#I like how they are on their own side now

[tonycries]

F*ck You! (Literally) - T.F.

Synopsis. Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, angry séx, spítting, degradation, y’all are both mean, rough, jealousy (Toji’s side), bréeding, smackíng, arguíng during it, cúmplay, overstím, oral (female receiving), mentions of Megumi and Shiu, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.7k

A/N. Gojo next week because I miss my man smh.

It’s not often that you contemplate something that would definitely end up with a night in jail - but it seems that somehow whenever you did, your ex-husband Toji was always sure to be the cause of it.

Like that time he had the audacity to ask you out to dinner right outside the divorce attorney’s office, mere moments after signing those papers. Or when he “accidentally” sent you some mouthwateringly shirtless photos - through email, of course, because you had him blocked otherwise. Although, you’d saved those pictures - a secret you’d take to the grave.

And now. 

Standing right outside your front door, on the night of what would’ve been your fifth anniversary. His imposing figure filling the frame, that tiny scar you loved and hated so much quirking up ever-so-slightly as he shoots you a sly grin. 

He’s here.

Looking as devastatingly handsome as the day you left him.

“Happy anniversary, ex-wifey.”

And just as irritating, too. 

That snaps you out of your traitorous little reverie, and before long you’re sputtering out a shaky, “Y-you. What do you think you’re doing here?” Not even waiting for his response before moving to shut the door in his face.

“Oh, believe me,” Toji lets out a humorless little laugh, reaching up a sculpted arm to stop the door in its tracks. “I wouldn’t be here even if I wanted to.”

That was a lie - and Toji knew that. He had half the mind to think that you knew that. But it didn’t matter when you’re glaring up at him so prettily. The confusion evident on your face as you grit out a shrill, “Then why am I seeing your stupid face tonight?”

“Chance? Luck? A blessing?” 

Scoffing, “A curse.”

“That mouth’s still as sharp as ever, huh?” He cocks his head in amusement, “Did you not see my email?”

“No, I uh-” you mumble, face burning. And oh you wish you could stop yourself from thinking back to those photos - stop yourself from wanting to smack the smirk off Toji’s face that told you he was, too. “-blocked you on…that…as well.”

“Mhm.” he hums, eyes lingering too long on your comfy pajamas - his favorite ones -  and the way you’re squirming so adorably under the intensity of his gaze. “Well, m’just here to pick up one of that brat’s toys. Won’t take long n’ I’ll be out of your sight, doll.”

And you can’t say anything about that familiar little petname, because it hits you with a pang - oh, how you missed Megumi. 

He’d thrown a tantrum until he was allowed to visit you occasionally, of course. But still, it was nothing compared to how inseparable the three of you were before your relationship with Toji soured. His line of work too dangerous, the fights more frequent until you’d had enough.

“Ah, yes. Megs probably won’t even leave the house without it.” you chuckle, opening the door wider. “I was surprised to find it the other day since he said that lil’ plushie was his best friend. After me.”

“After me.”

“Liar.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fitting for our anniversary, huh?” And oh how Toji enjoyed riling you up. To spy that little furrow between your brows as he strides inside your apartment like it was his own - he did know it like the back of his hand. “I already know where the bed is, after all.”

“Yeah, and you know where the door is too.” you mutter, acting like it didn’t make your head spin to think of Toji - in your home. With you. You and Toji. In your home. You and Toji in your home. 

You hadn’t seen him since the divorce just four months ago, and here he was looking so unfairly like he fit right in. Taking up much more time than necessary as he walks towards that little wolf toy on your couch. Eyeing up the sappy romance movie paused on-screen, and those familiar photographs on the wall. 

You still had that one of the two of you from that beach getaway two years ago, he noted with delight. 

“Heh, for someone that hates me so much, s’funny you have my face hung up here.” he smirks, words just dripping with that familiar dark tone that has shivers running down your spine. “Knew you were still into me.” Defiant - challenging, even, because he always did like to push all your buttons. 

Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for-

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, walking towards where Toji stood. “I jus’ use it to scare off clingy dates in the morning.” 

And you loved to push his buttons even more. 

“Oh? Dates, huh?” And something about those words make you feel like something’s too-tense. Exciting, even. Especially as he repeats - more to himself than you, “Dates.”

“Jealous?”

“Heh, of whatever scrub took you out? In your dreams, doll.” Maybe it was the way Toji was joking - but didn’t sound like he was at all. Or maybe it was the way he didn’t move as you stepped closer, enough that you’re almost toe-to-toe with him. Probably it was the way he murmurs out a strangled, “M’not jealous.”

Oh. 

You watch the way his body stiffens, darkened eyes flitting between you and the picture and you- Smirking “Good, because m’having one over soon.”

“Oh, you little bitch.” He spits out the words, gaze hardening in a way you knew did not bode well for your - or down there. Hitting it where it hurts, “This is why I’m so fuckin’ glad we divorced.”

“Fuck you,” you tilt your head, anger simmering beneath your skin - and you didn’t know who was pissing each other off more. “So then you can get out before my date gets here.” And the emphasis on “date” isn’t lost on him.

“Such a liar.”

“M’not lying.” You were - but you didn’t care if Toji could tell because it was ticking him off just the same. “You could say he’s an-” Now close enough that you could feel the heat of his proximity. A finger stabbing right in his pecs with each word, “-upgrade.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled to his rock-hard chest, all the dips and curves of his body so sinfully obvious against your skin as he questions, “How so?”

“Well, for starters he’s-” you gasp, casting a sidelong glance at the way the muscles in his arms ripple. And it takes everything in you to try and keep your voice steady, “-bigger.” Thighs pressing together at the tiny grunt of disbelief that leaves your ex-husband, too-aware of the strong hand wrapped around your waist. “And sexier.”

“And?”

