#THEY ALL NEED SEATBELTS

[ocean-spirit-productions]

Look at how many clowns can fit in that car! Or since its fish, does that make this a school bus?

(In case it isnt obvious, Miss Clown Fish Mermaid doesnt have a license to drive)

#mermay #mermay 2022 #artists on tumblr #mermaid #digital painting #clown #clownfish #featuring another precious friend #little fish bby #i wasnt lying when i said that my next theme was clowns LOL #THEY ALL NEED SEATBELTS #unsafe conditions #not osha approved #why is a mermaid driving a car? Fuck yout hats why #my arts and farts

[crumbleclub]

They can talk, in death. Evan has questions. He wants to understand; he needs to know the whole story in order to process and heal. He needs to know why Mike was the way that he was to understand that it wasn't Evan's fault; and he wants to know what happened after he died, what it was like.

Michael wants to answer him. He wants to help; he's obligated to help, after everything he's done to Evan. He prepares his story, opens his mouth to speak...

And nothing comes out.

In which Michael threw himself to the wayside when he decided to save them, so much so that he isn't ready to talk about his own trauma after he dies.

#in airplane emergencies they tell you to put your own mask on before helping others #michael never listened to that. after all it was his fault evan had his seatbelt off. #but yea no i do think this would be a barrier they'd face in trying to talk again #evan would be ready. he needs that information. #but michael isn't. he wants to. he wants to help so bad #but it's buried in guilt and repression and it's hard for him to remember what's what anymore #maybe he went too far into self blame and starts telling a story that he thought was something he did to evan but evan has to stop and #correct him. 'that one wasn't you. that was daddy' #i'm sure the opposite would happen as well and i think it would be a giant thing for mike. like he'd have to stop for a whilr to process #that one while trying not to be self destructive over it #he can't let himself get carried away. evan needs him for one. and he can't fail him again #fnaf #michael afton #evan afton #cc afton #cw abuse #once not one

[ollifree]

No Wolf-Man's Land

Fic for @barbwritesstuff's IFs 'Blood Moon' and 'Thicker Than', featuring @atypicalacademic's Mahim.

[Ao3 Mirror]

A vampire and a werewolf go to the movies, and neither knows exactly who is trespassing. Set during the time skip between parts one and two of 'Thicker Than'.

Obviously I should have waited to see how the pack's going to cameo in the game before writing this. However, and I cannot stress this enough, Barb's writing is my cocaine. The setting and the characters do things to me I don't have words to adequately describe. Either I write the fanfic as it comes to me or I start mauling.

“Okay, what seats do we want?”

“Up front!”

Hyun picks the ones they normally do. Fourth row up, two from the aisle.

Chris has an aunt-related emergency. Which is unfortunate, because Hyun likes that aunt, and annoying. Because vampires can’t pick up their sons during the day no matter how much they want to. They can’t even pick up their phones. They’re dead.

But, arrangements have been made, and now Hyun and Seong have a few nights to spend together. So what if Hyun took their toddler to a late-for-toddlers movie? It’s the weekend! Plenty other people here seemed to have the same idea.

A group ahead of them in another snack queue draws Hyun’s attention. Five kids, the oldest in her tweens and the youngest about Seong’s age, and one adult. Her buzzed brown hair reminds Hyun so much of Tracy they have to double-take and make sure it isn’t her. Three of the kids look so alike they can only be related. The two girls and the adult couldn’t have passed as relatives if lives depended on it.

“Do you have any water cups for the little guy? I’ll pay for a small.” A cashier tells the babysitter her total. She shifts the youngest boy further up her hip, opens her wallet, and frowns. “Could you make those sodas medium?”

“Can do!”

Hyun hates how chipper the cashier is. They much prefer when one’s openly bored. At least they’re honest.

“Customer service always begins with a nice, big smile.”

Hyun just about stamps down the revulsion the memory brings when the oldest girl wrinkles her nose.

“What’s that smell?”

In almost comical slow motion, the babysitter lifts her head like a dog. Then, impossibly, it whips to Hyun almost too fast to follow. Worse yet is the naked loathing on her face. Worse than that is her golden eyes.

Gold eyes, black fur, lolling tongue.

No. No, no, no. Hyun did not fuck up so bad they brought Seong into werewolf territory.

Shouldn’t they be nice and pricey somewhere further in? Not asking for a downsize at the cheapest theater in what’s technically Hyun’s domain?

Is it Hyun’s?

Shit. They’ve gone and landed themselves in the grey zone, haven’t they?

Hyun picks Seong up and clutches him close, planning the fastest way to the exit. For a split second the werewolf’s golden eyes flash down to Seong. Then her cashier presents her with popcorn, drinks, and several kinds of candy.

There’s still palpable tension: the kids crowd close to her even after she’s distributed the snacks, but the immediate danger is gone. A bored teenager asks Hyun what they’ll be getting.

Hunger fills them at the flush in the teenager’s cheeks. They order a small popcorn and drink for Seong.

~

Vampire.

It’s a testament to how held-together the pack is—so the complex she’s developed can go away now—that the theater isn’t immediately plunged into chaos. Her head, however, is a different matter.

Quiet, Olli orders. As best she can, she parses the overwhelming smells of the lobby and howls the information. Carrie?Carrie?Carrie?

I hear you, dog.

Can you sense the vampire?

Her no is a snarl of frustration. Olli pushes the image harder.

“What’s going on?” Nik asks Iz.

Change of plans? Sergi asks.

No. Tell Minjo.

Yes Alpha.

Vicky. Mahim. be ready.

Yes Alpha. Their confirmations overlap.

She feels guilty about Mahim. Hani came along so he and Farro could have a date night. Not that they’d have much of a date knowing a leech is in the theater. Next to Vicky, Mahim’s the one Olli trusts most not just to protect the pups, but to put the wolf away and get the pups comforted again.

Nik grabs her hand after they show their tickets. “Alpha, what if it tries to take us?”

Olli squeezes his hand and smiles. “I rip their head off.”

“What about Mum?” JiAn asks.

“Your Mum’s with the pack.” Olli hopes she hasn’t accidentally lied to them. If Minjo isn’t spending her night at the den, Sergi likely isn’t the only one racing to her. “Wanna guess what the pack will do?”

“Rip their heads off?”

“That’s right.”

They take their seats near the back row. Nik swaps with JiAn to sit next to her. Olli settles Alek on her lap. She owes Mahim and Farro a date night, but she’ll succeed in her original mission to give Minjo a night without the pups.

Probably a night worrying about them being near a vampire, but a night without the pups! Speaking of.

She unlocks her phone and goes to the pack’s group chat. don’t howl for me unless it’s an emergency. the pups are enjoying the movie.

Olli nearly puts her phone away, but thinks twice and scours her contacts for Lee’s number. vampire in the theater. not planning a scene rn but if things go south we wouldn’t mind a crossbow if you’re not busy. She follows it up with the address.

Lee replies surprisingly quickly. Ed already messaged me. In the area on alert.

you’re the best lee

I’m going to start charging you.

“You guys wanna take a picture?” Most the pups lean in. Alek gnaws a fistful of popcorn. “Everyone say, movies!”

“Movies!”

Olli sends the picture to Lee. you would charge a single mother? ☹ She backs out of the conversation and puts the picture in the pack chat.

Lee replies. That one on your far right looks half your age.

you would charge a teenage mother? ☹

Do NOT say you were a teenage mother. It arrives so soon after hers he had to have already been typing it.

lmao

get teen mumed bullet boy

really tho. Thank You for dropping anything else you had lined up. anything changes ed’ll contact you

She goes to her messages with Ed, which consists mostly of Pokémon Go screenshots. good call on texting lee. anything happens be sure to keep him up to speed. Olli makes sure the text goes through and turns off her phone.

There’s still time before previews start when the vampire walks in.

Fuck off.

She realizes she didn’t keep it in her head when Iz and Hani giggle. “I don’t think it heard you, Alpha Olli.”

“That’s why no one likes a leech,” Olli agrees.

She doesn’t look away from the vampire through the entire hour and a half jukebox musical. She can’t even say if there’s anyone else in the cinema. The only times she moves is when Alek howls popcorn or thirsty.

“Can I have your soda if you’re not drinking it?” Hani whispers halfway through the movie.

“I want some!” Iz hisses.

