A/N: My first ever Haikyuu fic! Please go easy on me :) it’s a fluffy little establised relationship piece that I wrote while I was bored in class HAHA
“Pretty lady, pretty lady...”
The toddler in front of you bounced up and down as he stared at you with wide eyes. You let out a small, nervous laugh as you glanced at the man next to you. Kuroo Tetsuro looked back at you with sparkling eyes before turning back to the still-staring boy.
“Yeah, she’s the prettiest lady I’ve ever seen,” he grabbed your hand in his without looking back at you, but you could still see his signature cat-like grin plastered on his face.
The little boy nodded his head furiously in agreement as Kuroo threw his head back and laughed. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks and nose bridge; the prickly sensation of heat reaching the tips of your ears and down your neck.
“Let’s just go get our drinks, you rooster,” you mumbled as you dragged Kuroo by your linked hands, his hyena-like laugh echoing through the café.
(Later, as the both of you were seated in plush armchairs and clutching mugs that had little puffs of steam curling off of them, Kuroo would look at you with an uncharacteristically serious look on his face, and he would tell that he had really meant what he’d said in the queue not ten minutes prior. And then he would blush and look away, but not before hiding his face behind his mug.)
it's meee I'm your guardian angel hiiiiii 😇 okay🙏 so. in about six months, you're gonna die of starvation. 🥺 and if I don't protect you, I will get: #fired! 🫢 and that is No Good 🙅♀️ hahaaa So. 🙏 I looked into causes of starvation, and it turns out: Your death is totally preventable! 😯 Uh oh! 😆 There's more than enough food to sustain you without interfering with anyone else's survival, but you're not allowed to have it! 🤨 Whaaat? 🤷♀️ Apparently, your death is premeditated by thousands of things called "shareholders." So. 🙏 I've been killing people,
ocon is like the anti kmag. kmag will lie down and die for nico hulkenberg no matter what crimes he must commit on the way. ocon will die trying to kill pierre gasly
THAT FIRST SITE IS EVERY WRITER’S DREAM DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I’VE TRIED WRITING SOMETHING AND THOUGHT GOD DAMN IS THERE A SPECIFIC WORD FOR WHAT I’M USING TWO SENTENCES TO DESCRIBE AND JUST GETTING A BUNCH OF SHIT GOOGLE RESULTS
Summary: Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.
CW: age gap (20-25 years), angsty angst - you've been warned <3
WC: 1600+
“What were you thinking?” Maverick roars, storming into the women’s locker room. “Are you insane?”
“What the hell are you doing in here?” you yell in outrage. Thankfully, the room is empty and you’ve already changed.
“You could have died!” he shouts, slamming the side of his fist into a locker on his way toward you.
“I’m fine!” you protest. “Pilots make controlled landings with one engine all the damn time.”
“You were not in control!” His voice echoes around the room.
“I landed, didn’t I?”
Maverick stops before he’s reached you, bringing a fist to his face as if he’s trying to temper his rage. He lowers his gaze, shaking his head while trying to breathe through the episode. His jaw is clenched tightly as he glances up at you from underneath his furrowed eyebrows.
You hadn’t set out to anger him but, if you were being honest, his reaction doesn’t altogether upset you. You’ve had a crush on your instructor since he walked into the hangar on your first day at Top Gun, but he’s displayed no romantic interest in you whatsoever. In fact, his interactions with you have all been strictly professional and have always occurred in public.
The fact that he is so distraught over your risky landing that he’s burst into the women’s locker room to reprimand you shows that he has reasonably strong feelings about whether you live or die. Which you appreciate.
Maverick breathes out slowly. “You put yourself and your crew in jeopardy,” he says hoarsely. “I can’t have that happen on my watch,” he adds, his jaw shifting as he tries to keep it steady.
“Captain Mitchell, I’m telling you, I had full control” –
“You disobeyed a direct order!” His voice begins to rise again as he steps closer to you.
You let out a frustrated sigh. “With all due respect, sir,” you say, “it was the wrong one.”
“That’s not for you to decide!” he shouts. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”
“I didn’t want to lose the plane –” you start, but he interrupts you.
“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses.
You sigh. “Fine, sir. I didn’t want to punch out and be grounded for the next six months doing rehab.”
“No, you’d rather leave here in a body bag,” he says with contempt.
You look down, affected by the hostility in his tone. “It won’t happen again,” you respond quietly.
“You’re damn right it won’t,” he says aggressively, taking another step toward you.
You bite your lip, glancing up at him guiltily. You’re surprised to see the tears in his eyes that he’s desperately trying to blink away. “Please don’t kick me out,” you whisper.
He presses his lips together into a thin line and gives his head a slight shake. “I should,” he says, running a hand over his mouth. “But you’re my best pilot.”
You take a shallow breath, feeling the tension in the room as if it were a physical thing. “Thank you,” you mutter, not sure if you’re thanking him for calling you his best pilot or for not stripping you of your wings.
Maverick tears his gaze away from you and you take the opportunity to study him. He’s still in his flight suit which means he came straight here after landing his own jet. His stern expression has softened a touch, although his jaw is still set, and his light eyes seem to be searching for something to look at other than you.
You try in vain to ignore how sexy he looks despite the animosity twisting his features. You’ve wanted him for so long that it almost hurts to look at him. He’s nearly twice your age, and yet, somehow, that only makes him hotter. The fact that he takes his position of authority so seriously that his gaze has never lingered on you for longer than a second, despite your not-so-subtle flirting at the Hard Deck several nights this week, makes him practically irresistible – you haven’t met many men in your life who’ve been immune to your charms. You’ve fantasized about him enough that this entire scenario feels like just another one of your daydreams, except it’ll likely end much sooner than you’d like.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Maverick says quietly, his voice breaking over the last few words. He closes his eyes for a moment.
He glances back at you and your heart starts racing when your eyes meet. He watches you steadily and you feel as though you might melt under the intensity of his gaze. This is the longest he’s ever maintained eye contact, but you’ll be damned if you look away first. You lick your lips, biting into them nervously, and Maverick’s gaze flits down to witness the action.
