mmmal6
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This is YachixKuroo fanfic. They meet again in Yachi's second year at the Tokyo training camp. Kuroo helps her run some errands and they exchange numbers. Semi-slowburn. Kaygeyama may have some interest in Yachi. It's all cutesy fluff.
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She fell first, he fell harder.
Miya Atsumu's a dork, not a jerk.Bisexual reader, Y/N's a baddie
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There are some people you notice immediately.
And then there are people like Hajime Iwaizumi...the ones you only truly see when you start paying attention.
The ones who stay steady while everyone else shines.
While the rest of Seijoh is busy idolizing Oikawa, Y/N has always watched the boy standing beside him instead. The ace with rough hands, sharp words, and quiet loyalty woven into everything he does. The one who never asks to be chosen first.
So she leaves him a letter.
Anonymous. Honest. Simple.
Just a few words telling him someone sees him.
He tears it apart without reading it.
Now Y/N is furious, humiliated, and determined to never think about him again.
Unfortunately, fate has other plans.
✧ slow burn
✧ mutual pining
✧ romantic comedy
✧ jealousy
✧ "she fell first, but he fell harder" energyA story about being loved quietly.
About wanting to matter.
About the people who never think they'll be anyone's first choice - until someone proves them wrong. -
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After being poached from her auditing role by McLaren to work in their finance team, Caroline is thrust into the world of Formula 1. Fast friends with the McLaren boys, she learns to appreciate the smell of burnt rubber and motor oil, and maybe a Red Bull champion who is determined to catch her attention.
Bookmarked by mmmal6
24 Jun 2026
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She thought leaving the ice would feel like freedom. Instead, it felt like grief dressed as relief.
Isolde de Winter once belonged to the world — Olympic gold, cameras, devotion, the kind of beauty people mistook for permission. Then she vanished before anyone could watch her break.
Monaco was meant to be anonymous. A penthouse above the sea, locked doors, controlled temperatures and no one asking where she'd been or who she'd lost.
Across the hall lived Max Verstappen.
The fastest man in Formula 1. Ruthlessly disciplined. Impossible to rattle. A man who reduced risk to numbers and people to instinct. He had no use for drama, and even less for strangers.
Until the woman opposite him made the silence deafening.
She recognizes something dangerous in him immediately: appetite sharpened into control. He recognizes something worse in her: restraint that looks too much like hunger.
Neither of them is interested in being saved. Neither of them knows how to leave things untouched.
What begins in passing glances and closed doors turns into something far less manageable — a private collision of ego, loneliness and want.