#no age on Bull of course

[perkeleen-lavellan]

He's just a little bit in love.

#pls let's not talk about the quality of my art rn #iron bull #sacha of ostwick #sachabull #iron bull x inquisitor #custom inquisitor #circle mage inquisitor #i'm gay and sometimes when sacha fights retribution shows their wings #of course bull went and found the most draconic person on thedas #in both personality and appearance #to date #aside from flemeth #dragon age #dragon age inquisition

[bluerose5]

Punished

Might post on ao3 later. Prompt fill that got away from me, but what else is new? 😅

Prompt from @butter-and-too-much-bread for Bull putting on a chastity belt to punish m!Adaar. Nothing too explicit, at least in my opinion. Sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy! Leave it to me to go for extra tenderness on this one. 😄

~~~

If nothing else, Adaar was what many would call a "people pleaser."

While his innate sense of selflessness was often an admirable trait, the Iron Bull knew better than most that it could be just as much of a burden as well. On days when it was particularly bad, Adaar always had trouble saying “no” to people, even when it was to the detriment of his own health.

Which is why it was so hard for Bull to not intervene, but he knew his place.

Out there, for others to see, Adaar was the boss. He was their Inquisitor. He called the shots, and Bull wouldn’t dare undermine his authority.

In private, however…

Well, that was a completely different story.

Still, what was supposed to be a relaxing day to themselves quickly became anything but. Every time Adaar finished one task, someone else would pull him aside with another menial request. “One last thing” became the mantra for the day any time Adaar happened across Bull’s path.

Usually, the Iron Bull knew better than to let that get to him, but he was finding it more difficult to suppress his annoyance as the day wore on.

When even the tavern failed to restore his jovial mood, Krem all but dragged him outside to spar. Their practice session went on until sunset before the Inquisitor finally found them.

The instant Krem let his guard down to wave at him, Bull rammed into his side.

Krem hit the ground with a grunt, but refused to let that deter him.

He flashed a grin in Adaar’s direction.

“Here to take the boss off my hands, yeah?” he asked.

Adaar shuffled from foot to foot, taking in the sight of Bull.

“If he will let me,” he murmured, his eyes cast downwards as he tugged idly at his shirt.

Krem tossed Bull a pointed glance, then jerked his chin in the Inquisitor’s direction.

With a grumble, Bull said, “Yeah, I’ll let ya, kadan.”

How quickly Adaar perked up at the reassurance. His head shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Handing the training equipment off to Krem, Bull’s second-in-command lugged it away without so much as a backwards glance, undoubtedly rushing to get back to the tavern with the other Chargers.

The corners of Adaar’s lips started to quirk up into the beginning of a smile, but Bull’s warning glare made his expression fall again.

Scanning the area, Bull made sure that the coast was clear, no one around to overhear them.

“This doesn’t mean you’re out of trouble,” he bit out.

“So, I am in trouble then?” Adaar sighed. His bottom lip poked out into a semblance of a pout.

With his arms crossed over his chest, Bull leveled him with a scathing look. He raised a brow at him, unimpressed.

“Oh, most definitely.”

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t,” Bull retorted.

Adaar snapped his mouth shut in the blink of an eye.

Bull stood there for a moment, letting Adaar squirm in all of his uncertainty.

He gave Adaar a thorough once-over before closing the distance between them.

He crashed his lips against Adaar’s into a bruising kiss.

Adaar melted against him without hesitation, but Bull caught his wrists when the Inquisitor tried to wrap his arms around his shoulders.

Bull pinned them to his sides, kept them in place as he pulled away.

A sweet whimper was coaxed free from Adaar’s swollen lips. When Bull parted from their kiss, Adaar tried to chase after Bull’s lips, but the latter remained firm in his resolve, simply resting his forehead against Adaar’s.

“Please,” Adaar breathed, desperate for more. Excitement spread through him like a wildfire. An all-too-familiar glaze settled over his eyes, his pupils blown wide enough that they threatened to consume his irises whole. “Please, Bull. Let me make it up to you.”

It was all too tempting, the urge to get swept up in the heat of the moment. To let that haze cloud his mind, where the lines of authority blurred. 

But Bull had to be stronger than that. In situations such as those, Adaar relied on him to be.

He took Adaar’s chin in hand with a gentle squeeze. Not hard enough to leave marks, but tight enough to get his attention.

Only when Adaar’s eyes focused on him did he ask, “What’s our watchword, kadan?”

It was a test that Adaar knew all too well. If he couldn’t even recall their word when Bull got a bit handsy, then he was hardly in a headspace to proceed further.

Using the word needed to be instinctive, something done without thought or concern the second Adaar felt like he was in over his head.

By that point in their relationship, he didn’t even need to think twice about it.

“Katoh,” he said, eager to please.

That time, Bull couldn’t help but to smile in approval. Adaar’s excitement proved too contagious, even for him.

It sent Adaar’s heart racing. Oh, how it sang with joy.

Clearing his throat, the Iron Bull smoothed out his face into a neutral expression, ignoring how his emotions so easily betrayed him.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “Now, what you’re going to do is go straight to your quarters, strip down, and wait for me there. Got it?”

Adaar nodded.

He turned on his heel, only to jolt when Bull delivered a playful smack to his ass. Glancing over his shoulder, Adaar’s responding grin sent Bull’s heart aflutter.

Bull watched him walk away, fixated on the movement of his hips and thighs with every step.

By the time he disappeared out of sight, Bull had to shake himself free of his thoughts.

While he was certain that Adaar made haste to follow his instructions, the Iron Bull took his time in preparing himself. He strolled at a leisurely pace back to the Chargers’ quarters, taking in the sights of the evening sky. If anyone stopped him on his way, he made sure to chat with them. He hummed a lighthearted tune, savoring the light chill to the air.

After all, the longer Adaar waited, the more anticipation would build, and the more impatient he would become.

After the day Bull had, he figured that it would do Adaar some good to see what it was like.

Once he arrived at his bunk, the Iron Bull dug through the chest that contained his personal belongings. He hummed to himself as he appraised the items, his expression brightening when he came up with the perfect idea for the evening.

The journey to the Inquisitor’s quarters took just as long, if not longer, than the walk to his own.

Nevertheless, when Bull arrived, he let himself in with the key he had, locking the door behind him.

The last thing they needed were any interruptions.

Climbing the stairs, he ignored the various aches and pains that ailed him, focused instead on getting to his Inquisitor.

As soon as he entered the room, he stopped to lean against the doorframe, drinking in the sight of Adaar.

And what a fine sight he was.

There, before the bed, he knelt with his thighs parted and his skin bared. His back was slightly arched to display his chest more openly, his wrists resting one over the other behind his back. He held his head high, yet his eyes remained fixated on the floor, ready for whatever Bull had in store for him.

Obviously, Adaar was well-aware of his presence by then, but Bull made sure to drag it out.

Each step towards him was heavy and loud, deliberate in its purpose.

When Bull finally stood in front of him, Adaar sank his teeth into his bottom lip to bite back the noises that threatened to escape, resisting the urge to throw any remaining shame he had out the window.

Bull watched him closely.

Then, he took Adaar’s chin in hand. His thumb freed his lip from its hold, swiping along its enticing curve.

Breathless, Adaar parted his lips. His tongue darted out to press tentatively against the pad of Bull’s thumb, but Bull withdrew his touch before Adaar could get any bright ideas, his brow raised in amusement.

Taking a step back, Bull cocked his head to the side before tossing the rope he had gathered onto the bed.

He took one of Adaar’s horns in hand and yanked his head back.

There was a slight wince of discomfort, but Adaar didn’t complain in the slightest. If anything, he followed through with the motion easily enough.

He didn’t speak without permission, nor did he lift his eyes to meet Bull’s gaze.

It made what Bull had to do all the more difficult.

For someone so obedient, Adaar really did manage to get himself into trouble more often than expected.

Bull sighed, releasing his grip on Adaar’s horn.

“Stand,” he told him, his voice low and even.

Adaar sprang to his feet without a second thought, almost knocking Bull back on his ass in the process. The Iron Bull recovered quickly, though, taking note of Adaar’s sheepish grin.

With a fond shake of his head, Bull stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest. His hands settled upon Adaar’s hips.

“You may look at me,” he murmured. He pressed a careful kiss to Adaar’s temple, his words soft against his skin. “You may touch me, if you wish.”

Adaar let out a loud whine, as if a great pressure had been relieved.

Tossing his arms around Bull’s shoulders, he didn’t waste any time before he pressed himself flush against Bull’s body. Reverent kisses trailed along Bull’s jaw, starved for his attention.

The second Bull felt Adaar’s lips on his, he knew he was a goner.

Adaar kissed with the same passion and intensity that he approached all else in life. Getting lost in the moment was as easy as breathing when it came to him. Everything about him weakened Bull’s resolve, made him want the Inquisitor unlike any other. Made Bull crave him until his entire world was consumed by his presence.

Of course, as soon as Bull took control, Adaar melted against him. His hands roamed over Bull’s body, always wanting more yet never getting enough.

Bull parted Adaar’s lips with his own, deepened the kiss with an insatiable groan.

Their tongues explored each other’s mouths until they had little choice but to part for air.

Even then, while Bull struggled to catch his breath, Adaar covered his neck in a flurry of open-mouthed kisses. He panted against Bull’s skin, face flushed when Bull had to pry him off to get some distance.

It was a stark reminder that, though Bull still held the reins in some sense, the influence that Adaar wielded over him was nothing to turn his nose up at either.

With a snort, Bull chuckled.

“You’re a dangerous one,”  he stated, more so as a word of caution to himself. Bull reached out and trailed the tips of his fingers down along the outline of Adaar’s cheek while he spoke. “One kiss, and my willpower crumbles.”

Adaar leaned eagerly into his touch, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks while his eyes slid closed.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of trouble that easily.”

The instant Bull pulled away, Adaar’s eyes flew open, blinking owlishly at the loss.

“I—”

“Do you even know why you’re in trouble, kadan?” Bull asked, to which Adaar flinched.

Adaar curled in on himself, as if to make himself appear smaller. Which would have been quite the sight, had it not been for the sudden tension that blanketed the room.

Swallowing thickly, Adaar struggled for words, but he eventually managed to force something out.

“Be—Because we were supposed to be spending the day together,” he mumbled, albeit uncertainly. Bull stared at him, unimpressed, which only served to put him even more on edge. “And I kept you waiting…?”

It came out as more of a question than an answer.

Adaar started to wring his hands together, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

After a minute or two of unbearable silence, Bull’s expression gentled.

When he offered his hands, Adaar swiftly reached out to slide his own into Bull’s warm grasp.

Bull led him away from the bed.

“Come,” he whispered, and Adaar followed.

His blind devotion quickly turned into confusion, however, when Bull tugged him along to stand in front of the full length mirror that was nestled in the corner of his room.

Confusion was instantly followed by realization.

Bull twirled Adaar around so that Adaar was standing in front of him. Both of them faced the mirror with Adaar’s back pressed against Bull’s chest.

Adaar tried to turn his face away, but Bull caught his chin and forced his face back in the direction of the mirror.

Adaar averted his eyes, feeling the sting of unshed tears growing worse by the second.

“Kadan, look.”

And because it was Bull telling him to do so, Adaar found himself unable to resist.

Slowly, he met his eyes in the mirror, taking in the sight of himself from head to toe.

Never had he felt so vulnerable, so exposed, before.

He could taste salt upon his tongue as the first few tears trailed down his cheeks.

“Now, tell me what you see,” Bull ordered, but Adaar shook his head in defiance, unable to find the words to encompass what he felt in that exact moment. “No? Alright, then I’ll tell you what I see.”

Bull reached out to trace along the dark rings underneath Adaar’s eyes.

“I see a man who hasn’t slept well in days. I see a man who hasn’t allowed himself a proper break in weeks.”

With a tender kiss to the nape of Adaar’s neck, Bull’s hands roamed down the front of his chest.

“I see a man whose horns have lost their luster, whose eyes no longer sparkle with excitement at the start of each day.”

He caressed the curves of Adaar’s stomach, what once used to be fuller and softer than at present.

“I see a man so caught up in his role as Inquisitor that he forgets to eat as he’s supposed to. Have you even noticed how your clothes have been hanging off of you?”

Overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of emotions, Adaar could barely draw breath, let alone form an answer.

Instead, he nodded, because the sad truth of it all was that he had noticed.

He had noticed, and he had ignored it.

Adaar always told himself that he would do better the next day.

There was always some excuse. Always something to be done.

All at once, the weight of the world came crashing down on him.

Turning in place, he threw himself into Bull’s arms without warning. He clung to him, buried his face into his throat. 

“I—I’m sorry,” he sobbed, the apology noticeably more genuine than the one from earlier.

Bull held him as he cried, tightening his arms around him.

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Bull whispered. Carefully, he brushed Adaar’s hair back from his face. “Us not getting to spend time together as we planned felt bad, don’t get me wrong, but that is not why you’re in trouble.”

The Iron Bull took a deep, bracing breath.

“I can tolerate being stood up for a date, don’t worry about that,” he said, “but what I absolutely cannot tolerate is you neglecting yourself, kadan.”

When all he received was a sniffle in response, Bull pressed the subject.

“Tell me,” he insisted, “how would you feel if you found out that I wasn’t eating or sleeping or resting like I was supposed to?”

Adaar didn’t miss a beat.

“I’d be upset,” he answered, his voice muffled into the crook of Bull’s neck.

“Then, do you understand why I’m upset?”

“Yes.”

“And do you understand why I’m going to punish you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” But Bull would like to think that he knew Adaar well enough by now.