“And what?” you gulp, raising your head to blink up at him in confusion and oh- 

Oh, shit. You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Toji’s eyes were wide, a mirthless smirk spreading across his face, jaw tensing as he leans down to whisper hotly against your ear, words hoarse - stilted, like it pained him to even speak them into existence. “And what other lies are ya gonna make up?”

And you might be a genius - you might just not know what’s good for you. 

Because you’re batting your lashes just the way you knew he liked, the words - saccharine sweet, and falling from your lips faster than your whirling brain could even register them. “And he makes me cum so much harder.”

Toji’s lips are crashing against yours - and you knew it was coming. You wanted them to. Bruising, angry - like he was telling you to just shut the fuck up, another word of your imaginary date and it would kill him. 

He tasted the same as he did all those months ago. Sweet, like those cheap lollipops he would buy you and that absolute sin of his scar rubbing against your lips. 

“Fuck-” he lets out a guttural groan into your lips. Only a sloppy mix of teeth and spit as he kisses you with the collective desperation of a little over four months. “Hate how you’re-” Like he didn’t even care if it left your poor lips swollen and bruised - at least that might give whatever loser coming here a hint. “-still addictive.”

With that, he picks you up like it’s just nothing, your traitorous legs easily wrapping around his toned waist. Letting you pull off that sinfully snug t-shirt to feel the smooth planes of all his muscles. Soft. Warm. 

You gasp at how he manhandles you so that your thin pajama pants are just above his achingly hard cock, throbbing, and so so angry against your core. Trousers already so damp with- precum? Your slick? 

“Hah- not jealous my ass-” you hiss, grinding down on his bulge.

And Toji’s parting mere millimeters, chuckling darkly at the disappointed little whine that escapes you. “Yeah, well, does he ever get you like this?” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, purposely not giving you what you want. “Does he ever get you this-” Grinding you against his straining erection, two fingers sliding down, just teasing the drenched front of your shorts. “-this fuckin’ wet?”

“Nah,” you pull on Toji’s silky locks, nipping at his collarbone. “He gets me wetter.”

“You little-”

It’s like something snaps - whatever’s left of Toji’s sanity, your patience, possibly you by the end of this. Anything but the thick, suffocating - tension in your living room. Now too small. Too hot. 

Before you can react, your back  is hitting the soft cushions of your couch. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw as Toji looms over you. 

“Thought you knew where the bed was?” you manage to get out, in the heat of it all. 

“Thought you hated me?”

“Gonna kill you if you break this cou-” but the rest of the retort on your tongue dies as Toji’s hands are suddenly everywhere.

Groping your breasts - your waist - your ass. Barely giving you time to even think before fisting your shirt in one hand. Too impatient - too starved - to do anything other than pull down, down, down until it-

RIP!

“Oh you fuckin’ slut.” Toji’s jaw drops into a soft little oh! at the sight of your heavenly breasts before him. No bra - exactly how he liked it. “How I missed these.” Massaging them under his hands, “Is this for him or ya really had no idea I was coming?”

“You’re t-too fuckin’ hah-” you whine as he immediately takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipples. “-full of yourself.”

And you don’t even know if Toji registered the insult - looking like he was on cloud nine as he rolled your other nipple between two fingers. Pulling off with a lewd pop! only to say, “Wonder if you’re the same down there.”

You are - Toji discovers, with wonder. 

Hooking a finger underneath the hem of your already-soaked shorts to pull them off. And, hey, Toji hasn’t had this view in months - so he really can’t help himself from bringing them up to his face. Your jaw drops at his pure audacity as he breathes in the scent of your dripping pussy with a strained, “M’keepin’ these, doll.”

“You’re sick.” 

“And you’re soaked.” strong hands spread your legs so shamefully. You can’t fight it - how fucking wet and glistening you were for him under the dim-lighting. Toji grins cockily, “Who’s she this wet for, huh? Me or him?”

“Not- not you-” you whine, despite how your sloppy cunt was leaking all over your legs - such a mess. A mess that Toji was shifting down the couch to lick up. Slow, lazy circles right at your inner thighs. Sweet - so sweet, his favorite. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste and oh, how Toji missed this. 

Missed teasing you until you broke. 

Which, it turns out, happens fairly early.

“Y-you’re just fucking talk.” you hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. Your voice betraying how badly you wanted him. Needed him to do something - anything. “He-”

Toji doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - and you don’t need to - because without another word, he’s surging forward until he was nose-deep in your messy cunt.

Licking one, long stripe up your swollen folds - up and down, up and down, up and- He murmurs into your cunt, “Do ya still like when I-” Hot tongue flicking roughly against your clit. Just barely, and you’re bucking wildly underneath him. “Ah, you do. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Of course, the only response that Toji gets is a wet, pathetic murmur of something - maybe a plea, probably a curse at him to shut up. 

But it’s something that has all the blood rushing to his aching cock, something that has him biting down lightly on your inner thigh - just a little punishment. 

“What was that?” he purrs, “Didn’t seem to hear you right, wifey.”

It takes everything in you to gasp out, a barely-audible determined little, “I-I said-” fingers threading through Toji’s hair, pulling up his face. Hard, so that he’s forced to meet your eyes instead of admiring your pretty lil’ cunt. “-fuck you.”

And you don’t know what you expected - maybe an insult back, maybe for him to get up and leave you all high and dry right then and there.

But oh you should’ve known your ex-husband better, because he has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh, more to infuriate you than anything as he promptly spits on your quivering pussy. 

Once. Twice.

You flinch as some splatters against your thigh, and you both know it’s on purpose. Because Toji Fushiguro always had perfect aim - but when it comes to you, well, he had to knock his bratty lil’ wife down a few pegs. 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders to lick all over your sloppy pussy once more. “Fuck me, huh?” he groans out little profanities into your cunt, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me-” 

Smack!

You register that delicious little sting on your ass far before the realization that Toji smacked you - and even later do you realize that you liked it. Slick beading through at the painfully good feeling.

