Lestappen

Everything I Wanted LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

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You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and  got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?” 

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her. 

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Mexico, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and  it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around. 

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders. 

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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hellishjoel fic masterlist

notifications blog*denotes adult themes - 18+

12 Days of Pedro

kylee's follower celebration masterlist

joel miller

series

➢cinnamon girl* | (dbf/neighbor!joel) You and your parents rent a lakeside cabin, Joel and Sarah Miller are your neighbors. You’re all grown up, and you’ll do anything to prove to Joel you’re a woman now.  ➢psycho* | (brat tamer!joel) You're Joel's little psycho girlfriend, and sometimes you take things just a little too far.

➢cherry thrill* | (tattoo artist daddy dom!joel miller x virgin sub f!reader) Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea.

➢delicate | co-authored with @thetriumphantpanda Sarah decides, with a year until she leaves home for good, that it's time for her dad to start dating again. Joel doesn't understand the fuss, he's more than happy with how life is for him right now, but decides if it's for Sarah, he'll give it a go. After wading through the dating apps, he comes across someone new, someone who might just be able to be the company he's needed all along. ➢one shots / requests

frankie morales

series ➢table for two* | (linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader) Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.

mike schmidt

➢every rose has its thorns* Mike really likes your white panties with the pretty rose on the front.

Royally Fucked Series Masterlist

A Bodyguard!Daniel x Princess!OC story

Series Summary: Princess Juliette Clarendon’s structured life is upended when the charming and unorthodox Daniel Ricciardo replaces her trusted bodyguard. As she tests his abilities and grapples with his unexpected presence, she finds herself drawn to him in ways she never anticipated. Amid political intrigue and hidden dangers, Juliette struggles with her own pent-up desires, seeking solace and release from Daniel, whose dedication to her safety and willingness to go to any lengths for her only deepens their connection. Their evolving relationship faces challenges that test their trust and loyalty as they confront threats that could endanger both the kingdom and their bond.

This story includes mature content. It delves into the complexities of a princess and bodyguard relationship, exploring power imbalances and the dynamics of duty versus personal connection. The narrative features intimate scenes and adult situations that are central to the characters' development and the unfolding plot. Reader discretion is advised.

Status: Ongoing

#royally fkd fic talks -> writing process, answering asks about the story, and pretty much anything related to this fic series.

NO taglist for this story

Table Of Contents:

Meet Juliette Clarendon

1. Guarded Encounter (2.9k words)

2. Rekindled Autonomy (3.2k words)

3. Stirred Secrets (3.5k words)

4. Unexpected Danger (coming soon)

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

Azriel x Reader | The Beauty of Intimacy

type: smut (& a bit of angst) warning(s): explicit descriptions, curse words, mature language word count: 3.1k words

request: Hi could you write some thing where reader and azriel have been in a relationship for a little bit but whenever azriel tries to like do anything with her she brushed him off and be begins to think she’s not attracted to him but then she tells him that it’s because she’s never really had a positive experience with sex and so azriel shows her how amazing sex with him can be and like just worships her??? Srry this is so specific but I love your writing and would love to read this!!

- all rights reserved -

"Is it because of the scars?" Azriel’s demeanour is solemn, his shadows calm, his eyes empty, sad.

A small crack appears in your heart and you quickly lift your gaze to meet your lover’s. "No," you say. "No, of course not."

Crossing one leg behind the ankle of the other Azriel leans his shoulder against the doorframe. Then his head, and his eyes close for a long moment. 

"What is it then? Y/N, please tell me." He is almost begging you to be honest with him, his tone desperate. As desperate as all his attempts for the two of you to be intimate have been. It isn't that you don’t want to sleep with him. It is way more complicated. You have never found pleasure during sex, you have never had one single positive experience and at this point you think it is because of you. Yes, you blame this lack of sensual heights on yourself. Maybe you simply cannot enjoy it? Maybe you do something wrong? Maybe there is something wrong with you?

"I thought you weren’t a virgin. Did you not tell the truth when we talked about our past? Are you scared? Nervous?” Azriel asks and blinks his eyes open. "I don’t care at all, we can go slow. But please, just tell if it has something to do with me. If it is about me. Are you not attracted to me? Not sexually attracted?"

Gods, you are. There is no male who is only half as beautiful as Azriel, and you are more than attracted to him. 

"I am no virgin and that is not the problem—"

"Then what is the problem? I don’t want to push you. I don’t want to force you to have sex with me, but I would like to understand. That is all. I just want to understand," Azriel says, his voice turning softer and gentler. He pushes off the wall and slowly makes his way over to the bed you sit on.

His throat burns when his mouth parts to ask one last question. "Did someone hurt you? Did someone touch when you didn’t want it? You can be honest with me. Always."

You love Azriel so much. And especially for that. For how good his heart is, how thoughtful he is, how understanding.

Sliding your hands over his, you draw in a deep breath and give your head a shake. "No. Thank you for asking, but no." Azriel exhales a shuddering breath of relief.

Leaning forward, you let one hand slide up his arm to his neck, you lips meeting his in a soft and quick kiss. "I just don’t like…sex."