“Share,” Olli reminds them. She hears them pouring it out between their cups. On her other side JiAn and Nik split a bag of candy. Good. They’re focusing on the movie. Having fun instead of worrying what a vampire in the theater means. Or if it means anything.

killkillkillkillkill

Good thing it’s new moon, so she’s the only one who hears how damn right it’s being.

The final number plays out on screen, and the characters dance over the credits. People block her view as they stand—so there were others here—but her nose tells her the vampire hasn’t left. Like hell she’s tucking her tail and running before a leech.

Eventually, it’s just them and the vampire. It turns its head as if to check, yes, the werewolf’s been the one boring holes in its head the entire movie. Changing during a new moon is so effortless now. The wolf in her wants it to try. She wants it to try. On four legs she’d be across the cinema in a blink. Pin it below the seats where the pups can’t see and

ripripripriprip

It picks up the kid and leaves.

Between the three buckets there’s about half a tub of popcorn left. They dump it into one, and Olli scoops out some for Alek in the water cup after wiping it down.

A surprise waits for them in the lobby. All of Team Former Stray. Including Carrie.

“Mahim!” Hani and Iz squeal. They launch into his arms and bombard him with the plot of the movie.

Vicky and Carrie stare in the same direction. Olli just makes out the short form of the vampire slipping through the dense crowds.

“It’s not someone I know,” Carrie says at last.

“Can’t win ‘em all.” Olli addresses the pups. “We’re all using the restroom before we go home.”

Ed takes Alek, and Vicky goes with Olli. While Iz and Hani enter the stalls, Vicky pulls out her phone and opens the notes app.

How’s a leech get a kid?

Nice to know someone else has been thinking the same thing for the last ninety minutes. Vicky passes over her phone.

probably the same way a human gets a werewolf one. or vice versa

Vicky arches a brow.

they looked VERY similar

They don’t need to howl to know what the other is thinking. Fuck.

“Can I ride with Mahim?” Hani asks when they’re all back together. Then it’s a shuffle of getting the booster seat into Vicky’s car, and figuring out whose legs fold easiest. Carrie and Mahim wind up smooshed together in the back of Vicky’s car. Ed gets his usual spot in Vicky’s passenger seat.

Iz waves to them from the back of Olli’s. Mahim and Ed wave back.

Turn around, Iz. Vicky howls. Iz sticks her tongue out before sitting down and doing her seatbelt.

Olli frowns at the number of unread messages in the pack chat. Not the mention private texts and smaller groups, let alone the chats she’s not in….

“Alpha?” Nik pipes up. “What are you howling?”

“M’not howling, bud. Just thinking.”

“Oh. Thinking what?”

She opens the spoofed version of Spotify (affectionately named Spoofy) that believes she pays for premium. “I’m thinking how catchy those songs were.” The pups cheer when the movie’s soundtrack starts.

Farro howls. A bus leaves their territory. follow?follow?follow?

No. Meet back at the den.

Hi Dad!

Hi Hani.

As Olli waits her turn to leave the garage, Marco catches her eye. She manages a tight smile. He takes her hand and massages the knuckles below her claws to turn them back to nails. The gate arm lifts and it turns out to not be the best thing to do while she’s driving stick. But the comforting rub he gives her thigh does the job just as well.

~

Do werewolves not blink?

Hyun feels eyes on them all throughout the movie. Eyes and wrath. They forget to act. Shift, cross their limbs, blink. Even werewolves know better, right? Not in front of so many humans. Not in front of kids.

They decided against calling Iliya. Yes, he’s the strongest vampire they know. Outside whatever freaky feats Dominus is capable of. And yes, Iliya’s as good at keeping secrets as he claims to be. But this is Hyun’s son. Tracy and Marcel already know about him. The more vampires Hyun tells about Seong, the more likely it is a vampire Hyun doesn’t tell finds out.

Hyun waits after the movie ends. One of those five werewolf kids needs to pee. Right now.

Damn the big one for getting mediums.

Gradually the cinema empties. Maybe…the werewolves already left? Out the door on their side? It’s the lingering emotion Hyun’s experiencing. Surely. Against their better judgement, Hyun turns to look. Golden eyes glare down at them.

Hyun grabs Seong and books it.

More werewolves wait in the lobby. Hyun’s not sure what instinct tips them off, but something draws their eye to the group. The way they watch Hyun cinches it. And the one in the black tank top—

Black fur, lolling tongue.

Clutching Seong, Hyun runs for the exit. Of course the werewolf phoned for backup. They’re so stupid. Why didn’t they call Iliya? They’re here for their kids, they’re here for their kids, they’re here for their kids. Why is the lobby so damn bright? They burst into the night and the shadows at last converge over them.

What follows is the most agonizing eight minutes of Hyun’s life and death. Constantly checking the crowds and what they can see of the lobby. Unsure if shadows even work on werewolves. No taxis drive by, and they aren’t letting go of Seong for anything. Least of all finding out an Uber will be longer than the bus.

Finally it pulls around. Hyun drops the shadows so the driver knows to stop. Fuck the grey zone. Hyun isn’t stepping foot anywhere near here. They’ll worry about the ramifications of losing more of their domain later. Some other vampire can get themself mauled over a movie.

As the bus turns a corner, Hyun spots graffiti a delivery van covered on their way to the theater. Even more on the nose than their cup literally runnething over. A giant red paw print.

Shit.

#olli writes #blood moon #thicker than #fic #sona things #mahim my beloved 💖 #wolf olli: *becomes alpha* #wolf olli: *immediately develops anxiety and imposter's syndrome* #wolf olli: 'surely these things aren't connected' #poke go is ace culture i will not be taking questions at this time #mahim: what did we say about expressing emotional needs? #wolf olli: *sweats* #sorry hyun i love writing you but you live in the same world as my self-insert only one of you's getting top billing #all the pups get seatbelts mahim and carrie can tank a crash

[yourneighborhoodneighbor]

me, in the back of a speeding ambulance: this is the closest i’ll ever get to riding the GAV-

#danny phantom #not fanwork #neighbor stuff #random fanstuff #fandom haunts me always no matter what i am doing lmao #if you have never been in the back of an ambulance while on your way to a patient #it is like being in a rollercoaster except there’s no seatbelts #and you have to hold on with only your feet #i mean you can use your hands #but i like to not do that 1 bc fun #and 2 bc when i do have a patient in there i’m honna need my hands to attend to them #so using inly your feet even when you can use your hands is good practice to not get flung all over the place #i love ambulances

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of the horrors brian goosebumpsphantomoftheauditorium is still So funny for being like yeah i'm a ghost i know i'm a ghost. & he's befriended the horror fan menace duo who are giggling clutching each other like omg omg okay. we're fine. we're breaking into the school at night to investigate the horrors aaaa what if there's a ghost eek ok ok!!! & brian ghost who knows he's a ghost is like omg guys aaaa stopppp ;;m;; suffering thee Most but he's not putting on an act to conceal his phantomly destiny. he's just like that

#it's brian colson i believe (unless it's colsen. but i think colson) but clearly this is clearer #the book was killing me & i'm telling you brian especially. his whole thing is being So nervous about everything all the time #which maybe that's meant to be due to [you Did die; alarmingly] but it really does just seem like Mostly personality #the cadence & content of the exchange where he's bemoaning getting paint on his clothes off to the side lays me tf out #just the dynamic like brooke & zeke are Speculating abt Schemes & Ghosts & being hilarious too; here's tina joining in; also magical #while multiple times people just completely in stride And in earnest respond to brian's complete focus on his paint stains issue #goosebumps the musical #also getting Thank You For Being A Friend points like enduring the deadly trapdoors & mystery of; for all he knew ig; a whole other ghost #he has no stake in that beyond just genuinely helping out / providing what moral support he can lol #and You Know What They Say. you probably could've revealed your ghost status & destiny & Just Asked lmao #but maybe he was too nervous like think i'll have to Haint Style Steal Your Breath or sm shit b/c that's easier than a ghost reveal convo #is that a george costanza style approach? i have never seen a full seinfeld episode. no limits to the time/effort/complexity in avoiding #some comparatively more minor issue / hurdle? i understand the like archetypical achievement character of all time in that for sure.... #like yeah they Are alarmed by the apparent ghost / apparent guy who wants to kill them / you as Actual Ghost but they roll w/it too #cracking open goosebumps of all time The Ghost Next Door... #i also need to crack open (press play) goosebumps the musical phantom of the auditorium original studio cast recording again soon #brian's pleeease let this be a normal field trip to brooke & zeke's beep beep seatbelts everyone! dream team for real #completely innocuous haunting except there's a separate totally unrelated guy taking a totally counterproductive approach to things.... #scooby doo villaining it will Not bring the meddling kids!! if i act scary to said kids they'll learn anything besides that I'm scary!!! #bring emile back here like yeah we'll cover for you for real though. appeal to tina's theatre devotion like become frenemies to friends fr #goosebumps ghosts you Do just fulfill your Purpose & then Transcend but brian was just a guy hanging out prior. could do that again