If he kept pushing too hard and too fast without some offer of reassurance, without some show that they were well and truly okay, then Adaar would use his watchword and withdraw to one of those dark corners of his mind.

Bull would make sure that didn’t happen.

Tangling his hand into his hair, Bull carefully peeled Adaar away from his neck. He took a second to wipe away the snot and tears, undeterred by the mess.

After all, through the puffy eyes and the splotchy face, he was still just Adaar, as breathtaking as always.

Bull cupped Adaar’s cheeks with a tender smile.

He leaned his forehead against his.

“I adore you,” Bull said, “if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

Reaching between them, he took Adaar’s necklace in hand, brushing his thumb along his fragment of the dragon’s tooth.

Adaar watched him. A shiver trailed down his spine.

“I know,” he breathed, his responding smile bashful, sweeter than it had any right to be.

“Asala. Kadan.” Bull tugged him forward, rewarded him with a brief kiss. “What would be left of me, if not for you?”

“You won’t ever have to find out." His expression turned coy. Violet eyes tried to lure him in with promises of more. "Now, let me take care of you."

Adaar thought himself sly, but he should've known that it took more than a pretty face to get one over on ole Bull.

The Iron Bull was more than capable of playing along with his little game, though. Adaar obviously thought that he could work his way around his punishment by earning Bull’s forgiveness in one way or another, but little did he know that he was already playing right into Bull’s hands.

Besides, Adaar’s trick wouldn't be much of a punishment, not when he so clearly enjoyed the idea.

Still, Bull would let him have his fun, at least for now.

"Heh." Bull snorted. "That's my line." When Adaar squirmed, looking to Bull for permission, the Iron Bull nodded at him. "Go ahead, kadan. Undress me. You earned that much."

Adaar didn't even let him finish before he was fumbling with the brace on his shoulder. One by one, the clasps came undone until it fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Bull's belt soon followed, Adaar covering his scarred skin with appreciative kisses as Adaar sank to his knees before him.

Staring up at Bull, Adaar smirked when Bull shifted, attempting to alleviate the growing pressure.

"I want you," Adaar sighed, trailing kisses down his stomach.

When the muscles clenched beneath his lips, Adaar traced the outline of them with his tongue.

"Need you," he mumbled.

After helping Bull out of his shoes, Adaar took the waistband of his pants in hand. Slowly, he eased fabric down over Bull’s hips, teasing the newly-exposed skin with teeth and tongue alike.

At least, that was the plan, but Adaar instantly stopped short when he encountered leather.

Brow furrowed, he pulled away, only to scowl at the leather harness that blocked his path.

Adaar knew from the instant Bull bought the damn thing in one of Orlais' more "risqué" shops that it was going to be trouble.

Leave it to him to decide to test it out, today of all days.

"Bull…" Trailing off, Adaar turned his glare onto his lover.

The Iron Bull roared with laughter.

"Bull!" Adaar scolded, more insistent this time.

Before Adaar could object, the Iron Bull bent down at the waist and slung Adaar up over his shoulder. Allowing his pants to fall loosely to the floor, he kicked each leg free, sporting the rather snug harness with pride.

"What's wrong, kadan?" Bull taunted. He smacked his ass for good measure, his hand lingering with a tight squeeze. "Is my sweet boy talking back now?"

"You could have given me a heads-up!"

"Yeah, I could have, but I didn't."

Adaar couldn't find an exact angle to make it perfect, but he struck out nonetheless. His teeth clamped down onto Bull’s side, but the sharp bite didn't even so much as get a flinch in return.

Bull snickered at his antics, strolling over to the bed at a leisurely pace.

"Oh…" He hummed in delight. "Getting feisty, are we? You know, if I knew you'd get this riled up, I would have done this much sooner. You so rarely act out."

With a huff, Adaar tried to wiggle free.

"Put me dow—"

He landed on the bed with a grunt, tossed down onto the mattress before he could even finish speaking.

Bull towered over him at the end of the bed, amused.

Adaar gave a long, languid stretch atop the sheets. White, wavy hair fanned out around his head, cascading down over the pillows.

“Hmph, such a tease,” Adaar muttered, bright purple eyes darkening with desire.

“That, I am,” Bull said, not even bothering to contradict him. “Now, arms up.”

Adaar obeyed his command without second thought.

When the Iron Bull started to bind his wrists to the bedposts, Adaar watched him while he worked, tying the rope with sure, steady hands.

He’d never get tired of the sight.

Once Bull was done, Adaar tested his handiwork with a couple of pointed tugs.

The rope tightened around his wrists in warning, but they showed no sign of coming loose, not without intervention at least.

Adaar eyed Bull, adjusting until he was comfortable.

“I just want to make you feel good,” Adaar admitted in a whisper, less confident than intended.

His words were so small and uncertain that Bull couldn’t help but to go easy on him.

Perhaps his affection for Adaar was his weakness after all, but it was one he would gladly accept.

As he placed a knee on the bed, Bull’s expression gentled. 

"Then let me take care of you," Bull told him. "That makes me feel good."

Leaning in, Bull smirked up at Adaar when his legs instantly parted to make room for him. Adaar smiled sheepishly, yet made no move to hide just how eager he was.

A slow, swirling heat gathered in Bull's chest until the pressure that built up was near suffocating in its intensity. With few places left to go, it spread.

While Bull remained in complete control of himself, desire permeated his mind. Everything else  melted away until the only thing that remained was the man spread out before him. Bull stared at him through a haze, yet he felt as if he had never known such perfect clarity, committing every last detail of Adaar to his memory.

The portion of that heat that spread to his gut settled there like a heavy weight. His legs grew weak. His thighs became sensitive, that leather turning into more of a burden by the second.

When his cock eventually did swell, it quickly met resistance. Bull refrained from wincing at how fast the harness constricted around him, but Adaar was nothing, if not perceptive.

A wrinkle settled over his brow.

"Bull, please," he begged. "Let me—"

"No," Bull answered, and that was that, his tone leaving no room for argument. When Adaar grumbled under his breath, Bull gave a sharp pinch to one of his thighs, causing Adaar to jolt in shock. "Listen, as hard as it might be for you, let's have one night that's only about you, alright?"

Hesitant, Adaar thought it over, then nodded, swallowing thickly.

"Yes, sir."

His approach was timid and compliant, but the way he searched for even the slightest hint of approval from Bull was unmistakable. The weight of his gaze felt all too familiar.

Nevertheless, the Iron Bull figured that he could spare Adaar a small treat.

Pressing his lips to the spot right below his navel, warm praise caressed Adaar’s skin.

“Good boy,” Bull murmured.

One would swear that he hit Adaar with one of those fancy lightning spells that Adaar loved to fling around so much.

A sharp gasp tore through the air.

Adaar took some of the rope in hand and tightened his grip, tugging thoughtlessly until it pulled taut. It strained ever so slightly when faced with his strength, but ultimately refused to give in.

The coarse burn of rope against his wrists only enticed him further, the sting more of an encouragement than a deterrent.

His back arched, seeking out more attention from Bull’s lips.

“M–More,” he pleaded.

Bull took a moment to marvel at how responsive he was, watching Adaar’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. 

Adaar writhed in an attempt to roll his hips against him, his face and chest flushed with need.

Grabbing Adaar by the hips, Bull forced them back against the bed, his hold on Adaar unbreakable. He earned a breathless whine in response, to which Bull simply tsked.

“You want more?” Bull questioned. “You’ll have to be more specific than that. More of what?”

As if Adaar could string together a single thought, let alone an entire sentence.

Frustrated, he grunted, “More of you.”

“Heh, now we’re getting somewhere,” Bull said, rewarding him with a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. He kept Adaar’s hips pinned to the bed while he forged a path down his chest. “Come on, kadan. You can get more detailed than that.”

“I—”

When Bull finally teased his tongue along the curves of his hips, Adaar cried out, trembling beneath him.

His hands clenched into fists, the lines of his muscles stretched tight.

Again, Adaar yanked mindlessly at the rope. And again, it held.

Bull chuckled darkly, so close to where Adaar wanted him yet denying him even a sliver of relief.

When he skirted around Adaar’s cock, sucking and nipping at his thighs as he pleased, Bull smirked at Adaar’s petulant growl.

“Come on,” Bull insisted. Adaar jolted when he felt the pad of one of Bull’s fingers trail down along the seam of his ass, stopping only to tease over his puckered entrance. “Tell me what you want, kadan.”

Considering the day Adaar had so far, telling someone what he wanted was definitely a change of pace, albeit a welcome one.

Few had thought to ask, and Adaar had shied away from the thought of burdening others with his problems.

So, he held his tongue. He let his exhaustion fester.

Now, when Bull made it so clear that his opinions did matter, all of that pent-up frustration hit him at once.

There were so many emotions to sort through, but there was one thing Adaar was certain about.

Turning his head to the side, he averted his eyes as he mumbled, “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess that I just want you to take care of me…?”

He trailed off, suddenly uncertain.

“Not to say you don’t take care of me enough already, but I—”

Before he could get himself worked up, Bull interrupted.

“Kadan.”

“Yeah?”

Bull spared him a soft smile.

“I think I can handle that.”

Sighing in relief, Adaar nodded.

“Anything else?” Bull asked.

“Well…” He gave a pointed tug at the ropes. “I want to touch you, but only if that’s okay!”

Before he could finish, the Iron Bull had reached up; and with a few deliberate tugs, the ropes came undone.

Massaging Adaar’s wrists, Bull watched him closely while he coaxed the blood to flow freely once more.

“Good?”

Adaar nodded. “Good.”

“Great,” Bull said, his voice rumbling through his chest, “because I’m not letting you go until you’ve been properly spoiled.”

When he dove in for a kiss, Adaar released a brief squeal, silenced only by Bull’s lips on his.

He wrapped his legs and arms around him, refusing to let go.

From there, each brush of his fingers brought him closer to his peak. Each curl of his tongue stoked the flames that burned bright inside him. 

Adaar’s magic grew thick in the air, spurred on by the tension between them.

Little sparks of electricity played over their skin. It teased along their nerves, but the Iron Bull simply took it in stride, admiring the power he wielded, all while surrendering it in the heat of the moment.

In time, he spread Adaar open on thick fingers, slick with that fancy oil that he favored so much.

When Bull’s lips eventually wrapped around him, Adaar cradled the back of his head, guiding him up and down the length of his cock, each thrust of his hips sending him deeper down Bull’s throat.

Everything about the act soon became sloppy and desperate and rushed, but Adaar couldn’t find it in himself to care in the slightest. He squirmed. He panted, ultimately unashamed when his voice grew louder with need.

He scratched at Bull’s back with his free hand, but Bull allowed for no apologies on his part, all but ordering Adaar to use him as he pleased.

And when Adaar finally did find his release, the Iron Bull held his hips in place, swallowing around him until he collapsed against the bed.

Only after Adaar rode out the remnants of his orgasm did Bull release him from his hold, briefly departing from his bed.

Sated for the moment, Adaar basked in the tingling rush of endorphins until Bull returned with a rag in hand.

In between sweet kisses, Bull gently cleaned the mess that they made of themselves. His harness soon found its way onto the floor, abandoned as the need to be together soon overpowered the desire for punishment.

They snuggled up to one another underneath the sheets, legs tangled together.

For a while, they simply laid there.

They only had eyes for each other.

Loving caresses said all that they needed to know, even as they stayed up, talking about anything and everything late into the night.

#dragon age #dai #the iron bull #inquisitor adaar #male adaar #adaar x bull #adaaribull #i think that's the ship name??? #my first dragon age romance and i don't even think i've written for it before #shame on me smh #warning for d/s elements of course #word count is close to 5k #because i have no control #bluerose writes

[fancytrinkets]

counterparts

Dorian sighs at the sight of her broad, beaming smile. Leave it to Cadash to be chipper and cheerful despite all the danger.

"And hey," she adds, grinning up at Dorian, "did you see that? The other you has a super cute boyfriend, huh?"

Dorian clenches his jaw and tries very hard not to swear at her. He's going to have a long, terrible half-day ahead of him.

Read the fic on ao3

#adoribull #dragon age inquisition #F!Cadash #M!Trevelyan #they meet in the Fade of course #Dorian get jealous of his alternate self #but the Iron Bull makes it better

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

McLaren being McLaren again, I've seen this song before and I didn't like the ending...

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #all rumors at the minute of course #but i better not see any hate going towards lando or oscar #the guilty party is Zak here for treating drivers like pokemon & not you know human beings #but like it's such a dumb move because it tarnishes and taints McLarens image & rep that they've been trying to rebuild since ron dennis #& a dumb move on alpines part for having oscar but royally fucking it up #but Zak's comments regarding the red bull driver academy? aged like milk because he according to rumors right now is a massive hypocrite #no matter the outcome the way they've treated Daniel has been beyond toxic & fans aren't likely to forget that #to clarify it's a dumb move because it makes McLaren look two-faced because how can you have a driver already contracted to a seat #& then actively look for his replacement offering further contracts to other drivers left and right without a seat open for them #but like I've seen this with K-mag Checo Vandoorne literally every McLaren driver post Lewis #they got no support from the team & now it seems the team hasn't changed at all despite the change in leadership #it's just a huge mess at this point for everyone involved #McLaren for the above Alpine look like clowns Oscar has literally been thrown into the lions den on social media #Lando despite not being involved in this at all is in shit because he's the more public face of the team & easier to attack than zak is #no matter what Daniel has to finish at least this year with a team that he knows is actively trying to push him out of his seat #like this is a complete and utter dumpster fire #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #mclaren #ffs mclaren #<- says a lot that that is the 1st tag that comes up when i type McLaren here #oscar piastri

[regonold]

Danny gets deaged and heads to Gotham to find jazz at collage there's only one problem he knows where the collage is just now where jazz's class is

Enter one bruce wayne who genuinely just so happened to be there (he's pulling a brucie wayme stunt) seeing a small kid looking around worried so what does the serial adopter do? Well he goes up to the kid of course crouching down to ask if he's ok whats his name wheres his parents or siblings?