"Sex is something beautiful," Azriel says and a sheepish smile blooms on his face.

The corner of your own mouth moves up at how adorable he looks. "Is it?” You raise your brow.

Azriel nods his head frantically and places his thumb under your chin, tipping it up. "One oft the most beautiful things in this world, I might say." His eyes have turned darker, the shadows becoming alive around his figure. The shadowsinger’s posture changes from formerly rather reserved to confident and he rolls back his shoulders, sitting straighter now. Your eyes meet, and warmth fills your body.

Nervousness coats your insides, your skin prickling. "I am not sure if I am…capable of having sex. Good sex, I mean. There is not one positive experience I have made and I am over 500, Azriel. It must have something to do with me."

A low chuckle leaves the shadowsinger and he gives his head a tiny shake, silken strands of onyx hair shifting with movement. "There is nothing wrong with you, I am 100% positive about that."

You love his certainty, but you can’t quite agree with him.

"Why don’t I find it… pleasurable then?"

"Because you may have not yet been with the right male," Azriel says, his brow lifting in an almost cocky way. It is this slight arrogance that changes his demeanour that makes your toes curl and the hair on his body stand. 

Your voice becomes a breathy whisper when you feel a shadow dance over your bare thigh and you lean forward. "And now I am?"

His low chuckle reverberates through you, his lips brushing yours and tingling them with the vibrations of his laugh. Azriel pecks you shortly and then says against your lips, "Now you are."

You change your sitting position, stretching your legs. ”And you are going to convince me now that it is something enjoyable?"

The shadowsinger’s scarred hand smoothes up your foot, higher onto your leg and back down again. He lifts his gaze to yours and smirks. "I going to prove to you that sex is one of the most beautiful things in the world," he drawls, his index finger circling your ankle. "Only if you want that, of course."

Wet heat fills your body when you draw in a deep breath and bow your head. "I want that."

You really want to. You want it to be good. You want for yourself to enjoy it. You have faith— Azriel is a phenomenal male, he would do it right, would make you feel right. This is going to be good, Azriel is different to the males before him, he has already proven that many times.

His fingers curl around your ankle and he lifts your leg, carefully sliding closer to you and placing your leg over his lap, your other one behind his back. Azriel regards you, silently assessing you.

"So you’ve never come then?"

"Obviously," you whisper and avert your gaze when heat flushes your cheeks. Azriel’s fingers continue their exploration, dancing over your knee up to your thigh. The spymaster draws idle circles to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs which already makes you want to squeeze them together. "Never made yourself come either?"

You could practically the warmth radiating from your cheeks. "I think…I have."

"Thinking about me?"

Biting down on your lower lip you nod.

"That’s a good girl."

His praise almost has you squirming. Gods, you haven’t known that you would like that. But something about the way he said it, the deep tenor of his voice reverberating through your body, did something to you.

His hand giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, Azriel leans into you, damp lips coasting over your ear. "I should have known you like that. Should have known my lovely lady likes to be praised for the things she does so well." His lips curl when he pecks the pointy end of your ear, chuckling softly.

“Well, “Azriel drawls, his scarred hands slowly sliding over your skin, the calluses rough against it. "Lean back against the head board," the shadowsinger orders, his voice commanding yet soft.

You do as told, nestling between the pillows and behaving like his good girl. But there is still this teeny-tiny kernel of nervousness in you — what if not even Azriel can make you reach your height? What if it truly is something about your body and he just tries to be nice?

The shadowsinger must have noticed your unease, his smile faltering, happiness slowly fading.

Azriel swipes his thumb over your cheek. "I really want you to know that," Azriel says, his eyes piercing into yours, "you not finding pleasure has nothing to do with you. It is generally more difficult for females to reach their height, but if the male does everything right and takes proper care of their lover it most definitely should work. It has nothing to do with you, you can trust me on that."

Relief truly starts blossoms in your chest at that, the corners of your mouth tipping upwards. You slowly dip your chin and smile.

"I trust you on that."

A low but content growl leaves Azriel at that and he hooks his scarred hands under your knee pits, bracing your feet on the bed and easing your thighs apart. Your nightgown pools at your hips, Azriel’s gaze dropping to your centre. He leans closer and pecks your bent knee before his gaze lifts to yours. "Now," he drawls, "let me worship you. Let me show you how beautiful intimacy can be."

The shadowsinger’s damp lips brush down the inside of your thigh, his silken strands toppling over his forehead and tingling your skin. A strangled sound leaves you when a throbbing feeling starts in your core and you desperately want to squeeze your thighs together. Azriel’s grip is tight, holding your legs spread open. He tips his head back, a brow raising when your gazes met. "Uh-oh."

His tongue poking out he gives your inner thigh a soft lick, descending, savouring your sweet skin. Damp heat pools in your core, soft, quick pants leaving you when your lids start to feel heavy. Your knuckles turn white from how tightly you hold onto the pillows next to you, watching Azriel dip his head between your thighs. Azriel’s nose brushes against your still in undergarments covered core, adding just a light pressure that has you squirming.