Your breath catches when his eyes linger on your mouth. The way he tilts his head before glancing back into your eyes makes your head spin. You want him to step closer, but he obstinately keeps his distance, despite the aching look in his eye.
You decide to throw caution to the wind, peeling your back away from the cold steel of the locker behind you. You take a step forward, lifting your eyes to meet his once more.
His breathing quickens, but he still watches you without looking away – something he’s never allowed himself to do before. “Y/N,” he cautions, furrowing his eyebrows.
You take the desperation in his voice as a sign that he is conflicted, so you draw nearer.
“Y/N,” he repeats, this time in a whisper. You’ve gotten so close that you can feel his breath warm your cheek, but Maverick isn’t stepping away.
You swallow, stretching out your neck to bring your lips closer to his. You feel the violent flurry of butterflies as they descend upon your insides like a swarm of furious locusts. “Captain Mitchell,” you manage to utter.
“Y/N,” he says more forcefully. You feel his hands close around your arms, his grip tightening as he takes a step away from you. “We can’t,” he breathes, holding you at arm’s length.
You stare at him as his façade falls apart. The longing he’s tried so hard to suppress is written all over his face. You understand his reservations but, ultimately, you just want him too much. And now that you know he wants you too, no quantity of moral misgivings is going to stop you. You take a breath and then a defiant step forward. His outstretched arms yield easily as you advance and you can tell that his self-control is hanging by a thread. You lift your face to look at him.
Maverick’s hands slide up your arms, his chest rising and falling at a quickening pace. You feel his fingers skim over your shoulders and glide up your neck until he’s holding your face in his hands. He closes his eyes, letting his forehead meet yours as his ragged breaths warm the space between your lips and his.
Your eyes are half-closed, watching his lips part slowly. But the moment his mouth brushes over yours, your eyes flutter closed and you sink into him instinctively. The force of the kiss is dizzying. Maverick moves forward, absorbing you as the two of you slam into the lockers in behind with impossible force. The impact rattles the metal and the clatter reverberates around the empty room.
His tongue curves into your open mouth as you let out a small gasp, while his hand grips your hip, pressing you into the locker. His mouth moves over yours hungrily, as though kissing you is hardly enough, although the soft touch of his fingers as they glide down the side of your neck is the perfect counterpart to his aggressive kissing style.
But just as his hand begins to slip under your shirt, Maverick pulls away. He turns his back to you, holding a hand to his mouth as he breathes heavily into the silence.
“Maverick” – you start, but he holds up a hand, turning to look at you with a grim expression.
“I have to go,” he says so quietly that his voice cracks.
You stare at him in alarm even as he doesn’t move from the spot.
Maverick closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “I am twice your age, Y/N,” he says.
You swallow anxiously. “So?”
He scoffs, meeting your gaze. “I am your instructor. There are rules.”
It’s your turn to scoff. “Since when does Pete Mitchell care about the rules?”
“I care about this one.”
You hold his gaze as he watches you, his teeth grazing his bottom lip, his breathing still uneven from his momentary lapse in self-regulation. “What do you care about more?” you ask quietly.
He flinches slightly as if your words have stung him. “I think you know,” he responds in a whisper, trying to break eye contact but, even as his head turns away, his gaze remains fixed on you.
Your heart is close to leaping right out of your body, but still, you shake your head.
He lets out an unsteady sigh, setting his jaw as he watches you wistfully. “If I don’t walk out right now,” he says, “I won’t be able to walk out at all.”
You feel the whirlwind intensify inside of you. “Then don’t.”
He chuckles, glancing back at you and, for a moment, you think that he might close the gap between the two of you in half a second, but he does no such thing. Instead, he says, “I am leaving because I care about you.” He gives you one last, heartbreaking look. “And you deserve better than this.”
yninstagram getting my shit together is soo fun 🤥😮💨
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ynsbestfriend bestie i'm visiting
teamgasly10 you look so good🤩🤩🤩
fuckthew so he really kicked ur ass out 😂😂😂
yninstagram do you realize that hating on ppl you don't even know and vice versa is really pathetic?
12.356 likes
f1gossip Looks like the rumors are true. Do you think that YN cheated on Pierre with Lando?
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teamgasly10 omg you guys are ridiculous, she has been friends with Lando long before she started dating pierre
yukierrelovey ugly ass whore
adoringlando THEY. ARE. FRIENDS
pierresan god she loves the clout that the f1 world brings, she's desperate and it shows
pierregasly please stop the harassment, the comments in this post are so hurtful, really disappointing
Liked by yukitsunoda0511 and 256.830 others
pierregasly hello everyone, hope you're having a nice week!
Just wanted to share how awful these past few days have been.
as y'all might know, yn and i broke up.
The whole process has been very difficult for me, mainly because she's someone i love dearly, but the most horrible part of this has been reading all the speculation and the harassment that yn received.
The F1 lifestyle has a lot of pros, but all the bullshit that our loved ones have to face is horrid. At some point, it makes you wonder if it is worth it. I thougt that sharing my feelings might help bullies realize that they're hurting real human beings with feelings.
With this i hope you all end the harassment and the spiteful comments that my yn is reciving, it's not fun and it hurts a lot.
Love, Pierre.
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charles_leclerc very wise words, my friend. Love you both so much @yninstagram ❤️🙏🏻
lilymhe so true, it's heart wrenching
yninstagram thank you, P. It means a lot.
pierregasly better late than never 💙
Liked by pierregasly and 35.973 others
yninstagram diet mountain dew, baby ny cityyyyy ♥♥♥
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ynsbestfriend nevER WAS THERE EVER A GIRL SO PRETTY
yninstagram DO YOU THINK WE'LL BE IN LOVE FOREVER?
ynsbestfriend yess lana is always there for our sad bitch era
teamgasly10 omg pierre's like 😫😫💔💔💔
fan3423 (ready for another lie? SAYS HE'S GONNA TEACH ME JUST WHAT FAST IS) omg they're throwing signals at each other it's crazy
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f1wagculture yn's posts lately.... i guess i see where you are coming from @pierregasly
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fan232 OMG HE DOESN'T EVEN CARE ABOUT HIS PRIDE AT THIS POINT
SUMMARY: daniel will never allow himself to love you but you’ll never let yourself not love him.