Now jazz, jazz all but raised danny she protected him from a young age and helped him with anything he needed and durimg her time at collage she had worried for him, with the amount of bull her parents spouted she wouldn't be surprised if danny up and left

So imagine her surprise when she spotted her baby brother de aged talking to some stranger and at that moment every instinct flared and she remembered every warning she read or heard about Gotham and she acted

Danny was just looking for his sister when some guy crouched down to talk with him after asking some questions danny heard a sound he was familiar with jazz running

Bruce really wasn't expecting to be kicked for trying to help a kid

Artistic representation of jazz kicking bruce\/

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #ok look this whole prompt was just an excuse to have jazz deliver a flying kick to bruce #bruce: do you need help #danny: I'm lost im looking for my sister #bruce: well let me help you then #jazz seeing a strange man talk to her baby brother: ah so you have chosen death

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo drabble #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha drabbles #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha drabble #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

[obsessivevoidkitten]

In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #monster boyfriend #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #Yandere Minotaur #Minotaur x Reader #Yandere Greek Mythology #Yandere Asterion the Minotaur #Asterion the Minotaur x Reader #yandere fanfiction

[cheriladycl01]

Love in the Fast lane - Max Verstappen x Actress! Reader

Plot: Max Verstappen meeting an Actress who has actively been a F1 fan from before the limelight gets invited to the Monza GP after her recent film debut.

Credit to piosqueak1507 for the GIF

"Can we please stop getting these celebrities in that know absolutely nothing about the sport? Vegas was a ball ache" Max says to Christian they walk through the Monza paddock.

"I think you'll actually enjoy who we have for this race, they're a big sponsor" Christian smiles.

"Yeah they all are ..." Daniel chimes in with a slight laugh.

"No, trust me guys i think you'll really really like her" Christian says as they round the corner. Normally whatever celebrity that sat in any of the garages would immediately be getting photos by both their manager and the Red Bull Team for the publicity on both ends.

However both Daniel and Max immediately saw the celebrity that had been invited. She was in the Red Bull team gear crouched down observing Max's car, she was asking questions to all the engineers before taking her own swing on things.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N" Daniel whispers wide eyed just watching her look so effortlessly normal.

"She's been a motor-sport fan for ages! Since before she was an actress. There's a picture of her at like age 10 at the South Korean Grand Prix. She had her first big movie 3 year later!" he continues as if he'd read an autobiography on her at some point.

"Hey Y/N come meet the drivers!" Christian offers to you, your hair was up in a tight pony tail, your face was natural and free of makeup and if they didn't know who you were apart from your outstanding natural beauty they'd assume you were an actual Red Bull team member.

"Oh my gosh, Hi hello!" you saying coming up to them and shaking there hands. Daniel and Max share a look between them, not believing how this 23 year old, Oscar Award winning actress is being a fan girl over them.

"Hello, its really nice to meet you!" Daniel says, and before you know it your being pulled into a hug.

"So you were asking some detailed questions about our cars, how'd that come about?" Max asks trying to get a judge on this girl.

"Oh! Well apart from the fact I've been a Motorsport fan for ages, I did a degree in Engineering at St Andrews around my career. I graduated last year!"

"Oh woah, that really amazing! Daniel was just telling me about the picture of you at the South Korean Grand Prix in 2010!" he offers, trying to get to know the extremely pretty girl in front of him. You excitedly pull out your phone, going straight into the photos app and to the specific album you had all of your Formula One pictures in.

"Oh i have another one of me and Sebastian Vettel when he won the 2013 Germany Grand Prix, I'd just got back from a movie premiere in London, and i refused to miss it! Oh and here's me, Lewis, Kimi and Sebastian in 2018!" you says showing them the pictures on the phone.

"Well, you had a picture with Seb when he was the Red Bull Golden boy but how about you get one with the current?" Max smirks, and your face reddens.

"Yeah of course! But I want a separate one just for me, not to go on any socials" you smile, you hand your phone to Christian who takes a private one of you and then the media teams come after to take them.

Daniel leaves to talk to his engineer and Christian leaves to set up for the race ahead.

"I'm going to be blunt, I like you. You have a true interest in the sport and if i win this race I want to take you out to dinner" he smirks, looking over at you. He was lent against the wall, his race suit down around his hips.

"Hmmm okay, you've got yourself a deal" you agree.

You watched the race in the Red Bull Garage with the headphones on. You'd been on camera a few times, sometimes when you'd been biting your lip as Max had clipped a corner or didn't break early enough but stopped himself from spinning out. Other times they just caught you with an in awe adoring look at the screen as you watched the cars zoom past.

Max tried as hard as he could but today the Ferrari's just had pace, Charles ended P1, Lando ended P2 and Carlos ended P3, Max unfortunately not being able to go for the overtake in the last sector.

"Everyone in RedBull was celebrating the win of P4 and P5, you came out with the pulling Daniel who had gotten out of his car first into a huge hug.

"Well done Dani that was an amazing race considering the longer pit stop" you admit looking at him and he gives you a massive grin back.

"Max, Max!" you shout as you see him pull himself over the halo of his car. He slams his fist onto the bonnet, and shoves his helmet into the seat of the car.

"Hey, stop you did really well!" you smile at him, holding each wrist of his in your hands, his forehead had started to line with a little bit of sweat, his helmet hair being scraped back now.

"Didn't get the dinner though did i?" he frowns.

"Well what if i tell you that I'm good to go out with you for dinner regardless of a race win..." you smile and he smiles back.

"But that would be going against the offer I originally made" he smirks, leaning forward.

"Fuck the original offer Verstappen" you laugh at him, pulling him in for a kiss that he happily led.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic

[perkeleen-lavellan]

Reminder that I would never have even played Dragon Age games, were it not for a YouTube video by some gaming media channel that I can’t even find anymore advertising Iron Bull to me as a wholesome monster romance.

What I'm saying is that's an excellent advertising tactic and I sure hope BioWare catches on with DA:dw and tempts me with a monster romance.

#of course calling it a monster romance was a bit of a misnomer #like i was expecting bull to be a demon or something #but nah he's just a regular dude really #which kinda makes it even better #iron bull #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 4 #da4 #da:dw

[polakina]

you can handle it

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

rating: explicit

outline: on a mission to realign a disturbance, you start pushing Miguel's buttons, until something you say somethig that you didn't expect him to like, opening up a whole new avenue for you

warnings: cursing, fluff, smut, sub Miguel, outdoor sex, rough sex, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, begging, teasing, handjobs, choking

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

II

You walked into the society, passing familiar faces as you went. Miles liked to call it the “clubhouse”, which you found rather entertaining, but it didn’t appeal to some as much. The leader of the society, Miguel, was one of these few who did not approve of Miles’ little clubhouse joke. The man could barely stand to be around him even on his good days. Which were rare. So very rare.

“Hey! Hey, yo, wait up.” You heard in the distance from behind you. Turning on your heel, you saw two figures in the distance jogging towards you. Hobie and Pav raced alongside one another to you. Reaching you, Pav hunched over, hands on his knees.

“Just gotta…jeez, I’m out of breath,” Pav wheezed, head facing the floor. You and Hobie looked to one another in amusement before looking at him.

“Man, come on. I’ve seen you swing through cities without getting out of breath,” Hobie chuckled.

“Old age getting to you early there, Pav?” You chuckled lightly, patting him on the back. “What are you guys running around here for anyway?” Pav rose up, standing straight. 

He pointed down the hall to your right, not where you were heading at all. “Miguel’s looking for you. Something about a disruption. He needs you. Now.” 

-

You were in the room before even Peter could sense your approach. His head spun like a spinning top, eyes wide. “Jesus,” he said, shock painting his face as he placed his hand over his heart. 

You rolled your eyes, “Calm down, Peter. You act as though I’m a bull barreling through the building.”

“With the speed you came through those doors, you might as well have been. What are you doing here?”

“She’s here for me.” Miguel’s voice came through the darkness of the room, loud and clear. He stepped up from the desk, walking over to the two of you. Well, three of you if you counted Mayday on Peter’s lap. Peter looked over to Miguel as he walked up to you both, stopping just before to table Peter was sat before. “We’ve got a job to do. I’ll brief you on the way.”

You rolled your eyes. “Always so serious, Miguel.”

“The safety of our universe isn’t serious?” He asked cocking an eyebrow.

“Of course it is!” Peter exclaimed standing, with Mayday curled in one arm, the other patting Miguel on the shoulder. “But you could at least look a little but happy when you say it. Maybe smile a little?”

Miguel just cast a very unhappy smile in Peter’s direction, rolling his eyes. “I don’t do smiling.”

You smirked. “Because he knows he’d look cute if he did.” Peter and Miguel both looked at you. Peter, with surprise, and Miguel with a rather blank stare, but his eyes lit up ever so slightly. “What? You saying that I’m wrong?” Nobody responded. “Fine,” you huffed. “Let’s get this done.”

-

It wasn’t a large, difficult task. Just a rogue spider diverting from her chosen path. Surely Miguel didn’t need you for this as well, it was certainly something he could have handled alone. 

You turned to look at him. He wore a simple jacket with a longsleeved black shirt underneath, as to not draw suspicion. You opted for a hoodie and black pants. Your suit remained on your body beneath, just in case. To anyone else, you were two normal people taking a stroll through New York, not two spiders on a job. 

“Miguel, why am I here?” You asked, cocking your head to the side, watching him turn to look at you, a blank stare on his face.

“We’re on a job,” he replied rather coolly, looking away curtly.

“You’re telling me you couldn’t handle this along? Not sure you could take her on all alone?” You teased, trying to push his buttons a little. It was fun, doing this. Teasing him and annoying him. Peter always warned you not to, for fear he’d snap at you. But he never had. He just tolerated it.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Aw, so you wanted some company?” You smiled up at him, walking in front of him so he had to look at you. “And of course, I’m the best company you could think of. That’s adorable, Miguel.”

His heart skipped a beat as he cast a glance down at you. “Clearly, you overestimate our friendship,” he mumbled, almost a whisper. 

“But it is a friendship we share, no?” You asked, raking your finger down his chest. You felt his heartbeat quicken under your touch. Oh, this was fun. He was quick to look away, blinking a few times. He was…at a loss for words, to be honest. He couldn’t look at you right now. Not until his heart had calmed and his thoughts of you had left his mind. Until your touch didn’t linger and your words didn’t stick to him like glue. 

“Let’s finish this job,” he said, looking out ot the street in search of the rogue spider. “Then we never need to talk about what we share, or what we don’t.” He then walked past you, and you followed. What you didn’t share? What was that supposed to mean?

-

It was simple as anything could be. The rogue spider had let spare a few men who were caught in the crossfire of an outbreak downtown. She had a bad sense about them, but since they had not committed anything violent or dangerous, she saw no reason to bring them to justice. They claimed to be mere witnesses to the disaster, but they had lied. They were the men behind it all, selling out their own men to save their own backs. They had to be brought to justice or they risked derailing the tire canon timeline.

It wasn’t hard. The spider seemed nervous at first, her defences up and her trust wavered and thin. But she eventually understood, capturing the men with yours and Miguel’s help and binding them to the front door of the police station to be picked up at sunrise.

The sun began to rise over the tallest buildings in the city, setting a bright illuminating glow over the streets, over the park, over the people. You sat on a billboard watching it rise, your eyes lighting up in its amber embrace.

“Ready to go?” Miguel asked from where he stood on the rooftop above you. You glanced up from where he loomed over you. 

“In a minute,” you called back to him. “I never get to enjoy this.” You looked back towards the sky, sensing as Miguel made his way to you, sitting beside you. 

“We need to go back. Too long here could fracture-”

“Fracture the timeline. I’m well aware, O’Hara,” you finished for him. You sighed, closing your eyes. “Can I not just have five minutes to enjoy this? Or are you too stubborn to let me have anything nice?”

He huffed a laugh. “You don’t need my permission for that.”

“I didn’t realise I needed your permission for anything,” you joked, nudging his arm with your shoulder. “After all, we both know who’s in charge around here.” He tensed up as he felt your touch. But it softened almost immediately when you leaned into him. 

“Oh, you’re in charge, huh? That’s new,” Miguel retorted, but you could hear a small smile in his voice.

You smiled back, standing up and balancing yourself atop the large billboard. “Of course. You think I’m not? Oh please, you’d follow my orders around like a little puppy if I wanted you to.” His heart jumped at that, but he suppressed it before he let it reach his face. 

“You’re delusional.”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that, big boy.” You fell backwards off the billboard and Miguel leaned over with fear glossing over his eyes as you tumbled towards the ground. You let your arms fan out as your body hurtled down, head first, wind whistling in your ears. It felt so freeing, free falling to the ground. Swinging almost felt like flying at times. It was such an incredible experience for you, every time. 

You fired a web to a nearby building, catching it on a balcony railing, sending you soaring back into the air. Miguel watched you fly through the sky, completely in awe by how you moved. So angelic. So free. He knew this game. You played it all the time with Hobie and Pav. A game of chase. Something you did to pass the time when you were bored.

So he joined you. Jumping off the billboard and swinging through the empty steet towards you. You smiled as you looked back to see him catch up. “Having fun, O’Hara?” You called out as he matched your speed, swinging alongside you.

“You call this fun?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“There’s a lot of things I call fun, honey. This is just a tame type of fun I like to have,” you winked, soaring through the air. He chased you through the air. Always reaching you just out of time, his fingertips grazing your skin just the second you swung out of his reach. Now he understood why Hobie was always annoyed after these games. He could never catch you. 

