#I need to choose drivers who don’t get fucked over by their teams

[thebirdsareafterme]

Having both Daniel and Carlos as your favourite drivers is a lot like getting punched in the face repeatedly with a brick and tossed into the ocean, getting up only to be stabbed in the back by Fred Vasseur in a chicken costume.

#I need to choose drivers who don’t get fucked over by their teams #unfortunately I’m already emotionally attached to these ones #daniel ricciardo #carlos sainz #if I think about it for too long #i’m gonna start crying #this is simply the worst #the WORST #I just got over the Daniel heartbreak of 2022 #and now they hit me with THIS?? #Fred vasseur count your fucking days #tiny French man #f1

[jamminvroomvroom]

die for you.

ln x driver!reader

in which you can’t stand each other, or so you say…

this took waaaay too long for me to hate it sm but she’s here! and she’s long! love this concept so much, thank you for this request. so many feels so many vibes, tell me what you think <3

loosely inspired by die for you by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, slight glimpses of she fell first, he fell harder, rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, choking, hate sex? bar fight, mentions of blood

8.3k words (oop)

it’s rare that you miss a podium, so when you do, it tastes bitter and stings like a bitch.

the car has been on fire all season long, a thing of beauty in your calculated hands. so, the string of bad luck you’re enduring, small mistakes with big consequences, it’s quite the pill to swallow.

out of the car you jump, teeth grinding hard out of frustration. you could see the commotion ahead of you, members of the papaya team celebrating their driver. your eyes roll so hard in your head that you feel a lasting ache. you side step members of your team, dodging every single person that tries to talk to you, your comms officer knowing better than to try and engage with you. you know you’re being unreasonable, it was a p5 finish! but it isn’t a podium or a win, so quite frankly, you aren’t interested, and you certainly don’t have any energy left to hear how amazingly well he had driven.

lando fucking norris.

what was once quiet disdain had grown into fully fledged hatred and you fear you’ll be violently sick if you catch a single glimpse of him on the podium. sure, he’s talented, and sure, he’s beautiful, you suppose. that doesn’t mean you have to like him. not anymore. he lives under your skin, inescapable.

you struggle through every interview in the media pen, most of which dissect your recent fall from grace, your mouth forming a hard, unimpressed line every time they mention the orange goblin and his recent streak of podiums and good luck. you wish the journos would bring up his string of women and the probable plan b receipts that went with them. that, you would love to talk about.

you drive in silence back to your hotel, leaving the track as soon as possible, and quickly find solace in your bed for the night. the idea of seeing the inside of a club makes you nauseous after your epic downfall. as your eyes are drooping, your body going limp under the thick duvet, a knock sounds from the door.

“no.” you shout flatly, but the only response you get are giggles from the hallway. for fuck sake, you mutter, groaning as you shift out from beneath the covers and trail apprehensively towards the door.

george and alex appear before you, and you throw your head back is exasperation.

“mate, it’s 9:30.” alex laughs, taking in your fancy attire; pyjamas that you’ve had since you were 17.

“what’s your point?” you croak, glaring up at your obnoxiously tall friend.

“why aren’t you getting ready to go out?” george questions, leaning against the doorframe. he, too, was obnoxiously tall, you thought, feeling the strain in your neck as you move your glare onto him.

“if it wasn’t obvious, i’m not going.” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought that was clear after i ignored all 77 of your texts.” you smile sarcastically, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“don’t be boring! you’re an f1 driver, you’re in a cool city, you’re rich and, let’s face it,” he sasses. “you need to get laid.” alex says, like it’s the most causal thing in the world. your eyes bulge out of your head at the utterance of the last bit. george bites back laughter.

“choosing to ignore that.” you hiss. “i’m sorry but i refuse to go out and celebrate that arrogant, whiny little bitch.”

they both know exactly who you’re talking about.

you and lando have simply never seen eye to eye. your karting days were spent pushing one another off the track or into a muddy puddle if things got a bit heated out of the car. sure, olive branches were extended, and maybe adolescent feelings were secretly harboured, but he never gave you any reason to tell him that. you’d grown out of the childish violence when you graduated into formula 1, but you hadn’t been able to shake the rage he made you feel.

it didn’t matter how many dinners you attended where others had conspired and forced you to sit next to each other. it didn’t matter how many times you turned up to play padel and were met with the same lame excuses of ‘oh, did we not mention lando would be here?’ it didn’t matter how many times you’d hugged it out on the podium while adrenaline and tensions were running high.

it didn’t matter how many times he’d watched you from across a crowded room and you’d found his eyes, watched him back. it didn’t matter how many times he’d smirked at you at the start of a race weekend, made you blush. and it certainly didn’t matter what happened last time you found yourself in a club with him.

you just don’t like him. not anymore. you sleep better at night when you lie to yourself.

~ the last time

you sink shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail; the taste of fruity liquor stains your lips and burns your throat. you feel electric, sizzling with ecstasy and the heat from the flashing lights above your head.

it’s approaching 4am and you can’t recall a time in your life where you’d felt so fucking good. the high of your first win is indescribable.

you’ve lost track of the guys, alex and george have packed it in and gone back to their hotels with their girlfriends. pierre and kika are somewhere in a corner, you’re certain. you’re pretty sure you’ve even seen lewis with his entourage and a brick wall of a bodyguard trailing behind him. and at the bar, a set of eyes watch you.

lando isn’t even listening to oscar anymore, no. he is too entranced in the way your hips move to the beat, lost in the carefree lines your body makes in the crowd. he’s itching to go to you, put his hands in places that would stay between you, him, and god, but he doesn’t think a broken nose would be good for business.

everything changes when you spin around, facing his direction. then, it begins: the same thing that happens every time you end up going out in the same group. you watch one another, pretending you’re not both achingly desperate to find out how the other tastes.

but lando is feeling bold. he tells oscar he’ll see him in the morning, and then, egged on by a moscow mule and a few too many shots, he makes his way towards you. it is instinctual, magnetic, the way he is drawn to you.

hands on your hips, lips on your neck. the song changes. you recognise the weeknd’s voice. you are disappointed in yourself but it feels too good to stop.

you know what i’m thinkin', see it in your eyes
you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry
you’re scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night
i’m scared that i’ll miss you, happens every time

the lyrics sober you up. you’re in the first taxi you can see when you finally get outside.

alone.

~

as much as that memory makes you shiver, for several different reasons, you find yourself putting on some makeup and raking through your suitcase for something to wear. george and alex are waiting downstairs for you at the bar, and when you finally make your way down there, they have a martini waiting for you. they watch in impressed horror as the alcohol disappears from the glass mere seconds after it touches your lips.

“let’s get this over with.” you sigh.

-

it could have been worse, you suppose.

the club is packed, hundreds of faces blurring into nothing. you feel better knowing that there is a one in a million chance of running into lando.

you’re tucked into a booth with alex and george, carmen and lily, a few faces you can’t quite place, and charles and pierre. you’d conspired to sit on the outside, prepared to make a quick getaway at the first sign of tension.

you’d been in a state of fight or flight since your last run in, nails bitten down every time you thought about his hands on you, how good they felt on you. it scared you more than anything had in a long time, how your desire had festered.

you go to take a swig from your glass, only to find it empty, aside from a few sad ice cubes. you watch jealously as they melt into nothing, wishing they would take you with them, shoving your glass across the smooth table top when your frustration boils over.

you’re on edge, ridiculously afraid of bumping into a curly haired man. it wasn’t him you were scared of, per-say, more yourself. god knows what you’d do if you felt those warm, calloused hands pulling your hips into his again.

“you okay?” pierre calls across the table. he and charles abandon their conversation as soon as your glass goes flying towards their side of the table. you’re broken out of your trance, caught off guard like a deer in headlights.

“tired.” you reply, shrugging it off like it was nothing. it’s clear immediately that they don’t buy it.

“she’s hiding.” alex chimes in from beside you, and your elbow goes straight into his ribs. he feigns pain for a moment, cackling at your reaction.

“from who?” charles inquires. you roll your eyes, blush spreading down your neck already. you hate everything about the conversation, and yet you need to see where it goes. you’d planned your escape, and now was the opportune time to make it, but you seem to be glued to the leather of the booth.

“lando.” george smirks into his drink as a he speaks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“oh yeah, we know all about that.” pierre laughs, his head tipping back in amusement.

“what?” you spit, eyes wide with confusion.

“don’t think me and kika didn’t see you two before the summer break. that night you won? we thought you’d finally cave.” pierre explains, his grin conveying pure evil.

several “what?!”’s sound from around the table, and now all eyes are on you.

“nothing even happened.” you mumble. “he came over to me and then i left.” you look away, twisting your hair around your finger. you are sweating.

“you looked like you were minutes away from being arrested for public indecency.” pierre smirks. you almost launch yourself across the table, intent on strangling him, and then perhaps throwing yourself in front of an oncoming uber outside.

“well, well, well. i fucking knew it.” alex is giggling beside you.

“come on guys, leave the poor girl alone.” lily winks at you, but even she has a twinkle in her eye. “there’s obviously feelings there.” and just like that she betrays you. her sympathetic smile doesn’t make you forgive her.

“i think you guys just need to get it out of your system,” charles starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “just fuck.” he waves his hand, like it was the most causal thing in the world.

the table erupts in laughter and you decide that you are well past the end of your tether. you shake your head, declaring that you need another drink, or ten, and strut away from the table. a chorus of ‘love you’-s and ‘get some’-s sound from behind you. you reply simply by raising your middle finger and refusing to look back.

the bar is in sight, just about in your reach when your evening goes from mildly bad to aggressively worse.

“fuck sake.” you sigh.

“and good evening to you too.” lando replies. he’s blocking your path, materialising before you out of nowhere.

“get out of my way, lan.” it sounds like you’re pleading and you cringe internally.

“don’t you wanna congratulate me?” he feigns a pout and you almost swing for him.

“no, not particularly.” you say dryly. “all i want is a drink, so if you’d just…” you gesture for him to move. of course, he doesn’t.

“haven’t seen you in a while, though. thought maybe you’d missed me.” he takes a step closer; goosebumps litter your bare skin.

“you are such an entitled prick.” you spit, moving to step around him but he catches you, gripping your wrists and pulling you in. you feel heat radiating off of him, expensive cologne overwhelming you in the best possible way.

“and you, honey, are such a fucking brat. but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?” lando whispers, cool breath hitting your face, minty, laced with champagne and cockiness. you almost fold, thighs clenching so tight that he must have noticed.

“move.” you grumble through gritted teeth. you are crumbling painfully, embarrassingly fast.

“make me.” your underwear is damp, but you are fuming.

“don’t fucking test me, lando.” something in your chest sets on fire and you’re over him and his bullshit, and the way he makes you feel.

“i know you want me.” he dips his forehead down to rest gently against yours. his grip on your wrists tightens, thumbs swirling circles into the flesh, right where your pulse is.

you lean in, mere centimetres separating your lips. his eyes darken, the assumption of victory over you tugs his lips into a smirk.

“all i want is my fucking drink. come find me when you’ve managed to navigate your gigantic, stupid head out of your arse.” you catch him off guard, wriggling out of his grip. you’re shaking when you walk away, thoughts of doing things with him that would get you both fired invading your foggy brain.

you try to disappear into the crowd, finally breathe a sigh of relief when your hands meet the cool surface of the bar. you order your drink, putting it on your tab and drum your nails against the marble top. you’re lost in your own world, watching as concoctions are mixed, as shots are downed. you finally feel at ease, until your evening takes yet another turn, one that was somehow even more unfortunate than all the others.

your attention is rudely stolen by the guy stood next to you.

“can i get that for you?” the random man speaks, in a way that he must of assumed was smooth. slimy, you think. he’s gesturing to your drink, clearly having watched you add it to your bill already.

“no, thank you. it’s already paid for.” you smile politely, turning on your heel. it seems he wasn’t quite done with you. you feel a clammy hand tug on yours, a wave of sickness washes over you.

lando’s hands are bigger, warmer, softer.

“where are you rushing off to, babe?” the sweaty man asks, his tone fake in a way that makes you uneasy.

“i need to get back to my friends.” you try to pull your hand free, but he won’t budge. “can you let go-“

“i can show you a good time. always thought you were kinda hot.” you’re panicking now, looking every which way for a familiar face, a security guard, anyone.

“take your hands off of me.” you snap, still wrestling to pull yourself free.

“one night with me would pull you out of that little slump you’re in.” he leers. you visibly gag, white hot rage blurs your vision.

“okay you piece of shi-“ you snarl, interrupted by a flash of curls and tanned skin.

“she told you to let go.” lando stands in front of you protectively, rigid and furious. you’ve never been so happy to see his annoying(ly beautiful) face.

“and what are you gonna do?”

“hands. off.” lando stands up even straighter, looking bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

“okay, mate, whatever.” the stranger rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away.

lando turns to you, opening his mouth to speak when…

“keep that stuck up bitch all to yourself.”

and then, everything goes to shit.

lando whips around, fists are flying, the stranger topples to the ground, amassed to nothing in the face of the mclaren drivers rage. lando doesn’t stop there, makes sure he is sufficiently dealt with, flat on his back on the sticky floor. you don’t know what to do, calling out for lando, begging him to stop, as satisfied as you are. lando hears your shouts, pulled out of the chaos and back to you. always back to you.

“are you okay?” he has his hands on your face searching for any remaining fear or upset. a crowd has formed and you see alex and george towering above the other club goers, jaws agape.

it’s as if he dj has it out for you, and you realise that the song has changed to something moodier, slower, one that gives you whiplash.

even though we're going through it
and it makes you feel alone
just know that i would die for you
baby, i would die for you

“we need to get out of here. security are coming.” you mutter, keening into his touch.

“i have a car outside.”

“well, let’s use it then.”

-

you can’t help but stroke over his knuckles mindlessly in the car, an unlikely comfortable silence settling between you. they look raw, cracked slightly and you have an overwhelming desire to kiss them better. your head is fuzzy, and you’re unsettled with confusion, but at the same time, you feel lighter.

“why did you do that?” you murmur, disrupting the quiet that has settled over the backseat of the town car, the question burning desperately on your tongue.

lando turns his head so that he’s looking down at you, his good hand comes up to cup your jaw softly.

“no one can talk to you like that.” he’s staring so deeply into your eyes and you almost squirm at the intensity. you feel exposed, bare.

“but why did you step in before that?” you reiterate shakily. lando hums in understanding.

“i’ve known you since we were 10 years old. i know when you’re scared.” he whispers, breath dusting your cheeks. you almost lean in, then, something about his words pull you even closer towards him. you feel warmth creeping over your chest, sinking into the pit of your belly.

“we’ve arrived.” the driver calls from the front, signalling that you need to get out of the car. it was like an elastic band had snapped, and you spring away from lando, scrambling to undo your seat belt, the moment of weakness long gone.

you sneak into the lobby, on the lookout for any angry PR teams or incognito photographers that are scoping for their next pay check. the coast seems clear, so you manage to scurry discreetly into the elevator. you hit the button for the third floor.

“can you hit the button for five?” lando asks, leaning against the opposite wall.

“you’re coming to my room.” you state, offering no other explanation, even when he raises his eyebrows.

the ding of the lift has lando pushing himself off of the mirrored wall, trailing behind you into the corridor. the lights are low as he follows you to your door, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. he watches in anticipation as you rifle through your small bag for your keycard. the green light gives you the go ahead to open the door, and he awkwardly follows you inside, peering around the room.

you notice the slight apprehension in his features, eyes blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline. they seem to sparkle more than you’d seen in a while, a hazel-y blue twisting with secrets and unspoken thoughts.

“let me find my first aid kit.” you tell him. you guide him towards the foot of your bed, gesture for him to sit. “make yourself comfortable.”

“you don’t need to do this.” lando replies, sitting down anyway.

“and you didn’t need to get between me and that dickhead but here we are.”

your words elicit a low chuckle from him, and you’re glad you have your back to him while you dig through your suitcase. he can’t see your smile at the wholesome sound, and he doesn’t need to.

random pieces of clothing fall out of the bag as you rummage through it, your attention taken up completely by your mission to find the small box. you don’t notice the pile of garments littering the floor.

“wow, didn’t take you for that kinda girl.” lando teases. your cheeks flame red when you catch sight of the cherry red thong that has managed to get caught in the wheel of your suitcase.

“shut up, i’m helping you.” you grumble, balling up the lace and burying it at the bottom of the case.

“why is it ferrari coloured? something you wanna tell me? do you think charles is… foxy? or is it fred? oh, i bet it’s fred, isn’t it.” he’s laughing now, loud and boisterous, and if it wasn’t for the butterflies erupting in your belly at the sound, you would have throttled him.

“i’ll leave you to bleed out.” you tease back, pointing at the dried up blood across his knuckles.

“of course, i am in urgent need of medical attention!” he exclaims sarcastically, clutching his hand. you roll your eyes.

“you know where the door is.” you stand from the floor, carrying a little square antiseptic wipe with you.

“yeah, i do. feel like staying now, though. i’m just so comfy.”

and with that, he throws himself back on your bed, closing his eyes as he sinks into the mattress.

you stare at him for a second, noticing the way his eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks, his tanned, thick neck peeks out from in between the undone buttons of his dress shirt. you exhale shakily, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

“give me your hand.” you instruct him, tearing the packet open and unfolding the wipe.

“romantic.” lando snarks. you shove his shoulder in response. he holds his hand out.

“whatever.” you sigh, avoiding eye contact as you run the wipe over his knuckles. you can see how they are already tinged purple, wincing at the idea that it is your fault.

“what is it?” lando asks, noticing.

you don’t respond. this proximity is odd, you can’t quite tell yet if you like it. what you do know is that you certainly don’t know how to handle him now that the alcohol is wearing off and you’re left tending to the wounds of a man that you could have sworn you didn’t like.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be? we’re going back to the silent treatment again?” lando scoffs.

“don’t know what to say.” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on every line and indent of his knuckles.

“why do you hate me so much?”

“i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” he scoffs.

“i don’t think about you enough to hate you.” you lie. it’s cruel. he winces.

that shuts him up.

“i’m gonna go. thanks for this.” lando waves his hand and you feel a wave of guilt hit.

“no, fuck, i’m sorry.” you apologise, bowing your head. “stay.”

“i’ll stay if you tell me why you hate me.”

“i’ve never hated you, lan. haven’t always particularly liked you but i never, ever hated you.”

“okay.”

that’s all it takes for him to flop back onto the bed. some unexplainable instinct that you loathe has you crawling onto the bed beside him. you wrap your arms around your pillow, watching him watch you.

“i used to have such a big crush on you, you know.” lando says. you stare at him blankly.

“what?”

“yep. i think i was about 15. you were the first girl i ever really liked that way.” he smiles, recalling the memory. “it kinda sucked because i knew you wouldn’t even look at me twice but it’s funny thinking back to that time.”

~ 15

he watches the way her hair gets caught in the breeze as she takes off her helmet. two messy braids are shaken free, and his heart skips a beat or two, or seven, when she turns around with the biggest grin on her face.

she’s just won a race, another one, and he’d be so jealous if it wasn’t her.

he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. george and alex go over to her, congratulating her, hugging her. he wishes he could do that. he definitely can’t.

she doesn’t see him, the only times that she does are when they argue, when they push eachother off the track and scream at one another across a gravel trap. the times when she plants her pointed finger in his chest and calls him dirty, the times he gets heated and calls her something he doesn’t mean under his breath. and she always hears him. always. he watches her eyes pool with tears every single time.

he wants her, in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. he’s never felt like this, wonders how he can make it go away. she hates him. she must.

he can never have her, so why even try?

~

“i had no idea you ever felt that way.” you’re quite shocked, really. you knew that you had this intensely charged sexual tension between you now, but you had failed to realise how far back this all went.

mutually, at least.

“i’d say i’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it.” his smile changes slightly. it was now a sad smile, one that conveys disappointment in himself, and that you hated to see. it reminds you of the one you’ve gotten used to seeing on your social media feed after he’d had a shitty race.

you sigh, bracing yourself for what you are about to say.

“you’re not the only one who hid it.” you raise an eyebrow, your face says ‘guilty!’

“no?” lando’s eyes widen at your revelation.

“i think we were 13. you gave me half a cookie to apologise for pushing me off track.” you smile coyly. “it’s kinda sad but 13 year old me died inside.” you laugh.

“so, we’ve both… liked each other.” lando assesses. you nod.

“when did you stop?” you inquire, scanning his face. you take in each detail, each individual freckle, the curve of his lips. he seems closer, all of the sudden, and that’s when you realise you’ve closed the space between you. lando is within reach now, it would have been so, so incredibly easy to shift even closer still; it was like you were in his gravitational field, reeled in by pretty, pretty eyes.

“who said i stopped?”

“oh.” you breathe.

~ 13

he snaps the crumbly biscuit between his fingers, trails towards her awkwardly. he feels bad, feels a strange pang in his chest that he doesn’t recognise.

he finds her around the back of her parents car, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, pouting hard. he thinks she’s cute.

“why are you here?” she whines.

“this is for you. i know it doesn’t make up for the race. i didn’t mean to take you out, i swear.”

he sounds panicked, sincere. her tummy turns funny.

he’s holding out a cookie, the children’s equivalent of an olive branch.

her face softens. she accepts it. they bite into their cookies at the same time.

it’s not the worst day in the world anymore.

~

messy kisses and soft whispers lull you to sleep.

his nose bumps yours every time your lips meet, gentle and plush.

you feel delicate in his arms, treasured. his lips press gently to your hairline. he’s different, softer than you’ve seen him since you were teenagers splitting cookies.

it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl into his side, mould together until you’re part of him, and drift off.

-

the heat wakes you up.

you stir, eyes fluttering open, searching for the source of the onslaught of warmth. it clicks quickly, and you realise that you hadn’t dreamt the events of the night before.

lando is in your bed.

lando had protected you.

lando had wanted you since you were stupid kids who didn’t know any better.

he is the heater that had woken you up, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re far too hot. you curl back into his side, head rests on his chest. it rises and falls softly, his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear. you are jealous of how pretty he looks when he’s asleep, relaxed and infatuating. you lose track of time, gazing up at him.

a sharp pain in your side makes you groan. you had fallen asleep in your dress, lando in his jeans and his shirt, and now you’re paying for it, your fingers searching for the zipper that was now digging into your side. your movements draw him out of his slumber, and when you look back at him, he’s watching you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“you okay?” lando croaks, his voice deep and sleepy. it sends shockwaves through you.

“mhm. how did you sleep?” you ask, mindlessly running your hand over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. a smile breaks out across his face, eyes fluttering shut once more.

“really fucking well.” he laughs, almost in disbelief.

“yeah, me too.” you smile at him, shy.

“what’s bothering you?”

“well, a human heater woke me up and now this fucking zipper is killing me.” you joke. it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird.

“i am pretty hot i guess.”

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes and stand from the bed.

lando sits up, resting on his elbows. his eyes follow you as you walk around the room. you take a bottle of water, drinking half of it before passing it to him. his lips wrap around the bottle and you have to turn away, the ache between your legs that you’d been fighting for months rearing it’s irritating head. you clear your throat, composing yourself.

“need to get this dress off.”

lando pulls himself off of the mattress, stalking towards you. you stop in your tracks and he meets you at the foot of the bed. his hands find your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin in little circles, and then kisses you deeper than he did last night.

it’s impossible not to melt into him, hands running over his chest, his shoulders, and finally finding solace tangled in his curls. if someone told you the morning before that you’d wake up in lando’s arms, you would have cackled, urged them to seek medical attention, and probably spat in their face. how things change.

“i think you should keep it on, look so pretty.” lando breathes, staring down at you. you blush hard, leaning into him.