Liked the way his rough palm was soothing over the sting, words strangled and slurring together as he smacks his lips against your swollen, sensitive ones. “I’d rather you fuck me than some hah- other loser.”

“S-so fucking mean-” you moan.

“So what?” His thumb draws tight little circles on your throbbing clit, the other hand looping around your waist - bruising - as he drags your sloppy pussy all over his hot mouth. “No one else could do this.” Soft tongue going all the way up from your base, “Get you this wet-” Just dipping into your clenching hole. “-taste you like this.”

“Hngh- fuck-” you groan, as he alternates between flicking your clit so mean and squeezing his tongue into your tight cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck- s’too much-”

Too much? Toji wanted to laugh - if he wasn’t so addicted to the feeling of your gummy walls stretched out so obscenely on his tongue, anyway. He knows you can take it - you always did. 

And he tells you that - a little over ten times, actually, as the hand on your waist arches you deeper and deeper onto Toji’s tongue. Fucking you so harshly - merciless. Unrelenting. Like he was taking any and every shred of anger out on your ravaged cunt.

Bucking your hips wildly, you tipping your head down to look at the sight below you and oh-

You gasp at how sinfully blissed out Toji looks between your thighs. Eyes glassy and hooded, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. Your slick glossing his lips so prettily - and if you angled your head just right you could catch the way it drips down his jawline. Yeah, maybe you really did like his face between your legs. 

“Always knew ya did, doll.” he echoes against your glistening lips and shit, did you say that out loud? 

It doesn’t matter, because Toji has his lips smushing against yours, such a filthy mess of spit and fingers and tongue - everywhere. Like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to taste more. “Knew your pussy missed me, even when you’re such some other bastard. She’s still so sweet.” Thrusting in and out faster past that first, feeble ring of resistance. “So messy f’me. Fuckin’ my tongue so good for s-someone that hates me.”

And you have half the mind to wonder whether it hurt - how his fingers weren’t cramping up yet, lips aching. Letting you push his face deeper into your pussy, ankles locking around his broad shoulders in a desperate attempt to shut him up. Close. 

“Y-you talk ngh- too much.” Blood roaring in your ears, feeling his smirk against your cunt. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“Nah, I know you ah- love it.” Smack! Another handprint on your ass that has you stuttering and jolting on his face. “Can feel you clenching all around me because I-” Toji gives you such an infuriating wink from below,  “-eat this pussy the best.”

 And you would be mad at how cocky he was being - if you weren’t cumming all over his pretty face. 

Stars behind your eyes with each little lick of Toji’s tongue as he fucks you through your high, lapping up all your sweet sweet juices. 

“W-wait oh-” you were letting out such delirious little whines. “S’too sensitive- too- hngh-”

“No-” he grits out, voice shot. “No no no no- wan’ it. Need it.” Scrambling to pull your hips back onto his mouth. Fingers just bruising on your skin. 

He was like a man possessed, and you can only lay there and take it as Toji tips his head back to let your slick slide, down, down, down his throat. Voice shot, as he grits out, “Oh fuck, been holdin’ out on me.” Eyes unfocused and miles away as he comes up to squish your cheeks together in an embarrassing little pout. “Open that fucking mouth.” 

And you barely even realize it when you are - tongue lolling out so sinfully. The only thing jolting you back to whatever senses you have left is Toji spitting in your mouth. 

A steady, angry stream of saliva before his lips are clashing once more with yours. Purposefully letting your juices smear all over both your lips, tasting yourself and him and how desperate you were on his tongue-

“O-oh my god.” you break the kiss at the feeling of something so hard against your cunt. Delicate strings of spit snapping as you whirl down to look. Shit, when did he even take off his-

Ah, how Toji loves the breathless little whimper that leaves your lips at the sight of his too-tight boxers, the insults failing you now. Humming, “Like what ya see?” 

As if to prove his point, he tugs them down just enough that his rock-hard cock springs free. Fuck, you think you’ll never get used to it, even after so long - Toji was so fucking massive. Flushed red, soaked in beads of precum that drip down, down, down all the way to the tufts of black at his toned pelvis. 

So thick and angry that your legs were clenching together just at the mere sight. And Toji notices - how could he not?

“Yeah…” he murmurs, as if continuing a conversation from before. Muscled arms pushing your thighs apart to watch how your sloppy pussy was drooling all over the couch. “She definitely missed me, look how much she’s gushing.” Pooling your juices on his fingertips, “Clean your act up, doll”

“Shut up.” you squeal, embarrassedly, giving Toji a glare that makes his balls squeeze so painfully. Smirking, “You’re not even as big as him.”

Oh. 

Well, Toji didn’t like that - not one bit, in fact, as he shoves his dripping wet fingers in your mouth - pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knows will have your pretty eyes welling up with tears.

“Then why aren’t you with him, you little bitch. Think I like you better when you’re f-fucked dumb.” he spits dangerously against your lips. Fisting his cock to lazily drag up and down your puffy folds. “Don’t you hah- agree?”

He doesn’t get to find out if you agree - and he doesn’t care, either. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to give an answer even if you wanted to. Because his swollen cock was too thick, the stretch too sinful, too dizzying as Toji splits you apart on his unforgiving cock. 

“Mmmpf- fuck! Hah-” you mewl, torn between running away from his cock and bucking down for more more more-

“More?” he laughs, “Ya ask him for more like this too?”

And oh how so very cute and pliant you were being stuffed full. He barely gives you the time to adjust because - why would he? Toji has his mouthy wife all breathless and splayed out so shamefully, desperately trying to milk his cock for all he’s worth. 

Barely even halfway in, yet he rocks into you in shallow, teasing little grinds just to fit himself inside your tight pussy. So mean. Not giving a fuck about those teary whimpers leaving your mouth.

