let out a sigh thinking things over in your head before smiling at Lando and kissing his neck and up his jaw.

“Thank you, for the pep talk. And just being you” you smiled at him.

Then came race day.

Oscar had an incredible start going from P6 all the way to P2 and was really increíble. Your also had a fantastic start, deciding to be aggressive and managed to go from P11 into P8. You managed to get the inside line overtaking Yuki, your teammate Alonso and then Hamilton.

“Amazing driving Y/N. It’s looking good, we going to try for the 1 stop. Manage those tyres for now” your race engineer explains. And you did, slowing your pace for a little bit. You abused the safety car for you pit stop, just like Lando did, leaving you coming out in P6.

“Is Lando still in P1?” You ask, knowing he would be ahead of Max and Charles right now.

“Yes, Lando, Max, Charles Oscar and Carlos ahead” he explains. Right now you were defending from Perez when all of a sudden he swung round the outside knocking Sargeant into the gravel and into the race.

“Yellow flag for Sargeant!” You say clearly into your radio for the severity of where Logan was.

“Yellow flag and safety car released” your engineer informs you. You were stressing now, you knew that Lando would be fighting Max once the safety car is released.

“Is Logan okay? Is he out the car!” You ask.

“Yes, it’s all fine”

You focused on closing the gap to Carlos, who you knew would be fighting Oscar hard to try and get up into the podium positions so he can celebrate with Lando if he can hold of Max.

You were 0.076 seconds behind Carlos but before you could overtake him, he clipped the back of Oscar as he goes for an overtake nearly sending the Australian into you.

He pitted, leaving him down in a lower position out of points by the time he had come out, meaning that you and Carlos were battling it out with each other and Sergio Perez behind both of you.

“If you can get within 5 seconds of him, he has a time penalty for the incident with Piastri” your engineer explained to you.

“And Lando, is he still P1?” You ask.

“Yes Lando is P1 with a 6 second lead on Max” he answers and you feel as though you could cry.

“Today is the day Marcus” you smile as you speed up catching back up to Carlos. With the laps left you manage to overtake him getting into your highest finish of the season in P4. You couldn’t share a podium with your boyfriend but, part of you didn’t want to.

“Race finished, P4 amazing job today Y/N congratulations” your engineer exclaimed.

“What about Lando? Did he win?” You ask immediately not too bothered about your result.

“With a 7 second gap to Max, Lando won” he says and you let out a scream of happiness for him. YES’s whooping and a lot of swear words came from your mouth into the radio.

You knew later it would be aired and you get in trouble for your language but you really didn’t care.

Today was Lando’s day and you didn’t want to damper that. He’d just won his first F1 race after 110 of them. And you couldn’t be prouder of him, you were so happy and you were sobbing for him as you pulled up into where all the cars were.

You went over to your team, in Aston who had all come out to congratulate you on your best race so far. P11 to P4 on one set of tyres.

You were hugging them before one tapped you on the back, showing you Lando who was just getting out of his car. You rushed over to him pulling him into a massive hug.

“And there is Y/N Y/L/N driver of Aston Martin congratulating Lando on his first win with a huge hug! She’s crying, he’s crying! It’s a beautiful sight really, just two young drivers congratulating each other … wow what a day for both of them” the sky sports presenter admits on the tv watching the interaction down in park ferme.

“I love you so much! You are incredible Lando Norris” you smile gripping his helmet and flipping up his visor so you could see his tears rolling down onto his balaclava.

“Omg I won! I can’t believe I did it! I WON!” He cries and you just grin.

“Believe it Lando Norris because you are now an F1 race winner!” You smile and he does a cheer. You let him walk off, watching as he jumps into his team to celebrate.

You rush with the team after they’ve let Lando go, to go watch the podium. You were so excited and it definitely wasn’t something you were going to pass up!

As you watch him lift up his trophy it feels like your falling in love with him all over again, and it’s a feeling taking over your whole entire body. There is nowhere else and no one else you want to be or be with right now.

He can’t stop smiling at you and you can’t stop the happy tears from rolling down your face. Your cheering with Bianca who you’d grown close to and started to mentor a little bit even though you had Tina and Jessica around a little bit more as your Aston Martin girls.

Once the anthem starts you can’t help but see just how radiant he looks, the way the lowing Miami sun was beaming on him and making his already golden skin glow.

That was your man, your boyfriend and your future husband because in this moment you were sure you would do anything and everything to keep him by your side.

He was your soulmate and you were his, and as he was looking down at the way your face had tear stains and was a little puffy from rubbing away the tears he couldn’t agree more.

Clubbing for sure wasn’t the only celebrations that happened that night for you and Lando, that’s for sure.

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE PRE-SEASON TESTING

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. it's pre-season testing time!

content warnings. smau & written parts, written in 3rd person & lowercase, not edited & proofread

word count. 1.1k

notes. we're dipping into the season, slowly but surely... this took me some time to finish, i literally didn't know what to write for testing ://

"we are here in bahrain, pre-season testing for all teams in 2025, welcome everyone!" croft greets the whole world, as live footage is shown across the devices. the camera spans over the whole track, to each individual paddock until stopping at the final one, in blinding white.

"the season is starting with a bang, for the first time in formula one, we will see a stark owned team on the track! in white and chrome they are, an iconic design and everyone is eager to see what the stark manufactured cars can do!"

"how right you are, david! welcome, i'm will buxton and i have someone of interest with me here. right here, in front of the stark racing garage- y/n stark, number 95, one of the drivers for stark racing. so, y/n, tell me, how are you feeling? are you ready for the first time in the car?"

"hello will, thank you for having me. well, it's not quite the first time in the car, we had a testing back in miami at the end of january, but it's something different to be officially here now. but i'm feeling confident- we have our data, the predicted numbers and we think we'll be able to achieve them."

"so, no major upgrades or changes planned?" y/n shakes her head with a grin.

"do you really think i'm going to answer that question? ask me again, when we're done." will laughs at that, nodding his head in understanding.

"understandable, but i will hold you onto that! gonna knock on the garage doors three days later." y/n laughs again, head thrown back. "but, y/n, how does it feel to be on the paddock? have you met the rest of the drivers yet? made any new friendships?"

"well..."

"can you turn that off?", carlos gruffly asks his teammate, who just waves his hand at him as answer. with a groan, he stares at the tv, showing the first driver interview of the day, y/n stark. her voice washes over him, empty answers of being excited to properly meet everyone and maybe even bond with a few drivers.

"i don't know why you're so obsessed, perceval." charles immediatly splutters, waving his hands to deny the accusation.

"i'm not! but it's so interesting! tony stark is literally here, aren't you at least a bit excited? arthur said that y/n is like him!"

"what, arrogant? self-centered?"

"carlos! stop being so negative! i meant like- a genius! someone who raced with her back in f3 is friends with arthur, i forgot his name, but apparently y/n constantly does calculations while she drives. that's why she's so good overtaking." carlos just sighs and leaves charles to whatever he's doing right now. he has no interest in this circus.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

kevin watches the interviews from the sideline, completely satisfied with how everyone is hounding y/n and leaving him in peace. of course he had his fair amount of questions and interviews, but much less than his teammate.

it has been a whirlwind, ever since he joined the team. strange, for a while, everything seeming so futuristic, but now his glasses feel like a another part of his race suit he's putting on every day.

the team has been welcoming, open to his input, but it's very clear to him that y/n is their star driver and he's the support. and he's alright with it. of course, winning a championship would mean everything, but he knows he's not going to continue this forever. especially not when he has a kid, he's missing so much... something he dislikes, because family means everything to him.

this is why his contract is only for two years. if he wishes to continue and his results at the end of the season are steady, tony promised him a seat as long he wishes for. he is incredibly thankful for this offer, fully knowing that this kind of support doesn't exist in formula one.

"ready to go?", he asks, after y/n's press officer ushers her out of the mob called journalists.

"so ready to go", she grins. but they're not alone, the netflix camera's immediately surround them and capture their walk to the garage. people part from them, staring openly at the drivers. one of the most iconic footage later shown in the drive to survive documentary.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

"so, here he goes, kevin magnussen for stark racing, leaving his side of the garage. the car is looking incredible, i really like the color!", comments crofty and the other men immediately begin to chatter as well. throwing in rumors and hearsay about the team, they expertly fill the silence of kevin doing his first lap on the track.

"last to leave the garage and on the track, all eyes are on stark racing- oh and there he goes, picking up the speed!"

"his tyres seem to have warmed up- woah! look at the smoothness! kevin seems to be home in his car, his struggles from the last season are nowhere to be seen", adds jenson, while the cameras continue to follow the white car with the number 20.

"and there he goes! on medium tyres, setting the third fastest lap already, this looks definitely promising." will shares his own thoughts, reminding the viewers that there is definitely a possibility of stark racing going at least one or two seconds faster.

"by the looks of it, the stark racing team seems to be satisfied- honestly can't tell much, the glasses are hiding too much", jokes another man and all of them laugh. "bloody starks, am i right?"

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

the testing days are filled with endless laps and data, followed by long hours of debrief. they've already proven that they're fast, slotting themselves on the upper half of the grid, sticking close to the more experienced teams.

speculations are thrown around, is stark racing sandbagging? of course they must be, while others think that this is the best they can do. neither of the drivers or the team principal lose a word on it, instead they repeat always the same statements.

"we delivered what we predicted."

"we tested our theories, confirmed or debunked them, so the past three days have been very productive."

"we're exactly there where we want to be and we know our next steps."

empty words and yet the journalists pounce on them as if they're the next headlines. the whole world watches with eagerness as stark racing finishes up their debut in formula one and they impatiently await the first race of the season.

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[taylormarieee]

Ride or Die, baby Brian O'Conner

Summary: Brian was your ride or die, always...

Pairing: Brian O'Conner x Fem!black!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: PiV sex, Riding, cowgirl, Brian being a tease(as per usual), reader being shy, slight angst, Jealous Brian, Jealous reader

A/N: This is dedicated to @dollyfl1rt my love. I hope you like your surprise!

Brian and you were inseparable. He was your ride or die. He was your everything.

It kinda hurt when he started to get more closer with Suki then you. You usually weren't the jealous type when it came to Brian and women, he was a literal chick magnet. Plus Suki wasn't a bad person at all, she was a really good friend of yours.