REQUESTED: nope
WARNING: significant age gap (reader is 20, daniel is 27), suggestive language but no smut, christian horner but i actually made him bearable, forbidden love, angst
PAIRING: rbr!daniel ricciardo x horner!reader
WORD COUNT: 7.5k
NOTE: you guys don’t understand, this has been in my drafts for months and i’ve been struggling to finish it for so long.
DISCLAIMER: this is completely inspired by @yungbludz dr3 fic called "too young" so the idea and concept belongs to her!
please don't be a ghost reader bc i am starved for validation!
MASTERLIST
if you wanted me then you really should have showed.
Daniel knew he shouldn’t have continued it. The first moment he laid his eyes on you and you flashed him that smile, he knew he was fucked. You were young and you’ve always looked at him with those adoring eyes. It was addicting, Daniel quickly realized. You and everything about you was addicting to him.
Daniel also knew that it was his job to stay away, to make sure there’s distance between the two of you. He’s the older one after all. You have just turned 20 and he’s venturing into his 30s. Daniel thought he could treat you like any other, not fall for you the way he knows he is, but it’s impossible to not return your smiles and even more impossible to stay away.
And god, it wasn’t like you made it easy for him. You aren’t stupid nor are you naive, but you’re armed with your youthful recklessness, pushing and pushing at him till he breaks. The way you run into his arms every other race, celebrating him no matter the result. The way your touch lingers just a second too long to be appropriate or how you angle your body fully towards him whenever you talk. The two of you were dancing about just how far you can go and how far Daniel would allow you.
You’re stubborn though, your recklessness and the excitement getting the best of you. You’re determined to make Daniel break one way or another, determined to get what you want.
Entering the red bull motorhome, no one pays you any mind. They’re used to your presence, following your father around paddock to paddock and so they pay you no mind as you pass by Max’s driver’s room on the way to Daniel’s. You don’t bother knocking, already knowing he’s alone.
Daniel was in the middle of zipping down his race suit, turning around to find you quietly slipping into his room, a small smile on your face as you wrap your arms around his torso, your face against his back.
Daniel released a shaky breath at your sudden closeness, shutting his eyes in an attempt to calm his nerves. It’s his job, he reminds himself. His job to keep you away. His job to not selfishly keep you to himself and so he gently removes your arms, turning to your pouting face.
“Be a good girl,” he all but muttered, not realizing that those words only make you want to push more.
“You did great,” you say instead, allowing him to step away from you. Everyone knows about your little crush on Daniel. Or at least that’s what they think it is, a phase, a school girl crush. You’re relentless, flirting and teasing, hand on his thigh, chin on his shoulder, a chaste kiss on his cheek. Always pushing till Daniel can feel himself slowly breaking, what’s left of his resistance chipping away.
Oftentimes when you tease him, Daniel does his best to laugh it away. “Maybe in ten years, kiddo.” he’d say, loving the way your lips pout at him.
But despite himself and what he should be doing, Daniel teases you too. He teases you by placing his hand too low on your back, his lips brushing against your ear when he’s whispering something. His touch is always firm on your skin, holding you back, keeping you in place. Daniel thinks he’s doing the noble cause of keeping you an arm’s length away but his body demands your presence, unable to fully push you away.
He could have told you to stop. He knows this and so do you. But he doesn’t because Daniel may be acting all self righteous but the thought of you pouring all your affection and attention to someone else was unbearable for him. It’s selfish he knows but you’re so intoxicating, so addicting. He can’t bear losing you but his guilty conscience can’t bear having you either.
He throws a smile at you, your adoring eyes making his heart flutter. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
You situate yourself on the couch, watching as he continues zipping down his race suit. This is why you don’t stop because you know he wants you too. He wants you as much as you want him. You watch his back muscles flex as he removes his fireproofs off, slipping on a fresh shirt. You stay because he lets you. You’re here because he lets you be here. How can anyone ever say that Daniel Ricciardo isn’t as besotted to you as you are to him?
You smirk lightly as he faces you. “Maybe we can celebrate it over dinner.”
Your tradition of asking him out and his tradition of rejecting you had him laughing as he sat down on the sofa next to you, legs spread out as he placed a hand on your knee. “Maybe when you’re old enough, angel, I’ll go on a date with you.”
You pout lightly, shifting so you’re fully facing him. A smudge of lipstick on your lower lip and your eyes big as you stared at him. You grab his hand from your knee, entwining your fingers together as you bring his hand to your lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckle, your lips soft against his skin. Daniel inhaled a deep breath, swallowing as he watched you. How could he ever think he can stay away?
“Sweetheart,” he mutters, a warning. You’re pushing too far, touching him far too gently.
You grinned, schooling your face into a perfect vision of innocence if only you’re able to rid that mischievous glint in your eyes that Daniel adores so much. He rarely ever calls you by your name, always a variation of a pet name or another either in that soft voice as if you’re a doll he’s terrified of breaking or the quiet warning voice letting you know that you’re pushing too far. Your favorite though, is when he’s drunk and far too intoxicated to even care about right from wrong, his arm wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you flush against his side, fingers gently grazing your face as he actually says your name. His voice is husky and always full of lust and adoration.
“God, Y/N,” he’d breathe against your ear, lips grazing your earlobe. “You’re going to kill me someday.”
“Daniel,” you mocked but nevertheless you return his hand on your thigh and if you placed it just a little bit higher, no one has any proof. Everyone thinks your infatuation with Daniel is just a phase, a young woman being enamored by an older man, everyone has heard that story before. Even your father never took it seriously and by their ignorance, they never noticed the way he looks at you and the way he lets you touch him. Daniel doesn’t touch you, at least not enough and not in the way you want him too. The hand on your thigh or knee or back always remains firmly planted there but Daniel does let you touch him. “I’ve never heard of such an uptight winner.”
He raised an eyebrow at you. “Someone has to keep you in line.”
It may be Daniel’s job to keep you away but he never did say he’s good at it. He doesn’t stop you as you shift closer to him, your hand placed on the crook where his jaw meets his neck as your lips gently pressed against the side of his lips. Close enough to know that you taste like strawberry chapstick and the coffee you drank earlier. Close enough to make him want more.