So he took a different approach, heading right down past a tower of apartments, out of your view. You looked back, grinning when you didn’t see him. You’d lost him. You didn’t look back in time to see him flying towards you on your right. He’d rounded the apartment buildings to gain more momentum, more speed. It had worked.his arm caught around your waist, throwing you off guard as he pinned you to the wall at the top of a large tower of more apartments. His legs caged your waist as his knees dug into the rough brick wall. A neon orange spider web entrailed from his wrist and stretched out to the lip of the building just above to two of you, keeping him suspended, his arm around your waist holding you steady so you didn’t fall. 

“You caught me,” you smiled cunningly. 

“I did,” he breathed shakily. He’d never really been this close to you. Your perfume filling his nostrils with pale tones of lavender and vanilla. Your eyes piercing deep into his, a hint of mischief and control lurking amongst your dark irises.

You smiled. You could see he was a little nervous being this close. He often kept a distance from you whenever he could. Before, you assumed it was because he found you boorish, annoying. Which you usually were around him, for the fun of it. But not now. Now you realised why he really stayed distant all this time. You could see it in his eyes. What he wanted. What he needed. From you. For you. It was all about you. “Then perhaps,” you leaned closer, your breath tickling his ear until he shuddered. “You deserve a reward?” You sent your own web flying above you, landing just besides Miguel’s, hoisting you up so that you could snake your legs over the top of his, wrapping your ankles around his waist and pulling him flush against your body.

Miguel’s eyes went wild, pupils dilating and cheeks flushing red. “I…um-”

“Cat got your tongue, O’Hara?” You smirked, releasing your web so your weight rested fully on his strong thighs. “Usually you always have something to say. What, so you don’t want your reward? Hmm?”

His head whipped back to you, eyes wide. “No, I…” he mumbled something after that. You knew exactly what he said. But you needed to hear it properly. Louder. Loud enough so he, himself, would believe what he was saying.

“Come on,” you tipped his head a little higher so his eyes met yours, your figner under his chin. “Speak your words. Say it a little louder for me.” You were practically whispering at this point, and as much as Miguel wanted to match your volume, he knew this would lead nowhere if he did.

“I want a reward,” he spoke, more confidence in his voice. His hand rested on your lower back, rubbing small circles into your skin beneath your clothing. “As long as it’s you.”

You smiled. Not wickedly. Not mischieviously. Genuinely. There it was. The confirmation you had been waiting for. “Well, that’s up to me to decide, isn’t it?”

He nodded. Almost immediately. You always had an inkling that if this were to ever happen, you would be the one to seek the control. But to see it now, in person…it felt all too real and all too perfect. “I want you to decide. Please,” he breathed, his tone begging for you. His eyes portraying a particular need for you.

“So you’re going to listen? Obey what I say. Do what I ask?” With every question he answered with a nod. You gripped his jaw gently, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “Either you use your words, or I’m not doing anything, Miguel.”

That was the last thign he wanted. You could see it in his face. “Yes,” he blurted out. “I’ll listen to you. I promise.”

“Good boy,” you smiled. You felt the way his heart sped up with his pulse right under your hand. You felt the way his dick twitched as you said those words. He liked it. A lot. 

Your hands drifted downwards, down his stomach to the belt on his pants. It surprised him, causing the two of you to drop a few inches from the web suspension slacking. 

“Keep holding on, puppy. Or else we’ll fall.”

“But-I…here? We’re on top of a building,” he said, looking around before back at you. 

“And? I always thought you found danger rather thrilling?” You cocked your head to the side, your hands still working on undoing his belt. “Would you prefer somewhere quieter? More private?” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek, then his jaw, then eventually his neck. “I always found being out in the open made it all the more exciting.”

He nodded, his head tilting back, giving you more access. Below, you had already pulled his belt apart, unzipping his pants and slid your hand inside. He gasped when your bare hand came into contact with his cock. You wrapped your hand around it, your fingers barely touching one another as you slid it down to the base of his cock and back up to the tip. Pre cum had already begun leaking out, gliding down your hands, lubricating his dick so you didn’t have to. 

Miguel’s breathing grew heavy, desperate as you touched him. It made him feel unlike any way he had before. It felt heavenly. You leaned back, taking in the features on his face, how his eyes squeezed together, how his mouth fell agape, small whines of pleasure falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good, baby,” you cooed, loving the way his dick twitched once again at your words. His hand wrapped around your back further, gripping your waist tightly, his knuckles paleing with the force of grip. 

“Please…ple-please,” his words sped up with the rhythm of your hand pumping his cock. You knew he was nearing a high, a rush. He needed it. It had been so long. And fuck, you wanted to give it to him. 

“Please, what? What do you want so badly that you feel the need to beg me for it?” Your tone changed. It was calm. Demanding. No room for negotiation.  

“I want you to let me fuck you. Please.” His eyes were so pleading. So desperate. His hips began to raise to meet your rhythm, your body bouncing as he did. You allowed it. You knew how much he needed it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was taking any control by doing so. He knew you clearly still had all the power here.

“Of course, baby,” you smiled. You couldn’t deny that this certain submission from Miguel made you feel a certain type of way. You could feel it all through your body. Mainly in your pants. But it radiated everywhere.

Miguel, shortened his web, pulling the two of you back up to the buildings roof. You sat atop it, spreading your legs as Miguel remained suspended between them. He looked up at you, eyes wide and waiting for your next order. You lifted a leg, placing your ankle on his shoulder and pulling him towards you, his chin resting just above your stomach. “Can I?”

You nodded your head, and Miguel approached, hesitant but needy. He pulled your pants from your body, your clothes collecting in a pile on the roof beside you. He was nervous at first. It showed in his movements. Soft, gentle licks up your slit, tender against your clit. His hands tentatively wrapped around your thighs, his face buried between them. He was holding back. He wanted to do more. He knew he could. But he wanted to be good. For you. “Miguel,” you called out, squeezing your thighs around his head to get his attention. He looked up at you with soft brown, doe eyes. “I know that that’s not all you got. Come on, puppy.”

He became more forceful with it, gradually. His sole intent being you. Pleasuring you. Pleasing you. His fingers gripped your thighs tighter, his tongue delving deep inside you. Your head fell back, your hand tangled in his hair. “Fuck, that’s it,” you guided. “Just like that, honey.” The flicks of his tongue moved faster, his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and nibbling to make you squirm. Your hand kept his head in the perfect position, your grasp tightening until it was almost painful. But he didn’t care. 

Miguel slipped his hand under you, between your thighs, teasing at your pussy with his finger. His eyes gazed up at you, waiting for a confirmation. For a yes. For anything. You met his eye, your chest heaving. “Well, go on then, guapo.” He wasted no time, pushing one finger in, then two, easing them in so easily with your wetness. You gasped, caging his head between your thighs. 

His fingers sped up inside you, drawing you to a closer high with every passing second. He could feel it too. He needed you to come. God, he wanted it so badly. Your body slid closer to the edge, but you didn’t even notice and neither did he. Not until you both slipped slightly off the edge, and Miguel caught you around the waist before you could fall from his grip. “May have gotten a little too excited there…” Miguel admitted, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Not a problem, chulo,” you smiled, patting his cheek. “But if you think that’s going to stop us, then you’re sorely mistaken.” you shifted in his lap, positioning his cock at your soaked pussy. Miguel shivered as you pushed the tip inside you, his body tensing and his mind racing. Miguel braced himself against the tough brick layed wall, hand on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist. You let out a sigh as you sank down inot his cock, until he was fully sheathed inside you. 

Looking to Miguel, you saw his face contort, his teeth grit, his eyes squeeze shut. “Calmate, Miguel. Just relax, amor,” you purred, a slight accent springing out as your tongue rolled the syllables. It had been a while for him. For you too. You both needed this so badly. Fuck, you’d been thinking about this for a long time. 

Miguel groaned as he began moving his hips, his cock rolling in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. His cock hit deep inside you, low moans all you could muster. “Just like that, Miguel. Don’t stop.” He didn’t. He thrust his cock inside you deeply, harder and harder until it was overwhelming him. But it felt so good he didn’t want to stop. You felt so good around his dick, so fucking good. 

You could see it in face that he was struggling to keep calm. The sensation was too much for him. But he could take it. “Miguel, look at me,” your hand wrapped around his throat. Not putting any pressure on. Just holding it. But it snapped his attention to you immediately. “You’re doing so good for me, honey. You can hold on a little longer,” you breathed. Even you were struggling to keep composure right now. “Now come on, baby. You do want to make me feel good, don’t you?” He nodded profusely. You turned his head to the side, his pulse beating so fast beneath your touch. You leaned in close to his ear. “So fuck me then. You can handle it.”

You leaned back, retracting your fingers from his neck, until his free hand came up to grab yours. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you almost said something until he brought your hand back around his throat. “Hold it there. Please.”

“Oh?” You smiled. “So that’s what you like, hmm? I guess we’re going to start figuring out everything that you like then, aren’t we? Now be a good boy for me.”

He fucked up into you, your back scraping across the harsh wall behind you. But you didn’t care if it scratched your back to shit. It was all worth it. Your grip around his throat tightened, Miguel’s head getting lighter, but it brought on a whole new high for him. He lost all control, thrusting faster and faster. You held onto him, head resting against his shoulder as your climax inched closer and closer. “Can’t go-fuck-much longer. Please.” Miguel gritted his teeth, panting heavily.

“Baby,” you purred, kissing his shoulder and leaning up to look at him. “You know the rules. You want to come? Then you can make me come too, yeah?”

“I wanna make you come. So bad.”

“Then do it,” your grip around his throat tightened and he left out a soft moan, holding your waist tighter until his fingerprints practically burned into your skin. “Make me come. Or you get nothing else tonight.”

You were both so close. Your legs tightened around him, crushing his waist as you felt pleasure crash over you. You held Miguel close, moaning his own name into his ear as you came, flooding his cock with your release, soaking him in your juices. You clung to him, digging your nails into his skin.

He followed close behind, groaning as he came inside you, coating your walls in white and letting his whole body relax against you. 

You both stayed that way for a moment, breathing heavily. The brick wall had become a comfort to your spine, basically crumbled to a shape befitting your body. “You did good, guapo,” you chuckled, kissing him softly. Miguel melted into the kiss, his hand on your back, pulling you close. It was soft. Tender. Everything he thought it would be. You pulled away for air, looking at him with gentle eyes. “But next time,” you pulled him closer by his throat, inches from his face. “You don’t come until I say you can. Got it, baby?”

“Next time?” There was a little excitement in his tone.

You smiled, tapping the side of his neck. “Oh, you thought I was done with you? Adorable.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel ohara x reader #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #smut #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut

[ode2rin]

MAKE YOU MINE .ೃ

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. best friends to lovers | pining | light angst to fluff

content/warnings. 3.1k+ wc | reader is in a toxic relationship with their boyfriend (not rin lmao the bf is unnamed) | characters are aged up to 18 ! | blue lock happened much much later here | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | minimal proofread

in which: rin was never ready, so he watches you go with your boyfriend, wishfully thinking it was him instead.

💭 thank you for the request @/saetorinrin (unaffectionate)!

best friends are supposed to knock some sense into you, that's what they're for. 

fortunately for you, your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, has always been quite good at it. right now, you're hoping he'll at least be kind while doing so.

“i don't know why you keep on going back to him. he looks like a fucking bull reincarnate, and he treats you like what? yeah, like a pup he dogs around.” 

that’s wishful thinking, though. none of rin's words are known for their kindness.

you've known since a tender age of ten that both itoshi brothers have a knack for colorful insults — or rather, they insist it's a form of descriptive artistry. moments like these make you wish you could smack your younger self for befriending your teal-eyed neighbors. you really should have avoided them like the plague from the very first glare they shot your way.

if you did, you wouldn't find yourself sitting on a swing in the park near both of your houses, while rin spends the past few minutes expressing his displeasure about you getting back with your ex.

but what’s done is done. growing up with them wasn't all bad, except for that messy fiasco between sae and rin that left you caught in the middle, trying to mend their broken bond.

in the end, you chose rin’s side. for what reason? that's a reminiscence best saved for another day.

right now, your priority lies in letting rin hear a piece of your mind for his way of describing your ex — or boyfriend? actually, you're not sure anymore.

“you’re being mean, rin.”

“and you’re being stupid, y/n.”

“you won’t get it.”

“won’t get what? that you’re being treated like absolute shit?”

that’s it. he pushed enough buttons now. you stood up from the swing to face the 6-foot tall man in front of you. 

“you won't get it because you’ve never loved anyone before! and you sure as hell have never been fucking loved!”

rin, before this moment, was sure he's accustomed to pain. 

but now, he realized he wasn't.

realizing what you've just said to your best friend, your eyes widen, and you immediately reach out to touch his arm, frustration turning into regret. you didn't mean that — god, you really didn't.

“rin, i... i didn't mean—”

“save it.”

you were right about the latter. but the former? rin wants nothing but to let you know otherwise. if only you goddamn knew. but that's just it for rin too — wishful thinking.

because you're not done loving your boyfriend, and he knows he's merely using that as an excuse. if honesty were to intervene, he wouldn't be ready to let you know.

how many years does one need to be ready to confess to their best friend of more than a decade anyway? he doesn't want to find out.

rin heard your whispered apology, and his heart sank. he watched as you lowered your gaze to the grass beneath your feet, the weight of regret palpable in the air.

“come on, it’s getting dark. let’s go home,” he suggested, voice tinged with concern.

“actually, he’s picking me up here. mom knows already.”

of course. of course, he's picking you up blocks away from your house. is that how things work now? if it were up to rin, he'd personally ask your mom to take you out on a monday evening. you know, like a respectful person would do?

yet again. if it was him. another wishful thinking.

“where the hell is he, then? i am not leaving you here,” rin stated, his frustration once again seeping through his words.

