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𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 • 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: marc has been getting on steven's nerves and it doesn't help that his boss, donna, is biting his head off over everything.

warning: few curse words, marc being a asshole

a/n: requests open!

not my gif

. °.•*♡

potroast was in the oven. the apartment was clean, and y/n's boyfriend of three years is on his way home, and judging by the texts — he wasn't in a sunshine mood.

she looked at the clock, only five more minutes until she sees the love of her life. she scurried towards her—his closet, and picked out her favorite dress shirt. it hung around her frame like a dress. she undid her hair that was in a ponytail, falling in a wavy mess on her shoulders, she also got rid of the leggins she was wearing.

she heard keys jiggling in the lock and quietly she made her way towards the living room.

"it smells lovely in here, my love," his voice rang through the apartment. she poked her head around the corner, and smiled at him. she really took him in since she couldn't this morning.

he was running late, again.

he was wearing a blue dress shirt, black pants and his usual sneaker shoes. his hair was messy and the bags underneath his eyes was even possible more darker, and the bag he always carries was slung around the coat hanger.

their eyes connected and he smiled at her, "c'mere, sweetheart," he said and opened his arms. she walked towards him and he took in her appearance with a smirk on his face.

"i love it when you wear my clothes."

"i love wearing your clothes," she smiled and gave him a kiss. she grabbed his hand and led him towards the kitchen, pouring him a cup of coffee and making him sit down.

"need any help, darlin'?" he asked.

"you're helping me just sitting there and looking pretty," she told him and as she walked passed him she kissed his cheek. she set the table and took the potroast out of the oven.

steven dished for them and they digged in. y/n took ahold of his hand and rubbed her thumb pad over his knuckles.

"how was work?"

he sighed and shook his head, "it's as if donna is doing it on purpose. she's always sitting on my head, oh and marc isn't any better. the bugger won't shut up!"

hey! i can hear you y'know.

"oh shut up!"

y/n couldn't help the giggle that slipped passed her lips. and steven only smiled and shook his head at her. gosh he loved her.

once they were done eating steven volunteered to do the dishes and y/n sat at the table just watching him. she couldn't help the smile that made its way to her lips. the way her eyes observed every inch if him. she adored him. every broken part of him.

"i know, i got a fantastic ass," steven said as he looked at her watching him. she scoffed.

"you wish grant."

he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, his hands firmly placing themselves on her hips. "is that jealousy i hear?"

she shook her head and bit her lip. but steven only smirked at her and nodded his head.

"i never thought you'd be the jealous type, my love."

she hit his chest, "oh shut up, you div."

he laughed at her antiques. he cupped her cheeks and kissed her. she kissed back and leaned more into steven. he grabbed her under her thighs and lifted her unto the counter so that he was standing between her legs. she pulled away, the need for air becoming necessary.

y/n weaved her fingers though his messy curls loving the way it bounced back.

it was steven's turn to stare at her now. he was madly in love with her the second she walked into the museum, but once they started talking she missed the tour completely. not that she minded though.

"i know, i've got an freakishly attractive face," she told him and he chuckled.

"marry me," he softly said. he looked at her with a smile, her own making its way unto her face.

"marry me, and let's spend the rest of our lives together. maybe we can run away, only us," he told her with a smile.

and me.

"and marc."

she laughed, and nodded her head.

"c'mon sweetheart, lemme hear you say it."

"yes i'll marry you, and run away with you."

. °.•*♡

𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 | 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: since donna had put you both in inventory, why not make put of it a date?

warning: probably my lack of inspo, sorreyy

a/n: requested! also this is really really really short! Hi there! Could you do a Steven Grant fic where he surprises you to a nice little date at the museum he works at and gives you a private tour of every exhibit? Thank you! @aspie-allie

not my gif!

.°•*♡

"oh and this is just my favorite exhibit of all the exhibits!" steven exclaimed as he squeezed your hand in his. he led you through the many paintings and small statues of the many gods and goddesses of egypt.

his eyes sparkled and he carried a toothy grin. he explained about what power each god and goddess held over egypt though the years and the love story between some of them. you didn't care about any of it really, you just care about the person who couldn't stop rambling about them.

the way his voice changed a few octaves with each explanation, or the way his eyes searched for something new you might find interesting, or the way his hair fell into his face and his attempt to move it out of the way, and maybe it was for the fact that he didn't let go of your hand. you didn't mind. not at all.

steven wasn't shy, he just wasnt fond of making the first move. so when the two of you started your own private little tour of the museum you took hold of his hand, and steven didn't let go. not even once.

"i'm rambling again, ain't i? i'm sorry y/n, i don't wanna spoil the night with my rambling," he told you, and he looked down scratching the back of his neck.

you were quick to take hold of his other hand, you squeezed it and he looked up at you.