The spymaster’s voice is a soft growl, the deep tenor rumbling through you when he says, "Lift your hips, beautiful." Azriel steadies you, helping you, and curls his fingers around the elastic, slowly peeling the undergarment off.

His desire stretches out, making it impossible for you to breathe when his heated gaze lands on the spot between your thighs. A low groan leaves Azriel, the sound so raw and primal it has you turning even more molten, your legs shaking slightly.

He leans into you and kisses your sex. You shudder, never having felt…anything like that.

The shadowsinger inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal beguiling. The strong tendons of his throat stand out when he clenches his jaw, his pupils dilating even more.

Azriel’s throat works on a swallow, his tongue feeling so thick all of a sudden when he says, "Ever been tasted before?"

The heated honey of his eyes meets yours, his need and desire laced into his features. You give your head a tiny shake, holding his gaze. His want, his need, his desire, it does something to you. To your heart. To your core. 

"Good," Azriel purrs and dips his head. He kisses your lower belly, tongue circling your navel, hands skimming over your thighs, before finally lifting them over his shoulders. "Perfect," he breaths, his mouth moving lower. Shadows softly travel up your body when Azriel parts you with his thumbs. It is the first stroke of his tongue, the first broad stroke through your silken folds up to the apex of your thighs, that has you squirming. Your back arches, your hips lift, pressing against his face when a lewd gasp leaves you. 

It is the firm grip of his scarred hands that places you back on the bed, that holds you tightly, that limits your movements. Azriel chuckles lowly, sending vibrations and hot air right into your core. You squirm against him and the shadowsinger tips his head back only an inch. “Sshh,” he cooes, grinning, his lips glistening. “Relax and let me worship you probably. Let me devour you, beautiful.” You get no chance to answer, his head dips again, his tongue poking out and he flicks it against your clit. And then he feasts, his tongue driving deep into. He licks and suckles, holding you firmly, the sounds that leave his mouth feeling like a sin in your ears. Azriel is like a starved male, some primal need fully unleashed, his restraints gone. You wreathe underneath him, something in your lower body squeezing, your walls clenching. It feels so good, it feels…nearly overwhelming. Your eyes roll back and then your orgasm comes crashing in on you. Wave after of hot pleasure overflows you, washes you under. You come with a scream that is a mix of curses and his name. Azriel.

He lets you ride out your height, softly guiding you through it, his tongue and lips still sloppily licking and kissing your sex. Proud at his work and your absolutely disheveled state, Azriel flashes you a full toothy grin when he lifts his head, his face wet with your arousal, with your release. 

Having made you come one time is obviously not enough for the spymaster. Just seconds later you are fully underneath his tall figure. He has only given you a short glimpse at his marvellous body before climbing onto the bed and caging you beneath him.

 Azriel flicks his tongue over the hardened peak of your breast, marvelling at how you shudder underneath him. His lips close around your nipple, licking, suckling. 

“More?” Azriel breathes against your breast. Your hips give a little jerk, moving against Azriel who growls in approval, reveling into the feel of your skin against his. You sigh and dip your chin. 

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words.” 

The shadowsinger takes your nipple back into his mouth, suckling and tugging lightly. It has you squirming and making your unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“Yes, more. Please, don’t stop,” you almost whine, burying your hands in his silken strands. 

“Good girl,” Azriel drawls, pushing himself up on his hands and looking down at you. With something like a predatory gaze he watches you, marveling at the sight of your ruffled hair, the flushed cheeks, the need and desire in your eyes. All he can think is that you are stunning and fully his. 

“Let me make you feel good.” The shadowsinger pushes your thighs apart, settling between them. “I need you to be my good girl again. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe. His hand reaches down between your bodies and he adjusts himself between your thighs. He lets the tip of his hard cock slide into you. It has you both gasping. Both of you look down at where you are connected. Azriel’s lips part in a silent hiss. “Fucking hell.” He carefully slides further into you, letting you adjust, but at the same time making you feel every glorious inch of his proud length. He leans in, softly brushing his lips against yours. “Tell me if I hurt you. Tell me when you want me to stop.”

Your hands find its place in the hair at the back of his neck the moment your lips close over his. “I will,” you whisper, “but it is perfect.”

Azriel’s lips curl against yours when he moves in to the hilt, stilling inside of you. You angle your hips, gasping at the sudden spark of pleasure when his tip touches one special spot inside of you. “Move, please,” you breathe and Azriel captures your lips, slowly pulling out of you.

He kisses you softly, one hand moving over your lower belly, gently adding pressure. You pull your legs up, curling them around his waist and moan at the feeling of it. Gods, this is perfect. This whole situation is pure satisfaction. And gods, you can enjoy it. It feels good. It is good. 

The shadowsinger has you pinned beneath him, his tall body, covered in a thin film of sweat, hovering above you, him moving inside of you, filling you so perfectly.

He lets go of his restraints, his thrusts turning deeper, harder. He pounds into you, always making sure you feel good and that you enjoy what he is doing. 