“but i’m uncomfortable.” you grin coyly. and then, a surge of confidence has you whispering: “i’ll let you take it off if you want.”

“let me make you comfortable first.” lando murmurs, dipping his head down until it rests in the crook of your neck. “want me to get you nice and comfortable, baby?” he kisses up your neck.

you cave, finally.

it takes him all of thirty seconds to have you spread out on his face, laying himself down on the mattress and pulling you on top of him so that you’re hovering over his lips. he mouthes at your panties for a second, getting his first taste of you, and then he drags them to the side, clearing a path. his tongue laves over your cunt, groaning as soon as he gets a proper taste.

your dress fans out over your thighs, and lando has disappeared beneath the fabric. you can tell he’s there, though, by the strong hands gripping onto your thighs, the tuft of curls peeking out, and the feeling of his nose bumping your clit as he buries his face deeper and deeper between your folds.

“lando.” you cry, throwing your head back. the straps of your dress are slipping down your arms, skimming your goosebump ridden skin. he just groans into your pussy in response, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth, backwards and forwards until you’re grinding down on his willing tongue. you reach down blindly, grabbing one of his hands where it rests on your thigh, and your other threads through his hair, gripping tight as you revel in the pleasure.

lando pulls your clit between his teeth, grazing over the bud and you’re jolting, writhing above him. you feel like you’re going to die, heat pricking all over your skin, your tummy tight from the building orgasm. he’s so eager, sliding his entire face through your slippery folds, obscene sounds falling from his lips that ricochet through your quivering body.

tears prick your eyes when you finally let go, slumping forwards from the overwhelming sensation taking over every single nerve. he lifts you off of him, laying you back on the bed as you come down from your high.

“you okay, baby?” he coos, brushing sweat dampened hair from your eyes.

his lips are stained, dark pink and shiny, a mixture of enthusiasm and your slick coating them. lando scans your watery eyes, feral at how fucked out you look all because of him, and tantalisingly licks his lips.

“need you.” you moan, reaching out for him. his shirt is wrinkled where he’d slept in it and your shaky hands find the few buttons that are actually done up. you push the material off of his shoulders, pupils blown wide at the sight of his toned chest, at the feel of smooth, golden skin. you pull him in by the shoulders, swallowing him whole as you kiss him with everything you’ve got left.

lando’s hands find your thighs once more, running his hands over them to push your dress up your hips.

“wanted this for so long.” he whispers into the kiss, pulling away so that he can take the dress off of you. he looks ravenous the more he pushes the fabric up your body.

you feel vulnerable under his intense gaze, watchful eyes taking in every movement you make. you try to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists.

“let me look at you, please?” lando asks. “there you go, baby, let’s get this off, hmm?” he sits you up so that he can get it over your head, and you lay back, bare aside from your panties that he’d left in disarray.

he sucks in a breath, raking his eyes over the curve of your lips, your collarbone, the slope of your breasts. his gaze lingers there for just a second, before continuing further over your belly, the length of your legs. you want to hide away, pull him in so that he can’t look at you like this, or just dive under the duvet and stay there until you need to catch your flight.

“god, you’re so, so fucking beautiful.” he gasps, awestruck. he sounds speechless, and you feel yourself going red again.

“come here.” you whine. “needed you for so long.”

your admission seems to kick him into action, because seconds later, he’s on top of you, fingers grazing the band of your underwear while you fiddle with the button on his jeans.

“gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” lando stares you down, tone sending a shiver down your spine. you nod, batting your eyelashes. “words, my love.”

“yes, lando.” you affirm, arching into him. that’s all he needs to know, kicking his jeans away, boxers too.

“good girl. took care of me so well last night, now ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

your eyes skim his body, honing in on how hard he is. your hand finds his cock, tentative at first, stroking over it softly. it’s heavy in your hands, red and dripping already. he wants this just as bad as you do. you continue to jerk him off, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part, soft pants falling out. a low hum sounds from the back of his throat, and you wet your lips, threading your free hand through his hair.

lando opens his eyes at the sensation, gently batting your hand away. he dips down even closer, resting on one of his forearms. he lines himself up and your legs wrap around him instinctively. slowly, he pushes inside of you, his breath catching in his throat.

“fucking hell.” he groans, deep and guttural, something carnal sending shockwaves through his body. “been dreaming about all the ways i’d get to fuck you.”

your eyes roll back and you go languid in his arms, feeling every inch of him slide against your slick walls.

“want you.” you rasp, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving patterns between his taut shoulder blades as you beg for it.

“you have me, baby.” and then he kisses you, messy and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. you’re dizzy when he pulls away, sitting back slightly to change the angle. you cry out, feeling him even deeper and everything is more sensitive, warm. you roll your hips, meeting his thrusts deliciously, and he chokes out a moan as you clamp around him. “yeah, that’s it. fuck yourself like that for me.” he encourages.

this is all too much, too good. you have whiplash, physically and emotionally, eyes pooling with tears as the man you’d wanted so badly that you hated him for it rocks into you. lando hits the right spot every time he pistons his hips harder, and his nimble fingers slide up your abdomen, applying light pressure to your navel that makes you writhe.

“fucking perfect for me. gorgeous.” lando slurs, entranced by the sight of where you’re joined. he can see just how wet you are and it drives him insane, barrelling into you like a man possessed, drunk on every single way that your body responds to him.

his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading it before he traces your nipple. he watches the way it hardens at his manipulation, wetting his lips. he collapses back on top of you, sucking the bud into his mouth. you’re panting, whining beneath him as his tongue swirls over your chest, switching to the other side. you jolt, a silent scream scratching your throat when he slips his hand between your thighs, working your clit with the pad of his thumb. he’s rutting against you, grinding deeper, faster, uncontrollably.

“come on, baby. you’re so close, so tight for me.” he mutters into your skin. you nod frantically, your words lost on you. he kisses over your collarbone, the base of your throat, until he finds your lips.

“so close.” you sigh.

he stops.

“tell me you’re all mine.” lando growls, his entire demeanour changing. the tone of his voice almost finishes you off but you’re suddenly enraged. you’re too close for him to stop.

“c’mon lando.” you hiss, trying to move your hips but he has you firmly in place.

“need to hear you say it.” his hand slithers over your chest, finding a new home at the base of your throat. it makes you throb, the way his thick fingers wrap around you. slowly, his grip tightens, and you see an opportunity.

you buck your hips hard, whimpering at the sensation, but your plan works and now you hover over him. he’s still buried inside you, and you can feel him pulsing as you steal control.

“for once in your life, honey, shut the fuck up.” you smirk, mischievous in victory.

slowly, you build up your rhythm. he feels bigger like this, deeper, and you almost lose yourself in the small circles you make with your hips.

“knew you’d be like this. you liked giving yourself to me but i just knew you’d need to take back control.” lando teases. his hand is back around your neck, squeezing slowly, and you grind frantically, dizzy for him. “i was right last night, wasn’t i, baby? pretending to be my good girl when really,” he pulls you down so that you’re chest to chest. “you’re just a fucking brat.”

lando holds you close as he fucks up into you, feeling the way you go limp on top of him as the pleasure washes over you like a million electric shocks. you’re crying, tears pooling on his chest, because there is nothing you can do, nothing you want to do, but take it. he’s got you right where he wants you, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

“yeah, baby, take it how you want it.” lando commands through gritted teeth, and you move your hips in a feeble attempt to match his speed. everything is slippery, everything feels wet and flushed.

the power play, the position, the frenzy he seems to be in as he fucks you, it all has you gushing, spilling all over him. you choke out a sob, shuddering as the elastic band in your belly snaps. lando stops his thrusts, replacing them with small rolls of his hips to help you through your orgasm.

a sharp breath and a string of curses from him give you the strength to muster the last little bits of energy you have left to look up at him. you pull your head up off of his chest just in time to watch him shatter into a million little pieces.

his neck flexes as his head rolls back, sinking into the pillow, his eyes tight. swollen lips part and your name falls from between them like a prayer. you can feel him filling you up, his hands tightening their hold on your hips like he’s scared to let go, like the world will stop if he does.

the world stops anyway, because then you’re looking at each other. really looking at each other.

it only takes a second for you to be drawn in and his hands leave your hips to cup your face. his calloused hands feel your skin, stroking over rosy patches on your cheeks. it’s deathly silent all around you, apart from the breathless pants you share.

swollen lips crash hard into yours and you melt. he’s still buried so deeply inside of you, your hips digging into his, impossibly close. you’re blindly reaching for any part of him you can get your hands on, and his big hands slide down your body until they meet the small of your back. ever so carefully, he flips you onto your back, easing your spent body into the mattress.

lando collapses on top of you, mouthes at your neck for a moment, delicate kisses making your eyes flutter shut. the eye contact almost sends you into cardiac arrest as he pulls out, oh so slowly. tease.

he holds you close in the shower, fingers massaging every part of you. sex and sweat are washed away, almost lovingly. you let the water run for far too long, content in clinging to him. it’s quiet, reflective time for both of you, exactly what it needs to be. you’re both hung up on questions that need to be asked, neither one of you brave enough to take the first steps. you know one thing, and one thing only: something has changed, in a forever kind of way.

your hair is stringy, half dry, and you’re stood in your underwear. your legs are still shaky.

“your flight soon?” lando asks. he’s stood in his boxers on the other side of the room, scrunching the water out of his curls.

“yeah.” your throat feels raw.

“and you’re going back to monaco?” he’s stopped what he’s doing now, staring at you. you can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

you nod.

“fancy a sleepover?” he grins, boyish and careless. your heart falls to your feet.

you’re giggling when he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you into the freshly made bed. the sheets are on the floor by the time you finally remember you have a flight to catch.

you’re his now, you realise. he’s too beautiful for his own damn good.

-

“baby?” you hear lando call from his bedroom. you make out the faint sound of his footsteps making their way in your direction. he appears before you can even answer him, and he’s smiling softly at the sight of you bundled up in a blanket, sprawled across his couch.

“what is it?” you ask. the next thing you know he’s on top of you, peppering kisses over every single inch of skin he can get to on your face. “hey, get off, muppet.” you whine playfully, ruffling his hair.

“do you know how much i love having you here?” he murmurs. it’s endearing as fuck and you fight a foolish, dopey grin.

“you’ve mentioned once or twice…” you’ve been here since your flight touched down a week ago. you haven’t even been home to get clothes, not that you needed them in his company.

“we might have a teeny, tiny issue.” he squints, pulling a face.

“and what’s that?” you ask, your voice measuring equal parts cautious and amused.

“so, alex called…”

“oh, shit.”

“we have to go to dinner tonight.”

“we have to?”

“he’s suspicious as fuck. you do realise they’ve been plotting for us to happen for years,” you roll your eyes as if you say duh. “and also, you’ve been in monaco for a week and haven’t seen him once. oh, and also, the last time we saw them, we were running away from a fucking crime scene.” lando smiles sarcastically, and you sigh, defeated.

before you can reply, your phone is ringing somewhere beside you. you root around in your blanket searching for it and when you find it:

“son of a bitch.” you exclaim, showing lando the caller ID. alex is one persistent motherfucker.

“hey girl.” alex singsongs down the phone before you can even say hello.

“hello to you too.” you can hear the fear in your own voice.

“dinner. tonight. although, i’m sure lando already told you.” alex teases.

“why would lando have told me? what?” you choke. lando slaps his hand over his face. your voice has gone up several octaves. not suspicious at all.

“so, you’re at home? you haven’t been at his place since last week?” the playful interrogation begins.

“why would i be with lando?” you try and feign disgust at the implication. it does not work.

“because you hate fucked after he beat up that perv? i have to say, i didn’t think he had it in him but he’s been in love with you since he was like, ten, so, you know-”

“bye alex.”’

“you’re not denying it-“

“bye alex!”

you’re flaming red when you throw the phone to the other end of the sofa. lando, as on brand as ever, is cackling into a pillow.

“he is such a fucking shit stirrer.” you bury your face in your hands, slumping back into the fuzzy cushions.

“well, he’s right about one thing.” lando trails off. suddenly he’s looking anywhere but you and you see him gulp, hard, swallowing his words, like he’s too afraid to bare his soul.

“huh?” you ask gently, sitting up to reach out for him. “what’s wrong?”

“we need to get ready for dinner. that’s what he’s right about.” lando says, standing from the sofa and walking towards his room. you’re suspicious, watching him go with furrowed eyebrows.

-

“lando, behave! you’re the one making me go to this dinner.” you squeal, batting his restless hands away.

you’ve made it as far as the elevator before he pounces on you, caging you in against the metal walls.

“but you look so good, can’t help myself.” he mutters between kisses on your neck, pressing himself even further into you.

the hand that finds it’s way between your legs, exploring beyond the hem of your skirt, is the one that makes you press the button for his floor. why have plans when you can have sex?

he gets through the door to his apartment at lighting speed and carries you all the way to his bed.

when you’re sweating and breathless a good hour later, half of the bedding on the floor with your clothes, you realise you never cancelled your plans.

lando is drawing shapes into the bare skin of your arm, kissing over your shoulder as he does so. his eyes are dropping from all of the over-exertion and you want to count each and every freckle on his face while he falls asleep. he’s cute like this, soft and yours.

and idea comes to your mind, and as if he can see the lightbulb, lando half raises an eyebrow at you. you giggle, somewhat evilly perhaps, and scramble for your phone on the beside table.

“what’re you doing?” lando groans, pouting as his outstretched arms try to find you.

“getting even.” you state.

with the phone in your clutches, you roll back over towards him, holding the camera above you both. he hears the shutter sound as you snap the picture, and peers closer to see the screen. when he sees the groupchat open, he quickly understands what you’re plotting.

“may i?” you ask for his consent.

“are you kidding? go for it. that’ll shut them up.” he laughs sleepily, muttering something about how this is the most lando thing you’ve ever done

FROM: you

TO: the groupchat

1 image attached

couldn’t make dinner. something came up xx

“alex always thinks he’s right, this’ll teach him for being such a little shit.” you flop back into bed even more satisfied than you were before.

you hear lando inhale shakily beside you.

“he is right sometimes you know.” he repeats his earlier words.

you hold your breath. his eyes say so many things that are too delicate to be spoken yet.

“like… like what he said on the phone?” your voice quivers with anticipation, fear. your heart is thunderous, hammering away like it wants to escape the clutches of its cage.

“yeah. i-“ he stops himself. you don’t need him to finish, you know which two words follow. they can follow in good time, you both know it.

“me too, lando.” you coo.

he’s beaming, eyes half shut. you watch as he falls asleep, the both of you ignoring the way your phones are vibrating so aggressively that they might buzz their way off of the night stand. you lose count of his freckles, but it doesn’t matter.

you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

-

let me know what you think :D

-

taglist

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(i ran out of tags omg? whoops) lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris oneshot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut #f1 fics #formula 1 fics #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #lando norris fics #smut #fluff #angst #writing things #requests

[nathaslosthershit]

Teen Dad (OP81)

(Part 1 of the Blind Item Series) (Part 1 of the Teen Dad OP AU)

Summary: Rumors are flying about a young driver with kids

Seeing the rumor, and various other tweets commenting on the matter, first thing this morning was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him. Oscar immediately sat up, frightening his fiancée who was asleep next to him a moment before.

“What? What's wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, sitting up.

“Fuck this is not good.” He mumbled as he looked through more tweets. He knew he had minutes before his PR team started messaging him on how best to proceed. 

“Osc, you are really scaring me. What is going on?” His fiancée asked again. After 5 years together and two kids, she knew him well enough to know that Oscar isn’t easily woken up. While he usually wakes up early to train or help the kids, on days like today where he has the chance to sleep in, he will usually take it. But the amount of notifications he started getting were enough to get him to check his phone and once he saw the severity of the situation he was awake and alarmed. 

“A blind item about a ‘younger f1 driver with two kids he had as a teen’ just went up. No confirmation on who but it seems they have gotten it down to only a few of us. They don’t know yet but I am sure they will know soon.” 

He was grateful they hadn’t clocked in on him but Oscar was sure with a bit more time to dig people would put two and two together. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he was a teen dad, not anymore at least. When he was even more so an up and coming driver, he kept it hush because he was nervous being 18 with two kids would lead teams to reconsider where his priorities were, his family or his career. That wouldn’t have been crazy of them to do though, as important as racing was to Oscar, he would always pick his family first. Luckily, though, he had a great enough support system so he didn't have to choose. 

Most people in Oscar’s life knew. Any teams apart from Prema, Mclaren, and Alpine were none the wiser but why would they need to know? Not all drivers knew either, some who he had become closer to were let in on the secret, especially Logan, who had been there the entirety of his kids' lives. Annoyingly, at least in Oscar’s opinion, he has been titled ‘the cool uncle’ from day one. 

“What do we do?” his fiancée asked, snapping him out of his spiraling.

“I imagine it is up to my team to figure that one out. I’ll message them now. Get the kids ready and I’ll be done in time to help with breakfast.” He said as he got up.

After a long, pretty impromptu, call, it was decided Oscar would make a statement about it before it was revealed to be him. He wasn’t too happy about not getting to really do it on his own terms but this is the way it worked out, and hey, Oscar would be lying if he said he wasn’t already planning which race he was going to bring his kids to first.

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, logansargeant, landonorris, and 518,294 others

oscarpiastri This is of course not how I wanted to do this. I had hoped to have more time before I had to let the peace of privacy go but these things happen when you are in the spotlight. So yes, I am a father of two great kids and I have been since I was 18. I am not ashamed by the fact I was a teen dad, and am certainly not hiding my kids out of anything but love. I hadn’t realized I could truly love anything or anyone more than racing but then these two came into my life and I realized I would give it all up for them. Luckily, with the support of their mother (who is my fiancée) and my family, I didn’t have to give it up. My four person family means more to me than anything and I count my lucky stars each night that I have been blessed with them. I ask that you please respect our privacy. This isn’t the end of you seeing the Piastri twins but I, being the over protective father I am, am not ready to throw two 3 year olds into the chaos of the motorsport world just yet.

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Part 2: A Much Needed Interview out now!

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #oscar piastri #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #op81 fic #op81

[sainzfilm]

I think we as a collective NEED a fic on that goddam video of that max00 fan getting into a argument while over a dinner!! Something about the reader reacting to the way the guy was talking to him and literally ending him with some remark, and little meow meow Charles looking at you with the most loving eyes for defending him 🥹

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

a/n: MY GOD…..that made my blood boil. charles handled it so calmly though, i gotta tip my hat off to him. you’re never gonna see me that calm once someone crosses the line honestly. just made a few tweaks here and there to make the drabble a bit more interesting :)

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“Baby, I’ll just go to the comfort room,” You whisper as you stood up, grabbing your purse and kissing Charles’ temple, “Excuse me.”

Charles nodded as he continued eating, conversing with the other people seated around in the table. It was a peaceful dinner, not as enjoyable since he’d prefer to grab one with you and the other drivers on the grid.

Not until a man from the far end of the table started questioning Charles, “What is your vision?”

“Red Bull is a strong team, especially in the second half of the season. They managed to make upgrades,” Charles shrugged as he held onto his chopsticks, “They’ve got a very good pace in the car, it’s going to be difficult but it’s possible.”

Exiting the comfort room, you frowned as you heard the commotion from a few tables away. At first, you didn’t bother as it was probably some sort of discussion with regards to the technicalities of the sport.

Taking your seat back next to Charles, you placed the table napkin back on your lap and looked in between the two men having a discussion. You didn’t have to catch the entirety to be prepared for what the man was about to drop.

The man scoffed as he raised his palm, “But, how are you going to win against my Max Verstappen?”

Charles just gave a small smile as he continued eating. You scoffed as you took a quick look at him, whispering, “Is he being fucking serious right now? You’re not going to do anything?”

“It’s fine,” Charles softly replied as he patted your thigh with his hand, “I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

You frowned as you shook your head and turned to the man, who continuously rambled on about ‘his Max Verstappen’, “Excuse me? Sir?”

“Now, who is this?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Charles’ girlfriend,” You tried to smile as politely as you could muster, “I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate over a peaceful dinner, but you’re being completely rude.”

“Rude?” The man laughed as he shook his head, “How am I being rude? For actually asking him how he could win against Max?”

“Exactly. You’re being an ass,” You scoffed as you crossed your arms, “Everyone is trying to have a peaceful dinner and you come around and trying to sour up everyone’s mood – especially my boyfriend’s.”

“What? Charles can’t defend himself against my remarks?”

“No, he can but he chooses not to because you’re pathetic,” You smiled sarcastically, “He can and will win against Max. Charles has the skill and talent, I have faith in him and so do millions of other Tifosi. He isn’t called ‘Il Predestinato’ for nothing.”

Before the man can respond to you, you raised a finger to silence him, “If you can’t say anything nice, then I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Don’t be all bark and no bite, you can’t even do what Charles does, so just bugger off.”

Charles looked at you, a twinkle in his eyes, as if you were the epitome of all things brave as a person. Any other individual would have noticed how Charles resembled a lovesick puppy, but that didn’t matter.

You stood up and grabbed your purse, turning to Charles and holding your hand out, “Now, please excuse us. I can’t stomach to share a table with some loudmouth bully.”

Looking to the other people seated, Charles mouthed his apologies before grabbing your hand and walking out of the restaurant.

“Quel connard!” You exclaimed as you waited for the valet to drive up the car, “J'ai l'impression que ma tension artérielle est au plafond. Je déteste les hommes comme lui.” What an asshole! I feel like my blood pressure is to the roof, I hate men like him.

Charles chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek, “Mon ange, calm down. I know that you switch to full on French when you’re angry.”

“Okay, I’ll calm down,” You exhaled and held onto his arm, “I’m sorry if you didn’t like the way I acted back in there. I just – I fucking hate how it seemed like he was doubting you.”

“I know that, Y/N,” Charles turned you around, holding your face in his hands, “And I’m grateful for how you defended me. No apologies, okay?”

“I love you,” You mumbled as you hugged him, “I’ll defend you any time of the day.”

“I love you most,” Charles smiled as he rested his chin on the top of your head, “And I’ll do the same for you.”

bonus scene!

Liked by pierregasly, leclercupdates, and 103,372 others

paddockgossip it looks like some drama went down at the dinner our beloved couple attended! luckily, we’ve heard that Y/N defended our il predestinato from a heated discussion 😉

view all 27,273 comments

pierregasly didn’t you know? Y/N is the president of the leclerc protection squad 😛

mercupdates i cant 😭 this is a certified liked by pierre gasly moment and just here to defend his best friends

leclercupdates she represents all of us from that video that went viral 😤 girlboss Y/N we LOVE to see it

charlosbestboys damn right, she is THE moment

#sainzfilm drabbles #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #fluff #f1 driver x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #cl16 #lec16 #ferrari #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you

[russilton]

I know we all love George and feel for him but what is your opinion on the fact no one from Merc was at the podium for Lewis. I'm conflicted

I don’t like to be the “well actually- here’s where they did it to George” guy- but we saw this in Baku 22, I found it justified then; and it was justified today.

For those who weren’t about for it, George ended up third on the podium in Azerbaijan (2022) but it seemed like he had no team under the podium. At the same time, Lewis ended up needing help out of the car because porposing had been so severe on the W13 it was doing damage to their backs, and that weekend the street circuit surface was so irregular that Lewis ended up horribly in pain post race.

The team, rightfully, jumped to make sure he was okay and while some Merc mechanics confirmed later they had actually been at the podium, they just hadn’t been caught by the cameras, the managing/engineering team seemed to get caught up in ensuring Lewis was alright, and then safe to go to the media he is obligated to attend.

A lot of people were upset then, and that’s fair, but I personally found it fair that the team got caught between making sure one driver was okay, and the other was celebrated, and ended up choosing the former. That is what I would prefer they do, I bet it’s what a lot of DRIVERS would prefer they do.