[omtai]

good morning 💖

#i woke up 2 mins before my alarm i feel like a wizard #i had a dream i was the third for a very rich couple #but like i wasn’t a third for sex stuff #they only wanted me there to sit in the middle between them in the car #because the driver liked doing very sharp turns so they needed me there so they wouldn’t slide around all the time #and i was like can’t you just put your seatbelts on #and they didn’t get it and said they’d pay me so i just enjoyed my new job

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

"i dont see why i need a license to prove im safe on the road"

well i think my brothers found the sovereign citizen corner of tiktok

#kai rambles #i swear to fuck everyday he comes out with something new to send me purlering into a right fucking tiswas #im just fucking bamboozled and bawked and all the other words for confused by just insane sentences #like i thought i was going barmy when he said it should be optional legally as to whether adults should wear seatbelts #and whatever it was he said about speed limits #but fucking ay matt #what do you mean you shouldnt need a license to prove youre safe on the road

[bumpscosity]

I don’t think I ever posted abt this but I think it’s funny anyways last time I went to disneyland I went on so many rides that when I got in the car to go home I put my seatbelt on and for a split second I freaked out bc I couldn’t find the yellow strap to pull on 💀

#this happened bc I went on smugglers run and star tours so many times btw #it had become ingrained in my head that before ANYTHING gets moving you’ve gotta pull on the yellow strap #in that split second I was genuenly scared that I wouldn’t be able to get home bc I didn’t have a yellow strap to pull on #this is what star tours does to a mfer #i wonder how often stuff like this happens to ppl who go all the time #sassy speaks #sw #dl #for context for ppl who haven’t been to disney rides usually have a yellow strap on the seatbelts #that you pull on so the cast members can confirm that you have it on and also that it’s secure #usually at some point on my trips pulling on it becomes a subconscious thing #like I don’t even wait for them to ask me to I just buckle in and IMMEDIATELY start pulling on it it’s kinda funny #I’m especially egregious abt this on star tours bc boarding takes FOREVER #bc the cast member has to come in and press a shitton of buttons #so I’m sitting there for like a solid minute tugging on the yellow tab subconsciously like my life depends on it #star tours is a fun one to watch the cast member on bc all the control panels are on full display #i still havent figured out exactly when they take the spy pic I’m sure others have done sloothing I need to look into that #but it’s cool there’s a panel that has a light for each seat and the lights light up if the seatbelt is secured #so you kinda get to sit there and go ‘why did that mfer in the back row on the right not put their seatbelt on yet wtf’ #star tours cast members are the real ones shoutout to all the cast members who have ever worked star tours #and watched me get on it like 4 times in a row and didn’t comment on it 🫡 #I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE A TAG WALL ​HOW DO I MANAGE TO INFODUMP ABT STAR TOURS ON EVERY POST I MAKE 💀

[boneless-mika]

Personally I would rather somebody get really mad at me than me be responsible for their death but idk I seem to be the only (former) rollercoaster enjoyer who thinks that way

#they really just want to make it fat people's fault when something happens to us #so they'll say things like 'the ride operator was probably afraid of the customer getting angry' #instead of 'there should be seatbelt tests just like height tests at the beggining of lines so fat people don't get humiliated or *die*' #also it's not disabled people's responsibility to know what rides are safe for us through idk the magical powers we're all supposed to have #the parks need to have that listed somewhere #like a lot have 'you need to be able to use emergency stairs' and I can't so I don't ride those rides #that + my fatness making me afraid of becoming the next victim of both negligence and mocking from internet people #means there aren't that many rides I feel okay with riding anymore #it's pretty much just the teacups

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, size difference

fem reader

Yanderes with too much libido – who’s horny at the simple thought of you waiting for them at home – already with a boner when unlocking the door.

“Ah, wait – hurts!” You’ll whine when he’s all but bearing over you in a moment’s time – on your hands and knees with your hips held up by his chunky arm, pressing your butt back against his raging bulge like a locked seatbelt on a rollercoaster – keeping you from crawling away.

His other hand has crept down between your thighs – pressing two spit-slicked fingers into your unprepped hole.

“Hurts?” He’ll laugh breathily, wiggling the digits while kissing and sucking your cheek with a smile – as though it were but a cute joke while he continues to curl them into the sponge of your walls – his voice hot on the shell of your ear in a rugged whisper. “Must mean I don’t fuck you enough.”

His fingers slip out and leave your hole to flinch around nothing – but soon after, reared by the plush velvety tip of his much fatter cockhead. He doesn’t even bother teasing it with a kiss before delving in – plowing through the tightness with a satisfied sigh.

“A pretty pussy like this should always be ready for a pounding.” He grunts when he has your skewered down to the base. Drawing a dozen wet circles into your clit before leaving it in favor of giving your tit a squeeze until it settles on holding your throat, pressing you back against his chest – keeping you steady for him to start his deep rutting. “Pretty pussy just needs a lil’ reminder – she’ll remember who she belongs to soon enough.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

HQ – Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins, Ukai

DS – Doma

HxH – Uvogin

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere demon slayer #yandere csm #yandere aot

[trainsinanime]

I wonder: Do Americans know about american school buses? Not their existence in general, but how they're seen overseas.

Over here, they're one of the symbols of America, on par with the Statue of Liberty, the flag, the Eagle, and well ahead of any chain restaurant you can name. People won't know any US states, but they will know these vehicles.

The thing is, here in Germany, we don't have dedicated school buses. The general idea is that kids go to school on their own. When that's not practical, they're expected to use (and given free tickets for) public transit. Public transit is designed around this requirement; there are many places where there is a bus, and anyone can get on it, but the route and timetable really only makes sense for school children. In case a dedicated school bus is really needed, that's generally subcontracted out, and the lines either use something like a Sprinter Van for smaller routes, or a normal city or interurban bus (often a used one that's a bit older). School trips are normal public transit, or a rented bus, typically a coach or regional bus.

It's not a perfect system, in the past couple of years there's been an epidemic of people bringing their kids to school in their cars instead of letting them walk, which is less than ideal. It is what it is. But building a dedicated network of public transit lines only for students, and building dedicated vehicles only for that, has never occurred to anyone here.

Of course we know about these buses, from movies and such, but they're as foreign here as cacti or pick-up trucks (actually we're seeing more and more of these here) or yellow cabs (all europeans will assume all cabs in the US are yellow until they actually visit).

You do see these buses here at times, because people still generally like the idea of the US, even if they have a lot of issues with a lot of details, and so folks bring them over, along with stretch limos and stuff (also not really a thing here). And of course, if someone goes to all that trouble, they don't do it to haul school kids, they rent it out for city tours or as a party bus or whatever.

So you see these yellow things as a symbol of faraway places, scenic vistas, some vague undefined idea of freedom that doesn't necessarily hold up to any contact with reality, and it's just a huge part of the whole US aesthetic.

And then you go to a student exchange with the US, and you finally get the chance: You yourself get to ride in one of these iconic chrome yellow buses! It looks just like in the movies! You get in, you drive in them a little…

…and you realise they're shit. Just the worst buses in the western world. Terrible suspension. Uncomfortable seats with weirdly high backs (so they don't have to put seatbelts in, they just restrict how far kids can fly in an accident). Everything made out of the cheapest materials. Turns out the reason why the US uses school buses like that instead of normal modern city buses, which the US has, is to save money and because they just hate kids.

And then it hits you why US Americans say "as American as apple pie", a dish that is made and enjoyed literally anywhere in the world, instead of "as American as yellow school buses". Of course the Americans already knew all this. They got tortured by these things forever. It would never occur to them to see this as a symbol of America, it's just a normal part of life for them. It's a symbol of school and school life and sometimes normalcy, and tells us that these actors getting out of it are supposed to be teenagers, nothing more.