“Tell me how good you feel,” Azriel whispers when his lips close over your ear lob and he gives you a tiny bite. Azriel knows he is good at what he is doing. And this confidence, gods, it turns you on. You love it when he is like that, cocky and confident. “So good,” you breathe through gritted teeth, your head thrown back, your eyes squeezed closed, his hips slapping against yours. The sounds are wet, your high-pitched moans and pants the only things that are louder. 

Azriel regards you, your figure, how beautiful you look underneath him, with him inside you. And he feels you getting closer, you clench around him and that feeling, gods! It brings himself closer and closer to edge as well. 

The spymaster decreases his pace, slowly, steadily moving in and out of you. His thrusts are long and coordinated now. A lewd sob parts your lips, your eyes only opening for a split second. Calluses scrape over your soft skin when Azriel’s hand slides up your body, cradling your face. He lowers his forehead to yours, exhaling warm air that feels like a summer breeze against your skin.

"You" -thrust- "are" -thrust- "so perfect."

Your back arches, pressing against the solid body of your lover, your mouths meeting in a sloppy brush of tongues, and lips. Azriel’s stomach flexes, cock twitching and balls tightening. He knows he his close, wants you to come with him. 

Azriel nips at your jaw, his thumb circling your clit, rubbing, adding extra pleasure that brings you closer to edge. You clench around him, rocking against him when a lewd cry breaks through the noises of your panting and moaning.

"Gods," you pant. "I am close, Azriel."

He doesn’t want to make you beg, does not want to torture you, edge you. He wants you to come, to fully enjoy this moment.

"Let go, angel," Azriel says and angels his hips differently to hit that damnable spot inside of you with each thrust.

Your pants come out quicker, your moans turning a pitch higher. You claw at his shoulders, flecks of white and black sparking in your vision when your eyes roll back. 

 You come simultaneously, a loud sob leaving you when a tidal wave of satisfaction washes over you. The shadowsinger trembles above you, his warm release spurting against your walls, his forehead dropping to yours. Your hips rock against each other with sloppy thrusts, riding out your heights together. 

After easing out of you, Azriel collects a wet cloth for you to clean up. He kisses your forehead, his clothed hand carefully sliding between your thighs and over your lower belly. You are still in a blissful steady, knees feeling wobbly, legs numb. Soft pants leave you while your eyes follow your lover until he disappears into the bathroom. You fold a hand over your forehead, grinning to yourself and exhaling loudly. Gods! Love making was good, was enjoyable, was something you wanted more of. And you were were also a tiny bit relieved—there was nothing wrong about you. It was not your fault that you did not enjoy the times before. 

Getting back into bed, Azriel brings you close to his body, wings stretched behind his broad shoulders. You rest your head on his chest, hand placed right above his heart. 

Azriel brings your leg over his hips, holding your thigh tightly. “Could I convince you that sex is not so bad?”

You wiggle your head, mischief glinting in your eyes when you met his gaze. “I believe I definitely need some more convincing.” Azriel’s whole-hearted laugh is like balm to your soul. He cradles you to his body, kissing the top of your head, smiling. “I love you and don’t worry,” Azriel mumbles into your hair, giving your rear a soft smack. “You will get a lot more.”

Feedback and critics are always welcome, as I still try to improve my writing. Please let me know what you think 💙

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag list (crossed-out I couldn't tag):

@juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbitxh @cityofidek @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeriedarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @whorefortim

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {8}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Your due date approaches but that’s not the only thing that’s been a long time coming Warnings: 18+ only, fluff WC: 2.7k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight

Round 4 - Japanese GP

“I think I’m in love,” you moaned happily.

“I should hope so,” Lando commented dryly, making Charles laugh.

“She’s not talking about us, mon cher.”

You patted the vending machine full of the greatest snacks you had ever tasted. “Ignore them, it’s just you and me, now take my money.”

“Are we going to karaoke?” Pierre asked, checking his phone to see the time. “Yuki and Daniel are already there.”

“Shh, let the pregnant woman eat,” his girlfriend reprimanded. “She’s growing a whole human in there.”

“Thank you, Kika.” You sent her a grateful smile before throwing your middle finger in Pierre’s direction. The machine whirred and you turned back to see mechanical arms moving your choice down to the little door. “I just need a few more.”

“She’s stalling because she knows she sucks at singing when she’s sober,” Max joked before pulling out his wallet and going to the next machine. “What else do you want?”

Everyone caught onto Max’s idea and lined up along the alley of vending machines and within minutes there were enough snacks to last you the night, plus one huge Pokémon stuffed animal that Pierre chose for the baby. You could barely wrap your arms around the teddy and you narrowed your eyes at your old teammate. “Out of all of the Pokémon you chose…Squirtle?”

His grin widened until his laughter broke through. “What’s wrong with Squirtle? Everyone loves a big squirtle.”

“You’re so immature,” you tried to say with a straight face but it failed as you giggled. “This is going in my bed when I get home. It’s going to be my snuggler when I’m abandoned.”

“We aren’t abandoning you, mon amour. Everyone agreed it’s too close to your due date to come to China.”