But when they started hanging out and having nicknames for each other, it kinda hurt because it became as if you didn't exist.

You eventually started hanging out with Roman more and really liked the dude. You hung out with him almost as much as you use to hang with Brian.

You two always rode together, went out to eat together, and sometimes just took walks and talked about the past together.

Everything you did with Roman was what you used to do with Brian, and you felt bad. You weren't trying to hurt Brian, you just wanted his attention, and you felt that if you went up to him to express your feelings, they would come out sounding jealous or selfish.

You eventually started to kinda avoid Brian because you felt bad but was scared to get confronted.

Eventually Brian and you started to text again and he began to ask you why you were avoiding him...

{ Texts from last week... From both points of view...

Bri🎀- Why you avoiding me baby?

My baby🌺- I'm not avoiding you Brian, why do you think that?

Bri🎀- well for one, you never text my full name unless your mad

Bri🎀- and two, you haven't talked to me for the last two weeks baby, what's wrong?

My baby🌺 -Bri, I just... I feel a little jealous of Suki, like i'm not mad at her, or you!

My baby🌺 -I just feel like you're distancing yourself from me... so I'm doing things with Rome more.

My baby🌺 -I didn't wanna say anything because I felt like I would sound selfish... I just miss you

Bri🎀- Awww baby, I'm sorry... It's nothing I promise, I didn't even notice I was making you feel that way.

Bri🎀- I'll make it up to you. Next week I'll come by the garage, ok? Spend some time with my favourite girl, yeah?

My baby🌺- Ok! See you Bri, I luv you!

Bri🎀 - I love you too my sweet girl.}

Today's the day where Brian is coming to hang or talk with you. You see his car pull up and immediately smile. You notice Roman is with him so you walk up to greet them both.

"Hey Roman! Hey Brian!" You say as you walk up to them. You were currently working at the car wash where Tej usually is. You were wearing a green bikini top with matching bottoms but had a sarong wrapped around your waist.

Your toned skin glistening in the miami heat as you have slight water droplets coating your chest and legs.

"Hey girl. Wassup? How ya doin?" Roman asks. He smiles at you and gives you a side hug. "I'm surviving I guess." You respond with a chuckle, "Trying to get through the torture Tej is putting me through." You say smiling while using your hand to shield the sun from your eyes.

"Hey baby, you doin' ok?" Brian asks, finally speaking up. His tone sounded annoyed with the whole altercation between you two but his face showed to be soft and sincere, loving almost as he admires your body.

"I'm ok Bri, how are you? How's ya car?" You ask smiling at him. He smiles back at you noticing it's a different smile then the one you gave Roman, he loves when you have a special smile for him and him only.

"My car's ok. Lookin nice and pretty." He says smiling, "How's your baby?" He asks motioning to your car in the parking lot.

"Oh she's doing good. Lookin nice and pretty." You say smiling as you repeat what he just said.

He laughs and so do you. You both were so engulfed in your conversation you both didn't even notice Roman was long gone.

"You look good." He says, eyes glazing over your body. Your face heats up more than it already has and you smile.

"Thanks, don't look bad yourself." You say letting out a slight giggle. You always giggled when you were nervous and Brian picked up on the habit a couple months ago.

"Why you nervous baby? Hmm? I make you nervous?" He asks leaning in closer to you as your back is now flush with your car. He whispers in your ear.

"You don't make me nervous Bri... I'm just hot." You say wiping sweat of your forehead.

"Well I know your hot, I mean who wouldn't think your hot but I know when you giggle like that, your nervous. I know you like I know my car." He says, his blue irises staring you down intently.

His blonde curls framing his face, god how badly you wanted to tug on them.

Before your able to say anything back, Roman's voice brings you both out of your intense staring and breathing. The tension between you two finally cut.

"Yo Brian! Let's go. I'm hungry!" He says walking to the car. Brian glances at Roman before looking back at you again.

"Meet me at my place tonight at 8:30 got it?" He says smirking at you before walking away, he didn't need to get your answer because he already knew what it was.

He winks at you as he enters his car and drives off with Roman. You wave bye and Roman and Brian wave back.

-TIMEJUMP-

It was now approximately 8:23 pm and you were arriving at Brian's place now. You knock on the door and wait a couple seconds before Brian finally comes into view with just a towel on.

You quickly cover up your eyes, "Woah bri! Cover yourself you little slut!" You say chuckling and giggling nervously again.

Brian doesn't say anything he just stands there. You assume he's gone so you remove your hand from your face only to be met with brian so close to your face.

You met with his chest at first considering Brian is 6'2, and when you look up you see Brian staring you down with a smirk on his face.

"I'm only a slut for you." He says with the biggest smirk on his face. You both stare at each other for a couple of seconds before you both are bursting out laughing.

He caresses your cheek before grabbing your hand and guiding you in his home. He stares at you once he closes the door and pushes you against the wall.

"Your mine baby, all mine." He whispers against your neck as his hands roam all over your body.

You whimper at his touch enjoying the familiar feeling that has now turned intimate.

"Brian..." You breathe out. He hums in your ear and you tug on his curls. It isn't until your hands touch his chest that you realize he's completely naked besides the towel around his waist.

"Brian... I think we should- fuck- I think we should slow down..." You moan out trying to gain your composure but Brians hands are already undoing your skirt zipper in the back and lifting up your t-shirt.

"You've been a tease all week. Making me all sad whenever you're with Rome. Always laughing with him, being with him. I gotta say baby, you've made me jealous."

You roll your eyes and chuckle, "Your one to talk Brian, all that hanging with suki has made me jealous and I told you this."

He is now the one to chuckle as he nips at your neck and his hands roam over your clothed pussy. Your hips jolt forward as he runs his finger up and down your slit.

Your soaking through you panties and he feels every bit of it. "You know I don't like Suki though." He starts.

"And you also know that Suki and Tej are dating, you just wanted some attention because your horny and can't do anything about it." He says as he picks you up, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist.

"T-That was not the reason Brian!" You say tugging on his hair harder eliciting a moan from Brian's lips.

"See how your- fuck- see how your not denying the fact that you knew?" He says with that charming and mischievous smirk on his face that just displays "I told you so" energy.

"Your annoying you know that?" You retort.

"Yet, you want this dick badly don't you?" He asks with that shit eating grin on his face that you so badly wanted to slap off his face.

But the throbbing between your legs was getting in the way of that feeling and you suddenly find yourself shaking your head yes at his question.

That makes him smile as he carries you to his bed. Your left in your bra and underwear and Brian is left with nothing on. You feel the pre-cum leaking from his warm, sticky tip.

You moan out at the feeling of his tip poking at your entrance. "Yea you like that mama?"

"You know your my ride or die right Brian?" You whimper out, feeling his hands caress your thighs.

"Well I'm mean your gonna ride me till I die anyway so..." He says and you playfully slap his arm and laugh a bit. He always knew how to turn everything into a joke.

"Yea my love, I know. Ride or die always." He says as he lines his tip to your entrance. You flip him over with all your strength and sink down onto him as you land on him.

"Oh fu-fuck Brian!" You say as he fills you up nicely. You feel the delicious stretch his cock gives you and you begin to slowly rock back and forth on him.

He groans and you feel dizzy already. That was the effect Brian had on you. Constantly making you feel dizzy and nervous.

But right now your on top and you feel dominant but baby trust me, he's the one in control of everything. Your hips movements, him slowly thrusting up into you, everything.

He tugs on your bra and panties. He has to keep pulling them to the side as he holds your hands behind your back as he thrusts up into you.

Your crying out his name at this point feeling tears in the rim of your eyes. Your body glowing in the moonlight from the small window he has in his room.

He can't believe that your finally his to take, his to finally fuck every time he wins a race or loses a race. He just wanted you all to himself.

You felt comfort in knowing you were his as he was yours. No lady could ever touch him unless it was Suki and you of course.

You loved how possessive he was of you and boy when he finally brought you to your orgasm and he came inside you and held you tight as your hips weakly tried to help you through your high and his, you knew that he was the one forever.

Brian O'Conner, your ride or die till the end of time. Always.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @dustbunniess

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘 - 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 🪩 ❞ - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia

summary: most of the social media post made throughout the miami gp weekend!

warning: twitter environment (you know the deal), cussing.

saint’s team radio: hi everyone! just wanted to give y’all a little something something before releasing ‘break my soul’ ! i’m a bit sick rn but i will get back into my groove very very soon 🤭

dividers by: @cafekitsune

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽

taglist: @queenshikongo3 @mauvecherie-writes @httpsserene @lorarri @goldenalbon @yeea-nah @non-stop-imagines (lmk if you want to be tagged!)

-

twitter

instagram

nadiahamilton

liked by lilymhe, badgalriri and 1,383,994 others

nadiahamilton yes i know where he keeps his music and no, i won’t be telling you where 🫶🏽

view comments

nadiahamilton it was sooo nice meeting you guys this weekend 🥹

pinned by author

user i swear you’re his lucky charm

fransisca.cgomes mother ‼️

alexandrasaintmleux and if i ask for your hand in marriage?

nadiahamilton let’s run away

user i fell in love everytime you appeared on screen

user her energy is so refreshing, even if it’s through a tv or phone 😭

user where do you get your clothes???

nadiahamilton i’ll make a highlight for all the stores i shop at 🫶🏽

herstudent i hope school’s open soon, we need the tea!!

nadiahamilton you’ll be getting the pamphlets for the medieval times instead 😚

user his arm…dear lord

nadiahamilton i know, can’t believe it’s wrapped around me rn 🥹

user13 no way she just said that????

yungfilly bestie takin over miami!!

chunkz i think this is where you’re wrong brotha 🤨

niko you’re right, i’m the bestie

nellarose_ YOU’RE ALL WRONG 🤣

nataliatheedon and if i smack your ass, i’m wrong 😔

nadiahamilton bc it really hurt plus you were running behind me????

mercedesamgf1 Mrs Mercedes 🤍

user lewis is washed, never going to get that 8th

nadiahamilton watch your mouth 🙏🏽

lilymhe tinkerbell 🥹

liked by nadiahamilton

user is this a inside joke???? a fun nickname??? we need to know!