"i would never get tired of your rambling, if it meant i get to stare at you, then please, by all means, ramble away."

steven chuckled and blushed. he nodded and looked around, "c'mon just 'round there is all the fun stuff."

steven pulled you along with him and you giggled, jogging after him still hand in hand. maybe it's cliche but what you were feeling for steven was like in every fairytale book your mother ever read to you.

maybe you just believed in crazy love.

𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 | 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

summary: how could you possibly go to sleep when steven looks so so good wearing those glasses of his, nose deep in a book

warning: steven

a/n: just because i feel lonely i decided to write this. this is very very short but i hope y'all enjoy!

not my gif!

.°•*♡

convincing steven to come to bed wasn't going to happen. he was nose deep in his book for the past hour and a half only looking up briefly at you every fifteen minutes and shooting you a toothy grin. the affect this man had on you.

you weren't complaining about the sight though.

you could stare at steven in his glasses all night. the way his eyebrows furrowed when he read something, or the way his lips curved upward every five minutes. his curls falling in his face, his stubble was beginning to grow and that tired look did things to you.

steven looked good. too good.

"everything alright, honey?" he suddenly asked and you nodded, biting the tip of your finger.

"peachy," you smiled at him.

you sat up, "whatcha reading there?"

he chuckled, "try not to laugh at me," he arched an eyebrow at you and moved his glasses out of the way.

shaking your head you smiled at him.

"i'm reading about nefertari and ramses the great."

he's doing it again, talking about something only he knows and expecting you to magically know about it. he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes, and you just arched a brow motioning for him to continue.

"ramses had about two hundred wives but nefertari was his first true love. like he wrote poetry for her occasionally, he bought her everything and built stuff for her. he always spoke well of her," he looked at you and you smiled.

"he sounds like a real gentleman."

"yeah, but the two hundred wives is a bit much isn't it?"

you nodded. he looked down at his book again, "listen to this line he wrote on her chamber of her burial site, 'my love is unique - no one can rival her, for she is the most beautiful woman alive. just by passing, she has stolen my heart.' not to sound cheesy, my love, but you also stole my heart." he smiled.

you blushed and smiled, "well if i stole your heart why don't you come join me in bed."

steven stood up and placed his glasses on the desk along with his book. he climbed into bed pulling you into his chest. you placed your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and breathing in his scent.

he brushed his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead multiple times.

"i love you," he breathed.

"i love you, too."

.°•*♡

tell me you love me | l. norris

hypothesis - on days like these, where everything just seems to go wrong, the uttered words from your boyfriend is the only cure.

pairing - lando norris x fem!driver!reader

[fic is inspired by “tell me you love me” by demi lovato]

“i need someone on days like this, i do”

“are you fucking kidding me right now?” you groan as your car’s engine died, right at the turn of the finish line. right at the turn of qualifying for the miami grand prix.

“come on, come on,” practically begging the car, trying to see if you could just get it back to life, to salvage the last bit of your pride that’s hanging on by a damn thin thread.

slamming your hands on the wheel, “son of a bitch!”

“lost power,” you sigh into your ear piece, defeated. laying your head on your hands that rested in the steering wheel.

this is really just what you needed.

another layer of cake on your already shitty day.

first the argument you had with lando this morning, really, about something so imbecile silly that you can actually laugh about it right now. running late, missing your shoe, bumping your hip on the counter - sure to leave a nasty bruise and lando not wanting to get out of the bed.

silly, right?

and now this.

“what happened?” zac questioned, concerned. the car was perfectly fine yesterday, practically soaring all over the track. you were sure that you’d start first pole by how the car roared.

“you fucking tell me,” you didn’t mean to be so harsh. zac’ question just scratched that itchy irritable spot that has been bothering you, all day.

zac sighed, not commenting on your response, sensing how it’ll make the situation worse.

knowing that if he said anything about your starting pole, which you already definitely knew, you’d blow your head.

smart man.

“sending tow, stay there.”

like you’d be going any fucking where.

~~

a coffee. that’s what you needed. a strong one at that.

with your suit arms tied around your hips you walk the way of the holy grail, not really observing your surroundings and stumbling straight into the blistering coffee cup of one of mclaren’s mechanics.

the liquid seeping through your shirt, burning your skin. his cup falling to the ground and shattering in hundreds of little pieces.

“y/n,” the mechanic was quick to react, grabbing napkins that rested on the edge of the table, dabbing at the material, pressing into your now third degree burn.

why didn’t you pay attention? why where you so wrapped up in your head?

why?