You didn’t like it, but it was the truth. You were lucky to even get away with coming to Japan since you were already 37 weeks pregnant. At least there was a two week gap between the races so you would have some time with Lando and Charles before they left for the next race.

“And your mother will be there, so you definitely aren’t abandoned,” Lando pointed out. He took the teddy from you so you could better see where you were walking and tucked it under one arm so he could still hold your hand. “Max has already given us his plane so we can get back if we need to.”

“I have?” Max cocked a brow.

“You may have been drunk when you said it, but there were witnesses.”

Max scratched his head in confusion but he couldn’t recall the memory. Shrugging, he wasn’t really bothered, he would have offered for them use it anyway. “Who’s your reserve if you have to go?”

“Ollie and Pato,” Charles answered. “My baby is in good hands if we miss the race. Lando is a little more worried.”

“Not of Pato, I’ve seen him in testing,” Lando countered. “I just don’t like sharing.” Everyone looked pointedly between you and your boyfriends. “Har-har, I meant my seat, assholes.”

You eventually made it to the karaoke bar and Yuki growled at everyone for being late, except you. You got a tight hug and a strong whiff of alcohol on his breath.

“I didn’t know what you felt like, so I got a bit of everything,” he said as he pointed to the side table full of snacks and non alcoholic drinks. Pierre reached out for a pack of biscuits but Yuki slapped his hand away. “Not for you motherfuckers. Get your own.”

The annual karaoke had grown over the years and you weren’t sure if it was better when you were sober or not. On one hand you nearly wet yourself laughing at how terrible everyone sounded but on the other your ears were almost bleeding by the time they were too drunk to continue. Crashing out onto the hotel bed never felt so good when you finally got back after midnight. Thankfully it was only going to be media day for the guys so they could sleep off their hangovers.

You combed your fingers through Lando’s hair as he spawned out next to you, soft snores falling from his open mouth. A smile played at your lips and Charles chuckled beside you. “Go on,” he said as he nudged you gently. “Say it.”

You couldn’t resist and he knew it. “It’s all too much for Little Lando Norris.”

“Not little,” Lando grumbled.

“You were asleep a second ago.”

“Wasn’t asleep, just resting my eyes.”

“Such a dad thing to say,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek as his breathing evened out and he was asleep once more. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

“You should try to rest too,” Charles murmured as he settled into his pillow and opened his arms for you, his bleary eyes struggling to stay open.

“I will.” You would try to at least, but finding a comfortable position grew harder each day. “I love you.”

“Je t’aime aussi. De beaux rêves.”

He was asleep before you could even reply and you soon followed.

The need to go to the toilet once again woke you and you found Charles' space in the bed empty. After relieving yourself, you followed the light in the living room to see the curtains swaying softly in the breeze.

Charles stood on the balcony overlooking the city, his fingers idly running his matching trinity necklace along its chain. It was only as you got closer you saw his eyes weren’t on the city below but the dark skies above and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He turned and leaned back against the rail, his hands coming to rest on the impossibly large swell of your stomach. You placed your hands over Charles’ and guided them to where the action was happening against your ribs, a nice reprieve from being kicked in the bladder. You couldn’t get much bigger before you popped and the stretch marks already showed the strain the pregnancy was having on your body.

“I wish Jules was here to see this.”

You hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting the driver but from what Charles had said it would have been hard not to love the charismatic person he described. “I’m sure he would be proud of you. I am. Have you thought any more about her name?”

Charles chewed his lip before sighing. “No, I want something new. I don’t want her to be pressured by the weight of the name she carries.”

You could completely understand how a name changed everything and nodded. “Okay, I’ll cross Julia off the list.”

“And Landa.”

You wrinkled your nose in distaste. “That was never on my list. I don’t know why you didn’t shut that idea down right away.”

Charles chuckled and kissed your nose. “Because it’s funny, mon amour. He actually thought it had a real chance.”

“Our hopeless dreamer,” you sighed, resting your head on his chest as you yawned.

There wasn’t much time left to narrow down the list of first names but a compromise had been found with the last name. To make it fair, they decided if it was clear Lando was the biological father then Charles' last name would go first and vice-versa. If it wasn’t clear then you were going to have to referee their debate, something you were hoping to avoid.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Charles murmured as he kissed your hand and laced it with his. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

It was no secret you always woke up when one or both of them went missing from your bed. Even asleep you seemed to know when their body warmth disappeared.

“It’s okay. I’ll have to get used to it.”

“When we abandon you?” he teased, but there was an edge of sadness in his tone.

“Maybe that was a little harsh but I was hungry. I’m sorry.” You climbed onto the bed and snuggled in between their warm bodies. “I know you aren’t abandoning me, Cha.”

“Good, now I need to have an important conversation.” He shuffled down so he could kiss your stomach and whispered, “Ma petite, you need to stay inside there until daddy and papa get home. I know it’s a little tight in there and we are very excited to meet you too but you have to hang on just a few more weeks, ma fille. Deal?”

“I'm not sure you are going to get an ans-” A kick interrupted you and Charles smirked.