“he's just a little late —”

“or ditching you again?” 

“rin, please. just leave. i don't want to start again,” you pleaded, the exhaustion evident in your voice.

“fine.”

every step rin took away from you felt like chains dragging along, pulling him back with reluctance and impending regret. but he knew he had to leave. 

he didn't have a place to stay here, not in this park, and certainly not in your heart.

it had been a week since you got back together with your ex, and in that time, rin hadn't uttered a single word to you. his silence was a constant presence, weighing heavily on the air between you. in the past, you found solace in his silence, finding comfort in the unspoken understanding that existed between you. but now, it felt suffocating, as if every attempt to say his name would only add to the tension.

you didn't blame rin for giving you the silent treatment. after all, the hurtful words you had spoken had cut deep.

rin had been harsh, yes, but you knew it came from a place of concern. he was your best friend, and looking out for each other was what you do. deep down, you couldn't deny that there was some truth in what he had said about your boyfriend. there had been moments when he treated you poorly, but that was normal, right? every relationship had its ups and downs, and this was just one of them. and perhaps, in rin's eyes, you were being stupid, but when weren't you, in his opinion?

still, you should have known better. you shouldn't have said what you did. not when you know yourself that he’s been loved. even if it was hidden and unspoken, it still counted, didn't it?

but despite the silent treatment, rin never failed to walk you home. even when he was wearing his sweaty jersey after a rigorous practice, he would be there outside your classroom, waiting for you. walking behind you, not saying a word, but his presence was felt. occasionally, he would walk beside you, especially when you were about to reach the busy side of the neighborhood.

every single day of the past week, he had walked you home.

and even back then starting from the days of school, rin never lets you walk alone in the dark.

today, however, you had to tell him that you wouldn't be walking with him. you had a date with your boyfriend, and he was waiting for you outside the school.

grabbing your bag and heading towards the door, you caught a glimpse of rin's duffel bag and his back. he was waiting for you again. rushing over to him, you spoke up.

“rin, i won’t be able to walk with you today. we’re going out. he’s waiting for me outside.”

rin simply looked at you, then nodded. he turned his back to you, but you could swear there was something he wanted to say.

that was the thing with itoshi rin. he never spoke when you needed him to.

rin was right. he had always been right. and you, well, you were just fucking stupid.

as you reminisced about the earlier screaming match with your now ex-boyfriend, tears threatened to well up in your eyes.

i’m such a fucking idiot.

you had known deep down that you had settled, but you never expected him to stoop so low. part of you wanted to say good riddance, but the truth was that time spent with a person would always leave a mark, whether you wanted it or not.

it was past 9 pm, and that prick had the audacity to drop you four blocks away from your own house. you wanted to scream at him, to demand basic human decency, to drop you off at your doorstep. but another part of you, fueled by the remnants of pride, refused to beg for the bare minimum again. so, despite your nervousness about walking alone in the dark, you slammed the car door in his face and decided to walk the rest of the way on your own.

it had only been five minutes of walking when you felt the first raindrops fall on your forehead. the realization of what was about to happen made you want to scream at whoever was watching from above. how dare they make you this unlucky?

great. just great.

the drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown rain, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. a few blocks ahead, you spotted the park where you and rin used to hang out. 

even in your darkest times, he’s still in your mind. it’s funny as it is ironic.

if only you had stayed content with loving your best friend from afar, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this hurt, right? 

maybe you wouldn't have ended up looking for love in all the wrong places when the only place you truly wanted it to blossom had been right beside you all along.

exactly ten minutes before rin’s usual bedtime, his phone rang, your name shown on the screen. and for some reason, he could feel his heart leap out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

something was wrong.

without wasting a second, rin answered your call on the second ring.

“hello?” he said, anticipation heavy on his heart. he needed to hear your voice.

but anticipation was immediately replaced by seething anger and heightened worry as he heard your sniffs on the other end of the line.

“where are you?” 

“rin... i know you're mad at me, but i didn't know who else to call–”

“it's raining. where the hell are you?” rin's voice grew heavy with indescribable anger, each word dripping with his overwhelming emotions.

“he dropped me off near the school, but i'm here by the park now. i–”

"stay where you are. i'm coming. don't end the call. i need to know you're safe." or else i will fucking lose it. 

it’s these times that rin was glad he’s an athlete. within five minutes, he arrived at the park, his strides quick and determined. he would have reached you even faster if it weren't for the umbrella he was holding and the sound of your sniffs and sobs on the other end of the line, causing his heart to sink and his steps to falter.

he doesn't even let a goddamn mosquito come close to you, but that asshole had the audacity to make you cry? how dare he.

the rain had lessened compared to its earlier downpour, it was now more of a drizzle. but if you had been here before calling him, that meant you had been standing under the rain for almost an hour. with that realization, rin thinks your ex should watch his back from now on; he would never know when a ball might come flying straight at him — accidentally, of course.

as rin reached the park, his eyes scanned the area, searching desperately for you. and there, in one of the benches, he saw you. your head was tucked into your knees, one hand hugging them tightly while the other clutched the phone to your ear.

he swore, he fucking swore, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of you.

ever since you entered rin's life, you taught him a lot of things. you taught him everything about how life was better when you had someone to lean on. 

but most of all, everything rin knew about love, he knew from you. 

and when he realized he loved you but couldn't let you know, the love he knew became intertwined with all the pain he learned.

this is hurting him. you, you were hurting him.

maybe you were right all along.

“you're right, y/n,” rin whispered into the phone, his voice barely audible as he stood a few feet away from you, the umbrella slipping from his grasp. he still had his phone pressed to his ear.

rin couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heartbeat and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

how many damn years does it take to work up the courage to spill your guts to your best friend of more than a decade? rin found out that sometimes, all it takes is one look at them in pain to make you throw caution to the wind. screw all the timing and planning.

“rin…” you called out, looking around to locate him.

locked in a gaze, time seemed to stand still as rin's eyes traced the contours of your face. your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked from the rain, revealed what you had endured. your drenched clothes and disheveled hair painted a picture of you running around in this rain. he couldn't help but think that you looked like a wounded soul, stripped of your own heart.

“you're right,” he repeated once more, and he was certain you could hear him, judging by the look of confusion on your face.

it wasn't a “now or never” moment for rin. 

it was a now or never love another soul ever again moment. because to rin, it will always be you and him in the end. and that’s no wishful thinking, but a promise he made to himself.

there will be no after you, but just you. that was it for itoshi rin. 

so he has to let you know. the hell with what happens next.

“about last week, you’re right about that. i would never get it,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “i would never get how someone could ever treat you this bad by someone who claims to love you. because i have loved you since we were kids, and i would rather die than leave you out here alone in the pouring rain.”

if this was what you called love, then maybe you taught him wrong. 

rin could see how your eyes widened at what he said. and right then and there, he prepared himself for the worst.

it’s happening.

rin ended the call. he couldn't bear to hear your immediate response, fearing the rejection he had long braced himself for. with the umbrella in hand, he made his way towards you, his eyes focused on the wet ground, avoiding direct contact with your gaze.

you can reject him later. he needs to get you home first.

“come on, let’s go,” was the only thing rin said. he placed the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain while he stood exposed, allowing the droplets to soak him further.

you gazed up at him, seeking his eyes, “can you look at me, rin?” 

and see the look of pity in your eyes? even at these moments, you’re cruel to him. 

“i don’t want to.”

undeterred, you persisted, “why?”

because i’m about to lose you.

“i made peace with it a long time ago,” rin admitted, “let's just go. you're going to get sick.”

“say it again.”

your gaze held unwavering, demanding more from him. there was a longing in your eyes, a hunger for honesty. you craved his words, his confession – you need rin to speak now or else you will never know peace.

“no.”

“then i’m not going anywhere. say it agai —”

“fine! i have loved you since we were kids and i have loved you ever since i'm yet to even know what it was i was feeling for you! now, please, let’s go!”

silence enveloped the park. but rin could hear his own heart beating in rhythm with the soft pitt patts of the rain.

this was it then? twelve damn years. all those years, now dissipating like raindrops lost in the drain.

the rain continued to pour, serving as a backdrop to the delicate dance of emotions unfolding between you. each droplet seemed to echo the passage of time, washing away the years of looking at you in a lovelorn gaze.

rin knew where this was headed. he may not have watched many romance movies, but confessions like these – he had seen them before. this was yet another addition to the countless stories of shattered dreams lost to the rain.

but then as fate would have it, it will always intervene.

and so, as if a radiant sun had broken through the stormy clouds, a smile bloomed on your face, casting away the shadows of doubt in rin's mind.

“i’ve been waiting for those words my whole life, itoshi rin.”

rainbows really do appear after the pouring rain.

but only for a fleeting grace of moment in the sky.

“but i can’t, rin. not now. i’m too hurt to love you freely.”

the confession escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of past heartbreak and lingering pain. and to rin, it felt as if the rainbows had faded, leaving behind a somber reminder of the scars etched deep within.

it would be a lie not to admit that he was disheartened, but nonetheless, rin understood. 

but rin was no saint; he can be selfish. he wants to be selfish for you. so there he knelt, bringing himself eye to eye with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. 

“i’ll wait. i can wait,” it’s not a lie that the younger itoshi had a penchant for being selfish as he is selfless. 

but he has waited for you for as long as he has learned to kick a ball. so what's a little more?

“are you sure?” the question escaped your lips, a plea for reassurance.

if it means it’s you and him in the end after all, then he’s nothing but definite.

rin's hands on your cheeks tightened gently, his voice a gentle murmur that danced along the edges of your heart, “take all the time you need. by the time you're done, i'll make sure to make you mine.”

the raindrops, cascading around you like tears from the heavens, seemed to pause in reverence as rin's words hung in the air.

as the rain began to subside, rin leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. your eyes closed, feeling his breath mingling with yours, you hear him softly sighed against your lips.

“i’ll treat you so good, y/n. so good. fuck, you have no idea.”

sure, you’re the first person itoshi rin has ever loved. but he can show you. better than your shitty ex ever could.

if there’s anyone who can most definitely show you what love was truly like, it will be him.

for a few precious moments, time seemed to stand still as both of you remained in that intimate embrace, rin's hands tenderly cradling your face, and your gaze locked in the depths of his teal eyes.

“let’s go home?” rin asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“only if you’ll walk with me.”

rin's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at your hushed response. he reached out, extending his hand toward you, a silent invitation. “i've been doing that for the past years.”

and he’ll continue to do it. 

few years from now, he will make sure he’s the man you’re walking with. be that on the way home, or down the aisle.

because to itoshi rin, it will always be you and him.

note. no thoughts, just pure vibes here. just kidding! here's the first request in my milestone event, and i enjoyed writing this despite it being shitty as an outcome. thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

#☁️ my ode to you #first milestone event! #writing: 001 #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

[fangirl-dot-com]

what does mitch look like? like does she have a face claim?! and vito?? (i couldn’t tell which one was which in imola)

ok so here we go! - thank you to whoever asked for this!!

this was a tag worthy post I believe :)

face claim - Amal Clooney

Meet Michelle "Mitch" Walker - Y/n L/n's race engineer

She has been at Red Bull since 2020, but was an actual engineer for the cars. She graduated with a Masters in Engineering and interned under Adrian Newey. She is currently in her late-30's and not married.

She was a bit skeptical when she was told by Christian that she'd be a rookie's race engineer, but when she saw you and your times on the sim, she was hooked.

She can be seen wearing her favorite big sunnies during race weekends and carries her gray notebook everywhere she goes. As a part of a ritual, she always drinks an iced Americano before a race.

For future references, she stays Y/n L/n's race engineer until said racer retires. She will have served under two different team principals by the end of her carrier (but I'm not saying who the second is hehe).

no face claim - Italian, short beard, and a whole lot of love for Y/n

Meet Vito Accardi - Y/n L/n's manager

Vito had been a part of an organization of people who lend out unofficial managers to younger racers who don't already have one. He was assigned to Y/n L/n in 2018 when she first joined F4. He, like most people, thought that she had raw talent and he wanted to stay with her.

Fast forward to 2019 and F3, Vito was officially Y/n L/n's manager, hired by her godfather Lorenzo. He has no plans to leave anytime soon.

He has a Public Relations Degree along with degree in Business. On the side, he runs his own line of go karts. He has mentioned that he was only able to start it due to the kindness of Y/n and Lorenzo.

For further references, Vito stays with Y/n until her retirement. After that, he ends up being asked to be godfather of her second child. Of course he agrees and tears are shed.

face claim - Brendan Taggart

Meet Lorenzo "Enzo" Alessandrino - Y/n L/n's Godfather

Lorenzo had been Y/F/N L/n's best friend growing up after meeting at boarding school, but distanced himself after he saw how awful he truly was. Only came back into his life after the birth of Y/n. Surprisingly, he was named godfather and he took that to heart.

Being a major business man and influential figure in karting and Formula racing, he couldn't possibly be near the girl all the time. But after finding out what you had been going through, he wishes that he would have fought for custody. Maybe then you could have grown up with other kids such as Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri, Mick Schumacher, and Arthur Leclerc. But, he couldn't dwell on the past.

Everyone thought he was pretty poor as he didn't like to flaunt his wealth everywhere, but they were wrong. Pretty much one of the wealthiest persons the time of his death.

Gave Y/n L/n a second chance at karting and formula racing as he fought for sponsors to agree on the younger girl (most said no due to age and gender, but he never gave up).

Late in 2019, he caught pneumonia, which turned into a fatal respiratory tract infection. He died in early 2020 after falling into a coma. The only person to ever show up was Y/n L/n

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#f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #formula 1 x you #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sergeant x reader #alex albon x reader #fernando alonso x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #george russell x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 edition #formula 1 imagine #reader lore

[corroded-hellfire]

Gimme A Break - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collaboration with my beloved @munson-blurbs

Summary: A trip to the grocery store has you running into some familiar faces--and one not so friendly.