“They ever ngh- fuck you like this?” he rasps, dropping his head to leave little bites down your tender neck. “Ever h-having you crying for his dick like ngh- this?” And despite all his confidence, Toji didn’t want to hear the answer - didn’t want to know the truth. “Such a slut.”

Your nails rake angrily down his sculpted shoulders - a warning, and it’s about the only thing you can do as Toji speeds up. Faster. Deeper. 

“Heh, what? Markin’ me up for others to hah- see?” he cooes, mockingly. And you could just cry as his grin widens, finally - finally - pulling his fingers out. “Why don’t you ngh- use your words instead?”

And you should probably breathe, probably tell him to fuck you exactly the way he wants to - to confess to him that this is all you’ve ever wanted on those lonely nights these past four months. But the both of you know that it’s more fun this way.

So instead, you smile sweetly, “F-fuck you. They do - a lot better, too.”

If only your voice hadn’t cracked so unconvincingly at the end - if only you hadn’t let out such a pornographic moan as Toji pulls your face to meet his. Kissing you over and over and his hips-

“I’m the one fucking you, doll.” he bites down on your lower lip, tugging and pushing at a senseless little rhythm - the complete opposite of his hips. “Remember that.” And that’s all that’s said before Tojis finally bottoming out all the way to the hilt. Heavy balls smacking sinfully against your ass, fat head just kissing your cervix. “It’s me. I don’t give a hah- shit if it’s been f-four mouths, it’ll always be ngh- me.”

The couch creaked in protest as Toji fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do. Like he was trying to fuck every thought of whoever came after him right out of you - along with those silly little thoughts about the divorce.

“B-but-” your eyes widen as Toji runs his mouth - as hasty and urgent as his movements now. Fingers snaking up to toy with your still-sensitive clit, not even drawing circles anymore - just messy, little patterns just to get you off. “We’re already-”

“You s-still think we’re oh- nothing but exes?” he questions, sounding as surprised as you felt. “We can’t stay ah- God, we can’t stay apart and you fuckin’ know it. So…”

You gulp, already knowing the answer to the question he was just goading you into asking. “So?” 

“So…” Toji muses, giving your swollen lips a short, chaste peck. Whispering against them, “M’gonna hah- fuck you till everyone knows you’re mine.”

A promise that Toji Fushiguro was well and fully intent on fulfilling. And you didn’t doubt that he’d have any trouble with it, in fact. 

Because he’s rutting into you so animalistically now, so so sloppy. Torn between savoring the feeling of your plushy walls squeezing him to insanity and abusing your poor cervix. Prominent veins making you feel a maddening little thump thump thump as he roams for that one-

“Ah! Hngh- Toji!”

Found it. 

And Toji had everything he needed - you, his wife, spread so sinfully and stuffed to the brim with him. Hitting your sweet spot over and over- 

“No loser’s gonna fuck you like this.” he breathes against your ear. “Have you ngh- feeling this good.”

“I- ngh- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” you let out, hips mindlessly bucking down in a pathetic attempt to meet his rough thrusts. “S’too- hah- oh my god. S’too good-”

“Shut up.” Oh he sounds so absolutely wrecked. Sanity crumbling away bit by bit every time he’s plunging his cock - so painfully hard - into your wet pussy. “Do you even ah- realize how sexy you look right now?” Toji throws his head back, eyes still locked on you like it killed him to look away. “Never lettin’ anyone else s-see ya like this. They’re gonna look at you and see me-”

You don’t even know what he’s babbling about anymore. Just that his achingly hard cock was making such a mess of you, pulling back only to go deeper. Massaging all the right spots as fucked you harder into the couch. 

“Me-” he gasps. “That date is gonna fuck- know,” Hips stuttering and absolutely filthy, “That cashier d-down the ngh- street that eyes you up every time is gonna know-” Angry. Desperate. So, so needy. “Your fucking lawyer- ngh- s’gonna know. They’ll s-see you and see me me me me-”

At this point you can only nod deliriously, letting out a broken little, “Hngh- yeah, wan’ that, Toji. Wan’ you so bad.”

Toji presses another chaste kiss - this time to your forehead. Whispering a quiet, “Then cum f’me, doll.”

You do - the hardest you ever think you ever have in your entire life. Thighs shaking, vision spotty, sparks of white-hot electricity going all the way from your hazy brain to where Toji was fucking you through it.

Muffling your moans with his mouth as he gives one, harsh thrust. Then spilling into your gummy walls, painting it all an obscene white with rope after rope of hot cum. 

So wet and hot - with him. All him. 

And you look so cute taking it all like the good little wife that you are, that he can’t help but press down on your lower stomach. Awe-struck at how your cunt gushes around him, coating his twitching cock as Toji fucks his seed deeper and deeper into you. 

But, hell, that wasn’t his favorite part - not by a long shot. Instead, it was probably when you pulled him into his arms, whispering sweet little nonsense in his ear about “how you missed this” and “that date wasn’t real anyway” as he fucks the two of you through your highs. Sweet. Familiar. 

“Oh, God-” he mutters into the crook of your neck, slightly calmer now. Much more clear-minded than the two of you were mere seconds before. “We broke the couch.” 

And it was true - one side was sagging much more than the other. Though you can only let out a giggle in response. Doesn’t matter, the two of you’ll pick out a new one tomorrow - he always hated this new one, anyway. “Happy anniversary, wifey.”

---

“Damn kid, that ol’ dad of yours sure is running late.” Shiu crosses and uncrosses his legs with slight nervousness. Eyeing the small, dark-haired boy playing with blocks a few feet away, “Maybe we should-”

“It’s okay. He’ll be back.” Megumi deadpans, sounding like the absolute last thing on his mind was why his dad was taking way too long for what should’ve been a half an hour errand. Shiu - on the other hand - had his mind whirling with imaginations of traffic accidents or murders or- what if the two of you killed each other- “And he’ll bring back mama too.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. The older man stared wide-eyed at a slightly-smiling Megumi. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait- no, what did you-”

“Nothing.”