Maybe if everyone knew how the two of you acted when you’re alone then they’d be more concerned. All they’ve ever seen is Daniel shooting you down and rejecting you with a joke. They’ve never seen the way he watches your lips, hand squeezing your thigh as you hold him in your palms.
The truth is that Daniel has given you full control of him and his body. He may warn you and he may stop you sometimes but he’s a selfish man. He wants you so desperately, like a man starved or a moth dangerously drawn to the flame. If you asked nicely enough with that sweet voice of yours, Daniel would grant you anything.
You pull away before he can say anything, grinning as he groans. You grab his hand, pulling him up with you. The way he towers over you gives you a different kind of satisfaction. Knowing he can do whatever he wants with you has you hooked. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”
“You’re cruel,” he tells you, his hand lightly pushing your hair back. “Absolutely cruel.”
You go on your tiptoes, placing your hand on his chest as Daniel slightly leaned down. Pressing a feathery kiss on his neck, you whispered against his skin. “Maybe if you tell me what you want.”
Daniel stiffened, his hold on you turning from gentle to stiff. “I shouldn’t want what I want.”
“That’s not my problem then.” With that, you pull away from his touch, throwing his door open as you all but skipped out of his drivers room, claiming victory. There’s nothing more exhilarating for you than getting a reaction out of him. Nothing gives you more satisfaction than watching him lose his grip on that resistance he’s stubbornly clutching.
You appear on your father’s side, a wide grin on your face that had Christian narrowing his eyes at you. “Were you bothering Daniel again?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Y/N,” your father said in that tone that you know so well. It’s his not quite disappointed but still disapproving tone. He’s used it when trying to tell you off or discipline you. “You have to get over your little crush.”
Your grin only widens as you meet Daniel’s frustrated eyes across the room. He’s trying hard not to seem bothered, usual infectious smile on his face as he tries to avoid your gaze or the tightness in his pants. You only planted a chaste kiss on Christian’s cheek, not saying anything else before you’re out of the motorhome.
If only they knew.
but we were something, don’t you think so?
When you arrived at the party, half the team was already drunk out of their minds. Max saw you first, a smile pulling at the boy’s lips as he embraced you. Others may disagree due to their unwarranted hatred for him but you find Max to be incredibly perceptive and thus a great friend. He knew there was something real between you and Daniel the first time he saw the two of you act around each other. He’s incredibly sensitive to the people around him and not at all like the cold, detached driver the media portrays him as.
“I’m surprised you’re not as drunk as the rest of them,” you told him with a smile.
“I think Daniel is going to kill me with his mind,” Max jokes as his arm stays around you, the aussie across the room with the mechanics and engineers, dark eyes trained on you.
Daniel raised his glass up as your eyes met, the redness in his face told you he’s already halfway drunk. You feel a flutter of excitement at his invitation. You loved Daniel most like this, a little drunk but not too drunk, enough to let go of all of his reservations when it came to keeping you at an arm’s length.
“I’ll see you later,” you tell Max with a smile, squeezing his hand before you slip out of his hold. Max playfully rolls his eyes, already knowing where you’re going but you pay him no mind, making your way across the room to where Daniel stood.
Daniel, already tipsy like the rest of the bar, immediately laid his claim as his arm sneaked around you, pulling you to his chest disguise as a greeting hug, perhaps not looking much different from the one you and Max had just shared if it isn’t for his cold lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, pulling away from you but keeping his hand situated on the small of your back. He has to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t but with you looking like that, it’s practically impossible for him not to.
With that same mischievous glint in your eyes, you lightly smirk at him. “Just beautiful?”
“I’d say ravishing but I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that,” he admits, taking a swig of his drink to which he offers to you.
You practically preen under his half drunk confession, happy that the little white dress you put on did as it’s supposed to. “Considering we’re in Austin, I don’t think you should be offering me a drink, Mr. Ricciardo.”
“Right. Forgot you’re a little baby,” he says, hand slipping a little lower. There’s a certain mockery in his voice but perhaps not aimed at you but rather on him, being reminded once again just how young you are.
But of course, you being you, took it as a challenge, grabbing the drink out of his hand, chugging it all down in one go. You try hard not to let the bitter taste show on your face, having the urge to spit it all out but instead, you grinned smugly at him, your arms wrapping themselves around his waist as the dark club lighting gives you a false sense of confidence. “What was that?”
Daniel practically groans at your sudden closeness, your scent overwhelming his senses and his spinning mind but he doesn’t push you away. It doesn’t even enter his mind, morality and logic being thrown out the window after a few glasses of alcohol. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna get me in trouble.”
And god, the thoughts running through his mind as you stare up at him like that with big adoring eyes and pouty lips that looks so fucking kissable is enough to get him locked up. “Let’s make it worth it then.”
With that, you grab a bottle of what you assume to be vodka from the table the members of the team are occupying and then his hand with your free hand, pulling him away from the crowd and into the hallway leading to the toilets. The club, a high end one known for its VIP guests, thankfully has clean toilets as you pull Daniel inside, not even caring what it must look like.
“I know I’m drunk but I’m not drunk enough to fuck you in a bathroom,” he tells you immediately.
You roll your eyes as you shut the door behind you, making sure to lock it. Usually, Daniel makes a point not to use such vulgar words with you and the sound of his breathy voice along with the visualization he presented in your mind was enough to cause a shiver.
The thought of you with your dress bunched up your waist, his hands all over your skin, in places you’ve been dying for him to touch, had your cheeks turning a bright red, lust mixed with the alcohol you gulped down fogging your mind.
Daniel must be thinking of the same thing as he buries his hands deep into his pocket, taking a step back from you – which isn’t much considering the tight space you’re in. The thought of you on your knees for him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as you look up at him with those eyes was enough to have him straining his jeans. His usual light eyes looked a shade darker as he studied your features, as if making a point to put space between the two of you in a way to prevent himself from touching you.