“My girl already listens to her papa.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned as he rejoined you on the pillows. “I hear teenage girls are terrible at listening to their parents. Not me of course, I was an angel.”

It was Charles’ turn to laugh as he curled his arm around your waist and closed his eyes. “An angel…I don’t think that was the word your mother used.”

Your yawn cracked your jaw before you said, “It’s a good thing I have matured since then.”

“Like fine wine, mon ange.” His nose brushed your cheek before he planted a sleepy kiss on your temple. “Bonne nuit.”

Exhaustion turned your tongue heavy as your body relaxed against his. “Goodnight, baby.”

Round 5 - Chinese GP

You wanted to smash your phone when the alarm went off in the middle of the night. The time on the screen said 7.30am but it was a lie. You had only been asleep for a few minutes from what the aches in your body indicated, not hours.

“The drivers parade is starting,” your mother called out from the lounge.

With a groan you pushed away the giant Squirtle you used as a body pillow and rolled to the edge of the bed before swinging your legs off. Just the small movement left you breathless as your lung capacity dropped and you hated the think what your VO2 levels would be like at this point.

“Can you hit record please?” you yelled back before going to the bathroom. There was no way you were going to miss a moment of the days activities, even if it meant watching the pre-race grid walk after the race finished.

You made it to the couch in time to see Charles and Lando climb onto the trailer together and couldn’t help noticing the dark bags under their eyes. They matched yours. It was the first time being away from each other for so long that you were all finding it difficult to adjust and sleep. Video calls couldn’t replace touching them.

They would keep their phones with them until the very last moment when they climbed in the car so you grabbed yours and sent a quick message after reading the sweet good morning messages that came through while you were sleeping.

To Group Chat: Drive fast and keep it clean. I love you.

It took almost half a minute with the delay of live tv for them to pull their phones out before turning and waving to the camera with big smiles, Charles even blew a kiss.

The boys had promised an interesting race during their media interviews on Thursday. Everyone knew it was the first race without you there and they were going to make up for it by pushing their hardest for a win. As it turned out, Checo tried to go three wide into turn one with Max and George, causing a red flag and the retirement of all three cars.

You could practically see the fumes coming off your brother and you didn’t need to be a lip reader to know what he was saying when the camera panned to him in the garage. Maybe Checo would be the next to learn just how fast Red Bull can take away the seat they gave. He wouldn’t be the first and he definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“Eat your breakfast, it’s gone cold.”

The dish your mother made would still sit on the coffee table for another 37 laps but you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen. Charles was leading with Lewis in second place but you knew the Mercedes’ tyre degradation meant Lando would soon be able to overtake, and you weren’t even there to scream for them.

“I will soon,” you lied as you edged closer to the tv and saw the two cars enter the straight. “Get him baby…”

Lando’s rear wing opened, adding to the slipstream he was already getting from Lewis, and he pulled out to shoot past, diving onto his breaks in the corner and taking second place.

“Yes!!!” you screamed as you jumped to your feet.

“Don’t jump around too much, you might break your waters,” your mother warned as she pulled you back down into the couch cushions.

“But did you see that? That was perfect!”

Your mother smiled at your enthusiasm. “He did very well, but you need to calm down.”

Your nail beds were ruined by the time it came to pitting and they both went in on the same lap but Ferrari made a mistake and took a few key seconds to recover. It was just long enough for Lando to be released and get in front of Charles.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, nervously bouncing your knee as Lando defended against Charles. “I can’t watch. Mum, my heart can’t handle this…” She held your hand and you gripped it tight for the remaining laps.

“Go! Go! Go!” you screamed at the tv, leaping to your feet again as Lando finally crossed the finish line less than two seconds ahead of Charles. “YESSSS!!!”

You couldn’t keep still as you rubbed your belly and laughed exuberantly. “Daddy just won his first race! Holy shit, he did it!” You were giddier than the first time you won but he had waited so long for it after being robbed of the win in Sochi. “I can’t believe I’m not fucking there!”

“Language,” your mother reminded with a laugh. You turned to see she was recording your reaction and sent the video to the group chat with Lando and Charles.

“Oh please, she’s not even born, and that’s the least of her worries.”

Lando’s shouts over the team radio made you smile harder and he was still laughing and possibly crying by the time he pulled into the pit lane. “Yeah, baby, about fucking time! Woohoo!! Who’s your daddy?”

“Well done, mate, you deserve this.”

“Thanks, Jarv, are you crying?”

“I just got something in my eye.”

“Yeah me too.”

His car parked in the centre position but he couldn’t get out as sat in disbelief, his helmet dipped with his head. Charles was the first out and half hung into Lando’s cockpit as he embraced the winner. You couldn’t hear their exchange but you could imagine Charles telling him how proud he was before helping him climb out of his seat.

Lando jumped from the halo and into Charles’ arms before Carlos rushed in too after taking third place. You couldn’t help thinking it should have been you with them.

“What a way to take your first win,” Jenson said with a grin as he started the post race interview. “I guess there will be plenty to celebrate tonight. Any plans?”

“Mhmm,” Lando hummed as Charles joined him after his weigh-in. “Big plans. Important plans. We are heading straight to the airport and going home to celebrate with our wife.”