Because, hey, Megumi might’ve had to go without his favorite wolf plushie for a bit - but a magician never reveals his tricks, right?

A/N. So how does it feel to be played by a kid, hm?

Plagiarism not authorized.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fic #toji #toji fushiguro #tonywrites #gojo x reader #gojo smut

[pucksandpower]

La Regina

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)

You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.

“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.

You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.

Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”

Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.

“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.

You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.

Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.

Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.

After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.

“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”

“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.

“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”

You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.

“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.

Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”

You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.

“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”

“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”

He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.

The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”

Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”

Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”

As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.

“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”

You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”

Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.

“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”

You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”

“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”

As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.

***

The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.

“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”

She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.

“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”

You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.

On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.

It makes you feel ill.

Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.

Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.

As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.

“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”

“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”

Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”

You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.

The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.

“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”

The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.

“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”

Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.

The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.

Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.

“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.

Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.

“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”

She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.

Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.

Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.

“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”

The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.

How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.

“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”

You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.

You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.

Just Michael. Your one and only papa.

The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.

Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.

Let me have my papa back.

***

A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.

Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”

You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.

“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”

You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.

“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”

You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”

He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”

The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?”

“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”

“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”

Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.

“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”

He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”

Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?

“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”

“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.

“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”

Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.

“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”

Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.

“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.

“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.

“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”

She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”

More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.

“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”

Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.

“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”

You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.

“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”

You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.

“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”

Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.

“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”

Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.

“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”

She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”

Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.

When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.

“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”

She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.

“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”

She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.

“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”

***

The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.

“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”

You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”

“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”

As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.

“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”

Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”

You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”

“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”

The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.

Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.

“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.

You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”

He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”

You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”

Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.

You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”

He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”

The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”

The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.

“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”

Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.

“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.

“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.

Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.

You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.

“But?” You prod gently.

Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”

Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”

He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”

You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”

Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”

A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.

You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”

Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.

On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.

You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”

Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”

It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”

Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”

***

It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.

“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”

You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”

He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”

“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”

Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”

“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”

He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”

“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”

The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.

“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”

You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”

For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”

Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”

“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.

You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”

“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”

You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”

Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”

An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?

“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”

You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”

He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.

Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”

“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”

“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”

You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”

“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.

You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”

“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”

Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”

He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”

You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.

Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”

Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”

You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.

“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.

He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”

***

You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.

The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”

You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”

He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”

“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.

A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”

Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...

“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.

You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”

Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.

“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.

Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”

You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”

He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”

You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”

Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”

“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”

Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”

You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”

The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.

You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.

“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.

You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”

You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”

Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...

“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”

You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”

Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”

You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”

Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”

You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”

As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.

To race.

To win.

To become a legend.

***

The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.

“Over here, Y/N!”

“Un selfie, per favore!”

“Can you sign this for my daughter?”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.

“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.

The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.

“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”

You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”

“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”

Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”

You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”

Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”

He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant” frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.

“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”

Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.

“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.

“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”

She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.

“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”

You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.

Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”

As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.

“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.

You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”

Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.

“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”

Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.

The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.

“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”

Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”

She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.

“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.

Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.

Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.

It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.

Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”

Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.

“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”

When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”

You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”

Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”

A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”

“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”

You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.

“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”

As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.

“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”

With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.

Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”

You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”

Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.

As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.

***

Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.

This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.

Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.

“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”

You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”

“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”

Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.

“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”

Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.

“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.

“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.

As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”

Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”

You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.

Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.

Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.

You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.

Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.

“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.

“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.

Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.

Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.

Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.

“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!

You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.

Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.

As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”

“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”

Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”

Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”

The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”

Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.

Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.

Mission accomplished.

***

The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.

You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”

He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”

There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”

Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”

“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.

“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”

“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”

A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”

You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”

Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”

“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”

Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”

“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.

Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.

“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”

You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”

“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”

Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”

“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.

“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.

You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.

“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”

Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”

You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”

A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”

“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”

Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.

Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.

“You!”

The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.

“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”

You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”

Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.

The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.

After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.

Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.

Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:

“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.

Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”

Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.

As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.

The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.

Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.

On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.

“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.

Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.

They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.

The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.

At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”

He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”

The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.

The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.

You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.

Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.

But most of all, it’s home.

As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:

La principessa di Monza.

La principessa di Ferrari.

***

11 Months Later

The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.

“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”

Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.

Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.

The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.

“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”

You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.

Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.

You did it.

World Champion at last!

You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.

Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.

And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.

The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.

“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.

“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”

You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”

Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.

You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.

“To our champion! The Queen!”

The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.

“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”

Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.

All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:

“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”

The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.

Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.

“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”

Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.

When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.

For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.

This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.

“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”

You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.

As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.

It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.

And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.

Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.

La Regina di Ferrari.

La Regina del Mondo.

***

Eight Years Later

Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”

“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”

Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”

You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”

The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.

“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”

“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”

“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.

Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”

“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”

You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.

“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”

“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.

The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.

“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”

“Charles! Over here, please!”

“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”

Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”

Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.

“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.

“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”

“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.

You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”

“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. “Multiple world titles each.”

“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”

“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”

“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”

You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”

He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.

“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”

Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”

With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”

You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”

Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”

“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”

He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”

“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”

Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-

“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”

You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.

“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.

You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”

He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”

You and Charles share an amused look.

“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”

Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.

“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”

And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.

“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”

You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”

With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.

“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.

“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”

You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.

“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”

With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.

By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.

“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”

Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.

“Oh my god, it’s them!”

“They’re so cute together!!”

“Over here, please! This way!”

You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.

“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”

Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”

You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.

“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

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[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 | 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

【Synopsis】 : You finally gain the courage to tell your sweet boyfriend you're a virgin... Now, all you gotta worry about is how he'll react.

『Word count』 :  5.73k

-> Genre: Smut. Slice of Life. Fluff. Angst.