You took your time opening the bottle, using it as a way to stoll as you avoided his eyes. “Don’t worry, my intentions doesn’t involve seducing you into fucking me in a club bathroom.”
“Could have fooled me, baby.” Daniel all but scoffs from your words but says nothing else as you lean against the sink, taking a sip of the vodka that immediately had your face scrunching in disgust before you offer it to him.
“It’s unfair that I don’t get to drink at all, don’t you think so?” You tease lightly, a weak excuse but you know Daniel would accept it rather than speak your real reasons out loud.
Speaking it out loud is dangerous. Speaking it out loud is admitting it to himself along with the fact that he hadn’t exactly stopped you as you pulled him away, his own hand gripping yours minutes ago as you navigate your way through the throng of people.
So instead, he accepts the vodka and takes his own swig, much smoother than you had. “I can’t believe I’m aiding underage drinking.”
You grin at him again. You both know he would do anything you ask without asking them. He’s weak, puny with your touch and how being with you makes him feel as though he’s going 250 miles per hour. There’s a certain adrenaline that comes with you, a certain thrill of knowing he shouldn’t be there, that he shouldn’t be letting you touch him.
He is but a man after all and god knows he’s a man fueled with desire – desire for your lips, your body, for you. How is he meant to say no when you’re looking at him like that?
You reach forward, pulling him by his shirt. You’ve always been a lightweight and he’s drunk enough that his hands found themselves on your hips. “You know, if you’re never going to go out with me, you should kiss me at least once. Maybe I’ll move on after that.”
Daniel raised a teasing eyebrow. The thought of you moving on from him didn’t exactly give him pleasant feelings but he plays it off. “Is that so?”
“Hmm,” you agree, innocently nodding your head along. “Since you won’t fuck me.”
His finger pushed back your hair back, exposing your neck for him to plant feathery kisses on, his lips causing you to stiffen. You hadn’t actually thought he’d indulge, thinking he’s already used to your suggestive teasing at this point but Daniel must be drunker than you thought as his hold on your hip tightened, pushing you against his body.
“Such a fucking tease,” he muttered, tongue swiping along the sensitive skin on your neck. “I’d ruin every other boy for you if I fuck you, baby, and that just doesn’t seem very fair.”
Your breath is shaky as your hand slipped from under his shirt, feeling the defined lines of his abs. You half expect him to push you away as he had before but Daniel’s far too gone to care, your touch going straight into his most sensitive nerves.
“Could you actually?” You tried to sound smug but your voice came out shaky as Daniel’s hand slipped down your bare thigh.
Daniel placed his forehead against yours, his conscience desperately fighting to hold on to his logic but it’s like the taste of your skin had him going crazy and he can’t help but wonder if the taste of you is as sweet as you look.
“Not here,” he says with a breathy groan, his want eventually winning over his logic. “Wanna be stone cold sober for that.”
It’s your turn to groan, so incredibly wet you can feel it pooling on your underwear. “Now who’s the tease?”
You practically let out a grunt of protest as he moves away from you, returning the space between the two of you as he once again buried his hands deep into his pockets. You roll your eyes at his resistance, taking another swig of vodka.
“Behave,” he tells you lowly.
You throw your hand up in innocence, begrudgingly accepting that you’ll have no choice but to stay on your side of the small bathroom.
if my wishes came true, it would have been you.
For the longest time, you had been content with whatever the two of you had. You were both addicted to the thrill of practically sneaking around, knowing glances and lingering touches. You knew it wouldn’t be possible. Daniel would never allow himself to fully fall for you but you can’t help but want it anyway.
Your life continued on as it is with you teasing him every chance you got, him rejecting you with a joke to try and pull the pout of your lips. Everyone would laugh – mechanics, engineers, your father and you’d pretend to sulk before a smile eventually paints your face.
You like the game. You like being the only one knowing the meaning of his stares. You like that when you’re alone, he can’t handle not touching you. You like the challenge and the continuous pushing till one of you breaks. You’ve always been patient, a little cunning, biding your time as you kept your eyes on the prize. You don’t mind waiting. You don’t mind the half confessions and the hesitant, regretful touches.
During the summer break, you hadn’t hesitated to text Daniel every chance you got, even calling him at night when you know your parents and your siblings are asleep. You would have worried about bothering him if only his reply didn't immediately come and your calls barely had time to ring.
You know he likes talking to you too. He would have told you otherwise. He keeps up with your flirting and teasing, listening as you talk about your day. Sometimes when you say you miss him, he says it back with that tone in his voice – helpless, as though missing you renders him defenseless.
The race after the summer break, Daniel hadn’t hesitated to hug you just as tight as you did him despite the people around you. Everyone but Max didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a friendly hug between two friends who hadn’t seen each other for a while.
That same night, after the high of the race, you’re waiting in the car with him as everyone packs up. You’re waiting for Max and your father, scrolling through your phone as Daniel draws circles on your knee.
“I have something to tell,” he says after a while, making you look up at him.
It’s dark inside the car but you can still see Daniel’s profile as he faced you. “Yeah?”
“I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even Christian,” he starts, the sentence immediately had you tensing up. Rumors about Daniel’s future had been circulating around all month. His contract would be ending soon and every team’s desperate to have him. You always thought that was all it was though; rumors. You knew there had been tension between who’s first driver and who’s second but you always thought Daniel would renew his contract.
“Don’t,” you say immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach at the mere thought of it.
Daniel’s hand on your knee stops, offering you a smile when he sees the sadness in your eyes. “We’ll still see each other. It’s not like I’m going away. We’ll still see each other around the Paddock.”
Tears suddenly blurred your vision. Daniel would be leaving Red Bull and you along with it. “It won’t be the same.”
Daniel was a little taken aback by your tears. He’s never seen you cry before and he quickly decides that he doesn’t like the sight. “We’ll still be frie–”
“Don’t you dare say friends,” you warn. “We aren’t just friends, Daniel, and you’re lying if you say otherwise.”
His movements halted, the silent fury in your voice impossible to miss. The two of you never actually spoke of whatever you are. All of it remains unspoken, a silent agreement and he never thought you’d bring it up so easily. “Y/N–”
But at that exact moment, the car door opened, cutting him off as you immediately pushed his hand away, trying your best to discreetly wipe your tears. Your father was focused on his phone, oblivious to the tension he had just walked into but Max, who obviously saw how Daniel was touching you, could see your tear stained cheeks.