I’m willing to bet that’s what happened today. In the scramble to get George’s damaged car back, half the mechanics are busy collecting the fucked car half way round the track, a few will be cooling and collecting Lewis’ car at the podium, and the upper management team was consoling a guilt ridden George before he has to face the press. I imagine that means that while Lewis didn’t have a lot of people at his podium, he has a few, just not the expected crowd.

Does that suck for Lewis? It’s probably not great, but it’s third and the guy himself didn’t seem to have his usual energy as is. Singapore is exhausting, and while he’s happy for the podium, that’s not how you want it to happen for your team. He made that point himself. If the positions were flipped, folks would be livid the team were cheering George while Lewis struggled.

Forgetting all that, Lewis is clearly over it if it bothered him at all, given the post race video of him with the mechanics, and I think we should follow his lead. Your team is with you for the lows and the highs, and those clash sometimes.

#asks #anonymous #Mark’s driver meta #wank/rants #a lot of this is assumptions #but anyone whose taking some in the dark camera footage and eye accounts that Lewis had no team is making assumptions too #I don’t know If Merc handled socials well today- but in a flipped situation if they celebrated too much Lewis people would be pissed #singapore gp 2023

[stufframblings]

Please ignore these if you don’t feel like answering them or you already answered them ❤️

Fancy a fun question chain to pass around f1blr?? Over to you, lovely!

• Name (or what you want to be called on tumblr)

• Where are you from?

• Where do you live?

• Any pets?

• Favorite driver(s) currently on the grid, and why?

• Favorite driver(s) not currently on the grid and why?

• Favorite romantic driver pairing(s)

(e.g. Maxiel, Carlando)

• Driver you're most attracted to physically

• Driver whose personality you like best

• Favorite driver friendship(s)

• Favorite team principal

• Favorite team

• Least favorite team, if any

• Driver(s) you dislike, if any

• If you're a fic writer: if you could only write about one f1 pairing for the rest of your life who are you choosing?

Please send this to 10 (or more!) other F1 tumblr users that you love and want to get to know better 🫶

Thank you, Diana, @artemispt for the ask ❤️

• Name (or what you want to be called on tumblr): Andrea, Andi, Andie, whatever you wanna call me actually :)

• Where are you from? Switzerland

• Where do you live? Switzerland

• Any pets? A cat named Trixli

• Favorite driver(s) currently on the grid, and why? Carlos, because of his intelligence, his work ethic, and I just like him. Lando, because of his ambitions and drive to overcome his obstacles. Fernando, because I just like how much he doesn't give a shit and is still driving like he's a mad man.

• Favorite driver(s) not currently on the grid and why? Michael Schumacher, I don't think I have to explain this one. Sebastian Vettel, because of his attitude and he comes across like a genuine person. Clay Regazzoni, the man was just great. Niki Lauda.

• Favorite romantic driver pairing(s): Carlando and Versainz. Charlos if it's written by the right author ;)

• Driver you're most attracted to physically: Carlos Sainz and if I was younger Lando Norris. Lewis Hamilton as well.

• Driver whose personality you like best: Carlos Sainz because I always like the ones who are not as loud but are intelligent. Also, everyone who knows him and has worked with him, likes him. That's all I need to know. Lando Norris because of his humour. Sebastian Vettel, again because he comes across as a genuine and nice person. Fernando Alonso, because he comes across like he cares about the people around him but also doesn't let people play with him.

• Favorite driver friendship(s): Carlos and Lando, Carlos and Fernando, Carlos and Max, Carlos and Lewis, Carlos and Charles, everyone with Carlos actually. Lando and Max, Lando and Fernando, Lando, George and Alex.

• Favorite team principal: Boah, I don't really have one. Maybe James Vowles and Andrea Stella cause they seem like they care about their drivers.

• Favorite team: Sauber. I'm fucked, I know.

• Least favorite team, if any: Alpine. Get fucked!

• Driver(s) you dislike, if any: I don't really dislike drivers but I wouldn't be sad if Pierre wasn't on the grid anymore.

#about me

[nelle-fairytale]

Redbull : Keep doing what ur doing because it working

Mercedes : what’s with your car? Ion get it, I get the team have to go thru “that” year and hopefully you will be better next year.

Ferrari : Wtf is ur Strategy ? And you have two drivers, when CARLOS does well, it doesn’t take much for you to GO AND SUPPORT HIM. Smh

Alpine : NGL, y’all made a pretty good car. And Alsonso for that shit you said about Lewis, like stop, it’s 2022, that personal shit just drop it. Move on.

Mclaren : y’all a “was” and “has been” team. You will always be this because you will choose one driver over the other instead of working to make the team better. Idk who ur strategists is, but fire them honestly. Team Boss Zak Brown, instead of having a father-son relationship with ur chosen one, have a boss-driver relationship, you let him run and own ur team, and can you build a decent Fucking car for Daniel for the rest of the season, y’all have money.. A lot of it too. Daniel deserves the absolute best, and you guys know it. At the end of the year make sure you pay up that nice 24 mil

Alfa Romeo : the best pairing y’all have. Zhou is doing so good for a rookie and we all know what Bottas is capable of.

Haas : kmag, ofc he’s great, don’t let him go, Mick too.

Alpha Tauri : what the fuck man? Like what ? Y’all have two great drivers. But if y’all keep listening to Helmut, which I think needs to call it quits, y’all won’t have any drivers left. Pierre is an amazing person who deserve tho world, and Yuki, he’s young and has much to learn.

Aston Martin : I don’t really know what to say, another that we’re losing Seb 💔

Williams : Genuine question.. why do you still have Latifi ? And Alex is going good for you guys. Honestly.

#formula 1 #f1 #red bull f1 #ferrari #mercedes f1 #mclaren #alpine #alfa romeo #haas f1 team #aphlatauri #aston martin #williams formula 1

[parkers-gal]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeHva3Te/

This could be so good with Tom. Imagine you’re shopping with the boys as well 🤍

stop 😭 😭 he’d get so flustered bye

( for those of u who don’t wanna watch the tiktok, it’s captioned “when your boyfriend wears sweats to target so you try to get him hard at every chance u get” )

(that being said, this is a warning for major boners & boner related talks, lol)

wc: 1.3k

—

A quick trip to the supermarket meant neither you nor Tom (or any of the other boys, for that matter) bothered with changing into appropriate clothes. You basically went in your pajamas — for you, that meant Tom’s hoodie and flannel pants. For Tom, however, that meant his favorite jumper, a beanie, and a sexy pair of grey sweatpants.

Tom sits beside you in the driver’s seat, once again debating with Harry if the house needs another set of ridiculous pots for the backyard garden. It’s been an ongoing debate of “we need fairy-themed ones!” to “the ones we have are perfectly fine!” You’re not sure if you should get involved at all.

A buzz in your pocket alerts you that someone must have texted you, so you pull your phone out. In a text, your friend had sent you a TikTok and added her own message.

aisha: this is so something u would do

Intrigued, you tap on the link. It successfully takes you to the app, and after impatiently waiting, you watch as the girl in the video teases her boyfriend in various places in the supermarket. You smirk to yourself, glancing up to make sure nobody else has managed to see what you’re viewing on your phone. Quickly, you save the video and text your friend back.

you: im so doing this. we’re heading to the store now. i’ll update with the vid soon.

Not a second later, she responds.

aisha: you’re evil.

aisha: and i envy you

The next ten minutes go by in a blur. You figure out how to format the video and, after brief bickering between Sam and Harrison about who gets to sit in the cart, the six of you pile into the store.

You head to the produce section first. (You’re not sure why. Every single time, you tell them the delicate vegetables should be piled on top of everything else, meaning you attend to this section of the store last. It seems like nobody else cares about squished tomatoes, though.)

The boys split up; Harry and Tuwaine team up on the broccoli section, managing to get the gross Brussel sprouts Tom loves more than you. Harrison goes off towards the fruits and Sam stays put in the cart.

Tom manages to take control of where the cart is going and he parks in front of the barrel of onions. Sam holds open the bag while Tom picks and chooses the ones he wants. Pondering how to go about this, you finally decide to just go for it.

“Don’t get that one,” you interject, stepping forward. “Get this one, and the one over there.”

Tom nods, not thinking much about the situation. You decide to keep moving forward, but instead of going around the cart, you squeeze yourself in between the shelves and Tom, successfully rubbing up against his crotch. Faintly, you hear his breath hitch, and after walking away, you quickly turn around to see Tom. You’ve ducked from his view, but he’s staring at where you just were, exhaling deeply and trying to maintain his composure.

You know this “look” better than anything. Quickly, you whip out your phone and begin recording the first part of your TikTok. You snicker to yourself, watching as Tom sets the bag of onions in the cart and quickly puts his hands in front of his crotch. You’re knee-deep in your own laughter when Harry and Tuwaine curiously come up to you.

Hastily, you shut your phone off and shove it in your pocket, standing up straight and acting as normal as possible.

“What was-”

“Nothing. Did you guys get the lettuce?”

“Yeah…” Harry trails off suspiciously. They decide to let it slide, and the three of you make your way back over to the cart.

“We done here?” Tuwaine asks. Murmured yes’s float around and the six of you leave the produce section and head off to the pharmacy section of the store.

“Do we need more toothpaste?”

“No, but we need more floss.”

“Ugh. Mouth stuff,” Harry groans.

You step closer to Tom, phone in hand, and you lean close to his ear. “Maybe we could do some mouth stuff later.” You whisper.

Tom’s eyes go wide and he looks at you in shock. You wear a proud smirk and grip your phone tighter, leaning close to him again and getting ready to record his reaction. “Y’know? Maybe I could suck your-”

“Stop it, Y/N,” he says firmly, eyeing you. You shrug in response, still wearing a proud smirk.

“What?” You say innocently.

Tom gets desperate and, after a few seconds, puts his hands on his knees for support — and paints it as if he’s leaning down to look for something on the shelf.

“Tom, mate, you good?” Harrison asks.

Tom looks up, exhales harshly, and nods. “Yep,” he stands, waddling off to another part of the aisle where you record, away from everyone else.

“What are you doing?” he whisper-shouts at you, still somewhat leaning on his knees.

“Nothing, daddy,” you say innocently. His eyes widen and he groans again, this time looking up at the ceiling in despair.

“Whatever game you two are playing, I really don’t want to be a part of it.” Harrison strides over.

“Yeah, you two have been acting weird all day. What’s up with that?” Sam asks.

You turn to Tom, teasingly clicking your tongue as a motivator for him to respond. “Yeah, Tommy. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he says through clenched teeth and a forced smile.

Harry rolls his eyes and moves the cart to the next aisle, the rest of the boys trailing behind him. You and Tom linger a little longer.

“What’s on your mind, Tommy?”

“Nothing,” he seethes, leaning over again to conceal any bulge that may be visible.

“Oh yeah,” you stroke his cheek with a giggle before running a hand through his curls. “What’s going through that big brain of yours?” He only eyes you, and you bite your lip. “Something dirty?” You whisper.

“Y/N,” he drags on, whining.

“What?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” He squeezes his eyes shut.

“What?” You whisper back. “It’s not my fault you’re thinking of fucking me.”

“Jesus Christ love,” he goes back into his leaning position. You giggle again, being another recording for your tiktok.

“Shouldn’t have worn sweats,” you say quietly. “Why did you wear sweats?”

“Because I’m stupid,” he groans an “ugh,” and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “I’m a div, that’s why.”

You chuckle again, “Yeah, you are.”

“You’re evil,” he looks up. “And you’re recording this! I can’t believe you.”

“What?” You tease. “Not my fault you’re hard.”

“Yes it is!” he gasps, locking eyes with you. “Is that why you’re teasing me? Is this another one of those tickey clock things?”

“What?” You laugh in bewilderment, looking at your boyfriend as if he’s crazy.

“You know what I mean! Those- those prank your boyfriend videos!”

“...Yes…”

“Y/N!”

“Sorry!” You exclaim with a smile. “It’s just fun to see you all flustered for me,” you run a hand through his hair, and he eventually stands straight, successfully calming himself down. “You good?”

“Mhm,” he nods at you, reaching for one of your hands.

“Good,” you smile with a glint he almost recognizes.

“What’re you-”

“Let’s go to the lube section.”

“Y/NNN!”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x you #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluffy #tom holland smutty #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland blurbs #tom fic #fluff #fic

[akysio]

Room for Coincidence - Chapter 7

(enviep1 on instagram)

Summary: It’s halloween night and you get a little… desperate.

Characters: Levi, Reader, Erwin, Jean, Eren, Hange, Mikasa, Moblit, Armin

Rating: Mature, minors DNI.

Warnings: smut, language

FRIDAY 31ST OCTOBER.

The next day you’re called into Levi’s office again.

He immediately stands up as you shuffle in, dreading whatever is coming your way.

“Cherry-“ his eyes soften.

“Don’t call me that anymore,” you mumble.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made our relationship complicated. We agreed on staying strictly professional and I pushed your boundaries,” he says. He looks genuine.

You ponder your response for a few, long seconds. “No, I’m sorry for making you choose. It was irrational and uncalled for-“ You let out but he interrupts.

“Don’t worry. Now we acknowledge that it happened, and that it cannot happen again. You’re a good associate, I wouldn’t want to ruin your career,” he explains.

“You won’t, but I agree. It won’t happen again, I assure you,” you smile. “You should come to the party tonight, it’ll help you loosen up. Y’know, put on some fancy dress and get to know the amazing team that helps me with your cases,” you wink.

“Loosen up? I’m already pretty… loose…” he mumbles, cursing himself for saying something so pathetic.

“Yeah,” you scoff. “Fuck your pride and have a few drinks with your colleagues, it’ll be fun.”

“Language,” he says sternly. “Maybe. Now, out,” he shoos you away. As soon as you leave, he’s asking Erwin for costume advice.

Levi never thought he’d show up to a halloween party dressed as a psychopath, but here he is. He found a suit of his, threw on a red tie and bought a clear raincoat from the store.

“You look good, Ackerman.” Erwin chuckles as Levi climbs into the backseat with him.

“Can’t say the same for you,” Levi teases. Erwin was dressed as an agent from Men in Black, and Levi was Patrick Bateman. “I feel like a fucking douche in this costume.”

“Well it’s that or be kicked out for not wearing a costume. Besides, you look pretty normal,” Erwin tried to reassure him, but it didn't settle the anxiety in Levi’s stomach.

“I wonder what Cherry is tonight,” Levi ponders out loud, Erwin hums in response.

“Whatever she is, it’ll drive us crazy…” Erwin mumbles, “what if she’s a schoolgirl?��

“Fuck, she better not be. I don’t know what I’d do but it wouldn’t end well,” Levi groans.

“Oh?” Erwin raises a brow as his driver approaches the club.

“Don’t act like you’re not immensely attracted to her, Eyebrows.”

Erwin chuckles at the nickname, “I suppose we’ll see soon.”

You did in fact consider dressing up as a schoolgirl tonight, but decided against it considering it’d probably drive Levi crazy. Especially after you’d both just established your now-platonic relationship.

You’d definitely pull the Cherry red lipstick out again though.

You giggle as Jean, dressed as Tyler Durden, wraps his arm around you as you both take a shot. You figured you’d both need one before spending the night with your employers. He was shirtless, a giant fur coat over his shoulders with red tinted glasses.

You were clad in white, booty shorts and a cropped basketball jersey, and bunny ears with a bunny tail to finish your costume as Lola Bunny.

You were pre drinking with Jean when everyone arrived. Eren Jaeger, who you still haven't formally met yet, sauntered into the bar dressed in full black with intense skeleton makeup. On his side was Mikasa, who you know but aren’t close with, is dressed as a vampire. They’d make a hot couple, you think.

Armin walks in with Marco, Armin as a clown and Marco as a cowboy. You smile as they join you and Jean, complimenting your outfits and ordering drinks.

Next is Hange and Moblit, who you see a lot of but have nothing to do with them, as Pennywise (Hange) and Georgie. You chuckle as people avoid Hange, they really did look scary.

Next in are a few attorneys, you know one of them is called ‘Hanes’ thanks to Armin. They’re dressed as pirates, truly taking on the role as they act rowdy and ungentlemanly around the bar.

There are a few more groups and dates that enter the club, and then you finally see Levi and Erwin enter together.

Levi seems to be Patrick Bateman, you notice they have the same arrogance and stoic expression. He looks good, he always does.

Erwin is dressed in a black suit, sunglasses and a toy gun in his hands as he dramatically enters the room. Levi scoffs, steering away from the foolish man before Erwin catches him and pulls him to the bar.

Levi is startled when Erwin suddenly whistles, “and suddenly my name is Bugs Bunny.”

“Huh?” Levi asks, following the direction of Erwin’s eyes as he sees you, jumping excitedly as you talk to Jean. “Is that the paralegal?”

“Yeah,” Erwin sighs. “He’s Armin’s buddy, doesn’t get along with Jaeger.”

“He seems to be getting along with our Cherry just fine,” Levi grits his teeth.

Erwin suddenly turns to him, smirking, and asks, “who doesn’t?”

“You’re fucking right.”

“I always am,” Erwin chuckles, bringing the bottle of beer up to his lips. “Let’s invite them all to a table.”

Levi’s face is sour as he follows Erwin like a lost puppy, letting him do all the talking. It’s not long before you’re all at a table; Jean, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Hange, Moblit, Erwin and Levi.

You’re drunk, giggling at one of Hange’s bizzare stories as everyone chuckles. The table was quite tense, but thanks to Hange, they had everyone laughing and loosening up in no time. Except Mikasa and Levi.

Mikasa was staring daggers at you all night, scoffing whenever Eren’s eyes landed on your body for a second too long. Of course you didn’t notice, you were drunk and pumping with energy you desperately needed to burn off.

Levi was torn between staring at Eren or Jean, who also seemed to be leaning a little too close to your ear whenever you couldn’t hear him. It made Levi’s blood boil.

Erwin was good at hiding his jealousy, although he was well aware of what was happening.

“I need to fix my hair,” you tell Jean, climbing over his legs to get to the bathroom. Eren’s eyes widened as he got an eyeful of your ass, Levi’s grip on his bottle tightened.

A few minutes later, Erwin excused himself from the table and headed for the restrooms.

He sees you reapplying your lipstick and immediately wants to ruin it.

“You know, sweetheart. I thought you belonged to me and Levi, but the way you’re hanging on that boys shoulder tells me otherwise,” Erwin teases, you turn around startled.

“I don’t belong to anyone? Especially not Levi.” You scoff, knowing Erwin hates your attitude like this.

“Are you sure about that? Do I need to refresh your memory and find that video-“

You cut him off, pouting. “I said I’m not Levi’s…”

“You said you don’t belong to anyone, and you know you’re lying. Are you purposely trying to rile me up?” He approaches you, trapping you against the sink.

“Is that even a question?” You bite your bottom lip, smirking as you lean your lips closely to his. He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, backing you up into one of the bathroom stalls and ripping your ridiculously tight shorts to your ankles.

“Little minx,” he has your back against his chest, leg hooked up over his forearm and his other hand rubs your pussy. You moan, grinding into his hand. “So desperate you want me in a public restroom, huh? That’s okay baby, I’ve got you now.” His lips nip at your ear, “who do you belong to?”

He pushes a finger inside of you, gathering up your wetness and rubbing it through your now slick folds.

“I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard on my fingers, okay baby? All you gotta do is keep making those pretty little sounds,” he rumbles into your ear.

And it’s exactly what he does. It doesn’t take long for you to be shaking in his grasp, his slender fingers speedily fucking your puckering hole. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum Erwin,” you breathe out.

“Good girl, cum for me. Cum on my fingers baby,” he eggs you on. He delivers a slap to your pussy, and it pushes you over the edge. You're fisting his suit, your face pressed into his chest and your moans muffled in his shirt.

He calms you down, caressing your thigh as he kisses your forehead and helps you pull your shorts back up.

“Hope I didn’t exhaust you too much, I’m looking forward to seeing you dance,” he winks.

“I don’t know…” you huff, still catching your breath. You’re sure after a few drinks you’ll be back to normal, but right now you’re experiencing post-orgasm tiredness.

“That’s okay baby,” he wraps his arms around you. “You can sit with me until you feel up for it.” You nod in his blazer jacket, nuzzling your head into his warm body. He gives you one last kiss on the lips, before he leaves the restroom and returns to the table.

You wait a few minutes before joining the rest of the group. You deliberately ignore Levi’s stare, ashamed that he knows. You weren’t ashamed of Erwin, you were ashamed that you’d gotten so desperate you needed him to fuck it out of you in a public place.

He knows, of course he does. Because he wishes it was him you needed.

You see Erwin lick his fingers as you make eye contact, blushing, you turn to Jean.

“Wanna dance?”

You’re rolling and grinding on different people, mostly women, on the dance floor. Erwin and Levi both watch from a distance, scowl forming on Levi’s face as Eren’s hands land on your hips.

“Been wanting to have a moment with you all night,” his voice is raspy in your ear and you blush easily. “When are you gonna tell your two guard dogs to get lost?”

“They’re not my guard dogs,” you drop to the floor, your ass grinding against Eren as you pop back up.

“Then what are they?“

You decide to ignore his question and ask one of your own, “did you need me for something?”

He looks down at you, his hands roaming from your waist to your hips. “I thought you looked cute, and then I saw you dancing and you looked sexy as fuck. And now, I’m shooting my shot.”

You pause for a moment before asking, “do you wanna join me for a drink?”

He smirks, “lead the way, bunny.”

You have to admit, Eren is fun to talk to. He’s flirtatious, confident, scintillating. He talks about his friends and you know he admires them deeply, you hope your friends talk about you like that.

“I know this is quite soon, but I’d really like to take you out,” he smiles, his hand rubbing the small of your back.

“Oh yeah? And where would you take me?” You tease, leaning closer to him and he smiles nonchalantly. Erwin and Levi have more of a reaction when you tease them.

“Well, first I’d pick you up and take you to a jazz bar on 44th. I’d take your coat and pull out your chair for you, we’d have amazing food and we’d drink; then we’d watch the jazz band for a bit. Then I’d introduce you to the pianist who was one of my friends back at Harvard,” he jokes. “You’d be impressed and let me take you home. Then, the rest is up to you,” he explains. He was bold, to the point. If his intentions were not to impress you into fucking him, you’d probably like him back. But you didn’t like his intentions, and Levi knew from the start what Eren wanted.

“Oi, Titan boy,” Levi barges in between the two of you, Erwin joining your free side. “Stop chatting up my associate and buy me a drink already.”

Eren scoffs, biting his tongue. You can’t believe how Eren doesn’t reciprocate, surely he’s scared of Levi.

“Just because I was your associate once doesn’t mean you can still talk to me like that. I’m almost your level, Sergeant.” Eren sighs, signalling for the bartender to come over.

Armin said you were his first associate in a while, and ‘Sergeant’?

Eren sees your confused expression, “Yeah, this big guy was a military man before he rolled in here.”

Levi scoffs, bringing the glass to his lips. “Over a decade ago,” he clears up.

“But you still act like you can scream your way into getting respect. Once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker,” Levi abruptly stands up and Eren harshly flinches.

“Watch what you say to me, Jaeger. I’ll beat the shit out of you again,” Levi mumbles, barely phased.

“I’ll get my father-“

“That’s enough, both of you.” Erwin interrupts, advising the younger man to go and cool off before he starts something he can’t finish.

“Let me know on Monday,” Eren winks, throwing Levi a dirty look and then he goes to find Mikasa and Armin.

Erwin looks stunned, an amused look on his face. Levi looks like you’d just slapped him clean across the cheek.

“I thought I was your only associate in years?” You ask, curious.