sza do you think your man will have a problem if i take you away?

nadiahamilton when and where? 🤭

lewishamilton ???????

hater ad21 was deserved 🤣

nadiahamilton i know where you live 🫶🏽

hater as if

nadiahamilton Glendale right??

hater oh shit

user now how tf did she find that man’s address 😭

user don’t question her mastery 🗣️

lewishamilton my angel 🤍

nadiahamilton my superstar 💗

lewishamilton

liked by bellahadid, charles_leclerc and 3,383,929 others

lewishamilton miami, you’ve been good 🙏🏽

view all comments

nadiahamilton steal my captions why don’t you 🙄

lewishamilton it’s my job 😋

user blonde is so her colour

raye you both are so lovely 🤍

lewishamilton thank you Raye and btw, she’s crying because of this

nadiahamilton DON’T TELL HER OMG????

spinzbeatsinc king and queen of england

nadiahamilton do you want me to get deported??

user just accept your fate guys

user now i need to know if he speaks any south african languages

nadiahamilton he tries to but he says it in a british accent so i end up laughing at him

user mr, does this mean you’re the class dad?

lewishamilton i guess so?

herstudent YEAHHH OUR DAD’S SIR LEWIS HAMILTON!!!

user her face should be trademarked

user how many cars do you think they own together?

f1wags what a woman!

user petition for Nadia to be team principal!

mercedesamgf1 we back this 🫡

hater her tattoos were everywhere and stole the attention off Lewis! She’s so ugly

nadiahamilton never that 🙏🏽

user did you guys see that drake reposted her post?

user wasn’t he friends with lewis at some point???

zendaya see you guys soon 🫶🏽

racerbia mother and father

nadiahamilton my man is so fine y’all damn

user SHE’S SO REAL FOR THIS

nadiahamilton like he looks so delectable, my goat fr 🤭

lewishamilton nads 😧

f1 mother of the paddock ‼️

nadiahamilton pls not while Susie is right there ☹️

badgalriri i hope you do know there’s a group of us planning to take her

iamcardib heard she’s a stylist, need one rn

kehlani i second this !

latto777 if she ever needs flowers, i got her ‼️

nadiahamilton y’all 🥹

lewishamilton can you guys stop planning to take my wife away from me?

user idk, something’s fishy

user yeah bc where the fuck did she come from?

text messages !

♡‧₊ billionaire boys club

miles the fencer 🤺: no way they’re stealing your wife from you in broad daylight?

pookie buddy lewis: pls don’t chat, it’s hurting my spirit rn

princess natalia: let’s talk about nads meeting pharrell (also i’m a genius for naming this gc after his company)

daniel is spinning: her face was just like 😧

nadia: 🧍🏽‍♀️

personal pillow amara: but nads, genuinely, how do you feel after this weekend? it was a big one for you bae

nadia: i do feel like ripping the earth in half and falling in but it’s cool because lew gets me ice cream after 🤭

pookie buddy lewis: i always got your back, nads. you know that. we’ll get ice cream whenever you want

miles the fencer 🤺: GET A FUCKING ROOM OMG

princess natalia: EWWWWW

charlotte (not tilbury): don’t listen to them, this is the cutest shit ever 😭

andrew with the camera: but if i expose miles’ 0.5x photos, i’m wrong.

daniel is spinning: DRAG HIMMMM

personal pillow amara: i’ve taught you way too much danny

miles the fencer 🤺: man whatever 🙄

charlotte (not tilbury): nads, i HAVE to see you in malibu

nadia: ofc, i don’t know what to expect from that place

princess natalia: don’t worry bae, we got you!

ೃ° 

The Avengers (niko made this)

chunkz: nads, who’s this boy you’re chatting to? 🤨

filly felipe: “this boy” and it’s lewis hamilton 🤣

sharks: AND they’re married????

nadia: and i was going to invite you lot to my new place and show you my new car but ig you don’t want to

harry (pinero) potter: BOYS TAKE IT BACK

aj shabeeeeel: i personally never said anything 🙏🏽

niko: you know i’ve always loved f1, nads

nella loml: lying on a public platform, niko??

nadia: you lot are too funny i can’t 😭

nadia: but yeah, wanted to know when you guys are available so that you guys can meet him officially

fiily felipe: welcoming our brother in law aww 🥹

king kenny: how about we chat about the marriage??

nadia: how about no? 🫶🏽

chunkz: i’m just happy something so special is happening to you, nads. you deserve it

nella loml: it’s been a tough ride and already it’s looking so up for you bae

nadia: you guys wanna make me cry on a monday morning 🫵🏽

sharks: always the plan 🫡

niko: to make her cry????

sharks: 😐

king kenny: pls come back to London asap, Cench has been calling us up for a vid ever since the last two 😔

nadia: leave me out of that one, i have a husband 🖐🏽

chunkz: YOU TELL THEM NADS

filly felipe: nadia thandeka hamilton, it has SUCH a nice ring to it 😭

aj shabeeeel: and you guys look so leng together, already my brother in law 🫡

harry (pinero) potter: better get home quick for that debrief!

saint’s team radio (once again!): hope you guys enjoyed this one! it’s got a little touch of how nadia interacts with people she knows and people she doesn’t, our social butterfly 🥹

we finally have a ship name for our favs ‘Lewdia’ coined by @mauvecherie-writes!

i’ve got a few more smaus ready but yeah, love you guys loads! 💗

[ghettogirly]

Hi, I hope you are doing well. I was thinking Armando x Reader. Where Reader and Armando are with Mike and Marcus driving on the road and Reader decided to do a prank where she places a fart bag that releases the stinch under Marcus seat. Reader is pranking everyone and it pops open and Mike was going crazy, Marcus was making faces and Armando was turning red and saying curse words in Spanish and English and is holding his nose. Reader was dying laughing and at the end told them it was a prank. Marcus and Mike look stunned while Armando was devastated.

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐀𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇 (𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂)

-> synopsis: where aaliyah decides to prank the team with a little fart spray… not a great idea.

-> format: drabble.

-> theme: comedy.

-> warning: mature language, use of the n word.

-> authors note: thank you for requesting this, it was so fun to write!!

💿 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 - 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈 𝐁

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The cool summer breeze of Miami flowed through the crack of the window that was open in the front , as the car drove along the highway. Marcus and Mike was in the front talking, while Armando and Aaliyah was in the back.

Moving around in her seat, she looked out the window. The palm trees that were decorated down the highway danced to the slow blow of the wind, waving the team goodbye as they headed down to Atlanta, Georgia for a team getaway. Armando had his head back with his eyes closed, trying to get some rest in before having to greet the rest of the team. His tan skin glistened as the sun illuminated on him, giving him more of a caramel complexion.

Analysing him even more, he had a freshly trimmed cut and his beard was noticeably groomed. His physique was outlined by the tight white shirt he had on accompanied by some washed blue jeans. The two grandads in the front were arguing about the radio, Marcus wanting it on, Mike wanting it off.

The subtle contrast of the tranquility and chaos made Aaliyah’s heart warm. This was her family.

Glancing over at the navigation system in front of her, she wondered how long they have left. 20 minutes. Rummaging through her bag, she looked for something to keep her accompanied during the last quarter of the journey. Her eyes landed on something.

Fart spray??

A smirk creeped up on the girls face as she subtly looked around the car. Armando was still resting, Mike and Marcus had finally stopped arguing. This was her perfect chance.

Shaking up the little container, she pushed her slim hands down the corner of Marcus’s seat that was right in front of her, pressing down on the little pump.

An aroma of a foul stench quickly filled up the car, first being noticed by Mike who shot daggers into Marcus’s soul. “Now i know, you did NOT just shit yourself in my brand new car Marcus!!”

“Nigga, fuck you and your motherfucking car! I didn’t do shit!!”

“So what is that smell?!”

Psh. Psh. Another pump.

Quickly hiding the spray back into her bag that was on top of her lap, Aaliyah sat back into her seat. Moving her 3c curls out her face, she quickly covered her nose with her baby blue top that she had on. “What the fuck is that smell?!”

Looking back at Aaliyah with a pained expression on his face, Marcus whispered, “Mike shat in his diaper..” Which resulted in a slap of Mike who heard the smaller guy. “It’s your fault that the car is smelling this!!”

The three started shouting backwards and forwards, trying to figure out the root of where the stench is coming from. Awaking from his slumber, the latino male sits up. “¡¿Quién coño huele así?!” Armando swore before quickly covering his nose with his hands.

“It was probably Armando farting in his sleep, Mike control your son!!!!” Marcus shouted, turning around and pointing at Armando while shaking his head. In disbelief to the accusations, Armando points his fingers back and starts pleading his case. “¿De qué coño me acusas? Apuesto a que fuiste tú.”

“Talk English Spanish boy!!!! We aren’t in viva la Mexico!” Marcus shouted back.

“He has a point though, maybe you’re accusing everyone because you know you did it!!” Mike shouted back.

“Oh so now you motherfuckers ganging up on me? Father/son attack?”

“Nigga-“

The arguing continued, unbeknownst to Aaliyah, Armando, Mike and Marcus, they pulled up to the little cabin where the getaway was held. Too involved in their argument of who done it, they didn’t realise they had an audience who was watching the chaos unfold. Marcus was shouting at both Mike and Armando, who were shouting back at him. The brown skinned girl was sitting there, her shirt still covering her nose as she pleaded for someone to open a window, falling on deaf ears. “Maldita sea, ni siquiera puedo descansar en paz cerca de ustedes.”

“We haven’t done shit!”

Looking around, Aaliyah noticed that they arrived at the location. “Guys, we are here!!”

“Gracias Dios, necesito salir de este coche.”

Everyone quickly opened the car doors, gasping for air as they all stared at each other. “Why you looking at me like that for?” Marcus exclaimed, mugging Mike. “This was YOUR fault motherfucker, why else??”

And then… the arguing continued.

Aaliyah now sick of the constant bickering between the two grandads pulled her bag out the car. “Guys, it was a prank! See?” Waving the small component of the spray which contained the foul stench, smiling at the two.

“I know this girl is not smiling in my face thinking shit is funny..?” The taller male spoke looking towards Marcus. “I think she is.”