But most people in Europe have, of course, never ridden on these buses. So when they see them in movies and TV, that's a giant big yellow signifier that we're not in Hessen or Wallonia or wherever anymore. A symbol of a different world, one that may be at most a once-in-a-lifetime-experience for most people, just like a picture of a tropical beach, Incan Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, or Hildesheim (there's no reason to go there twice). And I think Americans don't know that, and that's fascinating.

#bus #buses #school bus

[chlorinecake]

imagine taking care of riki while he’s sick and he can’t resist the urge to give you kissies all over bc he’s so inluv with you :(

[Vitamin C]uddles —⊹ N.RK (西村力) 🛏️

Pairing… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sick boyfriend!niki x gf!reader

Warnings… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ kissing, lots of teasing, fluff

Words… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 521 -> “I’ll take care of you. Duh.”

Despite his usually intimidating appearance, Niki was a huge baby on the inside, and those attributes were only amplified whenever he wasn’t feeling well.

The poor boy had been sick ever since he got back from traveling, so you took it upon yourself to care for him until he got better.

“Hey, this needs more soy sauce… I can hardly taste it,” Niki whined, taking a dissatisfied sip from the chicken soup you ordered.

“Niki, there’s already so much in here that the broth turned brown. Now eat up before it gets cold,” you said, placing a napkin on the table tray beside him.

“I will, but only if you stay with me this time.”

You turned your head at his words, “Aww, d’you miss me?”

“No, I’ve been in bed all day and I’m just bored.”

“Riigght,” you said, spoon feeding him a glob of the grape flavored medicine.

He made a weird face, trying to get over the bitter taste of the cough syrup, “My God, that tastes like poison!”

You giggled at your boyfriends words, climbing in bed next to him with a large plate of assorted sushi rolls, “Try some with wasabi, too! It might help unclog your sinuses.”

Using the chopsticks, you dipped a sushi roll into the chunky green paste, bringing it to his mouth with an airplane motion.

You must’ve put too much, because his eyes immediately started watering as he ate it.

“Do you have any other talents aside from torturing me everyday?” He asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Yup,” you said plainly, escaping his side, “I’m pretty good at leaving sick people to fend for themselves.”

He watched as you walked toward the door, “Byeeee… wait! NOO!! I miss you already!”

“But you just said bye?”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. Come back please!! You forgot to give me vitamin C.”

“Vitamin what?” You asked, turning to face him with your arms crossed.

“Vitamin C… for cuddles,” he clarified, pouting.

“Fine,” you said sharply, “but only if you promise not to say anything else stupid… or mean.”

“Ok, ok, just stop stalling and get over here already!”

You walked back to the bed, lying next to Niki under the covers as he put the sushi platter on the bedside table.

“Wahhh, you’re so warm,” you giggled, your silly boyfriend swinging his leg over your body.

“Okay, now what are you doing?”

“Making a cage for you, my naughty little kitten,” he smiled, poking your nose.

“But I don’t like cages,” you sulked.

“Well then pretend it’s a seatbelt instead,” he chirped.

“Fine…”

“Double FINE! Can I get a kiss now?”

“What? No, what if you get me sick?”

“Then I’ll take care of you. Duh… and before you ask, yes, I promise,” he chuckled, resting his hand on your neck before cradling your face in his hand, leaving feather light kisses all over your face.

“Thank you for not rejecting my heebie-jeebies,” he said in between pecking your cheeks.

“Well when you put it like that, it kinda makes me want to,” you teased, squirming in his warm embrace.

More like this: Kisses with Riki in the dressing room

౨ৎ Thank you for reading this quick little fic, and special thanks to the lovely anon who requested this piece!

౨ৎ Feel free to check out more cute and fun reads like this at the pinned post on my blog :3

౨ৎ Tags: kinda got lazy here but bear with me ~ @squoxle @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @nikisdubblchococake

update 12/03: Thank you all so much for 1,000 likes!!

#enhypen #enhypen niki #enha x reader #ni ki enhypen #nishimura riki #enha niki #niki soft hours #enhypen niki imagines #niki enhypen #niki fluff #niki scenarios #niki x reader #niki imagines #niki x you #nishimura niki #ni ki #ni ki fluff #ni ki imagines #ni ki scenarios #enhypen riki #riki imagines #riki x reader #riki nishimura #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki x reader #riki fluff #enha riki #ni ki x reader #enhypen headcanons #niki ff

[nastybuckybarnes]

Car Rides

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.

Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!

~*~

"Can you move your seat up?"

There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."

Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.

He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.

"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.

"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.

"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."

"Yes ma'am."

You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"

Foolproof! Brilliant!

Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.

Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.

Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.

Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.

It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?

Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.

You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.

The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.

After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.

Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.

The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.

And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.

Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.

Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.

You're caught now.

Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.

Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.

You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.

Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.

Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.

"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.

You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.

"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.

He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.

"Clears the head."

You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.

"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.

He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.

He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.

It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.

"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.

"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.

"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."

"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.

Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.

"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.

You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.

He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.

He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.

Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.

He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.

"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.

Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.

"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.

"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.

Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.

He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.

You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.

He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.

With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."

His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.

Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.

He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.

The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.

Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.

He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.

His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.

You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.

Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.

You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.

He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.

Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.

Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.

As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.

#Bucky X reader #Bucky X reader smut #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky X reader fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky smut #sam wilson #Steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #Bucky/reader fluff #Bucky X you #bucky/reader #bucky/you smut #bucky/reader smut

[miniimight]

❝ CAN WE LEAVE ? ❞ feeling overstimulated at an event, you ask him to take you home

with deku, bakugou, todoroki ( pro heroes )

notes something short while i work on requests ! they are open so shoot me an ask with whatever scenario want me to write ! <3

it was so loud. it was too bright. and the music's vibration grated on your sanity with every rhythmic thump. there were too many people—too many bodies, so many conversations, and shit it was so hot. you felt as if you were floating, in a woozy state as you made your way over to your boyfriend, who was chatting with a couple friends.

IZUKU

at your hushed whisper, izuku immediately honed into your expression and body language. his eyebrows creased in concern as he guided the both of you to a corner. "what's wrong, love?"

you pursed your lips. "there's just... there's a lot of..." you sighed, unsure of how to phrase it.

he leaned into you, blocking you from the party scene behind him. "it's okay, sweetheart, we don't have to stay if you don't wanna." he read your mind and you couldn't be more grateful.

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your head pounded. "izuku..." you whined, massaging your temples.

deku shushed you and pulled you into his chest, helping you walk out of the venue. "let's go home."

"thanks..."

"no need to thank me." he smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead as he hoisted you up and into his arms. "i was over it a while ago."

you giggled and he flashed a goofy smile.

he took you to your side of the car before climbing in himself, turning down the radio and resting a loving hand on your thigh. "rest up."

you laughed softly. "if i sleep, i might not get up, even when we get home. you'd have to carry me."

he looked at you playfully, a smirk on his lips. "it's cute how you think that'd be a problem for me, love." he pat your thigh as if that was a done deal, pulling out into the road.

the comfortable silence lulled you to sleep.

BAKUGO

"home?" he asked.

you nodded shyly.

he stood up and said a brash goodbye to his friends, lacing your hand in his as he pulled you through the crowd. once you were both far away enough from the party, you heard each other loud and clear.

"how long did you wait?" he mused as he fished in his pockets for keys.

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"how long did you wait to tell me?" he gave you a pointed look. you looked away and pursed your lips.

"you were having fun with your friends, and i really didn't want to cut it short..." you mumbled, your eyes stinging.

he opened your car door for you, leaning over the car as he watched you buckle your seatbelt. you stared up at him with glossy eyes and he softened, brushing his thumb over your cheek. the silence was welcomed as your eyes fluttered shut.

"don't be an idiot." he murmured. "just tell me the second you feel uncomfortable, 'kay?"

you leaned into his hands with a smile. "i will."

he smiled and shut your door, slipping into the driver's seat. he took your hand in his again, kissing your knuckles as he sped off.

TODOROKI

"now?" he cocked his head to the side. "are you not enjoying the party?"

your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head, the movement alone making you feel dizzy.

"okay." he set his drink down. "okay, we can leave."