“He doesn’t count. I didn’t want to mentor him but his father pulled him out of school early and dumped him in my office. He’s a good lawyer, a shitbag person, but I brought the best out in him.” Levi explains to you, and you chuckle.

“What did he ask you, sweetheart?” Erwin voices, you can hear the frustration in his tone however he acts amused, mockingly towards Eren.

“He wants to take me to some jazz bar and get a cheap fuck out of it,” you say into your glass, Levi chokes on his drink.

“Oh really now?” Levi growls, turning around to find Eren, but he’s dancing with a little blonde girl on the dance floor.

“Yeah, he thinks I’m naive enough to go along with it. He won’t be looking so smug when I set him straight on Monday.”

“Attagirl,” Erwin chuckles, hand squeezing your thigh.

Levi is annoyed, sipping his beer as you and Erwin cosy up on the bench next to him. Erwin asks to relocate to one of the free tables in the corner of the room, Levi nods, thinking nothing of it.

But no, you’re pressed against Erwin’s side, giggling like a little girl as he teases you. His lips ghost over yours, hand lightly stroking your collarbones, little pinches on your bottom. Levi wants to sit on your other side and pull you on top of him, but he’s restraining himself.

“Levi you look like you’re going to burst into flames,” Erwin turns away from you, sensing the fiery glare Levi is burning into the two of you.

“Don’t tempt him Erwin, I have to work with him on Monday,” you slur, placing your hand on his chest and kissing his neck.

“Shut up Cherry,” he growls. “Like that’ll stop me.”

“Oh yeah?” You grin, “make me.”

#erwin smith smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader x erwin #aot #aot x reader #erwin smith series #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #levi ackerman series #levi ackerman smut #levi smut #levi x reader #aot series #erwin/reader #levi/reader #room for coincidence

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

The Dock

A/N: So I’m writing for Bucky now...☺️ I wrote this for @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge but also not? I’ve had the idea in my head for a while now so I thought I’d participate! I included the prompt, but it’s not so much the plot of the story so much as just part of it. Anyways, happy reading!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a long time of mutual pinning, a night on the dock helps you and Bucky finally confess your feelings for each other

Word count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets catcalled, violence, excessive usage of the middle finger

Prompt: Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]

---

You awoke to your head bobbing on the car window and the sound of crunching gravel as the car pulled into the driveway of Tony’s lake house. Your neck ached from leaning over in a strange position for so long and you groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

Bucky grinned from the seat beside you. “Sleep well?” he asked, nudging your calf with his foot. “You got a little drool there.”

“Oh, shut up.” You stuck your middle finger up in his direction. “I slept very well, actually. Thank you for asking.”

“I can tell.” You lifted up your other hand to flip him off again, causing him to chuckle. “Ooh, two middle fingers. I’m really scared now.”

The two of you were too busy teasing each other to realize that the car had stopped and Sam and Natasha had already gotten out of it. A knock on the window your head was resting on made you turn around, seeing Sam’s face a little too close for your liking.

“Are you two gonna stop flirting and help us with the bags or should I let you bake in the car?” he asked. With a roll of your eyes, you opened the car door, making sure to bump Sam in the process. Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks, glad that you weren’t looking over towards him to see it. “I’m taking this silence to mean that you do want to roast in the car.”

“Sam, would you shut up?” you laughed, casually sticking a middle finger up behind your back as you walked past him to the trunk.

“You and these middle fingers today,” Sam muttered.

“I have another one if you’d like to see it.” You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder.

“I’m good.” He picked up his bag from the ground before heading towards the house, which the rest of the team was already situated in. You went to grab your suitcase but Bucky swatted your hand away, grabbing it himself and closing the trunk.

“I got it,” he insisted like the true gentleman he was. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“Why thank you, good sir.” You bumped his shoulder with your own and walked ahead, jumping up the three steps to the porch and opening the door.

“All in a day’s work.” He lifted the suitcases up the steps with ease and slipped past you to get inside. The feeling of air conditioning inside the cabin was a major relief from the heat outside.

“Glad to see the lovebirds finally showed up,” Tony said once you and Bucky were completely inside the cabin.

“You better watch out, Tony. Y/N’s got middle fingers for days over there.”

“Shut up, Sam!”

A chorus of laughter rang out throughout the cabin and you made sure to shoulder check Sam as you passed him to get to the kitchen.  

---

“Okay, I have the perfect plan to get you and Barnes together this weekend,’ Natasha said as she pulled out clothes from her suitcase. You two were sharing a room for the week and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not. You loved Nat to death but lately she had been trying especially hard to get you to make a move on Bucky and it was only slightly annoying.

“The perfect plan, huh? Even more perfect than the last perfect plan?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to account for the fact you both have a tendency to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning last time. I promise it’s foolproof this time.”

“Well then, let’s hear it.”

“Alright. Before you got in here--you know, when you were busy flirting with Bucky.” She winked, to which you rolled your eyes. “Well Tony was talking about taking the boat out and going tubing. So what we have to do is get you and Bucky to go on the tube together. Tony’s a crazy driver so you’ll get thrown off pretty fast. Bucky will get so worried he’ll just have to confess his love to you.”

“Two issues.” You pointed a finger at her. “One, how am I going to get Bucky on a tube? It will be hard enough to get him on the boat alone. Two,” You held up another finger. “why would he confess his love at that very moment? That’s insane.”

“One,” She grabbed one of your fingers and put it down. “he’s whipped for you. I guarantee that if you ask, he’ll do it without a second thought.”

“Sure he would,” you scoffed.

“Uh, I know he would.” She gave you a knowing smirk. “Two, he gets worried about you all the time and I’ve seen him get close to confessing every time. We just gotta push him over the edge.”

“Bucky getting protective is just him being my best friend. He used to be just like that with Steve too.” You put your arm down, shuffling over to your own bed to take some clothes out of the blue suitcase on top of it.

“No, it’s definitely more than best friend love.” She moved to sit down on your bed.

“Either way, it usually ends in some kind of fight and I’d like to avoid that this weekend.”

“Who’s he gonna fight? Tony?”

“I mean, you never know.” It wouldn’t be the first time.  

~

“I can’t wait to get back and shove these things in my mouth,” you said with a grin as you exited the bakery behind Bucky, a bag of donut holes in your hand.

“Gee, really? It’s almost like you haven’t been talking about it for the past three days,” Bucky chuckled, reaching for the bag.

You pulled the bag away from him with a fake scoff. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister. We have to wait until we get back. The anticipation makes them taste better.”

“You’re insufferable.” He elbowed your side and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Damn, you looking fine over there, mama!”

You took in a sharp breath. It wasn’t all that uncommon for you to get cat called while out and about. You were in New York City, for fucks sake. That didn’t mean that it made you feel any less uncomfortable, though.  

As much as it stung, you didn’t want to start anything. You stared straight ahead and prayed Bucky didn’t hear it. Much to your dismay though, he stiffened next to you, subtly glancing back to see who was talking to you in such a vulgar way. Damn that supersoldier enhanced hearing.

“Hey, sweetcheeks!” You felt a tug on your shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You huffed, shaking the harsh grip off your shoulder and picking up the pace. You expected Bucky to keep going with you so you continued walking, frowning when you noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore.

“Listen here, you little shit,” Bucky seethed, stepping in front of the man and blocking you from his sight. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave her, and every other woman you ever lay your beady little eyes on, alone.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” the man smirked. “She need her boyfriend to defend her?”

Bucky stepped closer, crossing his arms and giving the famous ‘Bucky stare.’ “Doesn’t matter who I am. You better back the fuck away before I make you life hell.”

A few onlookers started lingering around, some with their phones out and recording the scene, almost as if they wanted to see a fight break out between the two men. ‘Winter Soldier vs Everyday Pedestrian  was sure to be trending somewhere soon enough.

“Buck,” you said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and ignoring the obvious stares you were receiving, most notably from the man whose face Bucky was ready to punch in. “Let’s just go.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide if he should let it go or punch the living daylights out of the guy. He let out a soft sigh after a moment, relaxing into your grip. With one last look at the man, he turned around and placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward.

“Aye, it’s all good. I’m sure I’ll see that tight ass ‘round here soon anyways.”

That was the last straw for Bucky. He growled with a ferocity you hadn’t heard before and whipped around, not even hesitating to use his metal arm to punch the guy. The crowd gasped, more bringing their phones out to capture what was sure to be a great fight.

“What the fuck was-” Bucky grabbed him by his collar, pushing him up again the exposed brick of a restaurant.

“There’s plenty more where that came from and, judging by the way you’re looking at me, I bet you don’t want to see it. So do the rest of humanity a favor and fuck off.” He let go of the man’s collar and stepped back, unclenching his fist and pivoting back towards you. “Come on, doll.”

You shook the shock off your face and fell into step next to him. His arm warped around you, pulling you into his side. You could feel the fumes radiating off of him as you walked back to the tower, choosing to stay quiet as you let him cool off.

You paused once you reached the entrance of the tower. Tony probably already knew about what happened and he sure wasn’t going to be happy about it. Bucky’s media presence hadn’t necessarily been bad lately, but it wasn’t perfect either. The public was still wary. To many, the Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier were still the same person.  

Things definitely felt off when you entered. You got the side eye from a few people in the elevator and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fight fiasco or because of how tightly Bucky was holding you to his side.

“Want to eat these in my room?” you asked once you stepped off the elevator.

“Sounds good.” His voice was distant as his eyes searched the room.

“Mr. Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice startled the two of you, making you drop the donut holes. “Mr. Stark has requested to see you in his office.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll be there in a few.” He picked up the bag and handed it back to you. “Apparently, I have business to attend to.”

You simply nodded. He went in the other direction towards Tony’s office pausing at the door before knocking. You sent him a thumbs up before he went in, but he didn’t look back at you to see it. You retreated to your room, placing your wallet on the dresser and popping a donut hole in your mouth.

“Maybe I should get a plate,” you wondered aloud. You needed to grab your water bottle anyways. Might as well make the trip. You put the donut holes on your bed and started making your way to the kitchen.

“She’s perfectly capable of handling herself, you know.” You couldn’t help but stop as you heard Tony’s voice through the door of his office.

“But she shouldn’t have to.” Bucky sounded stressed and you could only imagine the hell Tony was reigning on him. “Her ignoring him wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t want to beat the guy up but he was harassing her and it needed to stop.”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with any particular feelings you have for her, right?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

“Tony-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Barnes. You know how the public sees you. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.”

“That guy harassed her! I couldn’t stand there and just let it happen!” God, you wanted to give him a hug so bad right now.

“I don’t care what it was, Bucky. Having heart eyes for Y/N doesn’t mean-” You took that as your cue to leave. You grabbed a plate and two water bottles from the kitchen and made sure to take the long way around to your room in order to avoid whatever was going on between the two of them.

Bucky showed up a half hour later, plopping down next to you on your bed with a little more space than usual.

~

“I’m just saying, it could work.” Nat got off your bed. “The cookout’s starting soon. Put on something cute.” She was gone before you could respond, leaving you to look for an outfit that would, as Nat liked to say, “knock Bucky off his ass.”

---

“Ooh, Y/N, looking to impress someone?” Sam called out as you walked out into the backyard. It seemed that most everyone else was already out there, helping make dinner or sitting on the dock.

You stuck up your middle finger in reply, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Oh stop it, Sam,” Wanda said as she walked towards you. “You look amazing!”

“Aww, thank you! You look absolutely stunning yourself.” Wanda reached out her hand and nodded towards the dock, urging you to come with her and join the group. You grabbed it and let her drag you down there, giving a small wave to Bucky as you passed him near the grill.

Bucky waved back, a grin spanning the expanse of his face at the sight of you. He kept his gaze on you as you made your way down to the dock, not even realizing just how intently he was staring.

“Someone’s staring at you,” Nat said with a suggestive smirk once you were close enough to the dock.

“He has a starting problem. We all know that,” you argued, sitting down across from her.

“I don’t know. He looks like he wants nothing more than to-”

“Nat, I love you, but please shut up.” She raised her hands up in the defense and Wanda giggled.

“I’m just saying.”

“You okay over there?” Steve shifted his focus from the burgers to his 100-year-old friend for a second, of course noticing the sudden silence that ensued the second you entered Bucky’s line of vision. “Buck?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s head turned sharply in Steve’s direction.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” A shy smile.

“Are you going to ask her out soon?” He flipped some burgers over and pulled the lid of the grill closed.

“I’m getting to it, yeesh,” Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what you’ve been saying since forever.”

“And it’s what I’ll keep saying every time you pester me about it.”

“Well if you don’t make a move soon, maybe I’ll swoop in-”

“Nope! You will not do that.” He nudged Steve in the shoulder and started making his way to the dock. “You absolutely will not do that.”

Soon. He was going to do it soon.

---

“Who’s next?” Tony called from the driver’s seat of the boat. You handed Sam a towel as he got back on the boat, drenched from flying off the tube a second earlier.

“You should go with Bucky.” Wanda nudged you with a teasing smile. You glanced over to the man in question, seeing him sitting next to Steve. He wore a t-shirt and swim shorts with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, and he looked damn good.

“I’ll go,” you announced, standing up and taking your t-shirt off, leaving you in your favorite swimsuit and a pair of shorts. You handed Wanda the shirt so it wouldn’t get wet. “Anyone wanna go with me?” Wanda jabbed your leg and gave you a playful glare.

“Go with her,” Steve muttered to Bucky, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky sighed. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that his best friend just needed a little push. 

“Bucky will go with you,” Steve said a bit louder than necessary. Bucky groaned quietly at his friend, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his seat. He made sure to give Steve a certain look before making his way towards the back of the boat. You both grabbed your life jackets and started securing them as Sam moved out of your way.

“Cyborg!” Tony called out. “You going to take your shirt off?”

You felt Nat snort as she helped you off of the back of the boat and onto the tube. “Yeah, Bucky. Why don’t you show off your muscles for your girlfriend here.”

“Nat!” You paused for a second to look back at her with fake betrayal.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He snapped the last clasp on the life vest and checked to make sure you were all the way on the tube so he could start getting on.

“Oh, come on, Buckaroo!” Sam laughed. He started a chant of “take it off” with the rest of the team (even you, though you’d never admit it).

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled, hastily taking off the life jacket and shirt. He threw the shirt to the middle of the boat and resecured the lifevest, ignoring Nat’s hand offered out for help as he climbed on the tube. His famous Bucky glare melted off his face the second he saw your bright smile and he found himself smiling too.

“I don’t know how well this is going to go but it’s gonna be fun,” you said as he grabbed onto the handles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony’s a crazy driver and we’ve never been able to get you on a tube before. I’m betting you’ll fly off in the first three minutes.”

The tube jerked forwards before Bucky could say anything else. You started picking up speed quickly and soon enough, Bucky was holding the handles with a death grip. You ended up being right and about two minutes in, you hit a wave that threw him off.

“Are you okay?” you asked in between laughs as he struggled to get back on.

“Yeah,” he muttered, a hint of annoyance on his face. You threw a thumbs up to Tony, who nodded and started moving again. “It’s like he’s trying to throw us off.”

“Well half the fun is falling off.”

“You people have strange ways of entertaining yourselves on Sunday afternoons.”

“What would you suggest we rather do then?”

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve giving myself whiplash for ‘fun.’”

“You’re such an old man.” You let go of a handle to smack his arm. Of course, at that exact moment, you hit a wave strong enough to throw both of you off. You shrieked as you flew off of the tube before smacking the water. Whether it was the lack of paying attention or a scheme by Nat and Steve, the boat kept going, leaving the two of you floating in the middle of the lake by yourselves.

“Where are they going?” You furrowed your eyebrows, though a grin was still evident on your face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky ignored your question as he swam over to you, worriedly grabbing your face and checking for injury.

“Buck, I’m fine,” you said, though you didn’t do anything to stop his injury check. He sighed and looked towards the direction the boat went. It seemed that they were already long gone.

“That shriek had me worried there for a second, doll.” His hands dropped from your cheeks and you found yourself missing his touch.

“No need to worry. I’m all good over here.”

“Good.”

A lull of conversation fell over the two of you as you treaded water. You slowly moved closer, noses almost touching when Bucky glanced down to your lips. You nodded. I want this too.

His lips brushed over yours: eyes closed and hands dipping under the water to grab your waist.

“There you are!” you heard Sam’s voice shout. You quickly separated, looking awkwardly down at the water as you tried to focus on anything but each other. “Thought we lost you. Didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.” He smirked at Bucky.

This time, it was Bucky flipping him off.

---

You tried to be quiet as possible as you tiptoed through the hallway, hoping that you wouldn’t step on any particularly squeaky floorboards in the dark. You started opening drawers once you made it to the kitchen in search of a flashlight. Did Tony even own basic technology like that?

“What are you doing, doll?” A soft voice broke you from your thoughts. A pair of blue eyes stared back at you.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Oh, okay.”

“You look like a deer in headlights.” His lips turned into an almost smile. “Are you running away?”

“Just down to the dock. Need to clear my mind.” Nightmares.

He nodded. An unspoken understanding. Maybe that’s what made you such great friends.

“Mind if I join?”

“Sure.” You finally found a flashlight and grabbed it, sliding the drawer shut with your hip. You slid the glass door to the porch open, leaving Bucky to follow you out.  

Warmth surrounded you as you made your way to the dock. The humidity was atrocious during the day but at night, it was somehow comforting. The buzzing of bugs in the surrounding woods brought you a level of peace that the hum of air conditioning inside couldn’t. You sat down at the edge of the dock, dipping your toes in the cool lakewater.

Bucky sat down next to you a moment later. Your silence contrasted with that of the busy summer night, but it was comfortable. Nothing needed to be said; the presence of each other was more than enough.

“You know,” he started, his gaze not leaving the shoreline across the way. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

You glanced over to him for a second, taking subtle notice of his features when his guard was down. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored yours, yet he looked relaxed.

“And what if I don’t?” The slight stain of your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His head turned to meet you eyes. The soft upturn of your lips and content sigh told him that was the right answer. Your hand inched closer to his, your pinkies brushing on the splintered wood of the dock.

“How do you always know what to say?” Your gaze followed his across the lake, catching sight of a few deer grazing on the grass at the edge of the woods.

“I guess being alive for 106 years has to give me some kind of wisdom, right?”

You snorted, breaking the quiet atmosphere the two of you had created for the first time that night.

“I dunno. You’re still kind of a dumbass.”

“And you're still kind of a smartass, so where does that get us?” A grin spread across his face and there was no sight you loved more.

“God, I love seeing you smile.” A blush coated his cheeks at your words and he prayed you couldn’t see it in the dark of the night.

Your hands inched closer for a second time that night. A metal hand reached across to grab yours, his other arm going around your waist to pull you closer. Your head rested beneath his chin as he rubbed circles into your side.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.

“For what?”

“Your face.”

His chest rumbled with laughter and he squeezed you just the slightest bit tighter. “Glad I could be of service, doll.”

“Seriously, though . . .Thank you for being around. I know we joke around a lot but it really means a lot that you’re willing to sit out here with me.”

“I mean, technically, it was more of me inviting myself than putting myself through the torture of sitting here with you.”

You pulled away from his chest, shifting yourself so you could look at him better. “For real, Buck.” You put your hands on his cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Just do it, Bucky. Now’s the time.

He let out a breath as he smiled, looking anywhere but in your eyes as he contemplated what to do next. The hand not holding your waist came to brush back a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked shocked for a moment, leaving him to wonder if he’d been reading it wrong all along. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I thought that-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck as his grabbed your hips. It was everything you needed and yet it still wasn’t enough.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen,” you breathed once you pulled away. This grin on your face mirrored his as he pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“Actually . . . I think I might.” He dipped back in for another kiss, this one a bit softer than the first, but just as passionate.

A sudden breeze swept through the night and you shivered. It would have been a relief from the heat if you weren’t already having chills due to the man in front of you.

“Let’s get you back inside, doll.”

You were reluctant to let go of him. The moment you’d been waiting for for so long finally happened and you felt yourself scared to be too far from him.

You shifted your weight back so he could get up, not realizing just how close to the edge of the dock you were. Bucky let go of your hips before you could warm him and you felt yourself falling backwards in slow motion. A small yelp left your lips and Bucky’s attempt to save you was futile as your hands slipped through his.

“Cold, cold, cold!” you chanted once you surfaced, barely hearing yourself over how loud Bucky was laughing.

“Are you okay?” he choked out in between his laughter, kneeling at the edge of the dock and holding his hand out towards you. You grabbed his hand with a glare.

“I have half a mind to yank you in here with me.” His eyes widened at your words.

“Don’t you dare!” You tugged his arm lightly, just enough to get his face closer to yours.

“I guess I can spare you. Just this one time.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling yourself up onto the dock. “But I think I deserve a hug for my troubles.”

“Can’t deny my girlfriend that, now can I?” He pulled you into a hug, cradling your head on his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I’m your girlfriend, huh? Damn, we’re moving fast! Do you have the wedding planned already?”

“Oh please. I think we all know we’ve basically been dating for a while now.”

“Perhaps.” The two of you stayed in that position for a moment longer before another breeze came.  “Should we go in now that we’re both wet and cold?”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, doll.” Keeping an arm around each other, you slowly made your way back to the cabin, already making plans for a proper date once the trip was over.

---

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[theringers]

the 1 - pierre gasly

illicit affairs, part four

summary: “it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one”

a/n: i’m really sorry that’s all i gotta say

this is short and mostly unedited but-

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, angst

Your eyes went big as you stared at the white stick in your hand. “No, no, no,” you whispered. Tears fell silently, breathing in your emotions so no one could hear you outside the door. The entire Red Bull garage did not need to hear you. “There’s no way.” Two lines. Positive. Clear as day. Not even a doubt. You started to hyperventilate when reality hit you. You were not ready to be a mother. How could you care for another small child if you could barely care for yourself?

You always wanted to be a mother and you talked about expanding your family more than a few times. I’ll be ready in a few years, you told Max. As the years got closer, you felt less and less prepared to be a mom and even scared. You dreamt about taking your kids out on the water, teaching them to swim in the beautiful Mediterranean Sea and the pool in your backyard overlooking the sea. Your perfectly organized home would be littered with pool floaties, diapers, and toys galore. You would never get a moment alone again and you weren’t ready to give up your freedom like that.

You spend nights with a married man while leaving your husband at home, or sneak around while he’s out of town for work relating things. You can’t do that with a child. Being pregnant means you have to choose between Max and Pierre. And it was a no brainer for you.

Your marriage was great and you had no reason to jeopardize it. If you chose the other direction, you’d be jeopardizing your public image as well as Pierre and Max’s. After being branded as Max Verstappen’s wife, good luck being seen as anything else for the rest of your life. Even if you do change your mind one day.

But what if you had fucked up beyond repair? What if, on your future son’s third birthday, your husband stares into his son’s eyes and realizes that he’s seen those sharp blue eyes before. How could you be so stupid and reckless to not know who the father of your child was? This was the final straw. No more messing around. You weren’t about to sacrifice your family for something you decided to do on a whim one night.

I mean, don’t kid with yourself. It was more than a whim. It was a secret love affair and it had been a long time coming. There were too many accidental glances and flirty side comments for this to ever be a whim. Everything Pierre ever did was intentional and you were starting to see it now. He really did care for you and you for him. Right person, wrong time was so unbelievably heartbreaking.

You wiped the tears away and fixed your red cheeks with a bit of powder. It was time to go out and face the world.

Max was still celebrating the win with his team, but he knew you weren’t feeling good. After spending much of the night sweating your ass off in an elevator, he understood why you wanted to head back to the hotel sooner rather than later. You grabbed your bag and headed towards the parking lot, ready to get in bed. As you waited for your driver, you felt a hand on your back. “Need a ride?” Pierre asked. You knew he was heading back to the same hotel as you so you might as well. He smiled at you and you tried your best to fake a smile. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Once you hopped into the passenger seat of his car, you looked over to him. “I need to tell you something.”