“Tienes diez segundos para correr, mamá.” The latin male whispered, staring straight through the woman’s soul. His chocolate coloured eyes, now slowly turning into black orbs.

Oh shit.

Running into the house, Aaliyah pushed past the couple who stood infront of the door. Swiftly after, Armando, Mike and Marcus ran after her.

“You’re done for!!” The three all shout in unison.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¡¿Quién coño huele así?!” : Who the fuck is smelling like that?

“¿De qué coño me acusas? Apuesto a que fuiste tú” : Why the fuck are you accusing me for? I bet it was you.

“ Maldita sea, ni siquiera puedo descansar en paz cerca de ustedes. “ Fucking hell, i can’t even rest peacefully around you guys.

“Gracias Dios, necesito salir de este coche.”: Thank you God, i need to get out of this car.

“Tienes diez segundos para correr, mamá.” : You got ten seconds to run, mama.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @dyttomori @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @tyneshaaa @armandosbabymama @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @thedarkworldofhananerea @deadpool15 @5tarlan7 @sarcasticbitchsblog @believeinthefireflies95 @yeahnohoneybye

[coco-loco-nut]

Miami

Pairing: Logan x reader

Summary: Logan finally asks the girl he has seen around Williams out

A/n: I kinda hate this, but here it is😬

requests open masterlist

———————————

“Y/n!” You boss calls your name from a few cubicles down. You were new to Willams, having just moved from America and the Baseball industry into Motorsport.

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning against the frame of her cubicle.

“Erica is out sick, can you do her sponsorship activation in an hour?” She asks, looking a little frazzled, holding out a folder with some papers to you. You nod and take them, reading the summary sheets on your way to the car.

Your first assignment working with the drivers, thankfully you are used to ad shoots. They were relatively easy, taking pictures for the portfolio, schmoozing the sponsor, and helping marketing keep things in order.

“Coffee?” One of the sponsorship interns offers you, and you furrow your brow.

“Mark, that’s not in your job description, you don’t have to bring me coffee,” you take it anyway.

“BOGO deal. Figured you would like it since you weren’t planning on being here,”

“Favorite intern, right here. I’ll hook you up wherever you want to go after this,” you laugh, navigating through the site. Mark reads the briefs you brought along as you introduce yourself to the media team and the sponsors.

“Hi, I’m Logan,” One of the drivers introduces himself to you, his American accent making your ears perk up.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” you extend your hand, your mother taught you manners.

“Georgia?” He shakes your hand, curious on placing the accent.

“North Carolina born and raised,” you smile, ignoring the pleasant warmth of his hand.

“Not many Americans around here. What do you do?” He asks. It’s a relief to you, everyone assumes that you are a sports journalist or work in marketing, but he had the decency to ask.

“Corporate partnerships. Getting the team money so you can race,” you explain briefly.

“That’s so cool, I wish I could ask more, but Albono is calling me over,” he waves goodbye.

“You’re in looooove,” Mark teases, standing beside you.

“Shut up. Offer rescinded,” you blush slightly as the blond driver glances back at you.

A few months later you are in America for the Miami GP. Williams did a competition with one of your accounts, so you flew in a week ahead to make sure everything was set, and the working remote was a plus. One day you took advantage of an old connection and got a free ticket to the Marlins game, and got to tag along with them as they worked. The real bonus was the better food and suites, but you didn’t expect to see a certain blond driver throwing the first pitch.

He wasn’t expecting to see you either. Ignoring the marketing intern, he jogs over to where you and your friend are talking.

“Logan! Hi,” You smile, quickly turning to introduce him to your friend, but Logan is one step ahead of you.

“You are here early,” he smiles back at you.

“My account is sponsoring a VIP trip to Miami contest for Williams, so I’m making sure everything is ready to go,” you explain and he nods.

“Have you seen your family?”

“Yeah, they flew down the other day, I got them grandstand tickets,”

“What are their names? I can get them a paddock pass for FP1 and FP2,” Logan says and the marketing intern looks antsy beside him.

“Here’s my number, text me,” you hand him your business card and apologetically smile at the intern.

For some reason, it didn’t take a second thought to accept Logan’s invite. You had the day off tomorrow, your parents were busy, and there was really no reason not to. Your bag was packed and you were in Logan’s pickup truck before you knew it. The radio is on the top 100 station, and the windows rolled down slightly on the highway, the ocean air washing over you both.

“What do you miss most about America while in England?” Logan asks and you pause for a second.

“Peanut butter and jelly’s, they don’t taste the same. What about you?”

“That’s not what I miss most, but it’s a valid answer. I think I miss the Florida beaches, especially at dawn,” he says, letting a calm silence settle in.

“I would agree with that, but make it North Carolina,”

“Thanks for agreeing to come with me, the house feels so empty,” Logan looks at you. You nod, pushing some stray hairs out of your face.

“I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be shown around by a local,” you grin, locking eyes briefly with him.

“I know this great place for dinner,” he says as he turns off the highway. You learned about him on the drive, including that he owns a beach house and doesn’t live with his parents.

You both walk into the small restaurant, his hand instinctually going to yours before he quickly stops before you notice. You don’t see the way his heart races when you smile at him. You don’t realize that he’s noticed you around the track and sponsorship events, and how he finally built up the courage to introduce himself. He is so excited to take you to a restaurant that specializes in southern comfort food.

“Logan, you didn’t,” you gasp as you look over the menu, your heart swelling.

“I thought you probably missed a taste of home,” he smiles sheepishly.

“You are the best,” you quickly decide on your childhood favorite. The both of you get to know each other more over the meal and flirt a bit while you’re at it.

“I forgot how good that restaurant is,” Logan says as you both walk out of the restaurant, his arm gently going around your shoulder. You blush, but make no attempt to move it. The ride to his house is short.

“Get changed, Logan, we are going for a beach walk,” you tell him after he shows you the guest room. No more than five minutes later, you are both barefoot on the beach, you in a Williams hoodie and shorts, Logan in an unbuttoned shirt and shorts.

You don’t really know when your hands first brushed and connected, but you didn’t attempt to stop it. Logan admired you against the moonlight and soft crashing waves.

“Lo?” you ask as he seems elsewhere.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, turning towards you. All you do is nod, his soft lips brushing against yours as you pull him closer, properly kissing him.

“Wow,” you breathe, a blush covering both of your cheeks.

“I guess I’m not immune to your southern charm,” he teases, causing you to giggle.

“I guess not,” you agree. The walk back to the house is comfortable, and he kisses you goodnight outside your bedroom door. You wake up early for a run, quietly heading downstairs only to find a shirtless Logan doing the same thing.

“Morning run?” He asks with a smile.

“Yeah, you too?” You ask back and he nods. You both finish tying your sneakers and put on headphones. He leads your morning run, knowing the streets better than you. You both stop into a coffee shop a few blocks away for breakfast before heading home.

“I’m gonna shower then head out to the beach if you want to join me later,” Logan tells you before heading to his room. Once you finish your coffee, you do the same. There are two towels out on the beach in front of Logan’s house, Logan occupying one. After grabbing your book and applying sunscreen, you join him.

“Blue is a good color on you,” he compliments your light blue bikini.

“What are you reading?” You ask him as you lay down.

“The Great Gatsby,” he observes your book cover.

“Good choice,” you hum as you get immersed in the book. Fifteen minutes later, you see Logan set his book down out of the corner of your eye. He rolls over and you quickly bookmark your book.

“Do you know how hard it is to read while next the a beautiful woman?” Logan asks and your lips quirk up into a smile.

“How hard?” you ask, smiling as he pulls you closer to him, happily kissing you.

“Logan, look at this,” you show him your phone, as you lean over the kitchen island. He sets down his water bottle and takes a closer look.

“I’m surprised they even care about me,” he says, brushing it off. There is a public beach a few houses down, so it isn’t uncommon for someone to stray off it.

“I didn’t think about what would happen within Williams,” you sit on one of the stools. Logan moves to sit beside you, grabbing your hand.

“It’s fine, we can fill out the necessary paperwork. There isn’t a conflict of interest, we are in the same department, it will be okay,” he reassures you. You peck his lips and sigh.

“I’m sorry someone saw us, that makes it harder for you,” you frown. His hand moves up to your cheek, rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

“I’m not. I’m happy to be seen with you,” he smiles before going to start lunch.

“I’m glad I met you,” you tell him, happy to be with someone who isn’t afraid to be in public.

“Me too. Would it be too early to call you my girlfriend?” Logan asks, finishing the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you both have been craving.

“Normally yes, but with you, I would be more than happy to be your girlfriend,” you squeeze his hand. Logan kisses you briefly before starting to eat.

A few hours you make your way back to Miami, Logan having a team meeting that evening. The two of you didn’t see each other much the rest of the week until free practice.

You lead your parents into the Paddock area, taking them to Williams hospitality. You had told them about Logan and they were very excited to potentially meet the driver.

“Hi Babe,” Logan hugs you when he enters hospitality, stopping to say hi before grabbing coffee.

“Hi Lo, ready to meet the parents?” You ask nervously, he kisses your forehead. The rest of the weekend flies by, he charms your parents, you meet his parents, and before you know it you are in England again.

By the time Austin rolls around, you both are inseparable. The team finds it cute how Logan will follow you around like a puppy dog when you are at the GPs and he is free.

“I’m so glad I saw you at the Marlins game,” Logan whispers, his arms wrapped around you.

“I love you,” you whisper back, tilting your head to kiss you.

“I love you too,”

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. autumn seemed to arrive suddenly this year. minors dni. nsfw warnings below the cut. 6k. part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: cross continent booty call, shared shower, oral (fem receiving) overstimulation, biting, begging, teasing/dirty talk and lots of emotionally immature angst

It became normal after that, routine, almost. Like clockwork, the two of you finding each other. In your apartment, sometimes, but mostly at his. His apartment, his yacht, his gym, his car.  There were days where it felt like it was all you did, Fridays where you would think that you’d spent five whole days underneath him. 

Race weekends felt impossibly long, impossibly far away. You think that his apartment doesn’t feel like him because he’s never there, because he spends all his time on a track or a yacht or the streets of Maranello. 