“just leave it,” hissing, you swatted the napkin from his hand, you take the route back to your room. the ceramic pieces crunching under your shoes.

with a hand pressed to your head, you can already feel the lump forming in your throat, eyes burning as tears well up behind your eyes. you bite your lip, you won’t succumb to today, you won’t show your white flag just yet.

you won’t acknowledge the pitying looks from everyone on your team.

you won’t acknowledge the murmurs on the paddock of mclaren’s worst starting pole.

you won’t acknowledge the desire you feel to be wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms.

you just won’t.

another, beautiful layer of cake stacked.

~~

“really?” you whine as you pat your pockets, looking for the keycard that’s used to unlock the door, but it comes out empty.

damn zac for changing the locks. damn the security protocol.

you left, or more like forgot, it at home. on the counter, where you usually leave it. your shoulders sag and with your back turned to the door you glide down it. arms wrapped around your knees and head rested on it.

here it comes, the wall to the well finally comes crashing down and the first tear rolls down your cheek landing on the coffee stain.

you finally hoist your white flag, today won.

a pretty red cherry on top of your stacked cake. a delicious topping.

“there you are,” a muppet voice says, breaking you from the train of thoughts that’s currently speeding down the tracks in your mind.

you look up, and lando is peeping around the corner of the wall.

on every other day you would’ve laughed at the sight.

your lip trembles and a new wave of tears wells up behind your eyes. lando makes quick work to scramble towards you, crouching down in front of you.

“hey, hey, no, none of that,” he’s gentle. he brought his hands up to your face, wiping the stray tears that ran down your face. you lean into his touch, and finally, something that feels right for today.

“turn that frown upside down,” he says in a sing song voice, a smile creeping onto his lips. the gaps in his teeth more than welcoming.

you bite on your bottom lip, the corners of your mouth slightly lifting.

but lando takes that as a success nonetheless.

“there she is, my beautiful girl.”

a sob like snort leaves your mouth and lando can’t keep that muppet laugh of his in any longer.

hair that fell around your face, he pushed it behind your ears, “rumour has it that someone is having one hell of a day.”

you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your shirt, “really? who is it? max?”

“ah, sarcasm, it’s welcoming,” lando jokes.

rolling your eyes you look at his, wispy lashes, a light shade of red tint on the apples of his cheeks, “just tell me you love me, norris.”

“i love you.”

he leans closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you,” a kiss to your brow.

“i love you,” a kiss to your cheek.

“i love you,” a kiss on your nose.

“i love you,” a final kiss to your lips.

“i love you.”

fin.

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader

summary: you rarely fought, but when you did it got pretty bad.

warning: angst that turns into fluff

a/n: requests are open!

not my gif!

.°•*♡

you rarely fought, but when you did, it got pretty bad. hurtful things were being said left and right and that meant marc left the apartment fuming and you with a broken heart.

tonight was one of the nights where a fight was inevitable. marc stumbled into the apartment and an unholy hour of the night, he was beaten up and bruised and he didn't even bother to tell you how or where it had happened. he simply brushed off your questions and made his way into the bathroom.

"marc, would you just answer me!"

he grumbled and took off his shirt exposing a big scar that went from his ribs near to his navel. taking out the first aid kid that was under the sink; he grabbed some cotton and rubbing alcohol. hissing at the pain you looked away.

"what happened?" you tried again but still no answer. "marc, please i'm worried about you."

"then stop!" he hissed at you and slammed the bathroom door in your face. you gulped down the lump that was forming in your throat and walked away from the door.

you went into the kitchen and boiled some hot water, taking a mug out of the cupboard and a teabag of one of marc's favorite tea. after the water boiled you poured it into the mug and left it on the table. you also took his food out of the oven and placed it next to the tea with a fork and a knife.

when you were done you made your way into the bedroom, taking off the clothes from the day before and putting on one of marc's shirts and sweats, you also grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the linen closet making your way to the guest bedroom.

you heard marc move around in the kitchen, then you heard his plate being put in the sink, then you heard his footsteps going past the guest bedroom into the bedroom, then quickly turning around and coming to the guest bedroom.

he knocked softly, you probably wouldn't have heard it if you weren't focusing on every move he made. when you didn't answer he opened the door and leaned against the door frame.

"i know you're awake," he said but you only turned your back towards him. you didn't want to fight with him. you just cared about him. you just worried about him. all you wanted was an explanation.

marc moved towards the bed and sat down at the foot of the bed. "can you please come back to bed?"

no response.

"i'm sorry i lashed out on you."

again, no response.

"i know you worry about me, and i know i don't always appreciate it, but i do, i really do," he told you, rubbing a hand up and down your leg. he hoped that would pull something out of you but it didn't.

your eyes brimmed with tears, "honey, please. i'm sorry."

you only nodded. he climbed in behind you, pulling you flat against his chest. he kissed your shoulder to where your shoulder and neck connected and then behind your ear.