He focused on pulling out of the parking lot but once he drove onto the highway, he took a deep breath. “What’s going on?”

You pulled the white stick out of your purse and held it up. “I’m pregnant, Pierre.”

This was not the information to share while he was driving but what other time were you going to get with him? He deserved to know. His world stopped when you dropped that information on him.

“When did you find out?” He began to breathe heavy

“Just now. In the motor home.”

“Does Max know?” The most important information to him. “Holy shit.”

“No, I haven’t told him yet.” He felt a tiny bit of satisfaction knowing that he knew about this but Max didn’t. “We both say we can’t keep doing this but if we needed a push to stop fucking around, this is it.”

He pulled off the highway and found the nearest hotel to stop at to collect his thoughts. A father? Max? It should’ve been him. “You’re gonna have a baby? What? Is it-?” He was interrupted by a kiss on the cheek.

He pulled into a parking spot and stopped the car. After a deep breath he took your hands in his and smiled. “Y/n, I love you. More than Ive ever loved anyone or anything ever before. My heart beats for you and I can’t get you out of my head. You make me crazy.” Tears started to fall from the corners of his eyes. “I know what you’re about to do, and you’re about to break my heart. I can see it in your eyes.”

You began to cry with him. “It’s the right thing to do,” you sobbed. “He’s my husband,” you sniffled and wiped your tears away.

“It should’ve been me, y/n.” You could feel the ache in your heart grow larger.

“I know it should’ve. But it wasn’t. And here we are.”

Pierre wanted to spill the entire story to you. He wanted to tell you about how he crushed on you from the start. He saw you that day with your hair tied back and nervous for your first day on the job. He wouldn’t shut up about you between photo sessions. Max made fun of him for having a little crush on you and discouraged him from saying anything to you. He swooped in and got your phone number before Pierre even had a chance. He wanted to make himself look like the good guy. The one who sat patiently and watched the girl he loved fall in love with someone else, knowing that whole time that he was the one she should’ve been with. He felt so much regret every day knowing that he missed out on his other half by just a little bit. If only he had butted in sooner, if only you rejected Max, if only… He could think of a million other ways it could have gone but instead you ended up married to the other man and Pierre regretted it every single say.

“You’re the man of my dreams, Pierre.” You smiled at him, recalling every great moment and laugh you shared. “You make me crazy in the best way possible. But right now, I’m in pain. You have Anna. I have my husband, my best friend. And I’m hurting him. He doesn’t know now but when the day comes that he finds out, he might not ever forgive me. And I can already imagine the pain in his face and I can’t live with that.”

“I’ll never forget you, y/n. The time we shared together is the crazy love people write books about. You made me the happiest guy in the world and I wouldn’t give that up for anything,  even if it was just a few moments.” Pieces of his heart fell to the ground and shattered little by little.

“Wouldn’t it be fun? If things had worked out in our favor?” You laughed through the tears.

The memories of your wedding day floated through your mind and you thought about replaying them with Pierre in your husband’s place. “You would’ve been the one.”

His blue eyes were bloodshot already. “You’re my one, y/n.”

“Please don’t say that. I can’t hear you say that right now.”

He took your hands up to his lips for a kiss. “The love of my life.” He sucked in a sharp breath and let the cries escape.

“The greatest love stories of all time are over now.” Your head fell and you cried as the sky opened into a downpour. The universe might love to mess with you but it’s crying with you right now.

“If this is truly it, can we have one last night? Here?”

You needed to get home to Max to tell him what was going on. You weren’t sure what the right decision to make was, but you followed your heart. “One last night. When we leave here, it’s over.” You wiped away the final tear that fell.

You pulled on a hooded sweatshirt and ran your large purse into the hotel room. You weren’t too far from the circuit so being spotted would be the worst thing in the world.

As soon as you got inside, you shut the door behind him and held his face in your hands. “I promise, this is a good thing.” You kissed his lips and backed up onto the mattress, peeling off your sweatshirt and dress in one swoop.

His eyes admired your almost naked body, wanting to just eat you up. He almost forgot that tonight was the last time until he sniffled. “If we’re never going to do this again, I need to take a mental picture. A body like this would go to waste if forgotten.” You smiled and kissed him again, feeling a sigh of relief when he wrapped his arms around you. He felt warm and smelled like home. You never wanted to let go, worrying that you truly would never hold him like this again if you let go now.

He gently pushed your back onto the mattress and did another look as his jaw dropped. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, inside and out.” He smiled and kissed your abdomen before flipping you onto your hands and knees. “I need to remind you who you belong to. Make sure you never forget.” He grabbed your ass in his hands and squeezed hard before putting his face between your thighs and spanking you lightly. He licked up and down and this angle made everything feel way more intense. Your arms began to give out and you pressed your face into the mattress, looking back at him diving deep into your pussy. He was right. He ate you out like no other and he wouldn’t let you forget that.

You had no tears left when you returned back to Monaco, the comfort of your own bed calling your name. After a night in a crappy roadside hotel, your luxurious Monaco home was a dream.

There’s nothing that would break your heart quite like telling the man you love that you can’t see him anymore. Even a glance in the paddock would make your heart sink and break even further than it already had.

The front door was unlocked and the lights were on. Max was home already? He tapped his fingers against the marble countertop and looked up at you when you walked in. You didn’t have the energy to act normal and it was going to be difficult.

“Hi Max,” you said. No greeting from him in return. Nothing.

“What is this?” He pointed to the foil packet on the counter. The veins in his neck and forehead bulged as he looked at it.

“What do you mean?” You took a step closer and examined it, confused.

“I found it in your suitcase this weekend. Why the fuck do you have a condom, y/n?’ Holy shit. The one you lost. It turns up now.

“It must be old.” Of course it was old. Where else could it be from?

“We stopped buying them after we got married. They can’t be that old. Why would we need them anyway if we’re trying for a baby?”

“I don’t know, Max. I don’t know where that came from.” Your voice began to shake, remembering how excited Max got about trying for a baby. He desperately wanted a girl first.

He pounded his fist on the island. “Who are you sleeping with? Who’s satisfying you when I’m not?” He raised his voice and furrowed his brows in anger. “It’s been two years. You know how badly I want a baby. I threw every single condom out in excitement. So I’m going to ask you one more time. Who’s condom is this?”

“No one, Max! I’m telling you, it’s old. I would never do that to you. I love you.” Your heart was racing and you prayed he didn’t want to come and give you a hug or he would be suspicious.

“Alright then, where have you been? It’s almost 10pm.” You didn’t even want to think of last night. You felt so dirty right now with the condom in front of you and an upset husband yelling at you.

“I was at my parents. I got a late start on the way home.” You fidgeted in your position, wanting to be anywhere but there in that very moment.

“If you’re lying to me, so help me God…” He threw the condom into the trash and stormed into his office.

next part

#f1 imagine #pierre gasly fic #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #smut prompts #f1 fanfic #max verstappen imagine #angry max #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly blurb #pg #mv

[russilton]

holy fuck. Read the snippet from omega George and holy fuck. We need the whole story! Also, I like how you incorporated George's actual tastes in food in this, sounded very real. Will you consider (given what Lewis said in VF interview) adding to the fic George's reaction to AD 2021? I know they're a year apart but I think it would be a great addendum omega George going berserk over alpha Lewis being robbed of his title and causing chaos --- maybe Lewis himself having to go and stop him?

This is actually a major plot point of the fic! I discussed it a little here but I’ll use this as a chance to expand on it.

When I set out to write a gewis a/b/o fic it mostly came from the fact I kept complaining about how most omegaverse fic will skip or fade to black ruts, if they’re mentioned at all, which is fair enough but I have a thing for slightly desperate tops. After I complained enough my partner told me why don’t I put up or shut up (but a lot more lovingly). On top of that @polycedes amazing fic chasing happiness introduced me to the concept of panic heats being triggered by stress, which makes absolute hormonal sense and now I’m obsessed with it, and wanted to consider the other side, stress induced Ruts.

So, mash all that together, and throw in some “author writing to compensate for pain” and AD 21 is the perfect opportunity for a potential stress induce Rut, particularly if you conveniently drop a heat for George in that would have Lewis running a little hot. I would pose that perhaps it’s around Brazil 21 that George ends up with an out of sync heat, he’s had a rough year with all the signing stress and it catches him by surprise. He and Lewis have been getting close, and Lewis is the only alpha he trusts that way, so he asks Lewis to help him through the heat so it’s a shorter affair and he can be back in the car in time to race. Some point in George’s heat there’s some silly but loving confessions they come out the other side in something tentatively together. Lewis is a happy alpha with a partner he loves, he drives the race of his life riding the adrenaline and happy hormones. This also contributes to his next two incredible wins, but behind that he’s starting to circle a pre rut thanks to spending a heat with George. Alphas have a little more ability to pick and choose when their ruts happen, but they can only put it off so long. Lewis is trying to push it to the end of the season, he’s tense but determined, everything is a little on edge, the underlying hunger makes him a better driver but he doesn’t like how much it’s sitting on the edge of his mind. There’s lots of cuddles with George who knows Lewis needs at least a little let off steam.

By the time AD happens he’s right on that edge, figuring that at least when the race is over he can go home and ride out his rut in his own bed (maybe with George) whether he wins or looses. But then you know what happens, adrenaline keeps him from falling right into it but then as the podium ends he feels his grip slipping, and begs the team to get him away from the track any omegas or beta’s since while he’ll still have some control, any compatible scents are going to make it worse. George hasn’t been able to get close to Lewis after the race in all the chaos, and he doesn’t want to push Lewis and make it about him but he’s a little hurt when Bono sends him back to his hotel and tells him he can talk to Lewis tomorrow. Lewis is already on a private plane to Monaco by the time George wakes up and Bono explains that Lewis went into a stress induced rut and wouldn’t even let Peter or Angela near him because he was so worried. George ends up calling Lewis and through some conversation and coaxing convinces Lewis to let him come to Monaco and have someone look after him for once, rather than always being the one to look after George. Lots of dirty, sweaty, loving rut sex follows and George marvels over Lewis and being able to the the one he shares this with.

#britcedes #gewis #4463 #omega verse 2021 au #lewisgeorge #mark’s fic tag #tw: a/b/o #anonymous #asks

[cazimagines]

Niki Lauda x Ferrari's first female engineer/mechanic hcs

Request: Could I request Niki Lauda x Ferrari’s first female engineer/mechanic? It was the 70s so even though she really knows her stuff she gets a lot of crap, and even though they vibe on cars she doesn’t take any from Lauda. She really loves what she does, the kind to stay up all night to finish or fix or tinker with something but usually catches a ride with Niki after races cuz she finds the afterparties boring/pretentious. Hope this isn’t too specific! -🦇

- You had fought tooth and claw to get where you were. Ferrari's first female engineer. Just thinking over it made you feel giddy. Ever since you were a child you were obsessed with cars and wanted to build them all. At a young age, you started making go-karts, riding them down your street. You would go searching for scraps at the local garage to improve your own kart and then race it against the neighbour's kids. While you enjoyed the ride, the feel of the wind rushing by your face as you travel speedily, you knew your heart always belonged to the actual making of the kart rather than racing

- You were always found around the local garage, and the men were kind enough to show you around and teach you skills, they found it amusing that such a young girl showed interest in such things. They saw it as a little hobby that you would grow out of one day, but they were wrong. This wasn't just a phase, it wasn't just a hobby. It was something you were passionate about and you were determined to follow it through

- And so you did. It had taken a lot. Men didn't like it that a woman was proving better than them. Showing them up. At all chances, they tried to pull you down, prevent you from getting far but even they couldn't deny the skill you had for engineering. In the end, their need for a good engineer won out against their misogyny and you were allowed to join the team. A lot of the men there still treated you like crap, never acknowledging your good work and treating you as if you were an idiot but you knew just being there you were an inspiration for other women who wanted to go into similar professions and you weren't going to give that up. Plus their remarks were easy to ignore until one certain guy came along

- You, like most of the team, scoffed at the fact that this guy Niki had to buy himself into F1. You had all joked around that he wouldn't last the season. He was just a rich boy using daddy's money to have some fun. And maybe Niki knew what was being said of him because he was quick to disprove these things. You had started to admire him, seeing just how skilled he was at driving. That was until he joined Ferrari.

- To give it to him, he didn't seem to mind that you were a female, at least if he did he never vocalized that. He did however choose to critique you and all of your team on everything they did to the car, constantly telling you what you were doing wrong and how you were costing him the races to Hunt. His arrogance pissed you off to no end

- You'd be working on adjusting the engine so it wouldn't fail from the speed it was having to push the car. He'd become up behind you, crossing his arms and shaking his head in annoyance. 'Your doing it wrong' he'd state. 'I'm the engineer, you're the driver' you'd bite back and his eyes would flicker to yours in anger. 'I know my car better than you. That's why all my improvements make my racing better, whereas yours just makes me as mediocre as Hunt'

- You'd throw the spanner to the ground in anger and stand up to glare at him, only inches apart, 'If you think you're improvements are so good why don't you just fire me and do the engineering yourself' 'Fine, I will if all you are going to give is a bitchy attitude towards me' you scoff at his words and storm off

- You thought that was it. That was the end of your time at Ferrari. But your resignation never came. You'd stay on. And it wasn't as if Niki had forgotten you existed. No, he started appearing even more when you were working on the cars. Criticizing you, undoing your hours of work and just being plain rude. It leads to many arguments with him, usually with you telling him to fuck off and yet he never got you fired and it confused you to no end.

- Because you enjoyed working on the cars so much, and how you wanted to prove to Niki that you were a good engineer, you would stay after hours most nights working on the car. The team didn't care, they usually left you alone, thinking you were stupid for wanting to spend more time there than you had already. On one night there was a party being hosted for Niki winning another race. You were invited but you didn't go, you hated the parties, usually because of the way the men treated you

- So you were working on the car when the lights were turned on in the garage and Niki's booming voice rang out, 'Who's there?' you appeared from under the car looking at him confused,' Aren't you supposed to be at the party?' 'I could say the same thing to you' is all he would reply. You would tell him you were just finishing up on some work and would be leaving in a minute. You expected him to leave you alone but instead, he waited till you were done. 'How are you getting home?' he asks as he starts to walk next to you. 'The bus?' you say, finding this very situation extremely weird as for once he wasn't insulting you. 'The bus is crap, it takes ages to get you anywhere and it's getting dark. I'll take you home' you were shocked, to say the least.

- You tried to argue against it but somehow you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car and you quietly drive down the road, the awkwardness of the situation affecting both of you. 'You hate parties, even if they are your own?' you say finally breaking the silence, 'I enjoy parties, but I find the people insufferable' he simply replies back. 'Yes you seem to find everyone on the team insufferable, I'd assume me the most'

- Keeping his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel tightens slightly. 'I don't find you insufferable' 'By the way all the work I do never seems to be good enough for you that was enough for me to believe that', he rolls his eyes as you speak. 'Your work is okay, but it can be better if you actually try'. 'I do try!' you exclaim but he just shakes his head, 'Not enough'

- Finally, you arrive at home, you turn to look at him, preparing to bite back the bitter feeling in your mouth and thank him when he says 'You can get out now'. You throw up your middle finger at him as you leave the car making him chuckle

- This incident somehow started a routine for you two. Niki realised it wasn't just that day but most days you choose to stay after hours, and suddenly he started staying after hours as well. At first, he would do the usual and just tell you everything you were doing wrong, then offer you a lift home. But soon he started helping you out, making adjustments together, and though you hated to admit it he was right with his suggestions, they made the car better. But in the same way, he was helping you improve your knowledge, and he started occasionally giving you compliments on your work, though very rare.

- He'd always offer you a lift home and honestly how could you refuse to ride with an F1 driver, even if he drove really slow on actual roads. Your conversations slowly switched from insulting each other to actually talking about common interests and joking around as if you were good friends

- Then you started to feel more, like when he was helping you on the car, and he would move past you, his hand resting on your waist briefly. Or when you would both lean over to grab something and his hand would come in contact with yours, and you would both stare at each other for a moment before he tells you to remove your hand.

- You started to actually celebrate when he won races, and not just because it was your team winning. He'd come out of the car and his eyes would first be on yours, smiling excitedly at another race won and seeing you cheer him on. Then when he was giving his winning speech and his eyes flicker to you, 'And I couldn't have won this race without the work from my team, specifically our main and first female engineer y/n'

- You could never explain the pure joy and happiness you felt at that moment. But it was very similar to the same feeling you got when you two were working on the car the next day and he asks you to look at him. For once in his life, his cocky attitude had gone away and he looked nervous but pulling himself together, he grasped the back of your neck with his hand and pulled you forward, hips lips coming to rest on yours.

#niki lauda #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda headcanons #niki lauda hcs #rush #daniel brühl

[seijoh-apologist]

stupidly in like with you | miya atsumu

pairing: post-timeskip!miya atsumu x f!reader word count: 14.6k (OOPS LMFAO) genre: friends to lovers, fluff, hurt(?)/comfort, and like a few too many pages of fluffy smut -- third person pov for the most part. NSFW. synopsis: Atsumu and Y/N are good friends, maybe feelings are involved but Y/N isn’t his type. OR Y/N and Atsumu are most definitely in like with each other but for whatever reason aren’t dating.

A/N: hi so this is my first “published” hq fic but like here is this thought that I had and haven’t been able to get it out of my head. it’s mostly edited thanks to my irl friend but bare with my run on sentences and (slightly excessive) use of profanity. any feedback would be appreciated b/c I have more thoughts for other characters and I'd love to share haha. 

To say Y/N was annoyed was an understatement.

Aching feet begged for relief, the sweat-soaked shirt, though cute, had begun to cling to that one fold in her side that made her the slightest bit hyper aware of the “stress weight” she swears she's put on during the holiday season. And the music was absolute shit, shuffling between mash-ups of the Top 100 trending songs and some weird EDM-Indie music that she would pay good money to never hear again.

To put it plainly, she was not in the mood to be out of her home, much less celebrate. But she had agreed to come out, never being able to say no to Sakusa, who silently pleaded with his eyes to take on “babysitting” responsibilities of his teammates for tonight. He had paid for her dinner several times before tonight, claiming that she should save her money - “you should spend your money on getting a better mattress, so we don’t have to hear you complain about it anymore.” - the least she could do was give him a night to himself, away from the chaos that was the rest of the MSBY team.

Besides, it's not like she was asked to stalk them or anything - they were friends after all, so really it was just like she was tagging along for a night of club hopping, taking shots that she didn’t have to pay for, and simply people watching in between trips to the dancefloor. And normally, she’d be enjoying the night - it's just that of all nights to come out and celebrate, it had to be at the end of one of the most stress-inducing, aggravating weeks of her young adult life.

Checking that it was well after one in the morning, she sipped water from her straw, swivelling to face the crowd from her (stolen) seat at the bar, in hopes of catching the attention of someone in her party that could get the hint that they should probably get ready to go. What she did not expect to find, however, was Atsumu, flitting his eyes away from her figure as he leaned down to talk to a pair of girls. It could just be a friendly gesture, asking him if he was who they think he was and him responding but it sent a less than pleasant feeling in her stomach, so she swiveled back, reaching for her phone in the back pocket of her suddenly too tight pants.

“Fuck me,” she huffs out upon seeing that her phone battery has fallen to thirty percent, which would be just delightful when it would be time to call the ubers home. She could now rule out aimlessly scrolling through Twitter for the rest of the night while waiting for her friends.

“Uh.. maybe slip in a ‘please’ and I’m yours.”

Y/N’s eyes all but bugged out her head at the response that came from her left. The voice belongs to a guy, a very cute guy. The kind of cute guy that you see on Instagram explore page before it refreshes so the chances of seeing him again are nonexistent.She sputters out a delayed apology, double-time since she realized that she’s now taken a little too long to respond to him, to which he laughs and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I should be apologizing for interrupting you, it's just.... You looked a little lonely over here. Mind if I sit with you?”

“Seat’s all yours... but you’re on your own if those people from before come back to reclaim them.” She hums, sliding her phone back into her pocket and shifting her legs slightly in the direction of his seat.

“Scared of a little fight?” He hums, arching a brow before taking a swig of his beer. He has nice hands. Y/N muses to herself as she watches the stranger’s fingers flex slightly around the neck of his beer bottle. She’s always of the mind that a person’s hands say a lot about them.

“Mmm no… just too tired to defend myself, much less a random stranger.” He laughs at that, nodding his head before replying that “most pretty girls don’t openly say they can fight.”

“Oh you’re cheesy, aren’t you? Nobody straight up tells a girl they’re pretty for no real reason.”

“Actually,” Shifting his beer bottle onto the bar, he holds out his hand to her. “My name is not cheesy, it’s -”

“Y/N! There you are!”

The call of her name makes her jump slightly, before she feels the familiar warmth of a hand on her back. The same hand worms its way to her hip, fingers slipping into that soft fold just above her pants, the warmth of his next words being felt just above her ear.  “Where the hell’ve ya been? Was lookin’ all over the place for ya, Bo and Shoyo were worried ya left without us!”

“Been right here, idiot. We lost our original seats so I’d figure you’d come to the bar at some point and I could’ve waved you down.” She shifts slightly, turning her shoulder back towards the cute stranger with an apologetic look in her eye, to which he smiles and opens his mouth to respond until Atsumu cuts him off again, his hand gripping the back of her neck to make her give him her total attention.

“Right well I’m starving - let's get outta here. Kinda craving your infamous drunk noodles, or maybe a McDonald’s on the way home, yeah?”

Y/N nods slightly, turning back towards the stranger to see that he’s already slinking back into the crowd. Once she fully loses him, she shoves her elbow into the blonde’s side, telling him to “shut it” when he throws out a huff of pain.

“Thank you, ‘Tsumu… could’ve had a different ride home but nooooo.. Needed to come in here with all your glory talking about you being starving despite the fact that you can afford a personal chef.” She huffs out and slides off her stool, but he’s not listening. Instead he’s holding her by the shoulders and pushing her through the crowd, excusing the two of them as she continues to rant and rave at him. Once outside, the pair are joined with the rest of the party, who have called a few separate ubers home. “And to top it off, I know you’re not even listening right now - you never listen to me, Miya. I don’t know how your teammates put up with you… how do you put up with this shit, hmm?”

The group of teammates laugh softly and shake their heads, giving answers that “they get paid” to put up with him, and that Miya Atsumu is actually “a decent friend,” a fact that she knows is true but chooses to ignore when convenient for her. Atsumu just shakes his head with a roll of his eyes, pulling her into the direction of their uber for their journey back to his place. She greets the driver and settles into her seat, as Atsumu calls out behind him something or other to someone. The slam of the door and clicking of seatbelts is what fills the silence in the car, music softly playing from the rear speakers, as Atsumu leans his head back against the headrest.

“So I take it yer coming to stay with me for tonight?”

“Hmm.. don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” She teases to which Atsumu slightly pouts, reaching to knuckle at his eyes that suddenly feel a little too heavy. “You owe me the biggest breakfast fathomable tomorrow.”

“Why’s it that I owe you when I paid for your dinner before going out, paid for your drinks tonight, and am letting you sleep in my bed - which is infinitely better than your cheap ass - hey!” He begins his ranting, which would be cut off by a sturdy flick to the forehead and a slight “hush” before he feels her head rest up on his shoulder.