Note: Let Brittany bashing commence!

Warnings: talk of body image

Words: 2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

In your opinion, there’s no such concept as a bad time for soup. The dead of winter, the stifling heat of summer—it’s all good. 

The fall weather that’s rolled into Hawkins has inspired you to try your hand at making some from scratch, bringing you to Bradley’s Big Buy on a Sunday afternoon. You’re inspecting a bag of carrots for freshness and tossing them in the cart haphazardly when you feel a sudden thump against your leg. 

“Wha—” you start, ready to confront whoever was careless enough to ram into you. Your scowl immediately softens when you see the two smiling faces looking up at you. “Oh, hi boys!”

Luke, unsurprisingly, is the one who ran into you at full speed. Ryan is a few paces behind his bull-in-a-china-shop brother, but his expression is equally happy. 

You crouch down to give each of them a hug. The way they both wrap their arms around you radiates love’s warmth, and it melts your heart. 

“Are you buying anything good?” you ask, knowing they’ll be wholly unimpressed with your basket full of vegetables. 

Luke nods vigorously. “CHICKEN NUGGETS!” He bellows, drawing irate glares from nearby shoppers. “Daddy has a cool-pon.”

“It’s coupon,” Ryan says with a gentle roll of his eyes. 

You���re still stuck on the mention of their dad. Eddie’s here? And you don’t have on a lick of makeup—of course. 

“Where is Daddy?” you ask, looking up and down the aisle in the unlikely event that you missed him. 

“He’s uh…” Luke trails off, scrunching his nose as he searches for his dad. Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” crinkles over the PA system after being interrupted by a call for assistance in the frozen food department as Brittany appears at the end of the aisle.

An irritated voice calls out from the end of the aisle. “What’s taking you two so—oh. You’re here.” Brittany crosses her arms over her chest, huffing out an impatient sigh when she spots you. 

Luke pipes up, still attached to your leg. “We can’t find the asper-, uh, aparag, the um…”

“Asparagus,” Brittany corrects him as if the five-year-old should be able to pronounce words perfectly by this age.

“Oh,” you say, turning to exactly where you know the asparagus is. “Here you go.”

Ryan gladly takes it from you with a grin. Huh, maybe there is a Munson who shares your affinity for veggies. It certainly isn’t Luke—or Eddie, for that matter. 

“You’re the best!” he says cheerfully, placing it in the cart that Brittany’s been pushing.

“Boys.” It almost sounds like she’s admonishing them for being kind to you. She looks at you with unkind eyes. “Maybe you should work here instead of for us,” she says, trying to play it off as a joke, but you can tell there’s some underlying threat. 

Luke is not amused by this, his little fingers digging into your leg as he clutches onto your jeans even tighter. “No! She has to be our babysitter forever and ever!” He pouts, eyes welling up with tears at the mere mention of you leaving. 

“Maybe not forever,” Ryan points out, always the practical one, “because one day we’ll be grown-ups with our own kids—”

“And then she can babysit them!” Luke declares, proud of his idea, loosening his grip on you. 

Brittany shakes her head, immediately eschewing the notion. “C’mon, let’s get going,” she says tersely. “Dad’s gonna be wondering where we are.” The cruel curl of her lip serves as a painful reminder of what’s hers; more specifically, what isn’t yours. 

As if on cue, Eddie meanders out from a nearby aisle, a canister of quick oats tucked under his arm. He’s wearing gray sweatpants that lay low on his hips and leave little to the imagination. Somehow on this brisk autumn day you have sweat beading along the back of your neck as you take him in.

“You’re So Vain” fades out on the speakers above, only to start playing the infectious opening notes of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel.

“Britt, I couldn’t find the old-fashioned kind, but will this—oh, hey,” Eddie says, stopping in his tracks to acknowledge you. “You here to make sure these gremlins don’t lock themselves in the ice cream freezer?”

Luke grins, lets go of your leg, and takes your hand proudly in his as if it was somehow all his doing that you’re here in the grocery store the same time as they are. 

“Hi,” you greet before realizing you have a dopey smile on your face. “Uh, yeah. And it seems like I got here just in time. This one here almost had the lid off a rocky road before I caught him.” You shake Luke’s small hand in your own for emphasis and the boy wrinkles his nose up at you, the spitting image of his father.

Eddie chuckles and goes to respond, but his wife cuts him off.

“I guess those oats will work,” she says as she takes the canister from him—or snatches it, more like. “Come on, we didn’t even get to the dairy section yet.”

“Or,” Luke ventures, his hand gripping yours tighter in the chill air of the produce section, “we could get a cow in the backyard and get our milk that way.”

Eddie chuckles. “Hard pass, little man. We had to bring in reinforcement just to handle you and your brother.” He looks over and winks at you. 

It takes all of your strength and will power not to immediately vomit right then and there at the wink. Such a simple gesture from this man has you ready to lose all control of your body. 

Brittany huffs, clearly annoyed at the interaction. How dare anyone be having a conversation in her presence that doesn’t revolve around her? 

“Well, we need to keep shopping.” Brittany turns on her heel, spotting a red bag of fun-size KitKats in her husband’s other hand. “And put that back. The last thing you need is more junk food.” Her eyes flit down to his stomach, which has softened with time and a steady diet of pretzels and Mountain Dew.

The tips of Eddie’s ears turn pink, and he tries to hide them behind his curls. He clears his throat, the whole time avoiding your eyes, and tosses the KitKat bag onto an empty spot of a nearby shelf. He’s clearly embarrassed, but you’re seeing red. Fury scorches you from the inside out and it’s so potent that it might just dry up some of the vegetables around you. There have been many times in the past where you’ve wanted to tell Brittany off, but this one takes the cake. The callous yet truthful words rest on the tip of your tongue, but you know it would only make the mess bigger for everyone involved. You don’t want to add any extra stress for Eddie. Brittany is the one who should be embarrassed for treating her husband that way, not Eddie. That man is drop dead gorgeous and he still would be if he inhaled a bag of those KitKats every single day. 

Leave it to Luke to break the tension that he wasn’t even aware of was surrounding them all on this produce aisle. The young boy spies a can of spinach on the shelf and snatches it up, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Will this make me strong like Popeye?!”

“Sure, sweetie,” Brittany says, not paying any attention to her youngest son whatsoever. 

Brittany turns and heads towards the end of the aisle, no goodbye to you, no saying where she’s going, just leaving and assuming the guys will follow behind her. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow after school, right?” Ryan asks, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“I’ll be there,” you assure him, booping the tip of his nose. He gives you a quick, strong hug around your middle.

Luke, still holding on to the can of spinach, blows you an overdramatic kiss which you pretend to almost drop into a bed of lettuce. The little boy giggles and it’s one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. 

Eddie takes a step closer to you, still feeling the sting of embarrassment, and speaks in a soft voice. “We, uh, should get going.” Eddie clears his throat. It kills you to see how Brittany zaps the life out of him. “I’ll—we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“I’ll be there,” you promise once again. 

Eddie offers you a small smile before turning to his sons. 

“All right, come on. Let’s catch on up to Mom.”

The boys don’t look too enthused about that, and it warms your heart that they’d rather stay here and hangout with you. 

“Bye guys,” you say, waving to all three of them as they head down the aisle.

Once they’re gone you heave a heavy sigh. Being in Brittany’s presence for two minutes was exhausting enough, you have no idea how those three manage to live with her.

You try to refocus on your shopping, however impossible that might seem now. When you’re checking over the items you already have and look back up at the shelves, you spot the red KitKat bag that Eddie had wanted to buy. There’s no hesitation at all to pick it up and add it to your pile of groceries.

The Munson car isn’t hard to spot as you step out into the parking lot of the store. You see it almost every day and the gorgeous, familiar looking man loading groceries into the trunk is also a huge indicator. 

Not surprisingly, Brittany is in the car while Eddie does all the work. The boys are in the backseat and from what you can make out of their silhouettes, they’re arguing with one another. They’re kids, they’d probably be more of a hindrance than help to Eddie. But Brittany could at least be doing something. 

Steeling your nerves, you take a deep breath and head over to him. 

“Eddie?”

His head whips around. “Hey,” he says with a small smile. “Everything okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, summoning all of your courage and handing him the candy. “You left these on the shelf.” You try to play it off casually, but the slight tremble in your voice gives your nervousness away. 

He starts to take them but pulls back. “I probably shouldn’t,” he mumbles, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Britt’s been on me to lose the ‘dad weight’ for a while.”

You shake your head, mostly to keep from opening your mouth and saying something about his wife that you’ll regret.

“I think you look good,” you say. “Um, like, you don’t need to lose any weight.” You’re perfect the way you are, you ache to tell him, but you shouldn’t. You can’t. 

Eddie senses that you have words unspoken, but he doesn’t press further. “Well, um, thanks.” He takes the bag and opens it, grabbing two before giving it back to you. “Can’t get caught,” he explains with a laugh. 

You grin at him, an idea already taking form. “I’ll bring one each day I babysit. Sneak it in like contraband.”

“As long as the boys don’t find it first,” Eddie chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “The last thing they need is more sugar.”

You agree with a laugh. “Deal.”

Eddie tucks the KitKats into his jacket pocket. 

“Thank you, by the way,” he says softly. 

“No problem. Just some candy,” you shrug. 

He shakes his head. “No, it…” he trails off. “Just…thank you.”

You smile as he ducks into the driver’s seat, and you walk back to your own car. As you pack up the back with your groceries, you mentally calculate how long this bag of KitKats will last if you bring Eddie one every day that you work. You purse your lips as you slam the trunk closed.

“That’s not nearly long enough for my liking,” you mumble to yourself as you slip into the driver’s seat.

Once you put the key in the ignition, the car rumbles to life and the purr of the engine sounds like it’s coming from your brain as it churns out an idea. 

You smile to yourself and shift your car into gear.

“Guess I’ll just have to buy some more bags of candy.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

[norrisleclercf1]

Green Suits You

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Engineer!Reader

Rating: PG

Words: 2.2K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could possibly write a fic for Lance where there are rumours that he’s dating a fem engineer intern from Aston? She’s younger than him (i’m 19 so that would be the perfect age lol:)) and everyone just obsessed over them when they saw the two walk hand in hand for the first time in the paddock 💓 and everybody notices that Lance is really smitten with her (plus Lawrence approves of her cuz she s smart and nice) and then they learn that she was also the one to help design the car for the season and yeah just overload of cuteness and Lance being a proud bf

Warnings: None, pure fluff, age gap, Lawerence is a supportive dad, Proud bf Lance, Simp Lance

Being the youngest engineer at Aston Martin came with much work and no sleep. It was easy to do the work since you loved the cars and Formula One, but what made work hard was a specific driver there.

You tried your best to ignore him, but he was always there when you working on the car or talking with someone. Whenever you looked over at him, he was staring at you, not in a creepy way but more so in awe of you.

Praising you came easy for him. Lance would try to converse generally with you but made a fool of himself when he wanted to extend it. You either made an excuse or scurried off before he could get another word out. What made it easy to talk to you was when he crashed the car, and you had to figure out what exactly went wrong and how to make it better for Lance.

After the first time, you didn't question how he'd stay by your side while working on the car and talking to you. He learned that when you worked on it, you became easier to talk to and bonded. Lance asked you out once, but you refused; it wasn't because of who he was or because you worked for his father. It was the age difference. Lance wanted to laugh when you finally told him why and pulled you close by your grease-stained hand.

"Who cares? You're only 5 years younger than me. If anyone has a problem with it, they can deal with my dad." Lance just smiles while you just gap at him. He never played the dad card, but he seemed to wield a damn shield for you.

Six months of you sneaking around and stealing kisses behind the wheels. Lance wanted the relationship to be public, but you tended to keep to yourself and didn't want to lose your job over dating Lance. Of course, the rich boy said he would pull strings to keep you there and defend your honor. He was your white knight in green.

Lawerence was no fool, and the fact his son was hiding his girlfriend from him just drove him crazy. He wanted to know what motivated his boy so much that he was in the top 10 in almost every race and praised the engineers like crazy. In the past, Lance thanked the team, but it seems excessive as of late. Finding out your relationship was purely by chance. He was coming to see how you were doing, especially with all your responsibilities. When Lawerence hired you, you weren't a regular engineer. You designed and built the car yourself. Picking the best aspects of the Red Bull, Mercedes, and everyone else.

People liked to call the new car a 3rd Redbull, and while slightly right, they didn't know you turned the backmarker team into a silent killer. You studied each car and did internships with Red Bull and Mercedes. Hiding whenever the teams would walk by because they would recognize you with ease, you were a favorite on both teams, and they loved your innovative thinking and using each team's strengths against them when it came to building the car. You turned each team away due to them already winning constantly and needing a shake-up, and Aston Martin would give that.

Lance had no idea you were the one who built the car till the night Lawerence caught you both. It was stupid, and Lance distracted you with his dazzling smile when he swooped in and kissed you.

"Lance?" Lawerence's baritone voice has you shoving Lance away and dropping to the floor. It was a flight or fight reaction that Lance had only seen twice, but it still made him smile like an idiot.

"Hey, Dad." The bastard has the balls to smile at his father, glad to not hide this anymore.

"What are you doing?" He asks, wanting to play stupid just to mess with you. Lawerence knew you hated being certain of attention, so he liked messing with you when the opportunity presented itself.

"Kissing my girlfriend. What are you doing?" Lance groans when you kick him in the shin, making Lawerence laugh, shaking his head at your antics.

"Y/n, come out from under there before someone else assumes you're doing more than..kissing my boy." You groan, climb out from under the car, and face Lawerence with a nervous smile while he just smiles at you.