And you’re soft. You pretend not to be, because you wish you weren’t, but you are. You are, because you know that there is a spring in a national park in the States that looks just like his eyes, all blues and greens and browns that are so saturated they look fake. Because when you were at the club last week with your sister, someone had walked by and you knew they wore the same cologne as him. Because you see the color red and wonder what he’s doing, every single time. 

He’s in Vegas this week, a big fucking party, Miami on the hard stuff. You’re home, going through life’s motions and waiting–though you’d never admit it– for him to come home. 

You wake up in an empty bed, sprawled out in the middle of it, stretching against the white sheets with a groaned yawn.  You can taste the cottonmouth on your tongue, smack your lips a couple times before giving up and climbing out from the cozy comforter and trudging into the bathroom, feet creaking over the hardwoods as you move through the apartment. 

You phone chimes from your nightstand and you move back into the bedroom, leave the water running and the toothbrush in your mouth for your retrieval mission. Sitting at the top of a night’s worth of notifications is a text from him. Check your email. You roll your eyes, half-type out a witty response before an email notification flashes across the top of your screen. Lecharles@ferrari.com No Subject. 

You tap it, and inside the subjectless email you find two things. One, an attachment to a plane ticket to Vegas that leaves in… five hours. And two, a single Please?

You roll your eyes, toss your phone down onto the bed and return to the bathroom sink to spit out your toothpaste. He’s fucking lost it. He’s really done it this time, like, Jesus, he’s done it. 

There is nothing you want to do less than pack a bag, find a ride to Nice, and hop on a plane all the way to Vegas just to see him in some messy ass hotel room. 

(Sixteen hours later)

You’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed when he gets back from media day, Ferrari polo and light wash jeans and a dumb smile greets you, grumpy with arms crossed over your chest. “Did you have to send me a fucking plane ticket?” You snapped.

He shrugs, kicks off his shoes and pulls his phone and wallet and pass from his pockets, sets them down on a coffee table. “You’re here, aren’t you?” There’s something masked with the smug tone in his voice, some kind of genuine relief that you’re here. It makes your stomach queasy. 

You roll your eyes. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words, or the relief you felt at seeing him walk through the heavy door. As sick as it makes you, you miss him when he’s gone in a way you aren’t supposed to; all soft and innocent and young. 

“You’re infuriating,” you say, but you’re smiling. 

He nods, closes the distance between you, sinks down onto the edge of the bed beside you. “You know you love it,” he says, the corners of his lips upturned when he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. Until you’re turning purple in search of oxygen and mourning the fact that you need it, you’re kissing him. 

“Why am I here?” you ask, half breathless. 

“Are you asking me?” He replies, dodging your line of questioning with one of his own. 

You smile, laugh a little under your breath. “Who else am I asking?”

“Yourself,” he shrugs, kisses you softly. His fingers dance along your jaw, move to brush a part of your hair to the side. You let him. Because he’s kind of  cute when he does it.

“No, no,” you sigh, pull your leg up under you. “I’m asking you; Are you okay? Why am I here?” You ask, because, even for the two of you and your decades of knowing the other and the last… almost year of this muddled mess, this is weird. A first class ticket in your email is weird. You getting on the plane is weirder. 

“I can’t miss you?”

Your lips purse. Somewhere in another world, they smile. “Not supposed to,” you kiss him again, hand on shoulders, because you want to smile. 

“There’s a lot we’re not supposed to do.”

“Yeah,” you nod, fall back onto the bed with a huff. He chuckles. The white ceiling paint stares back at you. Fresh. Crisp. Clean. “No meetings today?”

“They’re done.”

“Ah,” you say. He stands up and the entire bed shifts with the loss of him. His heavy feet move across the echoey room. It’s silent but for the hum of the air conditioner, the tap of the pads of his fingertips against his phone screen on the other side of the room.  “Charles?” You ask, prop yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Hmm?” He hums, his eyes focused on his screen. “Sorry, um. Work… email.” You don’t envy his multitasking skills, but they do put a smile on your face.

“Did you fly me out here to fuck me?”

He scoffs, looks up for just a moment to meet your eyes. “No,” and then he’s back to typing away. 

You sigh, make sure he hears it. You don’t handle not having his attention well, not when it’s just the two of you. “But you’re going to, right?”

You wonder if you can get him flustered enough that he starts to type what he says. He’s been good at wrangling you recently, at reeling you in. But, if you can get under his skin you’ll surely be in trouble with him. Surely. He smiles at the screen. “If you think you can take it.”

When you scoff, his smile grows. You’re playing right into his game. “I’ve taken it every other fucking time, haven’t I?”

“So well.”

You roll your eyes, drop back onto your back. “Why do you say shit like that?”

“I like riling you up,” he quips, and you can hear the smile on his face, the dimples digging into his cheek. God, those dimples, they might just fucking kill you. 

“No!” You say, voice drenched in sarcastic awe.

“Yes!” He matches your tone, his phone clattering down against the table. You sit up again, pull your leg to your chest and rest your chin on it. His eyes are on you now, the email answered, his attention undivided. You love his attention. 

“Alright… can we, like,” you gesture into the vast space between the two of you, “get on with it?”

“Can you, like,” he mocks you, “let me fucking shower?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, bite the inside of your cheek, “Can I come?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Really?” You hate your tone, how childishly innocent it sounds, like your mother just said you could buy whatever toy you wanted at the store. You’d expected a hard shutdown.

“Yeah,” he moves past you, casual smile and strong hand pushing your shoulder, knocking you over like a glass of water onto the bed. “But, I mean it,” he warns, threatens to wag a finger at you. You’d bite it off if he did. 

“Okay,” you say, rolling yourself off the bed and onto your feet, trailing behind him a few steps. He’s already tugging his shirt over his head and you watch his shoulder blades flex with the movement. You never remember just how broad he is. It’s always a lovely reminder. 

“I’m serious,” he shakes his head. “No sex.”

You hurry forward to catch up to him, pat him solidly on the back as you squeeze between him and the door frame. “Whatever you say,” you hum. His hands make a move for your sides, to pinch the skin there and curl you over, but you dodge him with a loud giggle. 

He says your name and his tone is flat. It’s almost romantic, you think, the plainness of it, the lack of urgency. Rather than face that, you dip your hand past the glass door of the shower, turn the water on and listen to him close the bathroom door somewhere behind you. It’s just the two of you, but he clicks the lock anyways.

You glance over your shoulder at him, hand held out into the stream of water to test the temperature. He comes up behind you, bare chest against your back, arms snaking around your waist, thumbs toying with the waistband of your pants. He works over the buttons with ease, says something about making things even against the skin just above your collarbone. 

With a laugh, you push your ass back against him, bend at the waist and slowly pull off your pants and underwear. A fucking tease, he says, clears his throat and moves around you to lose his own jeans.

The shower is big, but the shower head is small in size, mediocre in water pressure. You know before your leg is all the way in that one of you will be fighting to stay warm. You also know you’ll stoop incredibly low to avoid having to stand shivering in the corner while watching him shower. Biting is not off the table. Neither is a right hook. 

It goes on like that for some time, the haphazard cohabitation of the hotel shower. 

“Would you–” you elbow your between him and the glass door, into the line of hot water. He reaches over your head, switches the flow of water to the wand, picks it up and brings it to his shoulders, the water flowing over the body, over his chest and through the muscles of his core. If you weren’t so fucking cold you’d jump him. “Charles,” you pout. 

He laughs, the kind that requires a step back to stabilize him, and then he’s holding the shower wand inches above the crown of your head, hot water streaming down your face so quick that you have to plug your nose to relish in the heat of it. 

“Thank you,” you say all nasally, voice muffled by the water that falls over your lips. He slots it back into the showerhead and adjusts the water again so you’re not being waterboarded any longer. You wipe your face with both hands, smooth your soaked hair back over your head and look up at him. He kisses you again, promptly, quickly, with childlike haste, just because he can—you suppose. “What was that for?”

He shrugs. You supposed right. 

In your haste, both of you had forgotten to grab the tiny shampoo and conditioner bottles from the vanity counter, and after winning rock, paper, scissors—and Charles demanding best of three like a first-grader—you’d made the treacherous journey back across the ice cold tile to grab the toiletries. You’d used them first as compensation for your hard work, and rather than hand them to him when you’re finished, you reach around to set them on the corner shelf.

He rolls his eyes and you smile, lathering the shampoo into your hair. 

Your head falls back under the water, eyes closed, fingers rinsing the shampoo from your hair. You hear him moving, fighting with the travel-sized shampoo bottle you’d more than almost used up. You wait for the smart comment that never comes. When you squeeze past him, switch so that he can stand under the water, your ass brushes over his leg, over him, hard and erect in a way it wasn’t five minutes earlier. His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth and you laugh. “What happened to ‘no sex!’” you tease, do your best impression of his voice. 

“This isn’t sex,” he replies all matter-of-factly. It makes your smile grow. “This is showering.”

You shake your head, roll your eyes and reach for the conditioner. “You always shower like this?”

He laughs under the water, shoulders shaking and flexing and making your life so much harder than it needs to be. You could draw maps on his back, trace from freckle to freckle until you run out. “Only when you’re not around.”

You reach out to touch him. If he can kiss you just because, you can draw pictures on his skin just because, especially after he finds the space to say something like that to you, to make you blush from the inside out. He reacts to your touch, to your fingers cutting through the smooth sheen of water that runs over him. It puts a coy smile on your face. “I’m around now, aren’t I?” You leave a kiss on his shoulder blade. 

“You are,” he says, turns to face you, slinks his arms lazily around your waist and pulls you flush against him. “I’m not worried though. You’ll take care of me.”

You bite against your bottom lip, try to contain your smile. He’s right. You know he’s right and he knows it too. “Will I?” you hum. 

He smiles so you don’t have to, moves his lips painfully close to yours, hovering so close you can almost feel the ghost of them. “You will,” he breathes.

You can’t bite your grin any longer. “I will,” you reply, and because distance has never done you two well, you kiss him, pull off his lips with an innocent smile. “As soon as you condition your hair.”

“Fuck conditioner.”

You laugh. “Fuck conditioner?”

“Mmhm,” he hums against your lips. “Fuck it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I still have to rinse my conditioner, though.”

He groans like he’s just noticed your slicked back hair coated in the smooth conditioner, pushes you under the shower head, gives the top of your head a scrunch before letting you finish ringing it out. 