Y/N and Atsumu had been friends for a little while, when she chased him down the middle of the road, claiming to the public that he was a thief, just because he’d grabbed the wrong umbrella on the way out of the restaurant they were both eating in. He’d tried to apologize, but she traded umbrellas and walked back towards the direction of the restaurant. He had chalked it up to nothing really, just a slight mistake and minor inconvenience for the girl. At least until a certain teammate’s birthday dinner, where said stranger was- only this time sitting and chatting with Sakusa Kiyoomi as if they’d been best friends for forever (which in all fairness, Y/N and Kiyoomi had only been friends since college, where they were forced into a friendship by their roommates, who were hooking up with each other and forced the two on double dates). This second meeting was a sign to Atsumu, a sign that for whatever reason this girl was supposed to be in his life, in some capacity or another - but he did royally fuck it up a second time by trying to flirt with Y/N, who laughed and asked if his opening line was really the best he’d had, before hitting him with an opening line that still makes him flush when he thinks about it today.

The ride to Atsumu’s home isn’t long, but it's long enough for the tiredness to seep into Y/N’s bones, who barely misses the quiet way that Atsumu’s fingers have taken home at the base of her neck, massaging gently at the tenseness he feels under the pads of his fingers.

“Someone’s tired… why didn’t you stay home?” He asks as they turn onto his street, letting his fingers fall away from her as he begins to check that they have everything they need. ”’t’s a good thing yer sleeping over at mine... and no couch for you. Your neck is all kinds of tense. It's a miracle you haven’t complained ‘bout it once tonight.”

“Shh.. you’re so loud for what?” She mumbles while trying to stifle a yawn. “So if I’m not supposed to sleep on the couch then where am I supposed to sleep then, boy genius? The floor?”

“No,” Atsumu answers seriously, brow slightly wrinkled as he reaches for his keys in his pocket. “You’ll sleep with me. In my bed. ‘t’s a cooling mattress so you won’t haffta complain that yer too hot.”

“Miya, last time I slept in a bed with you, you nearly suffocated me. Dunno if I really wanna have to deal with trying to roll you onto your back again.”

“Wait a minute! To be fair, my bed was smaller then so there was less room for the both of us.” He begins, opening the door and shutting it before turning the two of them towards the entrance to his apartment building. “Second of all, it was my first time sharing a bed with someone other than ‘Samu so ya shouldn’t blame me for not having proper sleep manners.”

The first steps into Atsumu’s home consists of the pair kicking off their shoes, debating lightly on who was gonna take over the shower first. Y/N slides her feet into the slippers that are specifically her slippers in his home and slinks off towards the kitchen, as Atsumu peels off his shirt and heads towards the shower. It feels comfortable, almost like a routine, as Y/N gathers eggs and two noodle packets to make them a small meal before bed. Moments later, Atsumu is coming out of the shower, towelling off his hair before settling onto the sofa, clicking on the T.V. as Y/N comes in with the two bowls of noodles. A silent agreement is met when they finish that Atsumu would wash the dishes as Y/N showered, taking a shirt from his drawers to sleep in

She hands him a bottle of aspirin, mumbling around the toothbrush to “take two or so help me.” Moments later she joins him in bed, slipping on a pair of socks that are two sizes too big for her before settling under the plush fabric of his comforter. He shifts over closer to her after tossing his phone on the nightstand, seeking out her form in the now dim room for a small cuddle before dozing off. She willingly accepts him too, sliding her body just under his and buries her face in his skin, still warm from the too-hot shower he is prone to taking in the name of muscle relaxation. He hums slightly as their feet tangle together, silently appreciating the way Y/N so freely indulges his need to touch someone after being touch-starved for so long.

Though Y/N isn’t much like him in that sense - doesn’t have this inherent need to cling to someone before bed, or just hold hands at a store, or hands on the shoulder in a crowded room. Sometimes she will, like now with her nose buried in his neck and her hand rubbing up and down the length of his sturdy back. Normally they won’t do this, both just a little too headstrong to dig into the tightening in their chests when the hug for a moment longer than usual; but tonight Y/N is silently congratulating him on winning the game that has had him stressed for weeks. She feels his lips press softly to the top of her head, a mumble of “good night” leaving his lips as she feels his breaths even out as the moments pass.

This is where Y/N wishes she had the power to pull away - blames moments like this on giving her the slightest bit of hope that they could be more than friends.

It's not that she hadn’t thought about it - frankly she’d spent too much time thinking about it. She could do this… with him.. But every thought is put to bed when she thinks back on this one conversation months ago. Granted she didn’t have the full context of the conversation but it's enough to make her heart squeeze when she sees Atsumu flirt with someone, or shake off his hand when she’s had a particularly sensitive day.

It was just another evening where hanging out after him and the rest of the team being away for a week. They’d ordered in food and drinks had been flowing nicely as the comfortable pair had caught up - it was honestly too homey of a setting in hindsight. His phone rang, the white text of “‘Samu” flashed and Y/N took that as a cue to finally get to the restroom.

“Mhm.. made it back early today - no Y/N picked me up.” He’d been mumbling around a handful of chips, the other side of the conversation mute to Y/N’s eavesdropping.. “Oh shut up, she doesn’t mind and it's not as if we’re dating anyway. It’s.. casual and it works for us.”

And she should’ve stepped into her place next to him, cuddled up into her chest and played the role of the blissfully ignorant idiot. But no, she stayed tucked behind the restroom door, blood pumping and heart beating too loud in her ears. It would seem as though Y/N was a glutton for punishment, a minor thing when thinking about putting herself through a moment of pain for a lifetime of pleasure - but the pain that came with Miya Atsumu’s next words would set her off kilter for a while.

“Besides, she’s not really my type. It’d never work out anyway.”

She had no choice really other than to shut the door. Take some extra time in the restroom than necessary - after all she’d just hear the potential love of her life admit to his twin brother that she wasn’t his type. All she could do really was stare at herself in the stupidly bright mirror in his stupid guest bathroom of his stupidly expensive apartment.  God this is so stupid, she thinks to herself while running cold water to press against her cheeks that she feels are heated up. Before she can really tear her own heart to bits though, she hears a quick rapt on the door.

“Y/N ya’right in there? Warned y’bout putting too much hot sauce on your food.”

But that’d been two years ago. It was a little rough after that; Y/N had thrown herself into finding a life post-grad which was a great distraction from the rumors going around that Atsumu had been spotted with some model or actress or something. Besides, Y/N wasn’t really the type to harp on failed romantic interests - all she’d need to do is download whatever relevant dating app for some validation and she’d be able to move on. However nights like tonight, when he looked too good and the little moment was a little too right - she’d still hope. Make a wish to whatever angle number or shooting star or deity above that she’d get tossed a chance to be in love with the stupid setter, because she had already fallen.

“Mm y’right?” She heard him, how could she not when he’s practically suffocating her. She chooses not to answer though, humming affirmatively - to which he huffs and shifts slightly, settling back into unconsciousness.

Maybe she’d blame the train of thoughts for tonight on the fact that she’d been drinking. However, come morning, the seed would bloom a little brighter in her chest when she wakes up to realize that her face is pressed into his side, arms circling his slim waist and one sock lost among their tangled legs.

---

God she hated him. Miya Atsumu was too much of a lot of things - too much of a sore winner, too much of an idiot, too much of a talker, and most of all, too much of a liar.

For the second time in the span of a month, Atsumu had convinced her to come out, despite her desperately wanting to curl up in bed and binge eat away the stress of the week. Only this time it was a charity event, so she would definitely be the bad guy if she said no. It was an event where him and the rest of his team had been roped into a charity dinner - which (gratefully) meant that Sakusa would be around, and they could fuck off to a corner someplace to talk shit about what all the rich wives are wearing and how bad it looks when their husbands are flirting with the wait staff. But Atsumu had promised that they’d leave before the entree was served - swore the entire drive over that “we’ll get you back home in time, grandma” and that he’d even cook for her this time.

But the entree had been whisked off about forty minutes ago, her wine glass had been refilled twice, and she was bored of watching Sakusa look at his watch, waiting for an appropriate time to leave. Atsumu was a few tables away, chatting up some couple, something about wanting to get their information for Osamu’s business. He would laugh a little too loudly at their jokes, gaining attention of those at surrounding tables - which was only mildly irritating as he had now gathered a crowd of people around him, spewing off some story about him getting lost in Russia the first time they played overseas.

She huffs and stands up, chair scraping slightly, gaining the attention of the rest of the  table. All she does is hold up her wine glass in a feeble attempt at an answer of where she’d be waiting at the bar. If I have to be here, the least I could do is drink for free. The bar is empty, surprisingly no one wants to mope around this very nice dinner.

“What can I get you?”

“Mmm.. whiskey highball, please.” She answers to the unnecessarily cute bartender, but the raise of his eyebrows do not go unnoticed.  And fortunately (or unfortunately) she’s got the time to press him. “Surprised?”

“Only a little bit. Noticed you were drinking wine most of the night so the whiskey is a hard switch.”

“So you’ve been watching me?” She muses, smiling as he places the drink in front of her. He smiles and leans forward on the bar slightly, shaking his head and replying.

“It’s almost as if… I’m being paid to make sure people have their drinks.”

“Oh, so it's not because I’m cute?”

“Now I didn’t say that did I? But you know you’re gorgeous; your boyfriend over there must tell you all the time.” He muses, a smirk playing at his lips as he nods behind her. She all but chokes on her drink when she turns around and sees that the direction he nodded in was directly in Atsumu’s vicinity before shaking her head violently. Atsumu was not going to ruin this for her. “Oh so not your boyfriend?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ as she slips the straw past her lips again, eyes taking in his leaning form. He was cute. His hair was on the silver side of blond, tips of his hair black. He was tall and lean, a piercing hanging from his left ear.

“That’s a shame.” And she gives him her name with a flutter of her lashes and a sweet smile. He returns it, preparing her next drink without her even having to ask. And so they talk, first about how the next person who approaches the bar should be cut off, to how pretentious the whole event was. Two drinks in, Y/N finds herself being invited to a show.

“This whole bartending thing is just a way for me to get some extra cash… I’ve got a gig in an hour. I figured if we leave together now, I can get you home to change outta this and into something a little more… concert fitting?”

“O-Oh.. yeah. I just need to go let my friend know…” She trails off, sliding off her barstool before turning to gracefully power walking to her initial seat next to Sakusa. She huffs and she plots herself down in the char next to him, to which he gives her a look of what the fuck. “I don’t have time to catch you up, but the insanely hot bartender is taking me home. As much as I’d love to get out of here with you, I desperately need to get lai-”

“Going somewhere?” Fuck fuck fuck.

“Didn’t you hear her? The hot bartender is taking her home and she needs -”

“Aishhhh shut up.” She turns to look at her curly haired friend, only to see that he’s got this annoying little smile on his face. She deeply exhales and turns back to Atsumu, who looks less than amused about what his friend said. “Listen, you promised me we’d leave two hours ago. Well you lied so nooow I made plans, so if you would kindly move outta my way.”

“No.” She whips her head up at the blonde. No? What the absolute fuck was he going on about telling her no, despite her not asking for his permission. “You’ve been drinking and you don’t even know the guy - how can you trust that he won’t memorize your address then come rob you or something? I promised to take you home, and since you’re ready now we can leave now.”

“Listen Miya, I appreciate the concern but really I’m a big girl. I can handle a night out by myself with a guy - besides I’m not even that drunk. Now, give me my house keys and move out of my way.”

Suddenly, it's like those cheesy western movies where two cowboys are staring each other down, neither willing to be put down by the other. Except it's this 6’2” pro-athlete staring quite literally down at Y/N, who hits the gym only on a blue moon and spends too much time sitting at a desk. Sakusa has to laugh at the two stubborn idiots in front of him; he knows that Atsumu is going to be able to win this little game that they're playing, but silently applauds Y/N for attempting to stick it to him. Moments pass before Atsumu finally sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his expensive suit and pulling out her keys - but he doesn’t give them to her.

“What’s his name? If you can tell me his name I’ll give you your keys and let you go.”

“Let me go? Okay, Dad.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, small clutch dangling from her wrist. “I know his name, Atsumu. I may have had a drink or two but I’m not an idiot to be going off with someone who’s name I don’t even know... it’s… uhm.” And she’s done. She hadn’t even bothered to ask his name, doesn’t even remember whether she gave him hers, nor was she smart enough to notice whether he’d been wearing a name tag.  Mentally she’s cursing herself, chancing a glance behind Atsumu’s shoulder to see the hot bartender chatting it up with another girl. Before she can think too much into it, Atsumu sighs deeply, grabbing his suit jacket off the chair next to her and slipping it on his shoulders, a soft “let’s go” leaving his lips as he nods his good-bye to the rest of the table. Y/N chews at the inside of her cheek before grabbing his arm.

“Give me my keys. I’m not going home with you. I want to be alone.”

---

Four days passed - four days of Atsumu borderline harassing Y/N with apologies. Promising to make it up to her. Which is how she finds herself walking into their favorite local sushi restaurant - it's the only one that has self-serving sushi that arrives on a miniature train, and it's also the only place that they go when apologies are to be exchanged. In the handful of years that they’d be friends, Y/N has needed to apologize to Atsumu thrice - two for blowing him off after overhearing the dreaded words and once for saying that maybe Osamu was the better twin. Atsumu on the other hand, had apologized to Y/N many times - so many times in fact that Y/N is sure that he makes up excuses just so they can come eat at this sushi place.

It’s been a long week for Y/N. The Sunday after the charity event, Y/N wakes up with one of the worst headaches of her life - and its due to the fact that she slept like shit hoping that Atsumu made it home safe since he hadn’t texted her he did. Monday she was handed a stack of documents at work that needed to get done before lunch (which didn’t get done). Tuesday morning was dominated by the fact that some idiot on the train to work had spilt a coffee on her, making her wear the most uncomfortable suit jacket, lest she wear a coffee soaked shirt for most of the day. Today, Wednesday, she’d woken up to a box with a pastry outside her door and a cup of coffee with a sticky note on the lid.

Sorry. Let me make it up to you. Train Sushi? 7pm?

Despite the fact that she was most definitely still thinking about why Atsumu acted the way he did - she still went through the mountain of paperwork on her desk with a little smile, knowing that she’d be getting free sushi and an apology. Maybe if she’s lucky, she can convince him that she needs a crepe on the way home.

As she makes her way into the restaurant that evening, she sees him. His dorito-shaped body is stationed at the bar, a cozy brown coat hugging his back, muscles of his arms being squeezed by the sleeves. She can see that he’s got a drink in front of him and she smiles slightly, stepping up towards the bar but stops momentarily. He’s talking to someone - not just someone, a girl. He’s smiling too. Y/N can’t see the stranger’s face, but judging by the way that she has a hand around his biceps and her head tilted, one can only assume that they know each other. Y/N attempts to step backwards, she wants to let him finish his conversation with the woman but she doesn’t know if she can stomach the idea of watching them flirt; but she misses the step, leading her to bump into the hostess who led her to the bar, creating a bit of a scene.

“Y/N! There you are! C’mere.”

She’s buying time by profusely apologizing to the hostess, who honestly is probably just trying to get away. At this point, Y/N has no choice but to walk towards her friend and this mystery woman. The ten steps towards the pair is enough time for Y/N to mentally list off all the things she could have done in the world to warrant some shitty karma that’s hitting her now. Once face to face with Atsumu, she smiles.

“Sorry - long day at work got me all …” Y/N’s words trail off, the hand that’s not death-gripping her purse waves off with her closing thoughts.

“Don’t mind, Wednesday’s are usually your long days. ‘Sides you’re here now - tha’s what matters.” God he’s so dumb. So handsome and so dumb, and god did she miss him. “It’s a good thing you got here a little late, this is Michimiya Yui. I think you two might’ve -”

“No, I don’t think we’ve met! It’s so nice to meet you - he used to talk about you all the time!” The brunette smiles at Y/N, sticking her hand out, which Y/N takes limply, shaking her hand. She’s pretty, Y/N thinks to herself. Her hair is short and she’s wearing some cute leather thigh high boots, her smile is almost paid-for perfect. She’s got this whole brown smoked out eyeliner working for her, which makes Y/N slightly subconscious about her most likely smudged and uneven eyeliner and less-than appealing work pants. Before Y/N can even think of a response to give, Michimiya has her hand back on Atsumu, a pretty smile settling on her lips. It feels like Y/N is watching a trainwreck happening before her eyes. “I was just telling Atsumu that I was back in town and that we should hang out!”

“And I was just explaining to her that I had plans with yo-”

“You should join us!” Idiot. Why am I such a fucking idiot? Atsumu looks over at Y/N with a wild look in his eyes, Michimiya looks like a child who wound up making out with two candies instead of one. “I had a super long day at work today so I’m really only able to eat dinner, but I know Atsumu can stay up for hours so once I leave you two can hang out.”

“Y/N, I thought that -”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! I just need to tell the wait staff to cancel my to-go order, so excuse me.”

And so the two friends watch the woman walk away from them, making her way towards the to-go order area. Y/N bites at the inside of her cheek, intentionally avoiding Atsumu’s eyes that she feels are pinned on her. She digs out her phone from her purse, texting Sakusa an ominous “next time you see me, please poison me 😑.” As Y/N drags her eyes up Atsumu’s front, she feels the same way she did when she would get scolded by her parents. His eyes are staring at her face, no doubt wanting to press her about why she willingly invited a stranger to eat with them at their restaurant. To pacify him, all she does is hold up her hand, shaking her head.

“It’s fine, Miya. Like you said, Wednesday’s are my long days so I wouldn’t be able to stay out late with you anyway. Besides…” She starts, fixing a smile onto her face. “I think that she might have a little crush on you!” He says nothing, lips pressed in a hard line and a brow arched up at her. “Don’t look at me like that. And save your apology for next time… we have company.”

The rest of the evening goes exactly like Y/N’s worst nightmare. She is quite literally the third-wheel despite the fact that technically Michimiya was supposed to be the third wheel in this little scenario. Y/N has to watch the pretty brunette flirt relentlessly with Atsumu, who seems blissfully oblivious to the fact that for every compliment Michimiya gives Y/N, she gives herself two more. Sakusa is well informed on the situation, receiving texts every five minutes with another dumb thing that was said in front of Y/N’s appatizers. Rarely does someone ever wish for a natural disaster to hit, but in the last thirty minutes of sitting at this table, Y/N has wished for every biblical curse to wreak havoc in her way.

Despite the fact that Michimiya has hijacked every conversation, Atsumu still tries to ask Y/N about her, including her in the conversation as much as possible. But Y/N stopped trying twenty minutes ago, and is now forcing herself to eat the last few pieces of sushi she ordered - normally she’s a stress eater, but Michimiya has rested her hand on Atsumu’s thigh and Y/N has suddenly never felt more sick in her life. Y/N has never once picked up a tab around Atsumu - “please, ‘ve got more money than I know whatta do wit’it” he’d always tell her when she attempted to take up the ticket - but when they finally wave down someone and ask for the check, Y/N drops some cash on the table and collects her things.

“It’s been so nice to meet you, but I think I should really get going. I’ve gotta get to work early tomorrow - I’ll see you this weekend right, Miya?”

“Wait up, I’ll take you home… Yui it’s been really -”

“No no, really it's okay! You stay! I’ll just text you when I get home. Be safe. And again it was so nice to meet you - take care of Atsumu for me.”

“Oh I will!”

Y/N is not a runner but she’s never sprinted away from a situation so fast in her life. The image of Michimiya’s sly little smile at Y/N’s request to take care of her friend makes her feel gross, tears stinging at the back of her eyes and she settles on the train. Y/N can name a handful of times when she’d seen Atsumu around women - but never once had she’d met someone he was romantically involved with and it hurts. The gentle sway of the train does nothing to settle the spinning of her head with images of what Atsumu actually looks for - his actual type. She feels like an idiot; she should have just told Atsumu that they could do a raincheck, or if she was feeling bold, she could’ve told Michimiya to fuck off. The latter seems possible in the version of herself in Y/N’s head, but the reality was that she was too nice. Always wanted to make the people she cares about happy, and Atsumu looked... happy? Besides, Y/N thinks to herself as she exits the train and makes the trek towards her apartment building, if Michimiya Yui was going to be involved with Atsumu, the more exposure she had to her, the better off Y/N would be in accepting that Atsumu would never ever be with Y/N like that.

Once settled in her apartment, she sends off a quick “home. thanks for tonight!” to Atsumu before making her way to the bathroom. A nice warm soak would surely make her feel better, make her forget about what an idiot she is and maybe, just maybe, make her body relax all the love she holds in her heart for the blond away. Her phone pings, twice, but she ignores it. Ten minutes into her pity soak she hears a bang on her door, which only makes her groan and dunk her head under the water. The banging stops, making Y/N think it was just her neighbor or something asking for a favor. What she doesn’t expect is for her to exit the bath twenty minutes later to see Sakusa Kiyoomi sittin on her couch.

“Hello, glad to see you exploiting your spare key access.”

“Miya called me and said you looked like shit earlier. And judging by your texts throughout the evening, I figured you were on the brink of a breakdown.”

And so she was. She spent the rest of the evening talking Kiyoomi through the night, slipping in all the questions she’s had from the past two times that Atsumu had cockblocked her. And bless Kiyoomi for sitting through her tears, sitting cross-legged and drinking tea that he had initially made for her but refused to let her drink once he realized she had already brushed her teeth. It felt almost like she was finally thinking about what her friendship with Miya Atsumu was, what it could and couldn’t be. Every moment painted so clearly about how Y/N felt for her blond friend, but the only thing missing was how said friend felt about her. At 11:30 pm, two hours after Kiyoomi initially arrived at Y/N’s apartment, she pushed Kiyoomi out the door, eyes puffy but heart and head a little clearer than how they were when he arrived.

Despite promising Kiyoomi that she would not think about Atsumu, as Y/N settles into bed, her thoughts can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with him. She mulls it over as she slides off her socks, deciding that it’d be nice - probably exactly how they are now, plus a title and a little less swatting his hands away when he reaches for her in public. Y/N can’t help it as she thinks about whether they would kiss a lot - they’ve kissed before, neither strangers to cheek kisses as greetings or kisses at the top of their heads when the other is crying into their chest (there was even that very drunk kiss they shared on New Years Eve when their friendship was fresh that both still have warm cheeks about when they think about). Just as she’s about to go down the path of whether Atsumu would spend more nights with her at her cardboard box of an apartment or her at his, Y/N cuts herself off - after all she wasn’t his type. Tonight proved that more than anything, she thinks.

It’s not like Atsumu has never brought anyone around Y/N - there’d been a few that she’d met, though they were mostly over a facetime call and it was mostly just her waving at them before Atsumu ducked away to have a private conversation. It's not like tonight was the first night Y/N had to swallow the bile in her mouth at seeing someone make heart eyes at Atsumu - it's just this time felt different; almost like Y/N was finally having the truth thrusted into her face. But Y/N isn’t mad or hateful of Michimiya, nor Atsumu for that matter - she’d never been the type to hate a girl for having feelings for the person she has feelings for. It’s annoying, sure, but Y/N doesn’t see the point in hating someone for how they feel - however, Y/N does not make the effort to become friends with these girls, or maintain the close friendship with Atsumu for that matter. Is it petty to put a strain on a friendship out of fear of losing said friendship? Absolutely! But Y/N knows she won’t be able to stomach another night like tonight - another night of seeing Atsumu slip so easily from her fingers into the arms of another. And as observant as Atsumu is, he never fully recognizes that Y/N is avoiding him, at least that what she hopes since more often than he’s able to worm himself back into her life.

---

Following the failed apology dinner, Y/N tried her hardest to give herself a few days without the blonde- made easy by the fact that the weekend after the failed apology dinner he’d be out of town for another tournament. It’s not like she was totally avoiding him, she’d responded to his texts and even answered two of his six facetime calls while he was away, she just wanted a little bit of time to wallow in self pity in her apartment, crying over her comfort movies and eating too many bags of hot chips. But once he was back in the same timezone as her, Atsumu made it impossible for Y/N to fully wallow.