“Wife?” you asked aloud.

“Wife?” Jenson echoed.

“Uh, figure of speech, you know?” Lando chuckled, his neck turning pink at his mistake but he was so high on elation it had slipped out. “We have a baby on the way and our lives are built together. It doesn’t get more committed than that kind of thing.”

“So there haven’t been any secret nuptials we don’t know about?”

“No, not that we wouldn’t if we could but there’s kind of laws or something against it, or so my lawyers say.”

“Trust me, they’ve checked,” Charles added, but it was the first you had heard of it.

You were still thinking about that when they disappeared to the cool down room and when you watched them stand proudly on the podium, the British national anthem playing loudly. You were still thinking about it when they left the stage and the Sky presentation came to an end.

Omgggg wld u ever write carlos’ pov for the fic abt charles being a voyeur? Its sooo good i love it sm!!

hi anon! thanks for the lovely comment 💛 I think I’ve pretty much told all the story I wanted for this series, so I will not be revisiting Carlos’ perspective, which I think can be seen in part one!

in case you missed it, here’s the (evermore) threesome series! ✨

-> the violence of the dog days - charles’s perspective (prequel)

-> out on waves I’m being tossed / is there a line that I could just go cross - carlos / reader; charles watches (part one)

-> in the cracks of light / i dreamed of you - the threesome! (part two)

-> it was real enough / to get me through - the morning after (part three)

there’s another story that kind of exists in this universe unofficially as well:

-> put my mind at ease / pretty please - charles needs cheering up after a bad break up (part four-ish)

I so appreciate the love for this series but I also want to creatively explore other ideas and leave this threesome behind. I may have some ideas floating around for a mile high club threesome fic (courtesy of that vista jet video) so feel free to send me thoughts :)

Mix ‘n’ Match

A/N: This section is definitely going to be expanded upon so I thought I might as well make a masterlist for it :)

Side note: I guess you could call these poly!fics? They’re pretty enjoyable to write, so I’ll be steadily adding to this!

Feysand:

Beg For It[***]

Tag, You’re It[***] | -Part 2[***]- | -Part 3[***]-

Drunken Mistakes[*] | Drunken Promises[***] | Drunken Confessions[***]

Girls Night

Bloodied Wedding Bonds[***]

Take A Hit[*]

All Wrapped in One[*]

Dizzying Kisses[*]

Nessian:

Punishment[*]

Good Things Come In Threes | -Part 2[*]-

Elriel:

Blossom[*]

Amarantha x reader x Rhysand:

Big, Bad Wolf[*]

Crimson Delights[*]

Viviane x reader x Mor:

Blue Flower, Red Thorns[*]

Amarantha x reader x Feyre:

Persuasion[*]

Poly Batboys:

Pleasure over Morals[***]

Mercy, Devil | -Part 2- | -Part 3-

before the corn grows.

Piercings[*]

Azriel x reader x Cassian:

Puttin’ On The Ritz[*] (to be written)

Mor x reader x Elain:

Pretty Flower Garden[*]

Just A Bite - Carlos Sainz Jr

Summary: Carlos, the foodie who knows no limit to what he'll try with food, and his girlfriend, who only knows limits to what she'll try with food, strike a deal that she has to try at least one bite of new things when he can promise her that they taste good.

Picky eater!reader (especially with tomatoes - shout out to anyone who hates tomatoes)

No part 2 requests please

Carlos comes from a family of foodies and he always imagined he'd go on to have a family of his own who are foodies. Then he fell hard for y/n who almost looks at any new food with genuine fear.

One key thing is she does have a sweet tooth so it's not always so hard to convince her to eat something sweet though if she's not certain about it then it's written all over her face. It is in those moments where she's completely untrusting of whatever food he's trying to get her to try that are fairly entertaining.

Today he decided to go easy on her since a few days ago his family had a meal and the poor woman was trying a lot of things while trying to dodge tomatoes, which in a Spanish family is near impossible. Her one line that is not to be crossed for the one bite rule is that she doesn't have to try anything with tomato unless she decides otherwise (which is never).

To her credit, she did end up liking a few things after he held her to the one bite rule.

"Pancakes?" Carlos offers making y/n perk up brightly.

If there's one thing that Carlos can make to get a smile out of y/n it's pancakes and he prides himself so much on that.

"Please?" Y/n nods looking fairly excited since it's not that often that Carlos makes the pancakes and she always likes to sit and watch him make them.

Y/n smiles climbing on the island counter and recording some moments, mainly for her own memories but she always likes to share her boyfriend's culinary skills since Carlos is a pretty good cook. The same can't be said for a lot of the drivers but he certainly does have that life skill.

"What toppings?" Carlos asks making her smile. "Strawberries?"

"I'll do them." Y/n states jumping down and getting the strawberries from the fridge.

She washes them before standing next to Carlos and beginning to chop them up.

Eventually the pancakes are cooked and piled up with toppings of strawberries, syrup and y/n talks Carlos into letting her add some whipped cream.