Pairing: Boyfriend!San x Chubby!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Body image issues. Negative thoughts. Anxious. Dirty talk. San got a filthy fucking mouth. Unprotected sex (Don't do that). Soft sex. Slight rough sex? Crying. Overstim. Fingering. Breast play. Hickeys. Making out. Lube and condoms are used. Idk this was tooth rotten sweet, so enjoy.

Thank you, anonnie for this request, hehe ♡

Networks: @newworldnet @blossomnet

This is not beta read so if their is any mistakes ignore it hehe.

Masterlist | Navigation | Buy me a Ko-Fi ♡

Sometimes, when you gaze at the way your boyfriend smiles, laughs, or talks someone else's ear off, you really question how you managed to be with him. He was the centre of attention, the crowd player. Everything, confident and perfect. He was the man everyone wanted to be or be with. And then there was you. Sure, you have grown to love some of your insecurities, and getting older helps with that. But you still stand too long in front of the mirror, examining every part you wish to change, and you always make sure to dress to your size. You were chubby… had been all your life, so to have someone like San, be with someone like you, confused you on most days.

What was worse… You were inexperienced. Now, you know being a virgin in your twenties isn't new and is quite common in this day and age but the idea of having to tell your boyfriend, you're perfect in every way boyfriend, that you were still a virgin terrified you.  You kissed and made out before, but the minute he goes to touch you, you’ve recoiled away. Why is he even attracted to me? You’d think over and over again. Does he actually want me? You cried time and time again. It’s been almost a year into your relationship, and San has made nothing clear about how the sex aspect of your life should be.

Most men you’ve tried to date want to get into your pants either instantly or just not at all.

But San wanted to wait. Heck, this man was prepared to wait for marriage if needed. He loved you the moment he found you lurking in the record shop his friend owns. Your love for music brought you two together, and on that same day, he found out your name. He had told his friend that he wanted to marry you. Of course, his friend thought he was stupid and in the puppy love stage, and the delusion would wear off. But here he sits, snuggled up next to you on the couch, stealing glances at your beautiful face almost over a year later, and he still believes to himself he was done. This was it. He found his person and was going to spend the rest of his life with you.

So why couldn’t you see what he sees?

He’s noticed the way you belittle yourself. Caught the way you stare at your beautiful curves in the mirror. Felt you shy away from his delicate touch… All he wants is to touch you and make you feel like the only person in the world. Be dotted and worshipped. Was that too hard to ask?

“San…” Your soft voice snapped him out of his spiralling thoughts, instantly looking over at you, even turning his shoulders slightly so he was facing you with his whole body.

“Yes, baby? You okay?” He knew the tone in your voice too well. He knew it was hiding your nerves.

“I…” You gulped on a thick ball of saliva. “I n-need to tell you something.” You were shaking at this point, having no clue what was coming over you to tell him finally. Maybe it was guilt that yelled at you not to cage him anymore and let him know the truth so you weren't a burden to him anymore. Or maybe it was the way you wanted to be honest with him. Let him see all the sides of you, even the ones you hated. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because deep down, you were over being a virgin, over not knowing what these magical feelings are that are spoken about in romance movies and novels… maybe you just yearned just as much as he did.

“Hey, Doll. You can tell me anything, okay? I’m here and I’ll be here no matter what.” He moved your legs so they were lying over his lap so he could shuffle closer to you before grabbing your shaking hands, holding onto them tightly. “What’s the matter, lovely?”

“I’m…I…” You looked away from his gaze, taking in a staggered breath as you finally whispered out, “I’m a virgin…”

The silence scared you, letting you hear your heart ringing in your ears. You felt like you were being caught on fire and had no control of the flames that were about to engulf you entirely. Then you hear San let out a sigh of relief. “Is that it, baby?”

His smile was bright, chuckling lightly, squeezing your hands tighter. You looked at him with confusion, feeling a sense of shame. Was he laughing at you? “What do you mean that it?!” You were completely dumbfounded by the situation now. This was not how it played out in your head.

“I thought you were going to say you killed someone, or worse, you were going to dump me.” He raked his hand through his hair. Sighing out another relieving breath, but this time it caught in his throat when you pushed his chest.

“Why the fuck would think I’d kill someone San!! and how is dumping you worse than murder?” You pulled away from him, pouting fake anger in his direction. You take your legs off his lap, curling yourself at the end of the couch. He tried to pry your legs away from your chest while you both laughed.

“If you were to dump me I’d scream on the top of a building to tell the world how I managed to hurt the most beautiful, kind-hearted, not to mention fucking unbelievably sexy woman in the world. I would feel terrible if I hurt you to the point you would want to dump me…” He suddenly stopped being dramatic with his rambles as he suddenly noticed your stillness and the tears swelling in your eyes.

“Y-you think I’m sexy…” You sounded so stupid being the only thing you took out of the whole confession. From your knowledge, you do not think you’ve ever heard someone say you were attractive, let alone sexy. San raised his brows with his lips stretched thin. He hooked his hand under the back of our left knee, tugging you forward so you were now snuggled up against him. His fingers grip your chin, bringing your face inches to his before taking his thumb so he could wipe away your tears.  

“The sexiest.” He whispered before pecking your cheek. “The way you smile makes my heart swell.” He kissed your other cheek. “The way you blabber on about whatever show we’re watching and your nose scrunches in the cutest way.”

“I don’t blabber…” You pout, letting him kiss your nose, making his scrunch. He tugged on your waist this time, opening your legs slowly until one was lying across his lap.

“Yes, you do… you also whine…” he kissed your cheek again. “And pout.” He kissed your jaw softly. “And moan…” his hot tongue dipped out of his mouth for a second to lick a little stripe of your neck, making you whimper out a sound you’ve never heard leave your lips before. “You can make the sweetest noises. and don’t get me started on these.”