It started when he texted her about their favorite crepe place temporarily closing for some reason or other - he’d tried to convince her to ditch work early that day to come, but Y/N declined with a simple text of “i like my job tyvm.” So what did he do? Pick her up in his flashy sports car that day after work (two hours later than usual since she’d figured he’d do something ridiculous like this) and drove her there, where he didn’t bat an eyelash as she ordered double than what she normally would have (a silent fuck you from Y/N but it didn’t matter since she wasn’t actualy hurting his wallet). She’d been able to tide him off for a few days, as she escaped to her hometown for a weekend - but that did little to stop the mirage of texts he’d sent her, describing in great detail this cool hybrid bookstore-game cafe that he found and thinks she’d like. Instead of responding how she actually wanted, she’d just replied with a half-assed “ahh exciting- sounds cute!” (She mentally grants herself ten nice points for erasing her initially text, telling him to take his “fucking girlfriend”). This must have really struck a nerve with him when the following weekend, he’d dragged her out of bed on Sunday morning to take her to said bookstore-game cafe, even spoiling her by secretly buying a book she’d picked up but put back.

Y/N can’t tell if Atsumu is intentionally ignoring the hints she doesn’t want to see him or if he’s really just oblivious. She also can’t tell if the patter of her heart when he drags her out of bed despite her not wanting to see him is a good thing or not. It’s been weeks since she’d third-wheeled with Atsumu and Michimiya, surely Y/N should have been able to take a little bit of pride in the fact that he was literally chasing her down to spend time with her rather than Michimiya - but before she can even swallow that pill Atsumu shows up at her apartment with the trace of a bruise hiding just below his shirt collar. The small mark on his neck makes Y/N convince herself that this would be the time that she needs a full on Atsumu ban.

Said ban never actually happens, though.

Just as proof that this ban doesn’t happen, today Atsumu has decided that Y/N needs to come shopping with him. For the entire day. Cue the montage of Atsumu banging on Y/N’s door at nine in the morning, breakfast pastries and coffee in hand as Y/N answers in all her morning glory, sleep caked up in the outer corner of her eyes and pajamas haphazardly fixed. Words are exchanged as Atsumu pushes her towards the shower, promising to make up her bed and even take out the trash for her (a chore she put off last night because she’d seen too many people smoking by the dumpsters which scared her enough to make her drag up the two bags of back up the five flights of stairs). As Y/N settles at her desk to work on making herself “the hottest person at the market,” Atsumu settles on her bed, talking a mile a minute about all the things he wanted to get at the market and the possible places they could go for lunch in the area. All she can do is hum, wondering silently why he’d chosen to take the trip with her and not his girlfriend - but she wouldn’t complain.

The market was...fulfilling enough. Surprisingly, Y/N was walking towards the food trucks with more bags in her hands than Atsumu, who followed behind her with one print from a vendor that Y/N convinced him would actually look good in his home office. The pair decided that Y/N was better suited to look for a place where they could park themselves to eat, while Atsumu went off to get them lunch. Before Y/N could make a break for the tables though, Atsumu grabbed her face, thumb swiping at her cheek firmly - it took Y/N every ounce of restraint to not whimper at the unprompted affection.

“Wha-”

“Had some of that jam sample from earlier on your face, dummy.”

“Tsk… why didn’t you see it earlier.”

He just smiled softly, letting the warmth of his hand fall from her face before patting her back towards her initial direction. Frankly, she’d been thrown off her rhythm; they’d touched each other before for fucks sake. So why was this one moment of closeness enough to make her chest feel tight? As she weaved through the tables, she can’t help but hold her hand to where his was, almost as if to preserve the warmth that was now gone. She hummed gleefully as she found a table, making her way towards it and setting up camp. As she settles into her chair, fingers deftly texting to Atsumu where she’s stationed, she sees a shadow come across the table.

“Hey, are you gonna use all these chairs?” He’s cute, almost terribly cute - he’s got this pinkish-blonde hair going on top, an almost shy glint in his gray-ish colored eyes, and an almost self-assured smile pulling at his lips. He was also tall, much taller since Y/N was sitting, but she almost doesn’t mind considering the fact that she is most definitely gawking at him. She shakes her head momentarily, both as an answer to his question and a way to clear her head momentarily.

“Thanks! My friend over there is too precious to sit on the curb, apparently.” He smiles at her, eyes squinting and she’s momentarily breathless at just how cute he is when he smiles. His arms move to grab one of the chairs and that's when she decides to speak up, not wanting to quite end the conversation yet.

“Ahh no worries! I know all about having that too precious friend! I only need one other chair so you can take two of these.”

“Oh cool thanks… and hey this might be a little weird but - fuck are you from Miyagi? You look kinda like this one girl from high school but - “

“I am! I went to Aoba Johsai and -”

He clicks his tongue and seems to smile even brighter now. “That’s right - you’re Y/N right? I think you were a year younger than us right, but you always hung out with that one girl in my year who used to smoke behind the boy’s gym…” Y/N nods, a grimace on her face and the back of her neck feeling a little warm with embarrassment. How could she possibly explain that said girl was actually Y/N’s cousin and that she didn’t actually smoke, she’d just smell like it after working at their family restaurant. “Well I’m Makki, by the way. If you remember Matsukawa and Iwaizumi they're over there - they were at Seijoh too.” She nods, leaning slightly to see the two men behind him, both wearing smiles that were just a little too cheeky.

“Yeah yeah, I remember… you also had a particular whiny one with you too, right?” He laughs at that, responding that said whiny one was actually abroad. The two make a little conversation, her giving him some suggestions on places to visit since one of his trio is actually visiting for the weekend. Y/N thinks this is nice - feels like the main character in a movie with the amount of men that have approached her in the past couple weeks. Before she can get too cocky in her ability to pull though, Atsumu walks up to the table, hands full with a tray that seems to be piled with too many little plates.

“There y’are… couldn’t see you from across the way… everything okay?” Atsumu questions, standing to his full height as if sizing up Makki, who seems completely unphased by Atsumu.

“Yeah, was just asking your girlfriend if I could steal these two chairs away before I realized that we knew each other.” The strawberry blonde is definitely unphased by Atsumu, who’s shoulders visibly relax at Makki’s suggestion that the two friends were together. “Well it was nice seeing you, Y/N! Thanks again for the chairs, you all enjoy your meal.”

As Makki walks away, Atsumu settles into his own chair with a smug little smile playing at his lips. Y/N, on the other hand, is chewing at the inside of her cheek as food is placed in front of her. Her blond friend, the observant little shit, notices that she doesn’t immediately tuck into the lunch laid in front of her and nudges her foot with his, muttering a quick “what's wrong.”

“You were blessed with possibly the worst timing in the world, y’know that?”

“What d’ya mean?” He muses, taking in her huffily pulling the lid off her food and stuffing her face with the rice bowl in front of her.. She chews, combing the food on her plate with the plastic fork as a way to stop herself from unleashing all her frustrations.

“You always but in whenever I start getting hit on! Or you stop every chance I have at possibly getting to know someone; you come in here full force and its really not fair. I don’t do it to you, and it's just not fair.” Y/N hates that she probably sounds like a whining child, but she really can’t help it anymore. It’s really not fair that Atsumu flaunts his conquests on the cover of every magazine, but god forbid Y/N talk to a guy. “Its been a while since I’ve had sex, Atsumu, and it’s getting to a point where I’d jump just about anyone’s bones. I - I just think that as my best friend you should be providing me some support, not cockblocking me at every fucking opportunity you get.”

It takes every fiber in his body to not laugh at how ridiculous Y/N is being right now. He licks at his lip, catching whatever food crumbs he could before clearing his throat. “‘M sorry what? You actually wanna hook up with those guys? They seem like the type to just fuck ya n’ then not text you back.”

“And if that’s what I want then so what!? Did you miss the part where I said I’m desperate here?”

“Then..” He takes a swig at his water bottle in front of him, leaning back slightly in his seat and sliding his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head. “If you need it that badly then you can just do it with me. You said anyone so I can -”

She laughs, one that sounds on the brink of delusion. “You’re fucking ridiculous. Yeah okay… Dunno if you remember but you’ve got a girlfriend, Miya.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Y/N. We’re… not that serious with each other and we’re also open. She knows that..'' He looks smug, and Y/N wants to smack the absolute life out of him. “And I’m being serious, darlin.. I’d rather get you off than see you get your hopes up over some random.”

Y/N squeezes the poor utensil in her hand, choosing to chomp down one of the buns on the table instead of reminding Atsumu that she wasn’t exactly his type. But she lets it go, just squinting at him and shaking her head, mumbling how ridiculous he is before swiping some of his veggies off his plate. How else is she supposed to react to her best friend blatantly telling her that he’d fuck her if she’d ask - she tries to ignore the way that their knees resting on each other under the table makes her heart soar. Before she can form a sentence, something to steer the direction away from her sex life (or lack thereof), Atsumu mumbles around a forkful of food that she’d better hurry since he wants to do another lap of the market before it closes.

---

Atsumu’s offer and that entire conversation is brought up again a few days later; the pair are in Y/N’s apartment this time. She’d asked him and his brother to come over to install some shelves for her, but apparently Osamu was busy. With the shelves installed, Y/N put on a movie to serve as Atsumu’s entertainment whilst she organized her trinkets. She wasn’t really paying attention to the movie, too concerned with trying to see if the shelves were actually level or not when she heard Atsumu laugh behind her, muting the T.V. with a quizzical brow raised.

“Huh? If you don’t like the movie then you can change it… ‘m not payin atten-”

“Oh yeah not paying attention right?” She gives him a hard look as if proving to him that she can’t honestly give him the plot of the movie. “So you’re telling me that its just a coincidence that this movie is about two friends who make a pact to fuck each other? That it's a coincidence that the literal name of the movie is ‘Friends with Benefits”

She rolls her eyes and turns to face him fully, seeing that he’s now sat up on her couch with his elbows resting on his knees. A beat passes before he puts his hands up, almost as if in surrender, before he pushes himself off the couch and towards the kitchen. She watches him as he pulls out a bottle of wine, nodding to the couch as if asking her to take a break. She relents, folding her legs under herself and pulling at a string on the worn sofa, thinking she’d probably try to replace this piece before she renewed her lease. He thrusts the glass to her, settling into the sofa but he makes no move to unmute the T.V., instead inciting some silent battle while they each sip from their respective glasses.

“Y’know you’ve been snappy lately… my offer from the other day still stands, hope y’know tha’.” She scoffs, choosing to take another swig at her wine, which does little to cool the warmth she feels in her throat. He’s not technically wrong - the conversation the other day had made a fog of tension hang over her, making a long lost desire for the blond resurface in her lower abdomen at full force. She’d spent way too much time the other night on Amazon, debating on whether it would be a good idea to get rechargeable batteries for her toy, spent too long watching his mouth move when he’d facetimed her the other night. It's not that Y/N hadn’t hooked up with anyone since knowing Atsumu, it's just that maybe she’d spent a little too much time enjoying how Atsumu met her emotional needs that she had neglected her physical needs.

“What offer?” She’ll be damned to let him in on the fact that she’d done nothing but think about his stupid offer. Refuses to let him know that she wants, no needs, to say yes. So she plays dumb, finger dancing along the lip of her cup, foot swinging anxiously against the floor.

He hums, reaching to put his glass on her beat up coffee table. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, placing his chin in his hand, giving Y/N his undivided attention. “‘Samu was talking about how his girlfriend has been on his ass lately about every little thing and so I asked him if they’re doin’ okay, y’know physically… didn’t answer me but I figured he’d solved it if he hasn’t mentioned it since. I heard someone say that if yer girl’s acting fussy then y’need to think about if you’ve been fuckin’ her right and well…” Y/N swallows the lump in her throat, stopping the shiver that threatens to rack her body at the idea of Atsumu thinking she’s his girl. “I was bein’ serious the other day. I know ya were mad so it wasn’t the best time to bring it up, but it seemed like the only good thing to say. Besides, ‘m not all that bad in bed, can ring up a few people if y’need a review.”

Y/N doesn’t respond with anything other than a forced huff of laughter, can't respond really. It feels too warm, she’s hoping that maybe this is some fever dream instead of reality. She just plays with her cup absentmindedly, not quite able to look the blond in the eyes despite the fact that his eyes are studying her face as if she holds all the answer to the questions the universe has. Him being bad in bed is the least of her worries, what if she’s bad? God she wants to say yes, maybe she’ll say yes - maybe it’d be good for her to finally get some di-

“Forget it, ‘m sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable then we don’t have to, sweetheart. I just -”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Oh now she speaks. He looks at her, a wild look fixed on his face, almost as if he doesn’t believe the words that came out of her mouth. “It's just..” She throws her head back, face covered momentarily by some plant leaves. God she didn’t want to actually voice her thoughts but now she has no choice.

“It’s just what? If yer worried about the fuckin part, I can just get you off other ways. Get paid to be good with my hands -”

“Just shut up for once please, you’re ruining it.” He makes a show of zipping his lips, smiling as Y/N squares herself to him, stretching her neck as if she’s preparing for a fight, rather than speaking a coherent sentence.. “It's just that I don’t… dont wanna force you into thinking you have to ‘cos I’m being bitchy to you.. Like it’s not your problem to fix y’know and I just. Besides, don't wanna be the only one enjoying it, want you to like it too and … for fucks sake this is ridiculous. I just dunno I-”

Atsumu’s hand reaches out towards her, fingers stroking her knee in a comforting manner but it’s all but comforting to Y/N, who’s entire leg feels on fire at this small moment of skinship. “Shh, shh, no baby yer not forcing me to do anything. Don’t think that way - I-I wanna do it! I wan’ya to be happy and if this makes you happy then… And i mean if y’need more of a reason then think of it as a way for me to say sorry for cockblockin’ ya all the time.”

Y/N doesn’t say yes, but she also doesn’t outright decline. She can’t think of anything other than how, if she nodded her head, he’d give her everything she’d been wanting. Atsumu and Y/N stare at each other, moments pass and she’s sure that he’s going to take her stillness and silence as a no - but he just moves to grab her wine glass, moving it from her grasp to the table, shifting closer to her in the process. She holds her breath and he brings one of his hands towards her face, palming the side of her jaw in his warm hand, thumb rubbing at the plush skin of her lips. “Can I kiss ya? Maybe tha’s all ya need is a good kiss, yeah?” She nods, his hand moving to pluck at her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Got really nice lips, don’t you? ‘S so soft and wet, catch myself wanting to touch ‘em allot’' She inhales softly as he leans in, his hand sliding to the side of her neck and he litters soft kisses against her jaw. She whines softly when his mouth nears hers. “Shh, gonna kiss you in a minit.”

All Y/N can do is breath, mouth parted slightly as Atsumu drags his mouth over her face. His hand is so warm and big on her skin; he’s so close in her face that all she can do is inhale and smell him, making her dizzy with building warmth in her belly. They catch each other’s gaze, neither daring to blink away, before he tilts his head, pressing his mouth against hers softly at first. He doesn’t move to kiss her, just holds his lips over hers for a moment, as if giving her time to back away if she wants to; but when she doesn’t, he hums and pulls her head towards his more, lips moving in tandem. His hand slides from her cheek, worming its way towards the nape of her neck as he pulls her to him - he wastes no time in deepening the kiss, licking into her mouth with  fervor. And she lets him, moving into his lap as she relishes in the feeling of his tongue lazily swirling with her own; the new found position allows him to drag his hand down her back soothingly, her own hands sliding around his neck and up into his hair.

She parts with a soft gasp, whether it be for air or out of surprise she can’t tell. He whines momentarily, before nosing his way down towards her neck, pressing butterfly-light kisses at the flesh. She’s wiggling in his arms, and he laughs, the air ticking the soft bend of her collarbone. “Fuck, you’ve been holdin out on me. Tha’ was good right? A good kiss for ya?” All Y/N can do is nod, sliding her hand towards his face in hopes of bringing his lips back to hers. She can feel the smirk on his mouth when she presses their mouths together again, and maybe after she’d bitch him out about it but right now all she wants is to be suffocated by him.

Moments pass, the air filled with soft pants in between kisses and thickening arousal. Atsumu cards his fingers in her hair gently, mouth still against hers, free hand sneaking around Y/N’s front. She whines softly, to which he shushes her softly. “Shh you’re okay… just wanna feel ya.” He soothes her over by indulging her in soft kisses against her lips,   hand pushing up the front of her ratty t-shirt, snaking his hand past the waistband of her shorts into the confines of her (now too tight) underwear. Y/N shudders when he strokes lightly over her clit, before surpassing it completely and going to where a wet spot had been developing on the fabric. Plucking the damp cotton out of the way and letting the tips of two fingers rub over her weeping hole, “Oh.. this for me?”

A small noise crawls out of her throat, a mix between a moan, a whine, and surprise. “Don’t, ‘tsumu. It’s embarrassing..”

“Shh don’t be embarrassed. Just feels good to know I make ya feel good, baby.” Atsumu pulls his fingers from her, smiling when she whines at the loss of contact. But he’s able to soother her before she can get too fussy; one moment Y/N is on top of him, struggling to not rock against his thigh and relieve some of the pressure building up inside of her, the next Atsumu has her flipped over so her back, her body caged between the back of the sofa and his arms. A hand on either side of her head as he bends in, sweeps his tongue at a strip of salty skin just beneath her jaw. He hastily shoves up the shirt she’s wearing, revealing more of her and letting his hands graze over her breasts lightly at first before kneading them. She feels lightheaded while his mouth works on her throat, biting and sucking a bruise at the base of it that makes her gulp. Parting from the skin with a gentle kiss and a small, whispered comment of, “Taste so good, so soft and sweet. Been holding out on me, hmm?”

For the first time ever, Y/N has Atsumu in her arms and has no need to push him away - no, instead she’s holding onto him as if she’d die if he slipped away from her, her hands gripping his broad shoulders before sliding up into his hair as he makes his way down her body. He’s practically praising her - pressing wet, open mouthed kisses on her skin as he moves downwards, fingers making quick work of tugging her bottoms off, helping her kick out of them quickly and clumsily. She knows that Atsumu is not a patient man, but this is a whole other level of impatience. He’s pushing her thighs open, cold fingers squeezing at the soft flesh of her thighs as he scoots down to be at eye-level with the barest part of her, making sure her calves are hooked over his shoulders. Y/N can’t remember a time when she’s ever been in a more vulnerable position, but instead of shying away like her instincts would have her, she finds herself moving to better accommodate the man between her legs. Her eyes catch his caramel colored ones and her breath catches in her throat; he’s staring at her, enamored by her.

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t ya?” he murmurs, lips forming a gentle kiss on her inner thigh but before she can retort he gives one long, gentle swipe of his tongue directly up the middle of her folds. She gasps, face turned away from him and thighs threatening to close, but he shifts his hand to stop her, holding her in place. “Aht… don’t get shy now, lemme get a taste.”

It’s too much when he dives back in, skilled mouth a vicious match for his insatiable need to please. As he strokes his soft, wet tongue deeper and deeper between her slippery folds that part around him willingly. Y/N’s sure she’s moments away from swearing her undying fealty to whatever higher being put this on her plate for today.  Puckering his lips around her clit after stopping just before sucking on her until it was swollen and even greedier for his attention. Dipping his tongue inside of her hole, humming appreciatively against her and only feeding into the whimpering sounds filtering out of her mouth.

Embarrassingly, Y/N feels that she’s nearing her end - despite the shame of admitting that it's coming too fast, she feels the need to tell him anyway. “Hmph… g’na cum,” she chokes out, hoping that he heard her because all she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. Every sense is suffocated by Atsumu’s presence, and she’s shameless as she lets every pant slip past her lips, feeding into Atsumu’s ego. “‘m so close, I need it. Need you to – to keep going please, ‘Tsumu”

And he does, gets her to the edge of her high before sliding his mouth away from her. The whine that falls past her lips is deafening, eyes opening and seeing that he’s just nuzzling her thigh, lips making light work at marking the soft flesh. “No, no you said… said you’d help.. Please I’m-” she’s hiccuping, tripping over her words numbly as she tries tugging his head back to where she’s most desperate for him.

He hums at her softly, almost patronizingly, as he places a kiss to the skin closest to his mouth. “Don’t cry pretty girl.. Won’t leave you hanging, ‘ts so warm down ‘ere… might have to stay forever, tha’ okay?” He is disgusting, filthy, so sinfully good. And true to his word, he goes back in without another word, only a small smile and his own hum that vibrates through her lower half. When he takes her clit back between his lips, it’s all she needs. Every tense muscle finally seizing to his maximum strain; it’s like she was a string that’d been stretched too far and finally frayed in the middle, snapping. She can hear her heartbeat thumping like a bass in her ears, can feel the way she’s twitching under Atsumu’s relentless movements, and it drowns out her own noises that she’s making.

Moments later, all that can be heard is her bated breathing, head completely empty and eyes heavy, flickering and fluttering with just how light she feels. Atsumu kisses his way back up to be face-to-face with her, making sure to peck gently at the marks he’d littered her skin with. His face is buried in the base of her throat, their arms tangled around each other lazily - Y/N feels too sleepy to protest the way that he’s pressing all his weight onto her; but isn’t too tired to realize that he’s hard when her hips wiggle to accommodate him between her legs, maybe has been the entire time, which confuses her slightly. Why would he be hard over her? She understands her total arousal over him since she bitched him into submission, but him? If anything, him being hard right now just proves, to Y/N at least, that maybe he would get it up with anything. But what if it is for you, her heart wonders briefly.

“‘Tsumu… are you-?”

“Shh, ‘ts alright. Let's get you to bed.” And he moves to slide off her, moving to guide the two of them to her bed, which was a feat on its own considering Y/N’s legs feel like jelly. All he can do is smile at her, taking in her relaxed face and mused hair. He settles her into bed, sliding up next to her and pulling her onto his chest, lips pressed into the crown of her head.  Before Y/N can even think of a way to say thank you, she feels sleep taking over, choosing instead to just indulge (for once) in the pseudo-domestic situation she’s in tonight.

The following morning, Y/N almost doesn’t want to wake up, isn’t ready to come to terms with whatever happened yesterday. Long gone is the lusty drunkenness from last night, but Atsumu...Atsumu is still fully there, lips pursed and arms shoved under the pillow - Y/N holds back the urge to trace her fingers along the lines of his arm. She russells around, hoping that sleep takes over her again so she can justify waking up wrapped around Atsumu - her attempts are futile though when she feels a firm squeeze at her side, cold fingers making her jump slightly.

“Wha’s wrong?”

She mumbles a barely coherent “nothing,” to which Atsumu just hums, snaking his arm over Y/N’s middle and pulling her towards him, chest to chest with his breath fanning over her face. She swears she could die a happy person now. Wants to have every morning be like this, him in her too small bed, squishing themselves together for warmth, just the sheer proximity is enough, she muses to herself. Apparently, Y/N is thinking just a little too loud this morning for Atsumu’s liking because he sighs softly, asking if she’s sure nothing is wrong.

“Mm ‘m fine. Jus’ tryna get comfortable, go back to sleep.”

“Can’t now, all yer wiggling woke me up” And before she can even retort, he shifts slightly, practically forcing his groin on her thigh, to which she squeaks softly. “Jus go back to sleep… too early for breakfast.”