"thanks..." you followed him, unsure of his feelings at the moment. he opened your car door and closed it shut once you were inside, walking to the front of the car. you saw him out the windshield picking up a call, pacing slightly as he conversed.

you grew more nervous by the minute, wondering if you should've just grinned and gotten through it. he was having a good time catching up with his friends, after all.

finally, he sat in the driver's seat, sighing as he leaned back. you watched him with concern and a little bit of guilt.

"i'm sorry, i... we can go back if you want. really." you said.

he looked at you incredulously, his expression reading utter confusion. "but... i thought you weren't enjoying it?"

"well, i—" you stammered, collecting your thoughts. "you were having a great time with your friends and i should've thought of that before i asked to leave."

he shook his head and leaned towards you. "i'm just as tired as you are, darling." he smiled. "to be honest, i'm glad you asked to leave."

"who were you on call with?" you let curiosity get the better of you.

"midoriya, he was just concerned about you." he buckled his seatbelt and brought the car to life. he cast you a little smirk. "i'm afraid you're not very good at hiding your expressions, love."

your face heated as you turned back to face the windshield. he laughed softly, "it's alright. we both aren't."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #bakugo x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #shoto todoroki #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #deku fluff #bakugou fluff #todoroki fluff #mha fluff

[nerdpoe]

Ground Control to Major Fenton.

Danny's chosen for a space mission, along with a group of other astronauts. They're gonna rendezvous at Justice League Watchtower, and then go for a part of space as of yet unexplored as a part of a Justice League effort to map the cosmos.

But something goes wrong with the ship.

And one of the escape pods gets damaged.

So Danny tricks the Captain of the team into a pod and fires it away into space.

He then immediately turns around and makes sure that the ship won't explode, just turning off his breathing on the way.

Danny did this because, unbeknownst to his employers, he is the only person on the crew capable of surviving the harsh nothingness of Space. As a half ghost, he doesn't need to breath and his heart doesn't need to beat, even while in human form.

So when the Justice League sends out Hal for salvage and corpse retrieval, Hal get's the absolute shit scared out of him. Like, the dude almost legitimately shit himself.

It went a little like this.

He managed to pry his way into the dead ship; no oxygen, no gravity, no nothing. He checks the rooms one by one, noting along the way that the ship shows signs of attempted repair.

His head is filling with images of the lone astronaut, Fenton, desperately doing his best to save the ship.

All the rooms are empty.

So if Fenton was trying to save the ship, then that would mean the last place to check would be the engine room.

Hal goes to the engine room, and there, cradled in wires that had been pulled from the ceiling, is the corpse of astronaut Daniel James Fenton.

The wires show clear efforts from the man to anchor himself in place, probably when the gravity went, so that he could still try to save the ship.

With a heavy heart, Hal moves forward and starts to detangle Fenton.

Only for Fenton's hand to shoot out with inhuman speed and catch his wrist in an iron grip, and when Hal looks up he sees a pair of glowing, inhuman eyes staring at him from an impossibly pale face, the neck at a strange an unnatural angle.

Hal screams like a little bitch and runs to the other side of the engine room.

Danny, however, had just tied himself to some cables so he could finally get some fucking sleep without bouncing around the room. (He woulda gone to his bunker and just used the seatbelts on his bed, but that room was Creepy without lights).

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic #Yes the entire thing was recorded #all of Justice League knows how high u can scream Hal #Danny's in for a huge scolding by Batman #“you knew you had abilities to enable you to survive impossible conditions and neglected to tell us. unacceptable.” #long post #ficlet

[scuderiahoney]

Pick You Up

Max Verstappen x reader

Masterlist

Summary: when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls. Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: alcohol, intoxication, maybe an unhealthy relationship with alcohol??, mentions of Max’s shitty childhood, incorrect taylor swift lyrics

It’s 1am, and your phone is buzzing on the nightstand. You groan and shove your face into the pillow. You were having such a nice dream. Something about an island and a very attractive man. You let the phone ring until it stops, and then you hold your breath. Maybe it was a butt dial. Maybe it’s not what you think.

The buzzing starts again, and you blindly slam your hand onto the nightstand, grabbing for it. You swipe to answer without even looking at the contact. You already know who it is. Or at the very least, who they’re calling you about. It’s never anyone else.

“Max needs a ride,” a friend of his says.

You’re already rolling out of bed. “Yeah. Where?”

You could complain, you suppose, as you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket. You could ask them to find literally anyone else, or beg them to have a designated driver for once, but instead you just slip your shoes on. You rub the sleep from your eyes and grab a Red Bull on the way out the door. Someone sends you an address from a number you don’t even have saved in your phone. Worry claws at your chest.

The truth is, you’ll never complain about Max calling you in the middle of the night, because if he stopped calling you’d worry about who he was relying on. Max is… popular. He’s got a lot of people trying to ride his coattails. He gets invited to events and people buy him drinks and offer him things and then it’s 1am and he’s too drunk to get home on his own. And then he calls you. Or, more often, someone calls you for him.

You pull up in front of the club, and Max is already outside, stumbling on clumsy feet. He lurches towards your car when he sees it, which is a relief, because you hadn’t exactly wanted to get out of the car. You find yourself resenting whoever he was out with for leaving him all alone, but he opens the door and climbs in and you plaster a smile onto your face.

“Hi, schatje,” he slurs, and you muffle a laugh into your shoulder.

“Hi, Maxie,” you say.

This is the only time he calls you things like that. It’s also the only time you can call him Maxie without earning yourself a warning glare, or worse, an elbow to the rib cage. You’ve known him for years, and yet it’s only when he’s wasted that he doesn’t mind the nickname.

“Seatbelt,” you remind him.

He nods and tugs at the belt. You end up having to help him buckle- that happens about 70% of the time. His fingers fumble with the latch as you do so, and he lets out a little huff when you brush his hand away. Once he’s all set, you pat his shoulder lightly and lean back into your seat.

“I’m drunk,” he warns you.

“I know,” you answer.

“So no crazy driving. I don’t want to be sick in your very nice car.”

You laugh and cock your head at him. “This morning you called this car a shitbox.”

He nods. “It is. But it is your shitbox.”

You laugh again, putting the car into drive. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

He rambles the whole drive to his apartment, about all the people he was out with tonight and what they did and who they did. Drunk Max is a bit of a gossip, and his gossiping to you won’t get him in trouble, so he takes full advantage of it. You listen eagerly the entire time, though you keep your eyes focused on the road. He’s not the most drunk you’ve ever seen him, still too drunk to be in a cab or an Uber by himself but coherent enough that the journey up to his apartment shouldn’t be too difficult. You park your car in his parking lot and climb out.

Max is halfway out of his seat when you come around to meet him. You take his hand and help him the rest of the way up. He stumbles a bit, laughing as you catch him. Then he throws his arm around your shoulder and follows you to the elevator.

His head bumps into yours in the process. You lean into the weight of him, the two of you standing like a badly built lean to. If one of you topples, the other will too. You try not to think about that too much.

You stay the night, the way you always do when this happens. Because the only thing a hungover Max hates more than the sunlight is waking up to an empty apartment. You’ll be there in the morning to take care of him. He’ll promise he won’t do it again.

By this time next week, he’ll be out at a club, and you’ll have the volume on your phone turned up.

…..

The next time someone calls you on Max’s behalf, it’s someone you actually know. It’s 2am this time, and your eyes are closed. You’re drifting in that space between consciousness and dreams. Your ringtone almost becomes a part of a half dream before you realize what it is. You turn the phone over. NoRizzz, it reads. You think Max added the contact for you.

You answer. “Hi, Lando. S’it Max?” You ask.

“I swear to god I lost track of him for one second-“ Lando rushes out.

You pause halfway out of bed, feeling a jolt of worry at the frantic tone in his voice. “Lando?”

“He’s gone, he-“ He sounds panicked. “I turned around and he’s-“

“Did you call him?”

“Of course I called him-“ Lando scoffs. “Look, I wouldn’t be so worried if I hadn’t already been thinking about having you pick him up-“

“Hey, hey, slow down,” you say, though your heart is racing as you head for the door. “Where are you? How long has it been since you lost him?”

“We’re at Jimmyz, it’s been a half hour,” Lando admits. “I didn’t want to bother you, but-“

A half hour is a long time for Max. He could be anywhere in the city right now. He could’ve walked, or taken a cab, or… anything. Sober Max is great at self preservation. Drunk Max is easily persuaded. You’ve used it to your advantage more than you’d like to admit. Not in any bad way, just- Max, sing karaoke with me! Max, come dance with me! Max, we should order pizza!