You stumble out ahead of him soon after, feet wet on the cold tile floor of the hotel bathroom. The mirrors are fogged and the air is thick with steam, slowly being sucked away into the ceiling vent fan. You pull a fluffy white towel down from the bar, hastily wrap it around your body, tuck it shut with a knot at your chest. He tells you that you don’t need it while drying his hair with a hand towel and you laugh–tell him there’s not a chance in hell you’re spending the night sleeping in soaked, chilly sheets. 

“You’re not going to do much sleeping,” he remarks, pats your ass over the cotton fabric. You squeal, practically skip forward at the contact of his hand and leave him behind in the bathroom. 

“You tell that to all your girls?” You ask, fingers trailing over the edge of the bed as you move past. “Or just the ones who know you’re a liar?” 

He reappears with a towel tied around his waist, the smaller one he’d used for his hair draped around his neck, damp hair stuck to his forehead and shooting out in every which direction. There’s something horribly beautiful about it. “Mm-mhm,” he clicks, “just you.”

“Oh,” you hum, turning to face him with a quirked brow and quizzical smile.”Well now I feel special.”

He opens his mouth to speak, parting his lips just so slightly before pursing them shut again. “Yeah,” he breathes out, and you barely hear it over the turnover of the air conditioner. 

“Yeah,” you repeat, and somehow it’s quieter. 

You sit down in the armchair perched in the corner and the silence lingers, heavier than the steam and louder than the air conditioner. He stares at you for a beat too long and you feel your heartbeat in your temples, stare right back at his stupid green eyes. He scoffs and walks back into the bathroom. “I’m tired of this,” he says into the mirror, wiping away the fog with a flat palm. 

“Tired of what?” You ask, fear the threat of his answer more than the actual answer itself. You know what he’s tired of; you. This. All of it, he’s tired of it all, and you don’t blame him. It’s become exhausting.

You know what he’s going to say, and still. His words hit you like a sucker punch. “This fucking hotel room shit.”

Your jaw flexes and you nervously chew on the tip of your tongue. “You’re the one who called me.”

He doesn’t leave space for the words to linger. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, turning to lean against the vanity counter, can barely glance at you. Your stare holds strong. “You know that’s not what I meant.” The thing is—you don’t know. You haven’t a clue what he means if it’s not the obvious elephant sitting between you. 

“Say it, then,” you tell him and your voice oozes a confidence you didn’t know you could possess. It’s a facade. A good one, and he still sees right through it. 

“Oh allez, tu es trop intelligent pour être aussi stupide,” Oh, come on, you’re too smart to be this dumb, he says, crosses his arms over his chest like you’ve done something he needs to defend against. 

“Say it, Charles.”

He finds the nerve to smile. You wish a ghost would pull the towel hung over his shoulders tight around his neck. Maybe then he would feel more like you do. Instead, he uses it to dry off the back of his neck and tosses it somewhere out of sight. “You say it.” 

“No,” you mutter, and then louder, you repeat, “No, I’m not going to.”

“You won’t?” He asks, pushes himself off the counter and stops in the doorway, leans against the frame and if he wasn’t so insistent on starting something right now, you’d take a picture before kissing every muscle on his body. 

“Mm-mm.” 

“Fine,” he replies all bluntly, but there’s nothing short about his tone. No, no, you know there’s no chance he’s dropping this. 

“Fine.”

He sighs, eyes closed and heavy breath and head dropping to the sky like he’s begging—or praying— for some sanity or patience or whatever virtue he so badly needs when it comes to dealing with you. Eventually, he speaks to the ceiling, and the dramatic cringe and nose-bridge pinch that precedes his words makes him look more than pained. “I want more than this. I want—” he cuts himself off like he hasn’t already let it all boil over, like there’s any chance he’d keep it unsaid, that he’d be capable of stopping himself. “I want us.”

Your heart dives into your stomach, sends them both sinking through the floor. “You don’t.”

“I do,” he speaks, still to the white ceiling. You follow his sightline. The ceiling is textured. 

“No, you don’t,” you think there’s a chance that your desperation to convince him this isn’t what he wants is really nothing more than a half-hearted attempt to convince yourself of the same thing. “You don’t, because then it’s all going to be fucked.”

Finally, he looks at you, or through you, or near you. Finally, he stops looking at the stupid textured white paint on the ceiling. “But what if it works? If we work?”

We.

“What if it doesn’t? If we try and then everyone gets invested and then it’s all ruined? Our parents and our siblings? We can’t ruin that.” You can’t. You won’t. You refuse to be the one responsible for any tension between your families, between your mothers. They’re the kind of friends that you don’t find more than once, and you wouldn’t dare to mess it all up after all this time, certainly not for a boy—for the boy. 

“So, what?” He asks. There’s a terrible ribbon of torment laced through his voice. “We just ruin each other?”

You sink in your seat, reply to him meekly. He doesn’t usually make you shy.  “Maybe.”

He says your name, that same ill-inducing tone to his voice. “If it was just us. Just me and you and nobody in our families had ever met,” he gestures between the two of you, always talking with his hands even when they’re half-limp and dejected. “Then what would your answer be?”

“I wouldn’t have to answer,” you dodge. Dodge, dodge, dodge. It feels like all you can do. “You wouldn’t want me.” Your words reek of haunting vulnerability, and you hope you’re the only one who picks up on it because it’s game over if he hears it. He’ll know it all; the lie and the truth and the debilitating fear of them both.

“You know that isn’t true,” he scowls, but his voice is soft. You hate it. You do, you hate it so much. You hate it. You’re tired of this conversation. You didn’t spend all those hours three seats over from a colicky  baby and its miserable mother to argue with him about what you were. You just were, can’t that be enough?

You snap like a crunchy autumn leaf under a steel-toed boot. “Fine! Fine. Yes,” you concede to the fictional world, the alternate timeline with death and taxes etc, etc. To the universe where everything is different.  To the world where everything is different, but everything is really just as it is; where the more things change, the more they stay the same. “My answer would be yes, let’s just say ‘fuck it’ and try because why the hell not? It’s not like we got along before all this.”

“Exactly. If we crash and burn, so what? We just go back to hating each other.”

“I can’t. I can’t, Charles. I care about my family too much.”

“You’re just scared. God, you’re like a child,” he speaks without thought, letting the words fly with reckless abandon. If you wanted to argue with him you’d latch onto that line. You don’t, though. You don’t want to argue, you never did. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” your voice cracks. It goes unaddressed by anything more than a shrug. “I don’t.”

“I want you to stop being a fucking coward and go on a date with me!”

“Charles,” you frown. Your nose burns. The gap, the gap, the gap. The impossible to bridge gap that you and he stand on either side of, waving aimlessly, begging the other with a silent plea—please. Please see what I see. I promise it’s better my way. 

“One date,” he says, barely above a whisper, holding up a single finger. It’s his plea. “Nobody has to know we’re doing it.”

“I…” your breath catches in your throat, mind racing through potential responses. You lean forward in your seat, put your elbows on your knees and bury your face in your hands before you start crying. You won’t cry, you can’t. He can’t make you cry. 

You sniffle, even though you aren’t crying—an audible reminder to yourself that you won’t be crying. That you’re eliminating the effects before they can even start. He must think you are crying, though, because the tension in the room deflates with every step he takes across the room. He lowers himself to your level, and you can feel the ghost of his hands lingering in a space just beyond your skin, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, fuck. I’m sorry,” his voice is so guilty, his hands finally touching your knees, thumbs moving in smooth, calming circles over your skin. You don’t have an opinion on the way you melt into putty under his touch. 

When you pull your hands away from your face, they fall into your lap, find his and mold into some tangled mess of fingers. You take a deep breath—an attempt to steady yourself before finally speaking again, and with a subtle shake of your head, you’re able to silently explain to him that you’re okay, that his words are not the reason you’re so upset. 

It’s so much more than that, than being a child or a coward of anything else he could possibly throw your way. With just as many words, he searches your eyes for answers, for a why that you couldn’t give him if you tried. 

Everything with him is so unsaid. 

“Okay,” you whisper echoes around the room. “Okay, a date,” you nod. 

His furrow softens, the lines in his face smoothing over and the corners of his lips fighting a smile. “No,” he says softly, as if trying to give you an out, to free you from any perceived obligation. “You don’t have to do that.”

Your hand finds its way to his cheek, a gentle gesture of reassurance, and you lean in, pressing a soft kiss on those lips that want to smile so bad. It’s not about making him happy, though. It’s about letting yourself entertain the idea of satisfaction, of individual happiness. 

He’s so. There’s no getting sick of kissing him, there just isn't. You sigh into his mouth and stand up, and you still want more. You still want more, towels dropping to the cold floor. Your knees bump against the back of the bed and it’s all giggly, and you still haven’t had enough. You maneuver onto the bed without separating, like the world might end if you’re not kissing him, and you’re convinced it might never be enough. That you’ll always crave more. 

It’s all so comfortable, the way you two move around each other. It’s fluid. It’s calm. It’s soft, the look on his face when he’s slotted comfortably between your knees, His fingers trace your skin softly, almost ghostly in the way they graze through the valley of your breasts. You shiver. The goosebumps make you laugh against his lips. 

He takes care of you, kissing you, trailing his lips down to your boobs, taking your nipple in his mouth, moving his tongue in sharp circles. Anything to elicit a reaction—get you all perky and poised for him. He palms your other tit with his big, strong hand, and your hands find a home in his hair, running through the curls, dragging your nails through the short locks at the nape of his neck. 

You pull him up to kiss you and his hand slots comfortably on your jaw, sliding down slowly over your throat, applying a phantom pressure. It’s all bumping noses and sharing breath, him biting his bottom lip before swallowing yours again. He’s afraid to hurt you. It’s so fucking hot.

He moves you around so easily, hands on the back of your knees, pushing your legs against your chest before licking a long stipe through your cunt. You moan louder than intended, because it’s him doing it. Because it’s him doing it. He spreads them next, big strong hands inside your thighs, leaves a soft kiss on your clit. Out of necessity, your hands find something to grab in his own, spread flat over your stomach now, his tongue moving in quick, hard flicks over your clit. It makes you pant–writhe and pant and whine. 