He tries to get your attention to silently ask you if you were okay, but you stubbornly stare down at your phone, ignoring Daniel’s worried glances being thrown at you.
“Y/N,” Christian says, finally looking up from his own phone to you. By then your tears have dried and the darkness in the car hides your red eyes. “Your mother was asking if you’re coming home. I already told her that you’re staying till next week–”
“No,” you cut him off, your voice a little shaky. If Daniel hadn’t spent every night thinking about you, he wouldn’t have noticed it either. “I want to go home.”
You kept your eyes forward despite Daniel’s stare at the side of your head.
Your father’s eyebrow creased. “I thought you said you wanted to stay till Monza?”
“I changed my mind,” you say. “I’d like to go home. As soon as possible please.”
Christian stared at your face. You might think he didn’t notice but he is your father. He knows something, something that made you immediately want to get away and if you want to leave then he wouldn’t stop you. He nods finally, “alright. I can have a flight fixed for you later. I’ll let your mum know.”
You force a smile on your face, still completely ignoring Daniel’s stare. “Thanks, dad.”
Throughout the night, you ignore Daniel. You don’t answer his texts or calls nor open the door for him. Perhaps it’s childish but the thought of him leaving you hurt much more than you wanted to admit. It felt like a betrayal. You always believed there was something more between the two of you, something unspoken and unsaid. Sure, you liked to play but you genuinely did believe it was something real. It feels as though he was abandoning you, choosing to run rather than face whatever’s been brewing between the two of you for months.
He’s going to leave you and you’re starting to realize that maybe you are young and naive like he always implied you were. Maybe everything was just your imagination and he feels nothing for you at all. Maybe you’re just a stupid teenager to him, playing you on his palm.
But that doesn’t sound right either. Daniel would never. Even if he doesn’t share your feelings, he would never do that to anyone, much less you.
Eventually though, he stops knocking on your door and your phone chimes with another text saying he’ll give you space, reminding you that you know where he is when you’re willing to talk again. And like the previous messages before that, you ignore it. Instead, you pack up your things and head straight to the airport.
As you watch the scenery change till the view of home comes around, you feel as though you’ve just got your heart broken, once again feeling like a teenager after your first breakup with your first boyfriend. But somehow it hurts more.
The next few days aren’t much different. You ignore Daniel’s messages and calls, throwing yourself into spending as much time with your little siblings as possible. During your time away from the paddocks and from him, the ache in your chest doesn’t subside but you do manage to put your childishness away, your logic returning to you.
At first, you stubbornly held on to your belief that he’s abandoning you, easier to paint him the bad guy to give yourself the justification of being angry at him. He says you can remain friends and that you’d still see each other around the paddock, still spend time together, but you knew it would be different. Your schedules wouldn’t be the same. You wouldn’t have any reason to follow him around throughout the day. You would lose him, spend much less time with him. You’d no longer have little moments in his drivers room or loud laughs in the plane.
It would be different – the kind of different that you don’t like but despite it, you know your actions are unjustified and childish. Max is a great driver and he’s meant to do great things. It’s obvious that red bull is investing more time on him and you know that Daniel doesn’t deserve that. Daniel doesn’t deserve to settle with being second to Max. He was doing it for his career and you’re making it about you
And so despite your aching heart and the sinking fear in your stomach that you’d lose what little of Daniel he gives you, you eventually come to the conclusion that you owe him an apology. He doesn’t deserve to be ignored by you when he’s only doing what’s best for him and his career.
So after two weeks of ignoring him, you decide to put away your pride and call him back. However, anyone who knows you knows it’s your ego that drives you. You’re as competitive and as arrogant as your father. You don’t like being told no or admitting your mistakes. Wasn’t that why you’re still chasing Daniel?
And so you spend the entire day making excuses after excuses – whether it be playing with your sister in the pool or taking your brother to the park. You made excuses and scenarios that would keep you away from your phone.
Though as you open twitter, you realize maybe it’s for the better. The words before you are glaring and piercing accompanied with a picture that makes you want to throw your phone against the wall. The account that posted it is an F1 gossip account, one that you followed months before mostly as a joke after a particularly hilarious fake rumor about Max. You absolutely regret not unfollowing it now though as the photo that greeted you is one of Daniel, wearing one of his party shirts and looking a little drunk as he exits what appears to be a club, a woman whose face you can’t see properly is behind him, their hands entwined and their heads bowed.
“Red Bull driver Daniel Ricciardo seen leaving a club holding hands with a mystery woman.” The caption cruelly said, making you want to vomit as your chest suddenly felt heavier.
That night, you locked yourself in your room. This was worse than him leaving Red Bull. This is worse than any high school heartbreak you’ve been through. You were right after all. You are just a child to him. He played you so well. And like a naive idiot, you fell right for it.
You were wrong. Daniel is that kind of person. He feels nothing for you. There was never anything real between the two of you. You had imagined everything, so desperate for him that you’ve fooled yourself into thinking that he might feel the same.
At the end of the day, no one can be blamed but you. Your own stubbornness to let him go eventually being the cause of your heartbreak.
Max calls you. You know he knows and he knows that you know. He leaves you a bunch of messages as well. Eventually though, you realize he’s just being a good friend checking on you and so you send him a text assuring him you’re okay. Your mother calls you for dinner, you claim you're not hungry, not even opening the door for her. An hour later, she calls for you again, mentioning you hadn’t had lunch. You assure her you’re okay. Your father texts you, asking if you’re fine as your mother let him know that you aren’t eating. You tell him you’re just tired. Two hours later, your mother sends in your little sister, your known weakness. You eventually give in, unable to resist her adorable toddler face as you accept a sandwich.
Daniel calls you. He texts you too. He spams all of your social media. Far too tired, you shut off your phone, placing it screen down on your bedside table as you cry the night away.