You head for the front door. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll come meet you, and then-“

You swing the door open and nearly scream when something heavy tumbles into your apartment. Someone, actually, upon further inspection. It’s Max, lit only by the dim hallway light and a beam from the kitchen light that you always leave on. He’s blinking up at you from the floor, a soft smile on his face. He has his arms wrapped around himself, like he’s cold. His skin is damp with sweat.

“Never mind, I found him,” you say into the phone.

“What? How?” Lando asks, bewildered.

“He was sitting in front of my door,” you answer as you crouch down. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, and Max smiles. “Must’ve taken a cab or something.”

“I walked,” Max admits.

That explains the sweat. That also tells you that Lando has lied to you- Max has been gone much longer than a half hour if he’s made his way here on foot. You choose not to call the other driver out on it, though. You want them to call you about things like this. If you chew him out, Lando will be less likely to do so.

“So he’s okay?” Lando asks.

“He’s fine,” you assure him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up and then start working on getting Max all the way into the apartment. He’s not much help. You manage to get his legs inside and then you close the door behind him. You’ll work on getting him out of the hallway next. For now, you sit down on the floor next to him.

“You walked here?” You ask.

He nods. “Missed you.”

You snort out a laugh. “You could’ve called me, I would’ve picked you up.”

He shrugs and shuts his eyes. “Didn’t want to bug you.”

“So you camped out in front of my door,” you say.

“Yes. But then you didn’t have to come pick me up.”

“I’ll always pick you up,” you say, brushing your thumb against his temple. “That’s what friends do.”

When he opens his eyes, they’re glassy. Your breath hitches. Max doesn’t get teary often, doesn’t get emotional often. Something aches in your chest. You rub your thumb over his cheekbone. He blinks once, twice, lashes tangled together.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He sounds so small when he says it. “Just. Thanks.”

There are these small moments, when Max shows a vulnerable side. These are the moments you think of when people spread vitriol towards him on the internet and ask how you could possibly be friends with him. They make you love him even more, and they make you resent the adults who were around him when he was growing up.

You’ve seen pictures of little Max, shown to you with funny anecdotes and teasing smiles. But when you look at them, and when you see him like this, you can’t find any of it funny. All you can think of is the other stories you’ve heard about his childhood. All you can wonder is how someone could’ve done those things to him. And then you wonder how despite it all, he ended up with such a kind soul.

Max is the one who brings you soup when you’re sick. He brings you trinkets from every country he goes to- the magnets fill the door of your fridge. Max sends you pictures of dogs he meets on the street even though he’s a cat person. He flies you out to races when you’ve had a bad week and buys you good pasta and better tequila. Max has a heart the size of a whole continent. People keep trying to chip away at it. You hate them for it.

So you take a moment to brush the tears from his cheeks. You don’t ask him why he’s crying, or tell him it’ll be okay. You just sit there on the floor with him in your hallway and wait for him to be ready.

Eventually, you get him up off the floor and drag him into your bedroom. It’ll be better for everyone involved if he gets a good night’s sleep in a real bed. You try to leave the room, but he grabs onto your wrist.

“Stay?” He asks, eyelids barely open.

You hum and brush the hair from his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“M’sure,” he says. “Don’t wanna be alone.”

You nod in understanding. You don’t even bother pointing out that he’s on your side of the bed. He’s too far gone to get him to roll over. You just climb over him and pull the blankets back and then tuck yourself in. You keep a respectable distance from him.

You know in the morning you’ll wake up to his arm around your middle and his face buried in your neck. You know because it happens every time you share a bed. Max will act like there’s nothing weird about it, will thank you for taking care of him, and be on his way before lunchtime.

You’ll crawl back into bed and curl up on your side, unsure of if you love or hate the fact that the sheets still smell like him.

…..

Charles calls you from Qatar.

You answer. “Charles, I cannot pick him up. I’m in another country.”

“Yes, I’ve told him that about a billion times,” Charles says. “He is very stubborn, you know.”

Something dawns on you as you sit up against your headboard. For some reason, you’ve always assumed that other people are the ones choosing to call you. That even when it’s someone who doesn’t know you, they’re getting your information from the emergency contact info in his phone. But this… Charles seems to be suggesting that Max has asked him to call you.

“Is he okay?” You ask.

Charles laughs. “He’s fine. He is a world champion, again. You know.”

You do know. You called and congratulated him right after the race. You can still hear the shake in his voice, the yelling of his team behind him. It’d made your heart ache, made you sad you weren’t there with him.

“Yeah,” you say. “You both still have to drive tomorrow, you know.”

“I do know, which is why I’m hoping you can help me,” Charles says. “We’re in his hotel room. His phone is dead, I guess? He came to use mine, so I brought him back here. He’s lost his charger.”

“There’s a spare one in his backpack,” you tell Charles. “In the small pocket.”

You hear the zipper and Charles’ amused laugh. “Did you pack his bag for him?”

“I helped,” you admit. “Let me talk to him and I’ll see if I can talk him down?”

Charles makes a noise of agreement. There’s rustling, then a thud. More rustling. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

Then, Max. “Hi.”

“Hi, Max,” you answer. “I thought you were going to take it easy tonight.”

“I am a world champion,” he says, so matter of fact.

In the background, you hear Charles groan.

“Yes, a world champion who still has to do a race tomorrow,” you remind him.

“I know. Can’t believe I got it in the sprint. A sprint I didn’t even win,” he says, laughing lightly. “Let the rookie win the race tomorrow. I’m the champion.”

“I’m going to throttle him,” Charles says, loud enough or close enough for you to hear. “I think in turn one I will run him into the wall.”

“Tell Charles if he hurts one hair on your head I’ll fly to Qatar and throttle him myself,” you tell Max.

Max relays the message. Charles is quiet after that.

“Doesn’t matter how you won it, yeah?” You remind Max. “You still worked just as hard to get there.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You say with a laugh. “Charles has plugged your phone in. Make sure you turn it on and then go to sleep.”

You call his hotel and have electrolyte drinks and breakfast sent up the next morning, along with a bottle of painkillers. He texts you a photo of all of it along with a thank you message. When he wins the race, even hungover, you’re not the least bit surprised.

…..

When Max calls you at 11:00 pm, your first thought is huh. That’s early. You answer on the third ring, already looking for your keys. You wonder who it’ll be this time. A friend you know, or an unknown voice of someone he’s only met tonight.

“Schatje?” Max asks through the speaker.

You nearly drop the phone. “Max?”

“What, you don’t have my number saved?” He asks.

“No, of course I do, s’just- not usually you who ends up calling me, even from your phone.”

You think you hear him sniffle. Something twists in your chest. Before you can scramble to apologize, he’s speaking.

“Yeah. Um.” He sighs. “Huh.”

You can hear it in his voice, in the way the words seem to stick in his throat. Something’s wrong. You climb off the couch, headed for the door. “Tell me where you are, Max.”

He sniffs. “No, it’s uh- I don’t know why I called-“

“Max,” you repeat as you shut the front door behind you. “Where are you?”

He gives in and tells you he’s at some hotel bar. You recognize it and head down the stairs. You keep him on the line even as you start the car, as you pull out onto the road. He’s mumbling something about how he’ll be fine, about how you don’t have to come get him. Both of you know you’re already on the way.

You have to go in this time. For a moment you think about asking who else he’s with, and hanging up and calling them. But you don’t want to lose contact, so you park the car and head inside. You’re in a hoodie and sweatpants, a pair of slippers on your feet. Nobody bats an eye.

You find him in a back hallway, squeezed into a corner. Your heart crumples at the sight of him. You’re sure your face does too. He’s teary and curled in on himself. He looks so small. You love him, you worry for him, you hate this version of him. Not that you could ever really hate him. It’s just that he looks so vulnerable, so unlike himself.

As much as you want to get him out of there, as much as it would probably be the right move, you sit down next to him instead. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him into your side until his head is against yours. You don’t ask him what’s wrong. He’ll tell you eventually. It might take a while- sometimes a few days. You always give him time. For now, you just sit in the hallway with him. You meet him where he’s at.