"Perfect bite, strawberry, syrup, cream and pancake." Carlos grins as he raises some pancake to her mouth for her. "Good?"

"The best." Y/n confirms before she giggles and leans over kissing him lightly.

-

Going out to eat at competitions is the norm and it means Carlos gets to challenge y/n with a lot of "just one bite"s which he loves even if she looks like she'd happily hit him with a plate.

"You're so pretty." Carlos laughs as y/n pulls a grimace in expression tasting a dip for the tortilla chips and proving that she is not a fan.

"Shut up." Y/n giggles since she doesn't actually think it's that serious.

"Not good?" Carlos asks making her shake her head before he nods. "I'll have it. You can have the humous."

"Thank you." Y/n grins leaning over and kissing him.

"It's only the starter. I'll get you to try more." Carlos smiles making her look at him for a moment.

Y/n hums since his mission is absolutely continuing and it's only just the beginning for it.

"You know I think forcing you to take a bite of a food that you know you're going to hate is my favourite part of our relationship." Carlos comments making her raise her eyebrows in question, a light smirk on her lips as she tilts her head a little. "One of my favourite parts-top 3."

"Oh top 3? What's the other 2?" Y/n asks earning a smile from Spaniard.

"No appropriate for restaurant conversation, y/n. You need to learn to behave." Carlos scolds playfully while she shrugs and smiles innocently at him.

Y/n ends up liking 4 out of 5 dishes, tomatoes striking again which Carlos couldn't bribe her into trying. So he ate most of it and then wasn't handed a few pieces of gum after the meal because she won't even kiss him if there's a chance of tomato flavour exchange.

Carlos does end up also getting a to-go box with a few of the desserts for them to snack on later, though we says it's for both of them, he really just gets them for y/n. But she wouldn't allow get any dessert if he didn't pretend that it was for both of them.

-

Catering for the team is another hurdle that always has to be tackled but generally the team is pretty accommodating and they do always check if y/n is going to be there to make sure they make y/n something special or catch her and ask if she has any requests.

In fact Carlos thinks they care more about what she wants to eat than either himself or Charles.

"Per te, bellissima." The catering chef states placing a place of carbonara down in front of the young woman.

"Grazie." Y/n smiles before leaning in when the woman touches her chin to kiss her cheek.

"Mangiare. Mangiare."

"How do you manage to charm more people with no effort than anyone else?" Carlos jokes while y/n grins brightly at him picking up her fork and spoon and beginning to eat as he shuffles closers while she takes a bite. "Can I have some?"

"You told me no more fatty food for the weekend." Y/n teases before she twirls her fork then holding some pasta to his mouth for him.

Safe to say food is their bonding point, whether it's because loving it, hating it or sharing it. Carlos is a foodie and y/n is picky but they find the perfect balance in that.

"I need to start asking them to make bigger portions so I can steal more than just a bite."

"You can have more." Y/n smiles offering another bite but he shakes his head since he doesn't actually want to steal that much of her food.

"No. No. You eat. I've got my meal plan for the day." Carlos states shaking his head lightly, instead just wanting to sit with her while she eats and he has the free time. He isn't eating his meal till later, but he spotted her and decided to sit down with her. "Gracias, mi amor."

"Te amo." Y/n mumbles with a smile.

"Yo también te amo." Carlos smiles leaning over and kissing her cheek.

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Untouchable - Azriel x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Wicked Games - Batboys x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥Part III

➻❥ Halloween Special

Summary: Desperate to pay off a debt, you decide to break into the penthouse of one of Prythian’s richest males, one rumored to make his money in a less than legal way. But after witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, you find yourself caught in a wicked game of cat and mouse with three of the most dangerous males in Prythian. (Modern AU!)

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓞𝓷𝓮-𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 & 𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼

fluff ☀︎ angst ☾ smut ♡

Request guidelines

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓐𝔃𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓵

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Scared to be Happier - Azriel x Reader ☾ ♡

No Going Back - Azriel x Reader (Part I) ☾

↠ Now That We Don’t Talk (Part II) ☾

Mystique - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

Arcane - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

The Crow's Poet - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

The Shadowsinger's Secret - Azriel x Reader ☾☀︎

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader (Part I) ☾

↠ We Should Stick Together (Part II) ☾

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓡𝓱𝔂𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Falling Apart for You - Rhysand x Reader ☾ ☀︎

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓔𝓻𝓲𝓼

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader ☾ ☀︎

Last Solstice - Eris x Reader ☾ ☀︎

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓬

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Butterfly Fly Away - Batboys x Platonic!Reader ☾ ☀︎

「 take her under your wing AU 」

warnings: innocent!reader x various, stepbro!steve rogers, bucky barnes, professor!peter parker, professor!reed richards, ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, dark content, essentially everyone is soft!dark, college au, polyamory, idk what to tell you this is just porn

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FICS:

the many firsts

something in return

locked out

i dare you

what i say goes

too big

the basement

REQUESTS:

gaming + intox kink (headcanons)

billy & frank catch you discovering billy’s toy collection (headcanons)

desperate to help (headcanons)

curtis helps you fall asleep (headcanons)

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