A week passes and little by little, your sadness turns to anger. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he’s leaving or he doesn’t want you back. The only thing that matters is to get even. After you read your siblings a bedtime story, you open your phone for the first time in a week, ignoring the multitude of notifications coming in, nearly all from Daniel, and dial your father’s number.
You tell him you miss formula 1. You ask if you can join for the next few races. Not having heard from his eldest for an entire week, he’s more than happy to have everything fixed for you and the next day, you’re on a plane to Belgium.
You arrive on a Friday morning and despite your body craving sleep, you hop into the shower, making a point to perfect your makeup and curl your hair to perfection. You wear a white flowy, backless dress that barely reaches your thigh – casual enough to not have anyone question you but revealing enough to turn heads.
You’re a woman scorned with a mission in mind. If Daniel doesn’t want you, well then you’re just gonna have to show him what he’s missing.
When you step into the Red Bull Motorhome, it’s half an hour before quali. Immediately, Daniel who’s squatting in a corner with headphones on, turns to you, his eyes slightly widening as it meets yours. You look like you walked out of a daydream and Daniel can feel his heart mending and breaking even more at the sight of you.
The past month without you has been complete hell. Every after race, he always expects to find you sneaking into his drivers room only to be disappointed each time. He never thought how much you’re integrated into his day till he had to adjust without you in it. His hand craves to touch you, his arms craves to hold you. Your fading scent in his clothes haunt him with each day that passes.
Now though, you’re back and Daniel swears you’re a devil sent from his very own personal hell to torment him. But he never was good at ignoring temptation as he pulled himself up, making a beeline towards you. Your presence, your scent, you overwhelm him as he stands in front of you, his hands itching to reach forward and pull you towards his chest.
“Y/N,” he starts, voice breathy as though he can’t quite believe that it’s you. He’s gotten so used to imagining you in order to cope with missing you that actually having you so close again feels like a fever dream.
“Good luck out there,” you say and the sound of your voice after so many weeks is enough to cause him shivers. You casually pat his shoulder as you push yourself past him.
Daniel is frozen in place. He expected you to scoff, frown, pout. He expected you to glare at him and maybe even scream. He expected anger because he knows it’s what he deserves but he feels his heart break a little as you offer him a smile – not like your usual ones that he adores, but rather a polite, detached smile lacking both emotion and sincerity. You’re looking at him like he’s a stranger, someone who doesn’t matter, a presence you’re only tolerating.
This is worse than anger, he decides. Anger and fury he can take and maybe he can even match but your cold indifference he knows he will never be able to handle.
He watched as you walked towards Max, that usual smile you’ve reprieved from him now on your face as you throw your arms around the dutchman. He watches as Max’s hand settles on the exposed skin of your back. You’re punishing him. And maybe a part of him believes that he deserves it. You should have punished him long before he let it come to this, but still, he despises the sinking feeling in his stomach.
but it would have been fun if you would have been the one.
Daniel is slowly but surely losing his mind. He’s a mess and it’s all your fault. The sight of you with your tiny dresses and perfectly done makeup walking around in the paddock as you smile at everyone but him is cruel.
But the sight of you in some new other man’s arms is worse. A mechanic or an engineer, an intern or a trainer. You entertain everyone that gives you attention, letting them touch you and stand close to you as long as Daniel can see. It’s driving him insane. You refuse to talk to him, not even giving him a chance to start a conversation. You even refuse to look at him and if Daniel isn’t completely at his wits ends, he would have acknowledged how much your actions hurt. He misses looking into your eyes. He misses your scent and your smiles. He misses your jokes and your laughs. He misses everything about you but instead he’s stuck watching you from afar.
Eventually though, you’re unable to play your game forever and Daniel is unable to hold himself back much longer. Justifications that this is the best for you no longer means much to him as he stared at you from across the club — another goddamn club.
It’s your 21st birthday celebration and Daniel is sure that if he hadn’t been part of the team, you wouldn’t have been forced to invite him. It’s not like his presence makes much difference though considering you haven’t looked at his general direction the moment he arrived hours ago. Instead, he’s left by himself, watching the way your hair bounces as you jump up and down, a careless smile on your face and your laugh often echoing around the club.
Daniel thought you looked sinfully beautiful, some guy’s arms around you as the two of you jumped to the beat.
He also thought that you’re a goddamn pain in the ass, his resolve slowly slipping away as he watched you. You’re doing it on purpose, he’s sure. Taunting and teasing, pride and ego and the need to get even. Truly, he knows you too well.
As it turns out though, it’s you who breaks first. You hadn’t meant to, far too drunk to understand anything apart from the fact that you missed him.
Daniel turned around for a moment, having decided that if he’s going to watch you and wallow in jealousy the entire night then he might as well get drunk. He may not be the best at keeping you away but he is good at staying away, determined to follow your lead if it meant ending whatever the two of you had for your own good.
Perhaps this is the universe giving him a chance to correct his mistakes, to actually put you first over his own selfish desire to keep you for himself.
And if it meant you hating him then Daniel is going to force himself to live with it.
But still, the sight of you suddenly gone from the corner of the club you’ve been occupying the entire night and suddenly he couldn’t help the sudden worry sinking in his stomach. He waits for a few minutes, hoping you just went to the bathroom or something of the sorts but when ten minutes passes and you’re still not back, Daniel’s worry becomes far too much to ignore as he pushes himself off the bar stool, fighting his way through the throng of people.
He goes to Max first, asking the dutchman where you were to which the younger driver replied with a small shrug, far too drunk to even properly process his words. Daniel rolled his eyes, all but marching into the women’s bathroom as he checked for you only to find it completely empty, seemingly only increasing his worry.
It’s a few minutes later after practically turning the entire club upside down that he finally finds you, keys of his rental car in his hand with the purpose of going to your hotel to see if you’d made it home safely.
But he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you sitting on the pavement, head against your knees and shivering. You look small and vulnerable and he can’t help the way his heart breaks.
“Y/N!” He calls, jogging towards you. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
You look up, eyes squinted as he kneeled before you, hand instinctively going on your shoulder as he assessed your figure for any sort of injury or explanation.
“I’m fine,” you muttered, voice small and hoarse. Earlier you were full of life as you drank the night away, determined to show Daniel what he lost but now your body feels heavy and all you want to do is cry.