He tells you later that he suddenly found himself alone in the bar. After days straight of only being alone when he went to sleep, person after person wanting to celebrate his championship, he’d been alone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d felt like he was suffocating until that moment.

“I was one of the people celebrating,” you remind him as he clings to you.

“But you aren’t suffocating me,” he says. “You’re like… clean air.”

He sleeps in your bed that night. You sleep next to him, not even bothering to argue about it. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breaths and the weight of his hand on your back.

When you wake up in the morning, he pretends he’s fine. You let him.

…..

Drunk Max is an overly honest Max. He’ll tell you anything and everything. So when you’re walking him home one night, his arm over your shoulder, gin on his breath, you’re expecting to learn some things. What you weren’t expecting, however, is for him to lean close, his lips against your ear, and tell you he loves you.

The odd thing is the way he says it. He leans close and tells you he loves you like he’s talking to someone else. He says “hey, you know-“ then he says your name- and then he says, “you know I love her?”

You shove at his side. “Yeah, I love you too, you dummy.”

He shakes his head, bumping his forehead against your temple. “No, I love her.”

Your heart stops at the way he says it. At the meaning he’s insinuating. Your feet fumble under you, but you manage to keep both of you upright.

“Max,” you say in a warning tone. “You’re drunk.”

“Mm,” he hums. “Drunk in love. Love drunk? Like that song she likes- got love drunk-“

He doesn’t realize he’s talking to you. He likely won’t remember this. You cut him off before he breaks into slightly incorrect Taylor Swift lyrics on the sidewalk. “That’s nice, Max. Why don’t you tell her?”

He shrugs. “Can’t.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you miss your chance to prod him about it when he trips over a bump in the sidewalk and nearly sends you both flying. After that, you keep your focus on getting him up to his apartment safely. You shove him into the bathroom in his apartment and tell him to brush his teeth. Then you stand in the hallway and press your hands over your face.

Can’t. Why not? Does he mean it? Did he say the wrong name? He won’t remember it tomorrow, you know that. Do you bring it up? Maybe you should just forget about it. He obviously doesn’t want you to know. And even if it is true, and he does have feelings for you, it would never work.

He stumbles out of the bathroom and presses a messy, toothpaste-y kiss to your forehead. That leaves your brain spinning even worse than it was before. You follow him to the bedroom and tuck him in. The cats glare at you as you disturb the blankets.

“You’ll stay, right?” He asks, tugging on your arm. He seems to know who you are now. “Please?”

You sigh and agree, climbing into bed next to him. He sighs happily and rolls towards you. He slings an arm around your waist, and you hold your breath when he presses his cheek to your shoulder.

“Goodnight,” he says, already half asleep.

“Goodnight,” you echo.

You lay awake and stare at the ceiling for at least an hour, trying not to listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Trying not to think about him admitting that he loves you. Trying not to think about him calling himself love drunk. Trying not to think about him at all, which is difficult with him right there.

You wonder if he really meant it. You want him to mean it, you realize. You tilt your head to look at him- you can only see the top of his head and the slow rise and fall of his chest. God, you want him to mean it. There’s no way he does, but you want it so badly your whole body aches with it.

Sassy walks up to the head of the bed and curls up right next to you. You run your fingers over her fur. Finally, then, you’re able to fall asleep.

…..

It’s not often that Max is the one to pick you up from a bar. It’s every once in a blue moon. You’re much more responsible, you plan ahead. You have a ride home, or you don’t get so drunk that you can’t walk, or you plan to stay with a friend who lives closer to wherever you’re going.

It’s not often, but it does happen. Which is how you find yourself in the bar bathroom, phone pressed to your ear, praying he picks up. There’s a good chance he won’t. He’s definitely not sitting around, waiting for you to call like you always are when he goes out. If he doesn’t pick up you’ll have to call someone else, but you won’t even know where to begin.

It’s only when you hear his voice that you realize you’re not sure he’s even in Monaco.

“Hello?” He says. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just- what country are you in?”

“What?” He asks. You can hear rustling in the background. “Is this some sort of code? Is someone-“

“No, Maxie, I’m fine,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Monaco,” he answers, still sounding unsure. “At home. Where are you?”

“Monaco. A bar bathroom,” you answer. “Any chance you’d come pick me up? My designated driver met a guy.”

“Not a very good designated driver,” he says with a scoff.

“Says the guy who never has one,” you retort.

Max laughs and doesn’t argue. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

Max gets there far too quickly to have been driving at a reasonable speed. He insists that you wait inside rather than meeting him out on the sidewalk, and says he’ll call you when he gets there. The phone rings, so you step outside. You’re thankful once again for his collection of cars and his tinted windows- nobody seems to have realized it’s him. He leans over and opens the door for you, and you climb inside. He already has the heated seat on for you, and he hands you a bottle of water after you sit down.

“Drink,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.

You roll your eyes but do as he says anyways. The city is a blur of lights outside your window, though you know Max isn’t speeding. He always drives carefully with you in the car, no matter how many times you beg him to go fast. You sink lower in the leather seat.

His eyes flicker over to you. “Did you have a good time?”

You shrug. “Yeah, till all my friends ditched me,” you say. “They found guys to hook up with.”

You see Max frown out of the corner of your eye. “And you didn’t? The men in this club must be blind.”

You pick at the hem of your dress. “Maybe I didn’t want to hook up with anyone. Maybe that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?” He asks.

He keeps his eyes trained on the road. You turn your head to look at him. You’re at a stoplight, and it paints his face red. You study the slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw. You, you want to say. I’m looking for you. You think of him the last time you picked him up, how he said he loved you. Called himself love drunk. And then you think of when you asked him why he hadn’t told you. Can’t.

So instead, you shrug. Max turns and looks at you, then shrugs in response. You pout, knowing he’s mocking you. His eyes trace over your face, then over the rest of you. You wonder if he’s relying on how drunk you are to make you forget this- hoping you won’t realize or remember him checking you out. He reaches into the backseat and comes back with a large dark hoodie.

“Here,” he says. “You must be cold.”

The light turns green when the sweatshirt is half over your head- you only know because you feel the vehicle lurch into motion. You squeak, and Max laughs and lays a hand on your leg to steady you. His palm is warm against your bare skin.

When you pop your head back out and shove your arms through the sleeves, you expect him to let go. He doesn’t. His hand stays there, a steady presence, the whole ride to his place.

He hasn’t even asked if you want to stay at his apartment- he doesn’t need to, he already knows what your answer would be. Plus, you’re a bit too drunk to really be left on your own. He leads you up to his door, keeping his hand on your lower back to steady your wobbling steps. You’d tried to kick your heels off in the lobby, but Max had insisted you keep them on. You take them off as soon as you walk in his front door, though, sighing in relief. You stumble over to the couch as he sheds his shoes and jacket. By the time he walks into the living room, you’re curled up in the corner, already under a blanket, face pressed against one of his throw pillows. Max clicks his tongue.

“Come on. Up,” he says, tugging at your shoulder. “You should change your clothes and eat something.”

You groan and reach out to wrap your arm around his neck. “I’m comfy. Come cuddle. Comfy.”

He sighs. “We can cuddle. If you change your clothes and eat something.”

The offer leaves you a bit dumbfounded, because Max isn’t much of a cuddler. It’s pretty likely that he’s lying just to appease you, to get you to follow his instructions. So you continue to lay there, trying to pull him in. When you don’t budge, Max huffs, plants his hands on the couch behind you, and straightens up. He does it before you can loosen your grip, so you go with him almost accidentally. He pulls you off the couch and grabs your hips, helping you to stand up.

“There,” he says, as you sigh and lean heavily on him. “Step one. Clothes.”

He leads you to his room, where you eagerly take the opportunity to sit down on his bed. He turns and begins digging through his drawers. You flop back onto the bed. One of the cats paws at your ankles- you don’t bother looking to see which one. Max throws clothing onto your stomach.

“I’ll go make you food,” he says.

It takes you far too long to find the motivation to shed the hoodie and dress and trade them out for whatever clothes Max has left for you. Eventually, though, you do it. He’s given you one of his shirts and a pair of shorts that are definitely yours, likely left behind whenever you stayed over last. You pull the hoodie back over your head and leave the dress on the floor. It’s only when you remember that Max is awful at cooking that you scramble towards the kitchen.