"i'm sorry," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

you turned around, "i care about you, i worry about you and i love you so much that if i lost you without knowing where or how it happened i wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"i know honey, i'm sorry. i'll try to be better at communicating with you."

you nodded, your thumb running over his cheek bone and light stuble. marc kissed your palm and then pulled you in to kiss your lips.

"i love you too," he said between kisses.

you smiled, "we can go back to bed now, it's kinda uncomfortable on a twin size bed."

marc chuckled and stood up taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

down bad | d. ricciardo

hypothesis - daniel is not ready nor is he willing to leave this thing behind.

pairing - daniel ricciardo x fem!baker!reader

[fic is inspired by “down bad” by taylor swift]

“fuck it if i can’t have us, i might just not get up, i might stay down bad”

“y/n,” your name slipped past his lips in a devastated sigh, eyes big as he stared at you. brown orbs drowning in a pool of tears.

a big, red suitcase sat on your bed, clothes haphazardly thrown around and you, sitting there on the foot end of the bed, messy hair surrounding your face and one of your favourite tops scrunched up in your hands.

daniel’s feet is glued to the hardwood floor by the door, his mind swimming, “wh—what are you doing?”

he looks around the room, your belongings, their familiar spots now empty. a sob escapes your mouth and you crumble from the edge of the bed down to the floor, ankles crossing and knees bucking up.

“i can’t do this anymore, daniel.”

his feet moves him to crouch in front of you, “baby, what are you talking about?”

you look up at him, “this,” you gesture around you with your hand, “the spotlight, the constant hate, the amount of time you leave.”

“let’s talk about it, yeah?” daniel asked, his voice hoarse. he’s swallowing at the lump in his throat, as he moves to sit down.

chuckling, you throw the top to the side, “what’s there to talk about? i’m a baker, i bake cakes, in a small town. and you,” you sniff and wipe your nose with the back side of your hand, “you travel the world, you race, everyone knows about you.”

he nods, “baby, i still don’t see the problem here.”

“i’m out of your league, i’m so far out of your league. i don’t fit into this lifestyle, i can’t flaunt money anywhere i go.”

daniel takes hold of your hands, “where’s all of this coming from, honey?”

you look up at him, and reach your arm back on the bed where you have thrown your phone after spending hours reading what his fans had written about you.

his fans, the people that would run to the end of this world to support him, that go to his every race to shout his name as he passes the finish line, the people he confided in the most when he started dating you.

“i can talk to them, disable our comments on our posts, hell, baby, i’ll even delete all social media,” daniel says, his eyes not leaving the phone. his eyes reading every comment twice and his heart swelling and breaking.

switching off the phone, you stand up and grap the top you had thrown to the side, “don’t bother, it’ll either way just get worse.”

daniel shoots to his feet, grabbing the things you had haphazardly throw into the suitcase and putting it on the bed.

he’s not going to loose you. he won’t.

“y/n, please don’t do this, it’s almost winter break, we can go somewhere private, just us. we can work this out, we will get past this,” daniel is practically begging, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he keeps on swallowing on the lump.

your shoulders sag, “daniel, stop,” you place the jeans in your suitcase and walk up to him to take his hands in yours, “find someone else, someone who fits into this life, who will walk it with you every step of the way. there are so many women out there who’ll be better and much more supportive than i am, and someone who can handle a bunch of teenage girls’ comments.”

daniel shakes his head wildly and grips your hands tighter, “no, no, fuck all else if i cannot do this with you. i don’t need someone else, God, i only want you. i am my best when i am with you, y/n, forget those fucking comments. remember what i said in the beginning of this relationship?” daniel’s hands moved up to cup your face, wiping at the wetness under your eyes, nodding his head,

“it’s us, baby, it’s us against all else,” his voice breaks as he said it. he bites his lips, the tears he was forcing away finally slips down his cheeks.

“i will fight, y/n, i will fight for us. i will fight for you. i will fight anyone who is against us, because, baby, i will not survive this night if you walk out those doors,” he moves to tuck those little hairs around your face behind your ears.

you nod your head as best as you can with daniel’s large calloused palms holding it. falling into him, resting your head on his chest and securely wrapping your arms around him, you believe him.

because, against all odds, you weren’t ready to leave, to leave everything you’ve accomplished together.

you weren’t ready to loose daniel. to loose his jokes, his comfort that comes with his presence, his laugh that made everyone in the room giggle, his hands that easily engulfed yours, his shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. you weren’t ready to loose that.

his chest heaved with a sigh of relief as he rested his chin on the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your shoulders tightly.

“it’s us against it all, yeah?”

with your face smushed into his chest, a mumbled agreement sealed with a kiss to your forehead is all both you and daniel needed to know that none of you were going anywhere anytime soon.

fin.