"Hi, sir." You dust off your pants stuck between the two Strolls and really hating it.

"Lance, stop distracting our secret weapon. They need to work and don't need your annoying ass distracting her." Lawerence pats Lance's shoulder and walks out of the garage, leaving you confused while Lance goes back to looking over the damage from a nick into the wall.

"Why did Dad call you a secret weapon?" It had been quiet for 2 hours before Lance broke the silence wanting to understand what he meant.

"Oh, I'm the one who built and designed the car, so the big guys call me a secret weapon." You didn't mean to reveal that information, but you were still thrown off from being caught.

"Every engineer works on the car somehow, babe." Lance watches you as you turn your head, giving him a side-eye.

"Yeah, but this was my design and parts; everything on this car was my idea." You shrug, too busy working on the brake lines and fixing the kink.

"Wait....you..when you've said in the past you've literally built the car, you're being completely serious?" He sits down a piece of the car, staring at you in wonder.

"Yeah, what did you think I meant?" Not hearing a reply, you slide out from under the car and sit up but come face to face with Lance.

"I love you." It was a soft confession and the first one from him or you.

Blinking up at him, that dazzling smile comes back in full force. His fingers work around your neck and angle you so you both can quickly kiss. It was a soft kiss that made your stomach flutter and caused you to blush in embarrassment from the feeling.

"You're amazing. God, how'd I get so damn lucky?" You don't answer him as he pulls away from you and hops back onto the counter as you return to work.

The more your relationship grows, the less you hide it from everyone. Lawerence told the team to not talk about it at all, but they all waited for the day Lance slipped up and kissed you in front of everyone. They had bets on who would crack first, and the money was on Lance. He was utterly smitten with you, having difficulty to not stare when you entered his field of vision.

Lance was a sucker for you. He hung on every word and ensured you got the respect you deserved after all the races. When he got P2, he said they wouldn't have won without you, and the car was great due to all your hard work and genius brain. Everyone melted after hearing the way Lance praised you to no end.

Fernando was the only one brave enough to poke fun at you, only doing it when Lance wasn't around. It wasn't mean picking on you, but more so in the annoying brother way.

"Nando, you keep asking me who is the big spoon, and I swear, I'll fuck up your telemetry system." You snip as Fernando follows you down the paddock.

"Oh, come on, tell me. I know it's you; Lance is a big baby when it comes to you." He huffs, but you stop, Fernando crashing into your back.

"Wait, why are you even asking me something like this? We aren't dating." He flinches, seeing your harsh stare.

"Nothing. Bye!" He yells, rushing away from you, but you can't help the silly smile on your lips now thinking about Lance.

"What are you smiling about?" Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

"You." Lance's eyes sparkle, bringing a new life to him. Looking around, he pecks your lips and reaches for your hand but stops.

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand, pulling him into you. You swear Lance acts like a teenage girl falling in love for the first time when he's with you. Unknown to you that Lawerence and some of the other principals were nearby and saw the whole thing.

"Shocked you approve, Lawerence." Otmar scuffs at how you two acted like children making your way to Aston Martin garage.

"Why? They're brilliant, kindhearted, and give my boy a run for his money. They're perfect for each other." He watches his son, knowing he is going to marry you.

"The age difference isn't an issue?" Gunther asks, looking up from his phone.

"She's far more mature than him, so no, it's not an issue." A soft smile fills his face at the way you light up when Lance buys you some food without you even asking.

It was a rush of emotions and green as you stood in shock at Lance winning the Miami GP. You just stood there, wanting to cry, scream, and shoot off to the damn moon with all the emotions that rushed through you. Watching the race later would be a must since you can barely keep what has happened in the last 2 hours in your head.

"Go to the podium, Y/n!" Some yelled as they dragged you to receive the constructor's trophy.

The green, blue, and red rush moved past your eyes as you stood behind the main stage and walked out before the drivers. Charles was 2nd, and Checo was 3rd before Lance rushed out of the crowd, going crazy. A fresh set of tears stung your eyes at how happy and alive he was.

Lance turns and freezes; seeing you on the PodiumPodium with him gives this new adrenaline rush. Wanting nothing more than to kiss you, he has to wait until after the ceremony.

When your name is announced, and the trophy is in your hands, everyone goes crazy, Charles patting you on the back and saying of proud he was and how much you deserved this. Checo whistled, and Lance stood there smiling like a fool, wanting to kiss you silly.

"he's gonna kiss her!" Lawerence yelled over the crowd's roar to his wife, making her laugh at him.

It was heavy in your hand, but you couldn't admire the beauty of the trophy as the tears just started to fall, having finally achieved your dream. You are knocked back to reality with the cold, sticky spray of champagne. You scream in shock, grab your own, and spray whoever got you. Blinding by the tears, champagne, and confetti, you reach out, touching a soaking wet chest.

Wiping your eyes, you face a smiling Lance; you don't even think when you ball up his driver's suit in your hand and pull him in, kissing him. The crowd freezes for a second before going crazy.

"You owe me money!" Lawerence screams loudly enough for you and Lance to hear, bursting into laughter as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss.

"Alright, love birds off the stage!" Charles yells, pulling you apart from each other and leaving the PodiumPodium to go downstairs, the fans being forced to leave.

"You kissed me first?" Lance asks in a daze, not caring you both are sopping wet and sticky.

"Oh, shut up." You laugh, filled with adrenaline and happiness.

Lawerence and the team fill your view, and before you can protest, they swamp you both with a sea of green and more champagne. You somehow escape the chaos and step back, needing to catch your breath. Lance looks for you, sees the top of your head outside the crowd, and walks toward you.

"Baby? You okay?" He knew this was probably a lot for you, knowing you hated being the center of attention.

"Just.....I love you." You gasp, breathless from the wave of emotions moving through you.

Lance starts to laugh, glad to hear those words from you, and wraps his arm around your waist and kisses you like he did that night when he told you those 3 words.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Lance, who has media obligations." His media person says hating to break up at this moment.

"I'll take the fine," Lance replies, but you slap his chest.

"The hell you will go do your job." You chastize, making Lance groan, but he nods his head and kisses you quickly before jogging down the hallway.

"Lance, congrats on a great win. Is there anyone, in particular, you want to thank for your win today?" The reporter asks with a knowing look, and Lance blushes before laughing.

"Yeah, yeah. I want to thank our engineer, Y/n L/n, who wouldn't have the car we do today without her. But also, as her very proud boyfriend, she deserved this win more than me. Sleepless nights, working endlessly, she worked her ass off day in and day out. This team wouldn't be winning- sorry." Lance breaks off, wiping his eyes, thinking about how hard you've worked to get here and see Aston Martin winning.

"As her boyfriend, Y/n, is amazing and deserves the same amount of praise as all the male head engineers, what she has done is amazing, and I couldn't be more proud and in love with her. Love you, Y/n." Lance smiles into the camera before walking away and can't wait to share more podiums with you.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #formula one #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll #lance stroll oneshot #lance stroll fluff #aston martin #f1 fanart #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #aston martin f1 #f1 2023 #f1 fanfic

[monzabee]

girl crush – dr3

masterlist || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where both you and Daniel meet your celebrity crushes in the course of a weekend, and decide to give it a go. 

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader

Word Count: 4522

Warnings: fluff, shy daniel, shy reader, max being a menace (we love you max), awkwardness, 2023 australian gp, oscars (i love you Jamie Lee Curtis, you rock), slight age gap? (the reader is around the same age as Max)

Request: this is a long one besties, but you can read the request here! + “Hello! Can I please request nepo!reader who's an actress and maybe has an oscar or something? Maybe with Lewis or Daniel”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this title changed so many times i lost track, but at the end, i went with the song – mainly because harry styles. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but this was very hard to write because i had BIG plans for it, so i’m sorry it took a while for me to finish it. also, i listened to a lot of la la land for some reason, so here you go. i hope i did it justice, and this was definitely very fun to write and i had a great time writing it, so thank you, to the anons, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Growing up with parents who were obsessed with Formula One had finally taken its toll on you, you decide as you walk towards the Red Bull Hospitality. Your father’s sudden retirement from acting, combined with your mother’s stubborn personality is the reason why you suddenly find yourself at the 2023 Australian Grand Prix. You don’t really know why they didn’t wait for the one in Miami, or perhaps Las Vegas, since their primary residence is in the US, but you had no choice but to join them when they pulled out the ‘We’re getting old’ card. So there you are, after 15 hours of flying over the Pacific Ocean, in Melbourne and ready to enjoy the racing weekend. Or so you think – because you spend the entirety of Friday catching up on lost sleep while cursing every single time your parents decide to call you to let you know how much of a great time they’re having. 

In the end, you get ready Saturday morning, to get breakfast with your parents before leaving for Albert Park. Just as you’re about to leave your room, your eyes fall on a familiar hat, adorned with a certain number, and you put it on your head without giving it a second thought. Your parents don’t comment on your choice of merchandise even if they find it odd, which is good, you think, because you don’t particularly want to hear your father tease you over your “teenage crush”.  The whole paddock is buzzing by the time you get there, and you immediately feel guilty because you missed the practice sessions the previous day. You quickly lose your parents to the crowd around you, too busy looking at the action around you, when you hear your name being called from somewhere. You look around trying to find the source of the voice, when you find a familiar face which makes you smile. 

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” You ask, quickly pulling Samira for a hug, who in return points to the camera. 

“Weekend job, babe.” She laughs. “I’ve interviewed your father just a couple of minutes ago, actually.” 

“Oh no,” You laugh and shake your head. “Did he tell you about his petunias?” “He did, indeed.” Samira nods and hands you one of the microphones in her hand. “Are you up for a quick interview?” She asks you as she gives you an innocent smile. 

You nod while letting out a chuckle. “Well, someone has to save your viewers from my father’s garden talk, so why not?” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Samira tells you, her words coming of a bit slurred because of the way she talks too fast. She then turns to the camera after making sure that your mic is working. “Welcome back to the second day of the Australian Grand Prix, I’m here with Y/N Y/LN, whose father we just spoke to; Y/N, is this a family day out, or what?” 

“This is definitely a family day out, Samira.” You laugh, nodding to strengthen your point. “Not a very usual one, we usually prefer to stay a bit more local for the weekend outings, but you never know where we’ll be next, I guess.” 

“By ‘local’, do you mean the Oscars, perhaps? I mean, can we talk about your win for a moment? How does it feel to be the receiver of the award for the Actress in a Supporting Role?” 

You take a deep breath as you feel your smile widen, as you can’t even try to hide your happiness. “It feels amazing, let me tell you. It was an amazing opportunity and I can’t thank enough to the lovely director and everyone who made the movie possible.” Samira nods with a satisfied look on her face as you answer. “Congratulations once again for your win. I have to ask, big Red Bull fan?” She asks you in a teasing voice.

“What?” You asked, confused. Only to realise the hat sitting on your head when she points to it with a silent chuckle. You let out a laugh while instinctively touching the hat on your head. “Oh god, you could say so, I guess; yeah.” 

“I mean, I have to comment on the obvious part here.” She points to the hat while shooting the camera a look. “Number 3? You do realise the changes in the grid, don’t you?” 

You laugh at her teasing voice, shrugging and smiling with an innocent look. “What can I say, I like to avoid the reality and live in my delusions.” After a few more teasing from Samira, you explain with a laugh, “No jokes, though, I honestly hope Daniel Ricciardo returns to Red Bull somehow because I don’t know how I’ll cope without him for another season.” 

“A big Danny Ric fan, then, I presume?” Samira asks, pointedly. 

“Oh yeah, been for a while now.”

After you’re done with your interview and bid adieu to Samira, who thanks you a dozen times more, you find your parents at the Red Bull hospitality, speaking with none other than Christian Horner himself, accompanied by Max. It’s a slightly awkward transition when you join their conversation, but it passes quickly. It doesn’t take long for your parents to be involved with their own conversation with the team principle, and for you and Max to speak amongst yourselves. Although you ask him every single question that comes to your mind about racing, whether it makes sense or not, and he answers each of them without discouraging you. 

He pulls a funny face when he realises your choice of merch, pointing to your hat with a mischievous smile on his face. “Interesting choice, I would have gone with Checo.” 

You roll your eyes and huff, taking your hat in the process. “You’re just jealous because it’s not your number, Max.” 

“You wanna try that again?” Max raises his eyebrows. 

“So what if I’m wearing his number?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest. “He’s a very good driver.”

“Who is not driving this seaso– Ow! Stop it!” Max exclaims as you hit his arm repeatedly in an attempt to stop him talking. “I hope you’re just as charming when you meet him.”

You pull a face while asking, “What do you mean ‘when I meet him’?”

He gives you an unamused look. “You’re either a very good actress, or you are very bad at checking your social media.” His eyes widen when you match his look, which tells him everything he needs to know. “You know he’s around, right? He’s shooting promo stuff, I think.” 

“What do you mean he’s around?” You shriek in an attempt to hide your hat, as if Daniel is actually around to see it. 

“Yeah, wait, let me call him.” He takes out his phone and quickly dials him before you have the opportunity to tell him not to do that, but he quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket when he spots someone familiar over your shoulder and waves them over. 

Your eyes widen as you hiss, “You’re the worst, you know that?” 

He winks at you a playfully in return, “Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.” Then, he shakes the hand of the driver, who finally makes his way to both of you, and pulls him into what you can only describe as a ‘bro hug’. “Hello, man.” 

“Hello, mate.” Daniel greets him back. His eyes widen in recognition when he catches your eyes over Max’s shoulder, and he side-steps to shake your hand with excitement, which only makes you clutch the hat closer to your chest. “Hello, you’re Y/N Y/LN. Oh my god, I’m a big fan!” 

“M-me too!” You manage to get out, and then quickly add, “A big fan of you, not myself. That would be very egotistical of me.” You inhale a sharp breath as you ignore the look Max gives you, and close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Please ignore that, I think the jet lag is finally catching up with my brain.” 