You search for grounding everywhere when his tongue sinks inside you, nose brushing against your clit—your palm your own breasts, white-knuckle the sheets and his shoulders and the sheets again. 

His hands move up your sides and he curls his tongue around your cunt, pulls a pornographic moan from your lips. You write, moving up onto your elbows and he spreads your legs wider, wider, wider. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so good to you. An arm loops under your leg, around your thigh and over your cunt, sliding through your lips and opening you up for him all pretty. His eyes meet yours and he’s so pleased with himself, a genuine smile at the state he’s got you in and then he’s sucking down hard on your clip, pulling off with an audible pop. Your head falls back, your hole body tensing with pleasure when he doesn’t fucking stop sucking and licking and fucking. Your hands are on his again, gripping onto him for dear life, moving wherever he moves. 

Your legs shake, fight against the hand on the inside of your thigh to close around his head, but he’s stronger than you. Fuck, he is. “So pretty,” he tells you, and you shudder, smile hard against the sheets and bury your hands in his hair.

“Right there,” you say through short, heavy pants, and then it’s all out the window. Game over, and you’re coming in his mouth and he still isn’t stopping so you just keep coming—so fucking hard, grinding against his mouth without any sense of rhythm. You think you could live in this high forever.

He kisses you, moves you—god, you’d be a ragdoll if he wanted, you think you really would. He moves you under him, up on your side and kisses down your shoulder, down your arm. He’s so kissy, can’t stay off you. It’s soft and romantic and it doesn’t make you ill at all, honest. 

His words, though, they still want to keep up your little act. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” He asks, moving his dick through your slick, lining himself up to fuck you. 

“Yes, yes,” you mewl, nodding hurriedly. He kisses you, sinks into you somewhere in the middle of it and you gasp into his mouth. 

“Fff…” he trails off, bottoming out into you. “You okay?” he asked. You nod. You nod because you’re so full of him you can’t speak. The gesture is more than enough for him, provides him with the permission he needs to start fucking into you, to brace himself with a hand on either of your hips and thrust deep inside of you, bottoming out each and every time. “Fuck. Fuck, c’mere,” he groans, and then pulls you back against him, your back flush against his chest. 

You crane your neck to kiss him, moan into his mouth when he’s cupping your ass and fucking you. You moan—gasp—and he fucking laughs. “Oh my god,” you whimper. “So good.”

He breathes sharp through his teeth, the bottom of his jaw rutting out with every thrust and then he’s biting your shoulder. He bruises the skin and kisses it better. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and you want, so badly, to make him feel as good as he makes you. 

“Wanna fuck you,” you say. “Let me fuck you.”

He doesn’t need convincing. “Okay,” he nods. “Okay, please.”

You’re half-hearted in your push back against his arm. He’s the reason he pulls out of you and falls back onto his back, makes space for you to straddle him and grind against him and kiss him and kiss him and let him kiss you. 

With a cocky grin and dark green eyes he moves his cock through your slick, lets a smug laugh slip through his lips as he lines up with your hole so you can sink down on him, slow. Slow. Slow because the stretch burns every fucking time. 

“Fuck,” you stumble, “s’big.” 

He meets you halfway, lifts his hips up off the bed to minimize the time he spends not buried inside of you. He smiles all stupid and your stuttered whine. “Fucking took it all the other times,” he breathes out, fingers digging deep into the skin over your hips. 

“Fuck you,” you laugh. He winces, and it only makes you laugh harder, lean down to kiss him so your chests are pressed against each other and grind your hips. His arms wrap around your middle, big and strong and pulling you impossibly close to him and the pace that he sets underneath you. They roam your body, his hands dancing over your sides and your back and knot into your hair, keep roaming until he’s grabbing at your ass. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says. You don’t need his words to know that, the sounds of your cunt clenching around him audibly demonstrating just how wet you are with every single thrust. “Always so good for me.” 

It doesn’t take long for you to come again, with the new angle and the new vulnerability. It never takes long with him, like he knows every inch of your body and just how to use it. “Mhm, fuck. Jesus,” you shudder, breath choppy and desperate. He’s relentless through your orgasm, like always, and it just extends it, draws it out painfully long. “I fucking l—ah—” you clench around him, legs shaking on either side of his abs. Your spasms aren’t calmed by even his strong hands, but he keeps them there anyway. 

“I love fucking you, baby,” he says, nibbles on your ear, kisses nowhere in particular and everywhere at once. You’re filled with butterflied by his crude words. 

“Do it, then,” you beg. “Please, fuck, please, Charles.”

In a single, swift movement, he pulls you off him and flips you onto your back. Immediately, without any semblance of hesitation, you’re reaching for his cock, to guide him back to where you want him, to where he belongs. You ache when you’re this close to him, when you’re this close and don’t have him, aren’t full of him. 

His hands find both of yours, interlock your fingers and move them somewhere above your head, pinned against the sheets. “Don’t say my name like that,” he whispers.

You play dumb, but your cheeks are flushed. “Why not?”

“You drive me crazy,” he says, kisses you before you can even attempt to rebuke his claims. 

“Me?” you laugh, fingers dancing over his abs. If his eyes weren’t so fucking green , you’re sure you’d find the reaction to your touch, the flexing of his muscles under the pads of your fingers, to be quite the show. 

He smiles all soft. “You.”

Your hand pulls him to you by the back of his neck, something about you can’t say something like that and not kiss me after, and then you’re licking against his teeth and it’s all so hazy—the way he slides back inside you between gasped breaths, the way you bite down on his bottom lip when he fucks you so well, and the way your legs wrap around his waist when you come, trying to pull him closer, deeper, to feel him with every nerve ending. 

“That’s right,” he says, a rare calming presence through your orgasms. He doesn’t do this often, not with you, at least. “Atta girl,” he laughs. “Make a mess.”

He fucks you through it, he does, but it’s slow and steady until you’re finished, back in reality, and then he’s the messy one—fast, hard, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Fast, fast, faster. It’s fucking blinding. Fuck, it’s good. It’s so good. 

He groans against your shoulders, hips snapping against yours. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, because you’re so fucked at this point that English attempts to escape you. “You’re so fucking close, yes,” you moan, “please, give it to me, baby,” and then he’s coming, head buried in your neck. His body weight is heavy on you, every muscle tensing as you’re fucked full of his cum. 

The two of you are so close, have never been fucking closer, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. “Fuck,” you giggle, and his whole body shakes with his own laughter, moving up to kiss you. You smile through the whole thing, through the hard kiss and the soft pecks that follow, through his fingers brushing the hairs from your forehead and the feeling of him dripping down your leg. Through all of it, you’re both smiling. 

It’s giddy, almost, and God. God, you’re so fucking happy.

[lecsainz]

hiii can you do one about charles x reader, at the miami gp where charles crashes in tl2 and quali and she's there to comfort charles? miami got me down 😭

always be here

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: car crash mention, miami gp 2023.

authors note: i'm also sad about miami 😭 but i'm sure that god willing charles will do well in the race!! i kept it short because i wanted to post it before the race anyway, i hope you like it 🫶

word count: 616

As Charles walked back to the Ferrari garage after crashing during the quali at the Miami Grand Prix, he couldn't help but feel devastated. He knew he had let down the team and his fans, and the weight of that failure was heavy on his shoulders.

But as he approached the garage, he saw a familiar face waiting for him. It was Y/N, his girlfriend, who had flown all the way from Europe to be there for him.

Charles' heart skipped a beat as he saw her, and he ran over to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Y/N, I'm so glad you're here," he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Y/N replied, holding him close. "I'm here for you, Charles."

As they walked back to the motorhome, Y/N could see the pain etched on Charles' face. She knew how hard he had worked to prepare for this race, and how much this setback meant to him.

"I'm so sorry, mon amour." Charles said, as they sat down on the couch. "I let you down."

"No, you didn't," Y/N replied, taking his hand in hers. "Accidents happen, and you're still an amazing driver. I'm proud of you, Charles."

Charles looked at her, his eyes filling with tears. "Thank you for being here for me." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N leaned in and kissed him gently, feeling the love and pain in his touch. She knew that he was hurting, but she also knew that they would get through it together.

For the rest of the day, Y/N stayed by Charles' side, comforting him and reminding him that he was loved. They talked about the race, and Charles opened up about how much the crashes had affected him.

"I don't know if I can bounce back from this," Charles said, his voice low. "It feels like my confidence is shattered."

Y/N squeezed his hand, "You will bounce back, Charles. You're strong and talented, and you have so much potential. This is just a bump in the track."

Charles looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. I don't know what I would do without you."

Y/N smiled, "You'll never have to find out, Charles. I'll always be here for you."

Charles smiled back, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him. He leaned in and kissed Y/N once more, holding her close.

"I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you too, Charles," Y/N replied, smiling up at him. "And I'll always be here to support you, no matter what."

Charles smiled back at her, feeling grateful for her unwavering support. "I know you will, Y/N. And I promise to always be here for you too mon amour."

Y/N's smile widened, and she leaned in to kiss him again. They sat together, enjoying each other's company and the peaceful sound of the waves.

As the night fell and the stars twinkled above, Charles and Y/N knew that they were in for a challenging weekend.

With Y/N's love and support, Charles felt a renewed sense of confidence and determination. He knew that he would do everything in his power to bounce back from the setbacks of the day, and that he would make her, the team and his fans proud.

As they finally headed back to their hotel room, hand in hand, Charles felt a sense of peace wash over him. Whatever challenges the future may hold, he knew that he would face them with Y/N by his side. And that was all that mattered.

[violetmuses]

Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴❤️‍🩹🫂

Title: Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴 ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When Armando Aretas leaves Mexico and faces Miami again, you change his life.

@nelo0wesker @nobodygetsza @yeahnohoneybye @sofia-da-1st @spaceacelover @btitannaaaaa

=====

Safety Net: Chapter 1

2024

The quiet departure from Mexico took so much planning, but Armando Aretas returned to Miami at last. Hiding would just stall reality this time.

His biological father, well-known Detective Mike Lowrey, pulled strings and “eased” the lifetime sentence, but Armando just needed more.

Waiting around between missions seemed pointless. If not useful, Armando might as well go back to prison and lock that damn cell forever.