Daniel stared at you and the defeat in your eyes. Heaving a sigh, he shrugs off his jacket and places it around your shoulder. He knew that he should probably take you to your hotel now but you looked so lost and terrified that he can’t phantom the thought of leaving your side.
And so he stalls. He stalls by sitting next to you instead, making sure there’s space between the two of you.
And for a moment, there’s nothing but silence. The loud music from the club doesn’t reach you nor does the chatter. All you can hear is the way your heart breaks once again so close after so many weeks. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and let him comfort you. You want to let him fix everything and let you naively hope.
But too many words are left unsaid and too much heartache has been caused. You regret it all now; your petty revenge plan and walking out on him when he told you he was moving. You regret ignoring his calls and seeing that photo of him with a girl. You regret the months spent before that falling for him believing you had any control of yourself, believing that you’d easily pull yourself up if you fell.
And you understand now too. You understand now why Daniel has always held back, why he never truly allowed himself to love you. It’s because of this. He never wants you to feel this. He was trying to spare you from having to experience this kind of heartbreak once you realized nothing will ever come out between the two of you.
Daniel has always been longing. He’s always been lust and desire and hope. You never thought he could be pain too.
“You’re allowed to love me, you know,” you say, barely a whisper. “Please love me.”
It takes Daniel a few moments to answer, feeling his heart seemingly getting heavier in his chest as your voice breaks. He never wanted to see you so broken, especially not because of him.
“Loving you was never the problem,” he finally says, his voice just as quiet as if he’s telling a secret to the winds. “Loving you too much was.”
“You can’t love someone too much,” you say, your tone becoming defensive as you desperately clutch onto straws of hope that maybe the two of you could work out. “You just love me.”
And Daniel finally looks at you, meeting your eyes for the first time in weeks. “I do. I do love you. I love you so much that I’m not stealing your youth from you. I love you so much that I refuse to take advantage of you.”
You couldn’t help the tears that slipped from your eyes as all of your will shattered. You couldn’t help the way you flung yourself at him as you sobbed into his shoulder. Daniel’s arms around you are instinctive, holding you close to his chest as if he could hold you together as you break apart.
And he’ll let go of you now. He took you to your hotel room and kissed your forehead goodbye. He let you keep his jacket as he removed his arms from around you. He wiped your tears as his own fell. It was a goodbye, an ending.
Daniel loves you. He loves you with his entire soul. And that’s precisely the problem. He loved you so much he’d let you go.
“Maybe in a few years,” you all but plead as you clutch at his shirt, knowing that letting go of him now might mean forever. “When I’m old enough, you can love me again.”
He smiled. As if he’d ever stop loving you. “In a few years then.”
He used to believe there were only two types of love; the kind you’d die for and the kind you’d kill for but god, he’d live for you.
A while ago, I was watching something in Norwegian. A person walked into the room or something like that (this was pre-pandemic so I can't remember it very well) and asked "Why are you watching Miraculous Ladybug in Russian?" I waited until the next bit of dialogue was done before answering "It's Norwegian." They said "Nah, I think that's Russian." I corrected them again and explained that Disney Norge dubbed the show in Norwegian. They apparently weren't aware that Norway existed. This guy thought that Europe was just Russia, England, Ireland, and Germany.
HQ characters reacting to: “send me a picture of your hand please 🥺”
i hope y’all like this, i’m just trying it out so feedback is welcome/encouraged ! also, i’m happy to continue this prompt or another request for an smau with any characters from my listed shows!
note- there is two mentions of she/her pronouns (one in tendou’s and one in suna’s) but the rest is gn!reader.
characters: tsukishima, kyoutani, suna, kuroo, matsukawa, daichi, tendou, and ushijima
imagining coming home to bokuto every day, he’s in the kitchen trying to cook dinner cause he knows u had a hard day, the pasta water is boiling over the side of the pot…. HIM IN AN APRON. my precious little himbo. what i wouldn’t give… he’s so sweet it makes my teeth hurt. 🤧 -🍓
PLSSS this is so wholesome 🥺
“Kou…?”
you pass a hand over your tired face, dropping your bag by the entrance as you slip your shoes off. your husband, who usually greets you with a big smile and a deep kiss when you get home, is nowhere to be seen. instead, there’s a strange smell coming from the kitchen, clattering noises, and soft cursing.
you pad towards it, pausing to sniff the air suspiciously. that certainly doesn’t smell like anything you’ve ever smelled before. and unfortunately, it doesn’t smell edible at all either.
when you step into the kitchen, you find your husband—your huge, professional volleyball player of a husband—standing by the stove in your frilly apron, looking as worried as he can be. he looks upset, lost, and for some reason, there’s flour in his two-toned hair. from the ingredients on the counter, you’re not really sure what he’s making.
“Kou,” you suppress a smile, “what on earth are you doing?”
“a-ah, you’re home!” Bokuto tosses a ruined spatula into the sink and rounds the corner of the kitchen island to make his way to you. “i…thought you’d be… later…”
“got off early.” you step into his open arms, leaning your head against his broad chest.
it always warms your heart how he never forgets to plant a welcome home kiss on you, nuzzling his nose against yours before pulling back. he looks embarrassed this time and doesn’t let go of you, arms tightening around you, as if that will hide your view of the kitchen. you laugh. he’s big, but not big enough to hide the mess he made.
“don’t laugh…” Bokuto whines, cheeks tinting pink. “i was trying to make pasta.”
“i’m not laughing at you,” you reassure him, “i just think it’s sweet. you did your best.”
sensing your thoughts, your husband quickly says, “i can still do it, i can still make-”
“enough of this.” you ignore his protests, undoing the strings behind his back and pulling the apron off and over his head. Bokuto’s lower lip juts out in a pout, but he doesn’t say anything more. you reach a hand up to dust the flour off his hair and he squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face to the side and sneezing once when it tickles his nose. you wrap your arms around him again, letting the steady beats of his heart wash away the stress of the day.
“let’s order out,” you murmur, closing your eyes when you feel Bokuto press his lips against the top of your head. “you can make me dinner another day.”