“Sure, we’ll call it the jet lag.” Max mumbles, which earns him a hit with your elbow in his ribs. “Ow!” 

“I’m this close to switching teams and supporting Mercedes instead.” You lift your hand to show the minimal space you’ve left between your thumb and pointer-finger. 

“I think I should take over, here before you drive her away, Max.” He jokingly shakes his hand in a motion to make him go away, and then turns you with a warm smile as Max leaves the two of you to join some of the engineers nearby. “Now, should we get you a Red Bull?”

Talking to Daniel is very easy, you realise quickly. Once you (both) get over your shyness, the conversation just flows in a way you’re not used to. He, too, answers any questions you might have like Max did, but the look in his eyes are different when you show interest in something he’s particularly passionate about. He asks you about receiving your first Oscar, and you ask him about how his wine business is going – which ends up with him promising to send a few bottles over so that you can give it your stamp of approval; you both decide that your review is going be on the back of the bottles. 

“But doesn’t it get into your eyes when you’re spraying it?” You ask him, trying to comprehend how the champagne they spray doesn’t go everywhere. “And doesn’t it burn? It has alcohol, and… bubbles.”

“You might be onto something here.” He mumbles in thought, thinking whether the champagne burned his eyes or not. “Occupational hazard?” He asks in an uncertain voice, hoping it satisfies your question as an answer. 

“Oh, right.” You nod, taking another sip from the can he got you. “It’s crazy, you’ve won like what? 8 races? That’s crazy, you’re crazy.” The way you keep saying whatever comes to your mind makes Daniel smile as the energy you’re feeling taking over your body for the time being. “Wow, I’ve never felt like this, is this what energy drinks do to you?” 

“Probably why you shouldn’t drink too much.” He agrees.

“Sorry.” You smile apologetically, suddenly very aware of the fact that you are, in fact, rattling nonsense in front of your biggest celebrity crush. “You must think I’m crazy, and I shouldn’t be holding you back. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Daniel is panicking inside when you start to get up, his mind scrambling up words to find a way to make you stay – he feels like a kid who’s asking his parents to let him play for a little longer. It’s not that he is not a social person, he is, but the conversation the two of you share is one of the most meaningful ones to him, even though you’re not actually talking about anything that deep. But he realises there is no pretences with you, no expectations, nothing to hide. He enjoys the way you speak what’s on your mind, whether it might be complimentary or the opposite, but he enjoys how you present your opinion and why you have it. He knows he’s extremely starstruck at that very moment, god knows he’s met enough famous people to know what it feels like, but it’s the kind of starstruck that makes him want to be not shy about it. He wants to keep talking to you for as long as you can tolerate him, because in his mind, he might be the one who is butchering the whole conversation up just by shutting up and succumbing to his shyness. He’s hyperaware of the fact that he has held himself back over the past hour, just because he was thinking about the fact that your hair is looking very shiny under the Australian sun and it is his number on your hat. It’s not something the two of you talked about, yet, but when he realises that it is his number on it, there is this inexplicable pride surging over him.

So, with his entire courage, he says, “Stay.” He clears his throat to buy himself some time to think of something else to say. “I mean, I don’t have anything else I need to do, and it’s very nice to talk to you. So, you know, if you want to, we could maybe, I don’t know, continue to talk?”

“Oh.” You let out a breath, eyes wide with excitement (and a little bit of apprehension), but despite all the nervousness you’re feeling, you find yourself back in your seat, and mumbling. “Of course, it’s very nice to speak with you too.” 

And so you find yourself immersed in another conversation with the Aussie seated across from you. He is open about the past year – which as a fan you’re dying to know what happened, but don’t want to question him because he is only human after all. But for some reason, it comes naturally to talk about his pseudo-retirement with you. He tells you about his plans for the year, and how he hopes to get back to a seat by the start of the next season. In return, you tell him about the time how you almost stopped acting, but the last project you gave a change brought you an Oscar. It’s a much deeper conversation than before, but somehow you find yourself talking without feeling nervous to do so – without any second thoughts. 

“I, uh, I like your hat.” He smiles nervously, pointing to the discarded hat on your lap. 

You laugh nervously as your fingers occupy themselves with the visor of the cap. “Thanks, it’s my favourite.” 

“Yeah?” The question that leaves his mouth is so soft that you think you would miss it if your eyes weren’t so focused on him. 

“Oh, yeah.” You assure him with a little shrug. “Much better than orange, let me tell you, I look hideous in orange.” 

A large smile finds its way onto your lips when he lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I somehow find it impossible to believe.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Daniel.” You tease, causing him to smirk back at you. He doesn’t answer you, but instead looks at you with a very particular look which confirms what you’ve just said. Your small stare-down is sadly broken apart by Max, who calls out Daniel’s name to let him know that Christian is looking for him. 

There is a sad look in his eyes when he realises that he has to go for real this time, but you give him a sad smile as you let him know you’ll be watching the screens for him during the quali. As you feel the wind breezing around you, you instinctively wrap your arms around your middle to get rid of the shiver the colder air provides. A look of recognition passes through Daniel’s face as he asks, “Are you cold?”

“A little, but it’s oka–”

“I’ll be right back.” Daniel announces as he leaves you and Max, causing the latter to turn to you with his phone in his hand. Max lets out a deep sigh, mumbling something under his breath in a language you don’t recognise, most likely Dutch. 

“What are you doing?” You ask him, head tilted to the side to try and see what he’s looking at on his phone. He turns it to you after a while, apparently finding what he was looking for. “What’s that?” You ask, pointing to the phone which displays a paused video of Daniel sitting in a chair. 

“He’ll probably kill me once he realises I’ve made you watch this, but the way the two of you looking at each other like lovesick puppies is making me nauseous.” He points to the phone with his head. “Play it.”

You give him a sceptical look, but do as he says and press the little triangle in the middle of the screen. The interview starts to play, and Daniel is talking about racing and the ongoing season. You let the video play for a while before looking up at Max again, more confused. “What am I supposed to see?” 

“For fuck’s sake.” Max groans, taking his phone out of your hand and fast-forwarding the video to find what he’s looking for. “Here.” 

You press play on the video once again, but this time it starts with the interviewer asking Daniel about his celebrity crush. While he’s thinking about his answer in the video, you throw an unamused look at Max, who urges you to direct your attention back to the video. Just as you move your eyes back onto the screen, his answer echoes through the phone speakers which makes your eyes widen. “What?” You ask Max as you scramble to play back the section of the interview. 

“So, any celebrity crushes we should be keeping our eyes out for?” The interviewer asks, out of frame. 

There is a thoughtful look on his face as he thinks about his answer and once he decides, there is a smile breaking on his face. “I mean, probably Y/N Y/LN. I’ve watched everything she’s in, probably multiple times, she’s just so talented.” 

You watch that particular part of the video back a couple of times before Max takes his phone out of your hands with a look asking if you’re okay. “When was this?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “A couple of years back, but I don’t think his answer has changed over the years.”

You blink a couple of times, trying to digest the fact that your celebrity crush also named you as his celebrity crush. “Oh, wow.” 

Daniel returns a few moments later with a hoodie in his hands. He smiles at you warmly as he hands it to you. “Here, that should help.” 

“Oh, Daniel, you didn’t have to.” You breath out, taking the hoodie out of his hand and putting it on with his help when he gives you a look that says he won’t accept it back. After you fix the oversized hoodie on you, you turn to him with a smile as you also put on the hat on your head. 

The smile he gives you in return when he sees you in his number and merch fills your stomach with butterflies, and Max must be feeling weird about being a part of the scene because he lets Daniel know that he’ll wait at the garage. As Max leaves, Daniel turns back at you with a sad smile on his face. “I really don’t wanna leave, but–”

“You have a job to do, Daniel.” You smile with an understanding, putting an encouraging hand on his forearm. “Although I would love to keep you to myself, I’m sure there are fans out in the world who would love to see you back as much as I do.” 

He lets out a small groan. “Please tell me you’ll be here tomorrow as well.” 

“Well, I came all this way to watch the race too, so I’ll probably be around.” You tease him. 

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks you in a hopeful voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You affirm. 

After a final look, both of start walking in different directions. And just as you’re about to leave the hospitality, you hear him call out your name. When you turn to look at him over your shoulder you hear him yell, “My number looks good on you.” 

In retrospect, you wanted to arrive earlier to find a certain driver, but you couldn’t sleep last night because you couldn’t stop thinking about the day’s events. So when you wake up later than your alarm Sunday morning, you rush to get ready to leave your hotel room. By the time you arrive at Albert Park, it’s almost noon. You’re not late to see the race, there is still couple of hours until the big event, but your eyes look around the chaotic hospitality to spot Daniel. You can see a few familiar faces, some engineers you met yesterday and the drivers talking to some crew members near the garage, but there is a small frown on your face as you keep looking for the Australian driver. You’re about to give up when, suddenly, you feel someone grabbing your arm – which makes you jump back with a shriek. 

“You scared me!” You exclaim, looking at the stranger who, thankfully, lets go of your arm after your outburst. “Sorry, can I help you?” 

“Sorry! I thought you were lost and looking for your boyfriend.” They respond, pointing towards the garages. “I saw him enter a few minutes ago.” 

“I don’t have a–” You start the say, but the person is already starting to walk away to the opposite direction. “Boyfriend.” You sigh, deciding to take the advice and see if Daniel might be at the garage after all.

If you thought there was a chaos outside the garage, you’re greatly wrong, because the only word you can use to describe the Red Bull garage is chaotic. There are crew members everywhere, trying to get the cars ready for the upcoming race. So, you do your best to slip through them without disturbing their work. Some of the members you met yesterday greet you, which makes you smile as you greet them back. You catch a familiar set of eyes, which lose the boredom in them and widen with recognition once they meet yours and he starts walking towards you.

He's beaming by the time he reaches you, as he exclaims, “You’re here!” 

“Hi!” You greet him and then pull him for a quick hug.  

“I’m glad you made it, Y/N.” He smiles down at you, without letting you go, and then gestures around the garage. “Have you looked around?” 

You nod, matching his smile as you look up at him, “A little bit when I came in, it’s crazy out there today?” 

He lets out an affirmative voice. “It’s always like that during a race day. Where are you watching the race from?” 

“The Paddock Club, I think?” You answer him with a small frown. “We watched the quali from there yesterday.” 

He pulls away from you slowly, and begrudgingly, holding your hand and starts to pull you away from the entrance. “I have a better idea.” He walks you towards the front of the garage, stopping right in front of the barriers and asking a crew member for a headset. 

There is a playful smile on his face when he turns to you with them in his hands, which makes your eyes widen with concern. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” 

He waves his hand, passing the headset to you as he assures, “Of course, it’s the best seat in the house. Plus, it’ll be easier for us to find each other.” 

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” You ask him as you do your best to narrow your eyes. 

“Absolutely, yes.” He nods with excitement. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of my celebrity crush.” 

You giggle in response. “Oh, I know. Max made me watch a video.” 

“He– what?”

“It was a lovely compliment.” You assure him, patting his arm with a sympathetic smile. 

“I’m going to kill–” He begins to say, but one of the engineers call out his name, telling him that they need him before the race. He turns to you with a groan, jumping over the barriers instead of going through the door, which makes you chuckle, and points to you while walking backwards. “We have to talk about this.” 

“We will.” You assure him. Just as you watch him walk by, you call out, “Daniel!”

“Yeah?” He calls back at you. 

“You’re my celebrity crush, too.” 

Instead of answering he winks at you over his shoulder, which makes you giggle. You’re sure that you’re also blushing, but decide not to think about it too much and focus on the race which is starting. You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, from the start to the second restart to the end. The people around you are not much different, everybody holding their breaths every time one of the cars make a sharp turn. You let out an occasional gasp, or wince throughout the entire race, your hands covering your shocked expression. But, at the end, you’re happy to see that Max is P1 and Checo managed to finish the race in P5. Everyone around you seems to be sharing your opinions, since they are celebrating the good results when you take off your headset. 

Daniel finds you eventually, after speaking with some of the engineers and pit crew, and there is a huge smile on his face as he asks, “So, how’d you like it?” 

“Are you kidding me? It was insane!” You exclaim, using your hands to relay your point. “Eight cars, Daniel, eight cars! That’s crazy!” 

“I get you’ve liked it?” He asks, his eyebrows raising. 

You let out a scoff while shaking your head. “Of course I liked it!” 

“I’m glad you liked it, Y/N.” He smiles, “So, I’m your celebrity crush, huh?”

“Oh please, you already knew it!” You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “I’m wearing your number, aren’t I?”

He shrugs, letting his hands occupy themselves with the end of the hoodie you’re wearing. “And it looks good on you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at your eyes as he asks, “You’re wearing it again today? Isn’t it some sort of fashion crime in Hollywood?”

“Well, I’ve never fit in much anyway.” You shrug, letting a smirk break at your lips. “It might just become my favourite item of clothing, just so you know.” 

“Yeah? I’m happy to hear that.” 

“You should be, I’m very particular about my hoodies.”

He smiles at your comment, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes for some reason. “When is your flight back?”

“Tuesday.” You answer him, suddenly very aware of the fact that you don’t have much time left in Melbourne at all. “But I can be convinced to stay for longer.” 

His eyes widen with surprise, excitement taking over the sad look in record time. “You can? Really?” You nod your head, which makes him pull you closer to him with the hand still holding your hoodie. “Let me take you out on a date.” His eyes seem to beg. 

You nod your head once again, tilting your head backwards to keep your gaze locked to his. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Yes? Are you sure? It’s the point of no return.” There is a playful tone to his voice. 

You roll your eyes, taking off your cap and placing it onto his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, ‘honey badger’.” You tease. “Who knows? You might just convince me to say a while longer.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that, too.” He echoes your words from earlier. 

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