He gripped your hips, tightly squeezing your waist. Something you are insanely insecure about. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about holding onto these love handles while I make the sweetest, filthy love to you?” His voice was smooth like butter, leaving a melting whisper in your ear. He finally grabbed a hold of you completely, pulling you onto his lap much to your refusal.

“S-san…I’m heav―Do not fucking finish that sentence or so help me god I will strip you down right now and show you how much I love every part of you.” he pulled away so he could hold your face with both hands, locking you in place so you were forced to look in in the eyes. “I do not care if you are a virgin. And I do not care if you have some more curves than others. I am so in love with you sweetheart. Every part of you is perfect in my eyes. And if you are scared of sex. Or unsure how to navigate it. I’m here. I’d be happy to show you, find the way your body likes it. Anything and I’m here. You can't get rid of me that easily.”

“I…” Now you were really crying, making San bring you in for a tight hug so you could sob into his chest.

“Maybe not tonight or next week. But whenever you are ready. We can try. I’ll wait until you’re comfortable.” He kissed your forehead softly, letting you slowly calm yourself down. But as you shifted side to side on his lap, you grew impatient. You loved the fact San was willing to wait, but on the other hand, you were frustrated with yourself, and with the situation you had put yourself in…

And so the waiting began. At first, you were nervous that your relationship would shift, and things would become awkward between the two of you. But San acted like nothing happened. He didn’t treat you any differently, unlike other men had in the past, and he didn’t bring it up until you did first. A couple of days after the conversation, you tried your luck when he was cooking. You were enjoying each other's company when you gave him at first a nice innocent kiss. But as your heart rate picked up and his lips became sloppier on yours, you thought this was it. But then the doorbell rang.

Turns out Wooyoung needed San for an emergency… of course, he did.

You tried another time, but then you felt a sudden cramp that let you know that Aunt Flo was coming to visit, so that was a quick turn off. It was only four weeks later after the conversation that you finally got tired of waiting and was going to do everything to have your chance. So on a quiet Sunday evening, where it had been raining all day and the winter weather was quickly setting in. You snuggled up with San in bed. He was on his phone watching whatever he could find while you were not so focused on a book you were reading. You had read the one page in front of you for about an hour before giving up.

You shifted slowly, moving closer to him, simply saying you just wanted to see what he was watching. So you too sat for another twenty-odd minutes while he showed you the brain rot known as his TikTok. Your fingers rubbed slow circles in his chest while you nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck. You were content for a moment, just sitting in his presence... That was until you felt Sans's hand drag slowly on your hip and back, just lovingly caressing you. It made your face heat up. Such a simple touch that you would normally shy away from or recoil. But not this time, these few weeks. You had tried your best to be more physically affectionate with him.

And man, did you find out how much of a cuddler Choi San is.

His new favourite thing was to hold you tightly while you both slept. Bye-bye shiba, you were his new plushie to latch onto all night long. When you cook, he would come up behind you and pull your ass against his crotch by your hips, giving you a soft kiss on the side of your face while whispering ‘I missed you.’

You didn’t think San could get any more desirable but, low and behold here he is.

“Baby?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, making you tilt your view to see his dark eyes staring down at you. “Where did you go? Wandering in space again?” His chuckle caused even more blush to riddle your feature, tainting your ear now in a deep red.

“It.. uh. It’s nothing just thinking…” You couldn’t possibly tell him you were thinking about him in a not-so-safe-for-work way. Just the pure scent of him was driving you insane. Your fingers laced in his shirt as you looked back at his phone but you were looking at what was on the screen but instead, dazed off, deep in your mind, replaying the way San kissed you the other night. The filthy but caring words he whispered as he touched you softly. Your mind, body, and soul were craving to feel that again...

And San seemed to notice. He knew you were scared about intimacy, and he wanted you to tell him directly when you were ready. But unlike your shyness, your lover boy knew how to read you. He knew you were scared about intimacy, and he wanted you to tell him directly when you were ready. But unlike your shyness, your lover boy knew how to read you. He knew the tension of your body. The way you were holding onto him was a little tighter than normal. The way he spoke, you were too busy in your mind to notice. He could also see the way your thighs were clenched so tightly together, trying so desperately to give you some relief. You were horny and you didn't know how to tell him.

But he could help you...

"Princess? Baby..." He cooed, gently drawing circles down your back. You look up to him with wide doe eyes, lust dripping from them. Your fingers tangled in his loose shirt while your heart rate jumped, suddenly feeling hot and bothered.

"Y-yes, Sannnie..." You gulped, shifting slightly. He let out a light chuckle, dropping his phone onto the bed somewhere. He wrapped his arm around you so he could pull you onto his lap, letting you shift your body until your thighs sat nicely on either side of him.

“Is there something you want to tell me, sweetheart?” His voice was low, sensual… His hands were firmly placed on your hips but did nothing to move you. No, he wanted you to take the lead.

“I…I, uh…” You shifted again, moving slowly from side to side to try and get comfortable. Your eyes were wandering around the room trying to look anywhere but San. His grip on your waist got tighter as he felt your hot core rub against him at just the right pace. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he doesn’t know if he would be able to control himself.

"Sweetheart, if you keep grinding yourself on me, we're gonna have a problem." He choked through a bitten lip, making your eyes suddenly draw to where your hips met his. You could see a very obvious bulge straining his sleep shorts.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean—Baby I need you to shut up and kiss me, okay?" San interrupted you holding your face. He gave you the biggest smile as you took a breath and finally placed your lips on his. You felt the tingle and twist in your gut tighten. The feeling you had been chasing was now knocking at your door, and you were ready to finally let it in.

"S-Sannie—Shh kissing time..." You tried to speak, but San's mouth swallowed any noise from you, making you aware that his tongue wanted to slip inside. You had no clue what to do, but you decided to let your body take the lead. Leaning in, your chest was pressed firmly against Sans, and your hips started to move slowly with the help of Sans's hands. Your fingers laced into the ends of his hair, tugging it to draw a whine from your lover.