Taking one rental car back to the small apartment from Lowrey, Armando didn't contact his father right away and took this much-needed shower before organizing just a few belongings here.

“I'm back.” Armando called Lowrey by the early afternoon.

“Hey, man. Really? Do you want me to pick you up from the airport?” Mike was a little surprised while answering the phone.

“Nah. Already settled here, but I'm just telling you.” Armando cleared his throat awkwardly

“You found the house? Cool. Glad you called me, too. Need anything?” Even Mike clipped words at this point.

“Maybe a side hustle?” Armando tried to frame the question easily. “I don't wanna stay around if you'll just call for work.”

“Right, I didn't think of that idea. My bad.” Mike almost whispered. “Let's see if I can help out a little bit.”

“Yeah, bye.” Armando hung up and left once more, hoping to run errands.

____

Many ran straight to the grocery store for various reasons, but Armando didn't need much, unlike other folks with children and more vacation plans.

Leaving the self-checkout, warm sunlight hit the parking lot as Armando reached that car and settled items, but one person caught his eye.

One door opens from another storefront in the shopping center.

“Thank you so much!” You beamed toward restaurant staff while carrying takeout and kept walking in the direction of your own vehicle.

To Armando, you looked cute and raved as sunlight heats up the state of Florida.

Though watching you from a distance, Armando found himself smiling in return, but pulled together and drove away, simply refusing to act weird.

Who are you? Aretas ponders during the commute back.

_____

Cooking and eating alone, gentle music played from his Bluetooth speaker. The device stood as his most expensive item beyond weapons or gear.

One call interrupted washing the dishes, but Armando picked up regardless.

“Hello?” Armando greeted the caller.

“Hey, it's me. Got something. Do you mind if we meet early tomorrow?” Mike Lowrey picked up this call again.

“No. What's going on?” The day would have Aretas occupied.

“This barbershop owner needs help.” Mike explained. “You'll get paid for basic upkeep over there. Nothing fancy.”

“Doesn't sound terrible.” Armando grounded his plans for the morning.

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow.” Mike ended the call this time.

Better than nothing. Armando thought, sleeping without dreams in preparation.

_____

“What's up?” Cruising with style, Mike Lowrey arrived while driving his classic Porsche the next day and greeted Aretas in this lot. “We'll meet that owner first.”

“Cool.” Armando repeated the note of his estranged father.

“How was your flight?” Mike tried offering small talk.

“Good. Still getting used to the house.” Armando told the truth.

“You'll be fine.” Mike went on. “My first place wasn't always dope.”

“Wait. Didn't you grow up with money?” Aretas squinted near his father. “That's what Marcus told me.”

“Well, yeah, but your mother knocked out riches. I stood undercover and worked as her driver before you were born.” Mike cleared his throat. “Let's go.”

____

“Morning, Detective.” The barbershop owner spoke up while addressing Mike Lowrey.

“Morning, Sir.” Mike offered respect to the older gentleman. “We shared our phone calls earlier, but this is my son Armando.”

“Hello.” Genuinely kind while speaking English, Aretas offered to shake hands with the owner right now.

“Heard about you, but we don’t have much time for questions. Let me show you around.” The older man continued speaking. Even Mike Lowrey stepped back, letting this moment between two different people for once.

Let him grow and learn. That’s the only way out of this problem. Lowrey thought, quietly watching his son understand this new environment.

_____

For Armando, three important rules grounded his place at the barbershop:

Aretas needed to show up every day now, arrive on time, and avoid drama. Constant structure keeps this guy from trouble in the first place.

Clients for the barbershop varied all week and Armando would remain observant every time someone opened that chiming front door.

Sooner than later, staff knew his name and everyone laughed sometimes, offering Aretas this comradery that didn't include heartbreak.

“Have you met Mike's partner yet?” One employee chuckled while cleaning his station.

“Marcus?” Sweeping, Armando immediately rolled his eyes and workers cracked up about Detective Marcus Burnett, Mike Lowrey's famous partner.

“Oh, no! Tell us.” The employee settled down and resumed working.

“I joined special operations at the police department, but this barbershop thing is a temporary job.” Armando played up his role a little bit. “One time, Marcus accidentally set our car on fire.”

“Woah!” Voices gasped through shock and even the owner tuned in.

“Marcus didn't know that windshield wiper fluid is flammable, so we jumped out right before everything burst into flames.” Aretas nearly cringed.

“Damn!” This story just pulled everyone's attention.

“We made it out alive, but moments like that really happen.” Armando shook his head and still cleaned when the front door chimed again.

“Hi! How's everybody doing?” One greeting brightened up the entire space. “I'm just here to bring Dad some lunch.”

You walked toward that barbershop owner with the biggest smile on your face, carrying takeout.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Thank you.” The owner gently raved while facing you, his daughter.

[earthtokhal]

If I see one more person calling my driver washed, I'm going to absolutely lose it, when other drivers can week in and week out be bad and there's no masses calling for them to be replaced or for them to retire.

People claiming they're fans but they're tired of making excuses for him. People saying they love him but maybe it's time he leaves.

It's high time all of these people realize that they're holding Daniel to much higher standards because they actually think he can do better than what he is currently showing.

Because saying one driver is washed while simultaneously saying the other driver is having his best season yet and yet both of them have the smallest gap between teammates is contradicting and it also downplays the season Yuki has been having.

The car is shit, every single time they change something, one of the drivers struggle. We haven't really had a weekend since perhaps Miami sprint where both drivers were performing well. Even then, we needed a penalty for Lewis (?) to get both cars in the points and you know what? There was no strategy to fumble.

People had already written Daniel off and the only time he gets props is if they want to point out that SP is doing badly.

People must also remember that most of the time we're getting points with either of the drivers is if someone gets a penalty or they dnf. The cars very rarely gain or keep their places at the start and the drs opening on lap two puts the midfield and back markers in a DRS train they rarely can get out off.

Daniel has had a great career and no amount of history revising from trolls will change that. Daniel's career isn't over, he is here and he has the current seat and I have full faith that he will do everything in his own power to make sure he performs well.

There is nothing he can do about cold tyres, bad strategies, getting rear ended or traffic and he is the first person to admit when he has performed badly.

He also does not have the new PU, after whatever the hell happened in Silverstone, he is still driving with that replacement PU. The team tried to fix the issues he was having this weekend and then he had no opportunities to attempt any set up today.

Anything can happen tomorrow, his inter runs looked promising but we still have 9 more to go (and perhaps even next season)

No amount of race weekend stress and/or contract talk stress will ever make me say that supporting my driver makes me drained.

[letterstotheflre]

"you can kiss me, you know" + daryl dixon... pretty please <3 I can imagine this being so soft

i don't think this is fluffy enough my apologies </3 || set in s4 when the claimers find rick + a little bit of sunshine!reader n grumpy!daryl

the fire crackles in front of you, tinting your skin in an orange glow that sends waves of heat down your body. what had started as a night full of screams and tears and pained grunts ended in erie quiet, only the wet squelches of a body being stabbed over and over again echoing across the small clearing.

now everything is quiet, even more so with daryl next to you who barely ever talks. especially when it’s his turn to keep watch. michonne and carl are trying their best to sleep in the backseat of the car, her fingers tenderly petting the young boy’s hair as he rests on her lap, hoping to make him forget about the man’s grabby hands– at least for a little while. rick, covered in blood and guts, is their strong guard, back pressed firmly to the door on the driver’s side. he’s staring straight ahead, barely even blinking. 

daryl’s gruff voice startles you. there’s a shadow cast over half of his face as he turns to you. “how’s your nose?”

you bring your hand to your face, gently pressing on your nose. it’s swollen, that much is impossible to deny, but it doesn’t feel broken. at least you hope it’s not. 

“s’okay,” you answer. “hurts a little to breathe, but i don’t think it’s broken.” 

he nods and looks back to the fire, chewing the inner side of his cheek, seemingly deep in thought. you guess he’s made up his mind about something because he grabs the handkerchief that hangs from his back pocket and the bottle of water next to your pack. not wanting to waste too much water, he wets the cloth just enough so that it’s good enough to clean a little, and turns to you. 

he gestures for you to get closer. “c’mere.”

you scoot over, turning your body until you’re facing him and automatically tilt your head slightly backwards with your eyes closed. he holds you in place by the jaw, a light hold as he sweeps the cloth across your upper lip, washing away the blood that dripped down your nose after one of the claimers bashed your head on the hood of the car when you tried to reach daryl. 

his eyes are focused as he runs his fingers down the bridge of your nose, feeling for anything out of the ordinary. “sorry,” he whispers when you hiss after he accidentally squeezes the middle of your nose. “s’not broken,” he confirms. 

“good,” you smile. he can’t help but wonder how you can be so happy after the night you’ve had. “i doubt i could get a nose job in these conditions. we’re a little too far from dr. miami.” 

daryl scoffs but doesn’t let go of the side of your jaw. he’s still looking at you, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, slightly swollen from the fight. you hold his wrist. “you can kiss me, y’know? my nose ain’t gonna break from it.”

it takes him a few seconds to press his lips to yours, his brain screaming at him words like “traitor” and “you don’t deserve her” and “you thought she was dead!”. but when he finally does, when you open your mouth to him and swirl your tongue around his, his mind quiets down. it’s like he’s being wrapped up in a blanket. like he’s being tended to from the inside out, warmth spreading all over him and healing the bruises that marr his skin. 

“i missed you,” you whisper when you finally pull away, forehead against his. 

“i missed ya,” he echoes. and then, because he still feels incredibly guilty, “i’m sorry. s’my fault. i’m sorry.” 

“shhh,” you murmur, pressing your finger to his mouth. “not your fault. you didn’t know– couldn’t have known.”

he screws up his face and looks down at the space of dirt between your bodies. “i knew they were bad.”

“you were alone. and you tried to stop ‘em. that’s all that matters,” you say firmly. when he doesn’t say anything, you grab the sides of his face and force him to look at you. “it’s not your fault.” 

even though he doesn’t agree, he nods anyway. he doesn’t want you to keep fighting him on this. doesn’t think he deserves your comforting words, either. he just wants to hold you in his arms to make sure that you’re real and not a figment of his imagination. so he spreads his legs apart so you can settle between them and holds you against his chest, kissing the top of your head several times.