He’s putting perfectly cooked ramen into bowls. Frankly, it’s hard to mess up ramen, but you’re relieved either way. He smiles at the sight of you, and you think about telling him all over again. The last time you were drunk, you said you loved me. I love you too. We should talk about that. Can’t. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Thanks,” you say, sitting down at the counter.

You never do get the cuddle he promised. You fall asleep there, forehead pressed to the granite, and Max carries you to the guest room and tucks you in. You swear you feel his lips against your forehead as you fall asleep. But that’s probably just a dream.

…..

By the time you’re in Vegas for the Grand Prix, you haven’t been drunk with Max in months. It’s been one or the other, not both. But since you’re there, Max drags you along to every event he gets invited to. You’re two drinks deep by the time Max makes it to the afterparty. He catches up quickly.

You sneak a sip of his gin and tonic and recoil at the taste. He gives you a blank stare in return.

“You’ve never liked it,” he says. “I don’t know why you keep trying.”

You shrug. “Exposure therapy. And my drink’s empty.”

He gives you a look that’s a mixture of what you think is exasperation and fondness. It’s his signature look when he’s dealing with you on nights out.

“We can fix that,” he says, as he reaches for your hand.

He leads you up to the bar, fingers knit with yours. He doesn’t let go like he normally would. It’s not uncommon for him to hold onto you in a crowd, especially when you’re drunk, but this is different. He leans over the bar and gives your order to the bartender, who nods and moves to make the drink. Max keeps his hand in yours. He finally lets go when you get your drinks, and you take a sip while you look up at him.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, blue eyes wide, and you’re trying desperately to read his mind. You want him to let you in so badly.

You end up at a table with him and his driver friends, squished in the booth between Max and Charles. You sip your drink and listen to them talk about race strategy and tires and Vegas in general. Max downs his drink, and someone brings him another. You do the same, and he gets them to bring you one too. And the cycle continues.

This means that by the time he turns to you and says, “we should leave now,” you’re pleasantly drunk, and you’d probably do anything he asked, really.

He slips out of the booth and pulls you along with him, ignoring the people who call his name. He has both of your jackets in his arm as he weaves through the crowds, holding onto your hand. It’s nice, to be here with him, to be a part of it instead of sitting and waiting for a phone call to come pick him up.

As the two of you stumble out onto the sidewalk, you tug on the back of his shirt. “Hey. Who are we going to call to come take care of us? We’re both drunk.”

Max turns and laughs, and then he’s quick to steady you when you stumble on the pavement. “We will take care of each other.”

You nod clumsily, leaning into the feeling of his hands on your hips. “Okay. Yeah. Nice.”

Max tugs you close, tucking you under his arm as he starts to walk down the street. “Lovely.”

“Simply lovely,” you say teasingly. “Where are we going?”

“The hotel,” he says. “I am sick of people.”

You deflate a bit at that. You’re not ready to say goodnight, to say goodbye, to be alone. You want to spend more time with him- it’s why you’re here in Vegas. Max seems to sense your change in mood and squeezes your shoulder, craning his head to look down at you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Do you want to stay out? We can find another club, I just thought maybe we could order room service, or pizza, and play a game or…”

He trails off as your eyes go wide, the hurt in your chest melting away. He cocks his head.

“I thought you were sick of me, too,” you say, and you bite your lower lip.

Max frowns deeply. The lights behind his head are blurry in your vision. You wonder if you’re just drunk, or if you’re tearing up. The way he swipes his thumb under your eye tells you it’s the latter.

“No,” he says, gently. “Never.”

Your lip wobbles. You shrug. Max seems to understand, and he just squeezes your shoulder again and keeps walking. You try to get your emotions in check. You have to, really, need to be normal about this. He’s just your friend. That’s all he wants to be.

“We could go do karaoke,” he suggests, pointing at a sign down the road.

He’s trying to distract you. It’s working.

You laugh and elbow him. “You’re an awful singer,” you tease.

“Am not!” He says, his tone full of mock offense. “Here, I’ll-“

You’re expecting him to break out into Viva Las Vegas, like he had at the end of the race over the radio. You’re bracing yourself for it, ready to grimace and cover your ears even though he isn’t really that bad of a singer. What he starts singing surprises you, makes you stumble a bit over your own feet.

“Welcome to New York!” He sings, and you stare at him, wide eyed. “They’ve been waiting for me- welcome-“

“Stop, stop,” you laugh, elbowing him as he attracts stares from people passing by. “We’re in Vegas, not New York! And you always get the lyrics wrong-“

“I am very good with lyrics,” he says, shaking his head.

“No, you’re not, you sang the other one wrong, too,” you tease. “You said got love drunk, it’s supposed to be got love struck. Remember, in Monaco?”

He stops in his tracks, his arm still around you, and stares. You stare right back. You frown and tilt your head at him, mirroring his earlier reaction.

“You remember that?” He asks, quietly.

“I was sober, Max,” you answer. “You remember that?”

He nods, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes are wide, cheeks pink. “I wasn’t sure if it was real, or if I dreamed it. And you never said anything about what I told you, so…”

That’s when you remember the other part of that conversation, all those nights ago. I love her. Why don’t you tell her? Can’t. You swallow tightly, hands hanging at your sides.

“You didn’t seem to know you were talking to me,” you explain. “So I figured it wasn’t something you really wanted me to know.”

Max blinks, then nods. “I didn’t. Because you don’t feel the same.”

Your stomach twists violently, and your chest follows suit. “I never said that.”

His stare is so intense you feel like you’re seconds away from bursting into flame. “But if you did, you would’ve said something after that night.”

You shake your head. “I asked why you didn’t just tell me and you just said, can’t. You wouldn’t explain any further. I don’t know, Max, I just. I figured you had a reason. Like, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” He asks, still staring at you.

“I’m just me, Max,” you say, pressing your hands over your face. “I’m just your friend. People get crushes all the time but it doesn’t mean you want to be with me, you’re a fucking world champion and I-“

He reaches up with both hands and grabs your wrists gently. He pulls your hands from your face. There’s a smile on his lips that leaves you teetering between relief and apprehension.

“But I didn’t say I had a crush on you,” he says, brows raised. “I said I love you.”

You sigh heavily and try to pull your hands back to your face. He doesn’t let you. You’re looking anywhere other than his eyes. Anywhere other than him, really. He lets go of your wrists and then cups your face in his hands before you can move.

“Hey,” he says. “I said can’t because I thought there was no way you’d feel the same.”

You stare at him, wide eyed, as his thumbs sweep soft circles over your cheeks. Suddenly, everything comes into focus, bright and blinding and stark. The Las Vegas strip is glowing all around you, but none of the lights are as bright as him.

“I do,” you murmur, and he lights up even brighter, somehow, when he smiles. “Fuck, Max-“

He kisses you right there, where anyone could see, in the middle of one of the busiest sidewalks you’ve ever been on. Nobody seems to notice or care, nobody seems to understand that your whole world is shifting. His lips are warm against yours, he tastes like gin, and he holds onto you like he’s trying to be so, so careful. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and thread fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He only pulls away when someone whistles at the two of you. He’s grinning wide, hands still cradling your face, and you have to fight not to pull his lips back to yours.

“Come on,” he says, slightly out of breath.

You don’t ask where you’re going. You just let him lead you away. You’re so in love with him, you think you’d probably follow him anywhere. It’s terrifying and relieving all at the same time.

…..

A week later, in Abu Dhabi, you ask him if he wants to go out after the race. There’s a billion parties he could choose from.

“No,” he says, wrinkling his nose up at the idea. “I’m good.”

You elbow him lightly, raising your brows. “All those parties you called me to pick you up from, and now I’m here and you don’t even want to go out? You don’t want to celebrate your season?”

He smirks as he tugs on the hem of your shirt, pulling you along with him through the paddock. “I want to celebrate, but we don’t need to go out to do that. I have better ideas.”

His hand slips lower from your hip and squeezes at your ass. You yelp and look around frantically, hoping nobody noticed. He’s grinning with pride.

“Party animal Max Verstappen wants to stay in,” you tease. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, leans his head close to yours, and then admits, finally, “it was never about the parties. It was more about who was picking me up from them.”

You smile against his shoulder and try not to let it go to your head. He smiles against your forehead and tells you that he loves you for what must be the millionth time in the past week. You say it right back, drunk on the feeling of it.

a/n: thank you for readinnnnngggg!!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully

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