“Bu- Tsumu.. Lemme..” she starts, shyly. She did have this inherent need to pay him back for what happened, and she can only equate his favor with something equally as...pleasurable?...fulfilling? She can’t find the right word but the most equal compensation for sex has to be more sex, right? The sleep in her bones is fully gone now, her hands sliding down his sides slowly, tentatively. “Please...wanna jus’-”

“Don’t have to, can just go to the rest- sh-shit.” He starts, his own hand reaching to stop hers but his movements stutter when she palms at his crotch, giving his bulge a full on grope. She shushes him softly, lips moving to peck his jaw softly as she snakes her hands past the tight confines of his underwear; and though she can’t see much of what is going on she can feel how thick Atsumu is. His hands have shifted slightly, one arm resting behind her and the other cupping her face, their lips tangled in kisses that feel too sweet and far from platonic.

Moments pass, and it's apparent that Y/N is moving much too slowly for Atsumu, him bucking into her hand and his hips rolling in uncalculated and sloppy movements. He whines softly when she pulls her lips off his, both softly gasping for air, but she shushes him, using the most minimal amount of strength to push him onto his back and settles between his massive thighs. By this point, once fully exposed in front of her, he's so hard that the foreskin is already drawn away from the head, tip slick and wet with precum. She’s gentle, wanting to preserve the quietness that comes with waking up at eight in the morning, as she presses a few open mouth kisses at the patch of hair below his belly button.

And it’s all over from here. Y/N ducked herself down, licking from the dip of his balls to his drippy head in one broad swipe. Y/N shudders softly at the whimper she’s able to pull out of the man above her, thinking that it’s probably the best noise she’d ever elicited from a man. Atsumu runs his fingers through her hair as she slides his head into her mouth, fingers deftly scraping at her scalp as she begins sucking. She sucks him like she wants to – like this was the most perfect way to spend every morning, with her blonde, dumb, stupid best friend stuffing her mouth. Both are still hazy with sleep, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from pulling him in deeper, hollowing her cheeks as she begins bobbing her head and moving her hand in tandem to stroke at what can’t fit in her mouth.

His fingers start to tangle in her hair rather than comb through it, his moans filling the room, punctuated with little encouragements that she hums at around him, like, “Tha’s it, there’s my good girl,” and through shaky laughs, “M'gonna cum if you keep doing that, baby.” Eventually, Y/N knows that he must be near his peak, but she pauses, eyes locking with his caramel colored ones, as she pulls her mouth away to let his length just rest on her tongue.

“Fuck yer pretty… so good aren’t ya?” He whisper-groans at her, gripping her hair a little harder when she tilts her head to the side, allow him to shallowly fuck himself between her lips, his thumb tracing the bulge his dick made in her cheek. “Need'a pull off if y'don’t wanna taste, baby… gettin so- fuck- so close.” He gives her hair a slight tug, like he might actually pull her off himself, but she doesn’t allow him; she just shifts her mouth, making light work of wrapping her lips around his tip, sucking greedily with and humming in protest around him. And it’s that that sends him over, twitching in her mouth as he sputters off shaky profanities before she feels shot after shot of white ropes hitting her tongue. Y/N can’t help but stare at him above her, relishing in the fact that this morning she gets to see him shake and shudder because of her.

Y/N pops off him gently, drawing back and humming at the lingering salty taste he’s left on her tongue. She graces the skin of his heaving abdomen with soft, fluttering kisses as she tucks him back into his underwear, before she crawls up his body, legs swinging to straddle his narrow hips. He’s got an arm thrown over his eyes, neck red and he seems almost bashful underneath her (which makes Y/N’s heart swell with adoration at just how him he is). She wiggles softly, folding her hands on his chest and laying her chin on them, waiting for him to say something to her. She blows a laugh through her nose when he finally looks down at her, eyes glimmering and lips pulled in the shyest smile she thinks she’s ever seen on him.

“You… yer good. Too good… just wow.”

---

Suffice to say lots has happened in the week following the pair quite literally eating their hearts out.

Firstly, Atsumu spent nearly every evening at her apartment that week. He waited every single day outside of her office building - her coworkers have taken to telling her how lucky she is that she has a man waiting for her with this whipped look on her face, but she swears up and down (with warm cheeks) that it's not like that. They eat dinner, alternating between picking up something on the way or cooking together - and by cooking, just picture Atsumu cutting vegetables in uneven chunks while Y/N scolds him for not adding enough water to the rice cooker. Normally this could happen: it's not super rare that they visit each other during the week if it's convenient - what is definitely not in the norm is the fact that Atsumu has buried himself between Y/N’s thighs thrice this week. It starts when Y/N looks too stressed on Tuesday evening, that Atsumu pulls her legs over his lap in an attempt to “massage some of the stress away,” which only leads to him manhandling her onto her back, promising to give her something else to cry about besides work.

Secondly, Osamu thought it would be best to alert Y/N that Atsumu had a very awkward conversation with a woman during lunch on Thursday - it was secretly his way of asking her to ask Atsumu what happened because both Y/N and Osamu were terrible gossips who feed off each other. When Y/N asked though, all Atsumu said was that the whole conversation didn’t matter, that the woman (who Y/N learned was actually Michimiya) wanted more than Atsumu was able to give to her. That their lives weren’t in sync or whatever, that they’d eventually manage to be co-workers at best. To say that Y/N wasn’t elated at the news would be a bold-faced lie.

Y/N feels on cloud nine, feels like she doesn’t even need to have a conversation with Atsumu about what their situation is currently. She gets to reap all the benefits of a relationship now, she’s physically taken care of and emotionally spoiled. Only thing she’s actually missing is the title but what's in a word, right?Atsumu wasn’t a natural flirt, always hid compliments behind a harsh delivery - but lately he’s taken to drowning Y/N in compliments, even the corny ones. Y/N expected a post-nut “god yer pretty,” but what occasionally caught her off was when he would open the door for her (normal) and say that “a pretty gal like you should never hafta touch a handle” (not normal). Subconsciously, Y/N feels like he’s only trying to compliment his way into her pants, but she chooses to ignore the way he coos at “just how gorgeous her eyes are” when he makes eye contact with her during a midnight snack.

On the second Thursday following the start of the Y/N-Astumu situationship, Y/N has no choice really other than to ask Atsumu what’s going on with them. They’re at the grocery store by his place (he’d convinced her to take the following day off work and spend the night with him), everything is more than normal when the pair’s conversation gets interrupted by a literal model-esque person, touching Atsumu’s shoulder. Y/N tries to sneak her hand from his arm, but he grasps her hand before she can get too far, looking at the stranger with a less-than-friendly expression.

“Oh Miya! I’m a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo with me?” He indulges his fan, never letting go of Y/N’s hand, even as she steps out of the camera’s focus. The stranger parts with a grateful smile to both Atsumu and Y/N, which feels unnecessary, but Y/N returns anyway. The friends continue their shopping trip before making the trek to Atsumu’s apartment building. Y/N is quiet, in her head about the whole fan interaction that lasted a total of five minutes, but Atsumu says nothing - even stays quiet until the pair are up in his apartment.

“Everything okay? Not bored of me are ya?”

She smiles weakly at him, settling to rest against his kitchen counter. “It’s just… I- nevermind it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, hand waving in front of her as if trying to shoo away the negative cloud above her head. But Atsumu quickly grabs her hand, pulling her into the space between his arms.

“It’s not stupid if ‘s how yer feeling.. What’s up?”

“Okay…” She starts, pushing away from his chest to give herself some literal and mental space. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back at the opposite counter to Y/N, who's mirroring his stance except her head is thrown back, eyes searching his ceiling for the right words to come next. “Are you always like… this… with the girls who give you head?” When she looks at him, his head is tilted to the left in confusion, making her huff anxiously. “Okaaay.. you’ve complimented me more in the past three weeks than any other person has in my entire life… is that normal for you to do with the girls hooking up with you or am I the exception? It’s not a big deal.. It’s just that you -”

“I compliment you because you deserve to be complimented, sweetheart… but if it makes you uncomfortable then I can stop.” He cuts in, before he uncrosses his arms, palms gripping at the counter behind him. “As for the whole hooking up part… is that what you want this to be? ‘Cos we can do that, up to you Y/N, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give -”

“But why? Until three weeks ago I was under the impression that I wasn’t your ‘type’ or whatever so why now are you suddenly on board with taking whatever I give you?”

He laughs, and Y/N wants to cry. Why wasn’t he taking this seriously? Y/N is good at feeling her feelings, but has a hard time clearly expressing those feelings into words.

“Don’t laugh a-”

“Who told you what my type was? If it was ‘Samu or Omi I swear I’ll -”

“You did. You said I wasn’t your type.” He balks, eyes wide and riddled with trying to think about when he said it. “It was forever ago, but you said it. You came back from Germany, I picked you up and ‘Samu had called while I went to the restroom and well.. I overheard you say-”

“Yer an idiot, made an assumption before ya knew the whole truth, baby. I was talking about this photographer that I was kinda seein’ at the time. M’brother asked why if she’d get mad that I chose to see you fresh off the plane instead of her, said it didn’t matter because she wasn’t my type.”

Y/N wishes that the floor of his ridiculously priced apartment would swallow her whole, or that if she pushed the right buttons on his fancy microwave she’d be able to rewind life to five minutes ago when she decided to start this conversation. Frankly, she feels silly and like she shouldn’t say anything else - she knows that her words conveyed a little bit of insecurity that she’s sure Atsumu doesn’t want to have to deal with.

A beat passes before both Y/N and Atsumu open their mouths, but he’s able to get out the words first. “You really thought that you weren’t my type?” Fuck his smug little desbelieving smile.

“Don’t gimme that look - you’re usually spotted around the globe with gorgeous people… ‘s it really wrong of me to assume that I wasn’t your type? Besides,” she starts, arms crossed around her middle while Atsumu takes a tentative step to close the gap between them. “It's not that it matters now since, y’know I know that it's not true.. Just hurt my feelings at the time and well…”

“You were supposed to be the smart one between us, got the college degree ‘n everythin.” He teases, arms reaching to rest on her waist. “For someone so smart you really missed all the signs huh? Why do you think I stepped in every time some guy tried to talk t’ya? Why d’ya think that I tried to take up all your weekend time, don’t get me wrong I love spendin’ time with ya but also didn’t wanna see you goin out with any guys you’d met when I wasn’t around.” By this point he’s got her chin in his hand, ducking his head slightly to make her look at him fully. “And why the hell would I eat you out at every possible opportunity once I’ve been given the okay? Just because I get thrown it all the time by others doesn’t mean that I eat out every -”

“Alright, alright. You can shut up now. I get it, I’m dumb. I just didn’t think -”

“Oh you got tha’ right - didn’t think at all did ya?” She groans, throwing her head back. She’ll never be able to get the image of his smug face out of her head, never going to be able to live down how for once in their years long friendship Atsumu was smarter than her. All he can do though is laugh, pulling her face back down to his and giving her forehead a soft kiss, making her stomach erupt with flutters.

“If you tell anyone about this conversation, I swear to god Miya I’ll-”

“Shh it’s always gotta be a threat with you huh? Why can’t you just admit that you were stupid for once?”

“Not happening.”

“Not even if it means you’re stupidly in like with me”

“No, because I’m not stupidly in like with you… I just adore your stupid self more than I’d ever admit in front of anyone else.”

He laughs, bumping his nose against her with a laugh before kissing her softly. Everything is great, life is great. Y/N loves Atsumu and Atsumu loves her, and she isn’t some sad, movie cliché any longer. She’s got this gorgeous guy who practically worships her, so freely giving himself to her. He pulls away from kissing her for a second, taking a moment to appreciate the way that her eyes are closed happily.

“Just so y’know… I adore you too.” Kiss. “But you are never allowed to call me stupid again… from now on I’m the smart one in this relationship.”

A/N pt2: and so that’s it hehe. thank you sm for reading I hope you enjoyed it. any little comments you have in the tags would be nice to read or yeah. this is my side blog so like hgjdgsh if I respond to you it’s gonna be from my main haha

#okay now I can type in the tags but basically I’m actually v proud of this not so little fic and so I just sjdjdjdj #if you’re reading the tags ily #tysm for reading my fic I appreciate u!! <3 #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #miya atsumu smut #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya smut

[theysayitscrazy]

Motel El Royale || Fan Fic Friday

Clay Spenser x Reader

Reader x Sonny Quinn Sister

A/N: Shout out to @bravo-four-seal-team and her goat series for the lovely conversation taking place in this.

Taglist: @rebelwrites @rebelreblogs @heathermann200 @bravo-four-seal-team

Warnings: Pillow talk, annoying brother antics, one bed...oops.

~*~

Rain slashed against the Nova’s windshield. The wiper blades whipped back and forth, unable to keep up. After the second time the tires hydroplaned on the interstate, Clay swore. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes and continued staring out the passenger window. This trip was such a bad idea. Sonny was stranded in the middle of nowhere, another bad idea, and needed a ride. Only when you went to start your car, it wouldn’t start.

You cursed the POS silently for the 100th time that night.

You’d been at the bulkhead with the guys when Sonny had called you. Your brother was on his usual post-Davis-break-up bullshit, and you were annoyed when his face popped up on your phone. Not only had you gave him shit over the phone while sitting at the bar with the rest of Bravo, but you had called him back when your POS car wouldn’t start to give him more shit. Your car had worked fine on the way to the bar.

Sonny had called Clay, who and walked out of the bar while on the phone with him and motioned toward the Nova. After he hung up with your brother you sighed and walked over. “Why don’t you jump in?” Clay called across the parking lot.

“Because that sounds like a horrible idea,” you grumbled under your breath. Two hours trapped in the car with pretty boy was the last thing you wanted to that evening.

“We can go get him together,” Clay added, seeing your hesitation.

“Alright,” you called back to him. “Fuck my life,” you grumbled under your breath and grab your hoodie and purse off the passenger seat and headed toward Clay.

The drive had been relatively quiet. You’d taken over the radio as soon as Clay hit the interstate and headed out to the hills where Sonny had taken up residence.

The rain was icing on the cake, and you were exhausted when Clay pulled into, “Motel El Royle,” you grumble as you read the blinking Vacancy sign out by the highway.

“Looks like something out of Norman Bates movie,” Clay sighed. “There’s nothing else around,” he added as he pulled into the parking lot.

“If Chris Hemsworth comes stumbling in from the rain, I call dibs,” you murmur as he parks the nova in front of the office.

Clay shoots you a grin and nods once. “So, I get Dakota Johnson?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. “You can have Jeff Bridges.”

His laugh rumbles out of his chest, filling the quiet Nova, startling you.

You glance at him and wish you didn’t. Those pearly whites were flashing in the dim lighting from the motel building. His smile was infectious, and you found your lips tugging upwards. It was hard to be indifferent around him when all you wanted was to wrap your arms around him and pull his hard body against yours.

You couldn’t though. He was your brother’s best friend. There were bro codes about that. Shit you and brother had a bro-code about that.

“You alright?” Clay asks, catching you staring.

You snap out of it quickly and smirk, “Just imagining you looking like a drowned rat when you return from getting us a room.”

His grin falls and you smirk.

“Go be a gentleman and get us a couple rooms,” you say as rain beats down on the hood and roof of the Nova.

He shakes his head in disbelief but turns to get out of the car.

Once he’s out of the car and making the mad dash to the front door, you sigh. “Come on, Y/N, get your shit together already.”

Why did he have to be so God damn gorgeous? You watched him through the window, talking to the guy at the front desk. You needed a cold shower after the last two hours in the car with him. Something about the man and his sexy ass car made you hot. Fuck, everything about that man made you hot.

You watched as he grabbed the key from the front desk guy, before he headed toward the door and stopped, looking out. He was already soaking wet from his short walk inside. His grey t-shirt was clinging to his body more than it usually did.

He rolled those muscular shoulders back and braced himself for opening the door.

You grinned broadly at him and waved.

He sent a glower your way.

You blew him a flirt kiss and watched as a smirk pulled across his lips. Oooh baby boy was looking cocky as fuck as he strolled out of the motel and into the rain.

Only he didn’t walk to the driver’s side…he leisurely strolled around the Nova to the passenger side and pulled the door open before you could even think of locking it. “What are you doing?” you ask dumbly, as he reaches for your hand and pulls you out of the car.

Its pouring buckets. Too dangerous to drive, and this man is pulling you out into it. “Fuck Clay!” You shout as the piercing rain hammers down on you. “It hurts!”

He laughs and spins you out and away from the car, holding your hand. When he pulls you back and you spin into him, you gasp. Is he dancing in the rain with you?

You look up at him confused as he grins down at you.

There’s no music, but he wraps an arm around your waist, sliding his hand to the small of your back, and pulls you against him. “What are you doing?” you question, even though your hand slides up his bicep to rest on his shoulder.

“Just go with it,” he grins down at you. He squeezes the hand he’s still holding and begins to lead.

“Fuck,” you think to yourself as you let him guide you around in a small circle in the parking lot.

You can’t take your eyes off him. Those blue eyes are dark with desire and he’s watching you just as closely. There’s something magical about the moment and you suddenly don’t care that your soaking wet, clothes clinging to you, and freezing your ass off.

Clay’s gaze on you is all at that matters. His hand in yours. Your body pressed against his.

A ringing cell phone breaks the moment, and you jump back, startled.

Clay looks annoyed but pulls out the cell from his pocket and flashes you the screen so you can see that its Sonny. You nod once, and Clay walks around the car to the driver’s side as he answers the phone. You slide into the front seat and close the door behind you, shivering as you drip onto the leather seats.

“Yeah man,” Clay says, speaking over the roar of the rain on the roof of the car. “Nah, we had to pull over. The roads are flooding. We found a motel for the night. You gonna be good till morning?”

“Yeah brother,” Sonny’s voice was loud and clear in the Nova. “Don’t be gettin’ any ideas about my sister.”

“Sorry man, you’re breaking up! Storms loud! I’ll you in the morning,” Clay answered and hung up on Sonny.

You look over at Clay with a confused grin on your face.

He shrugs a shoulder and smiles. “Let’s go find our room.”

You’re suddenly nervous as Clay starts the car and heads around the building to the back. Once parked, you realize you don’t have anything. No clothes to change into. You’re soaking wet and freezing cold.

Clay parks the car and you both run out into the rain again, to get under the overhang. Clay unlocks the door quickly and you stumble through, only to stop dead when you see the one bed in the room. “Fuck,” you groan.

“What’s wrong?” Clay asks.

“There’s only one bed,” you mutter, pointing to the thing like it offended you.

“It was the last room they had,” Clay’s voice was soft behind you.

You sigh and walk further into the room and set down your purse. “Any chance you have clothes in your car?” you ask him over your shoulder.

“Uh… actually,” he says and nods once.

You glance at him.

“I might. Let me check.” He heads back out into the rain, and you move to the window to watch.

He uses his keys to open the trunk and you grin when he pulls out his ‘Go bag’.

A moment later he’s back in the room, dripping water all over the floor, bag slung over his shoulder. “You’re in luck. I just did laundry,” he grins as tosses the bag on the dinette table under the window.

Something about the table has you glancing around the motel room, taking it in again. 70’s wallpaper. Weird divider by the door. “Does this look like something the Winchester’s would stay in?” you ask, glancing around.

Clay chuckles but looks around too. “Alright, that’s a little creepy,” he admits.

You nod, but motion to the bag. “Think you got a pair of shorts and shirt in there I can wear? I’m gonna hit the shower.”

Clay nods and starts digging. A moment later he’s passing you a pair of drawstring shorts and a Navy t-shirt. You murmur a thanks and head into the bathroom.

You take your time in the bathroom, savoring the heat of the spray from the shower head. That little dance in the rain chilled you to the bone and you have no desire to head back out into the main room. That one bed, though a king size, was not going to do well for your poor attempts at staying away from your brother’s best friend.

Neither were his hairbrained ideas for dancing in the rain…and why would Sonny choose that moment to warn his buddy away? Was there something going on?

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. “You drowning in there?” Clay’s voice sounded amused on the other side.

“I’ll be right out,” you call back and sigh. “Fuck my life,” you grumble to yourself.

After you dry off and change into his much larger, but dry clothes, you wrap the towel around your hair on top of your head to dry, and head out into the main room.

Clay’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, dripping everywhere.

“Shit, you must be freezing,” you admonish and move out of the way. “Go!” you point toward the bathroom.

He nods and grabs a bundle of clothes off the bed.

While he’s showering you make quick work of hanging your wet clothes from the curtain rods and crank the heat up, praying your clothes would be dry by morning. Then you dig in your purse for a brush and hair tie, before you brush out your hair and pull it back into ponytail.

You glance around and realize its late. It’s past midnight, so you pick your side of the bed and crawl in, setting your phone on the nightstand. You shut the light off, and leave the one on, on the other side of the bed.

Your heart races when you hear the water shut off in the bathroom. You think about closing your eyes, but you’re too wired, and what’s the point. He’d know you wouldn’t be sleeping yet… and thank God you didn’t.

Clay walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of boxers, carrying his wet clothes. He glances at you to see you watching him and then heads to the curtains to hang his own wet clothes next to yours, above the heater.

“You cool with sharing?” he asks you, hovering next to the side of the bed.

You glance over your shoulder at him and nod.

Then he’s sliding into bed and the large king size, suddenly feels small. His large body takes up so much space, you know if you roll over from your little square that you claimed, you’d be touching him.

A moment later, the room descends into darkness as he shuts off the light. You let out a yawn and try to get comfortable but find that you’re still too wired to sleep. You turn onto your back and stare up at the dark ceiling.

“You alright over there?” Clay’s voice is soft in the dark.

“Mmm,” you respond, not sure what to say.

“What kind of trouble you think Sonny got up to this time?” Clay asks.

You let out small laugh and shrug in the dark. “Knowing him, something ridiculous.”

Clay’s rumbling laugh shakes the bed, and you grin. God sometimes your brother could find the most ridiculous situations to end up in. “Like the Goats?” Clay asked.

You bust out laughing hysterically. “From the Goat dealer?”

Clay answering laugh shakes the bed again.

“Then the cats?” You bring up, remembering when your brother tried to get rid of the goats.

“Blackburn was so pissed!” Clay laughed.

“But then you dumbasses had to take on a bull,” you smirk at him in the dark, rolling onto your side to face him. There was just enough light peaking through the curtains for you to make out the outline of his face.

Clay laughed again. “To be fair, I thought as long as I outran Sonny, I’d be fine.”

You laugh and hit his shoulder. “Oh, great best friend you are.”

“At least I didn’t leave Butt-head in Blackburn’s car,” Clay chuckled and rolled on his side to face you.

You shake your head at him. “I swear you guys are a bunch of overgrown man children,” you chuckle.

Clay grins at you and props up on an elbow and rests his head against his fist, watching you.

As the conversation lulls, you think about Clay’s conversation with Sonny earlier. “Hey Clay?” you murmur.

“Yeah Y/N,” he responds softly.

Your heart flutters at hearing your name in the dark, from the blond God. “Why did Sonny tell you not to get any ideas about me?” You bite your lower lip, wondering why you even bothered asking.

Clay’s quiet a moment before he slides closer to you. His hand reaches out in the dark and finds your body. His hand slides down your side and around your back, before he’s pulling you against him. “I thought by now, that’d be obvious,” he murmurs, his face inches from your own.

Your breathing is ragged as your heartbeat ticks up. Is this really happening?

You reach your hand up between your bodies to run your fingers through his scruffy beard. “And what’s obvious?” you ask.

He pulls your body even closer and then his hand slides up your back to the back of your head. He tilts your head to the side with his large hand and pulls you to him as he captures your lips in a searing kiss.

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull him toward you.

You lay there, making out for a while before he pulls back and hovers over you. “Obvious enough?” he asks.

“Mm, no,” you smirk up at him. “I think you’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Go out with me,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oohh, getting a little demanding over there.”

He chuckles and leans down, claiming your lips in another breathtaking kiss.

“Mmm,” you moan into the kiss.

“Yes?” he mumbles when he comes up for air.

You roll your eyes and pull him on top of you. “Yes, you blonde idiot,” you answer, and kiss him again.

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