"Fuck, baby." He nibbled your bottom lip, whimpering out. He could feel the heat from your core through the thin fabrics of your sleeping attire making him almost just say fuck it and flip you over so he could ravish you his way. But no, he needed you to take the lead, even though it was killing him. You let out a big sigh through your nose, growing frustrated with every grind. You needed more. You craved more. You needed him to touch you bare. Anywhere.

“San..” You whined more sternly in the kiss, his teeth gripping your bottom lip in annoyance that you were talking again. “S-San. I need you to touch me right fucking now please.” Your hands push against his chest making him finally pull back to look at your swollen kissed lists and blown pupils.

“Y-yeah baby. I can do that.” He bit his lip, reaching for your shirt to tug it off your body. You just roll your eyes at your goofball of a boyfriend, helping him. He leaned forward, giving your newly exposed kiss light kisses. You felt too exposed, but you tried to push through it. You knew San loved you and loved every part of you, but that didn’t mean you didn’t overthink the fact that your soft plump skin was on display for such a man like him. Your curves were in his view. He could finally see you completely.

It terrified you.

“Hey baby, look at me.” He gripped your chin, noticing the way your mind had wandered off. You focus back on him, and he notes the anxiousness lurking in your gaze. He smiled at you, slowly retching for your bra clip. “I love you. Every part of you. This pretty body is all mine now, you hear?” He kissed your collarbone, then your neck, then your jaw, before finishing with a peck on your lips. “Come on, say it for me.”

“M-my body…” You stuttered.

“No. Say it properly.” he was stern with one hand holding your hip firmly while the other just kept circling the clip on your back. You felt your face turn red as you started to play with the collar of San’s shirt.

“My body—No…” He cut you off, making you gulp, “My… P-pretty body is all yours.”

“That’s it. Such a good girl, hmm.” He hummed as he unclipped your bra, watching intensely as the straps fell from your shoulders. You help him tear the fabric from your body, leaving your top half completely bare. San had a hitch in his breath as he came face to face with your plump tits. How dare you keep these from him. How did he go so long without having his mouth on them he wouldn’t know… All he did know was that he was going to have you covered in his marks by the end of the night. “Fuck you’re so hot..”

“S-Sannie..” You whimpered as you tugged on his shirt, feeling a little bit too underdressed compared to him. He just chuckles, shifting until you fall back with an ‘oof’. He was now snug between your legs, placing an open kiss on your left breast, taking your sensitive nipple in his mouth. You gasped, grabbing a fistful of his hair in seconds. You’ve never felt such a sensation. It was almost ticklish mixing with a wet tingle spilling down your body straight to your core.

He moved away too soon with an audible pop as he sat up to rip his shirt off. “Fuck baby, you have no idea how badly I wanna fuck these tits. Maybe I’ll do that after I fuck you hmm?” His filter was officially out the window, no longer caring what he might say, all he was thinking now was making you feel the most heavenly pleasure while he got his fill of you.

“Do anything to me San… I’m yours..” You don’t know what came over you to make you say that, but you were glad you did cause the look on Sans's face was priceless. A mixture of shock, pride, and hot, red, lust. So, without another word, San bit down on your breast, causing you to let out a yelp. His hand flew for your shorts, slipping past the hem before dipping into your panties. Your yelp quickly turned into a loud gasp as you felt his cold fingers met your throbbing clit. You’ve never felt such a pleasurable feeling. The way his fingers circle your sensitive nub, slow and steady. Your fingers tangle in the end of his hair, tugging harshly as his lips latch onto your collarbone sucking in a deep red mark.

“You shouldn’t have said that, sweetheart.” He bit down on your shoulder, fondling your breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and finger and pressing harshly down on your clit. Your head felt like it was being filled with cotton and your mind started to fuzz into mush with the only thing playing on loop being San and what he had planned for you.

Every move he made was delicate, calculated. He made sure everything he did was perfect for you. His cock was starting to ache in his boxers but he couldn’t care less. The only thing he worried about was making you reach your climax. And with a staggering breath and fast-paced heart, he knew you were close, just needing one more push. “Come on pretty girl. You can do it.” he brushed his nose against your neck before slowly kissing up your jaw until his breath was tickling your ear… “I wanna feel you come all over my fingers.”

He moved swiftly to keep his slow rubs but changed his pointer finger with his thumb before slipping just one finger inside you. Your gasp was high-pitched, stroking out a cry. You felt a tear breaching your eyes as you’ve never felt anything inside you before. Your whole body became over sensitive, and a snap undid all the pent-up pleasure that was running rampant through you. “San, San, San, Oh… Fuck!!”

“That’s it. You are such a good girl.” He kisses your cheek, slowing his fingers before coming to a stop. He let you lay there for a moment, just listening to each others heartbeats and heavy breaths. He moved beside you, pulling his hand out of your underwear so he could hold you close. He wanted to wait, see if you wanted to continue. Deep down, he desired more. He loved nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until you were a screaming mess. But he needed to know where your lines were. What you needed. And if that meant stopping tonight right now… He would be more than satisfied.

You laid there for a moment, feeling suddenly overwhelmed that San was pleasuring you. You smiled… Then sighed, before laughing. Covering your face with your arm, you felt tears starting to pool in your eyes. This got San worried. He sat up straight, sitting on his knees next to you. “Baby are you okay? Did I hurt you?” San was mortified thinking you were crying. He hurt you. He’s finished. He was ready to pack his bags and leave if you said the words, but when he grabbed your arm and moved it away from your beautiful face, he saw a smile. A crooked, hysterical smile… oh no…

“Baby…” He said with caution.

You looked him in the eyes and finally stopped, “You know, if I knew sex felt like this, I would have jumped you sooner.”

Now it was his turn to start laughing, falling to sit on his ass. He threw back a whole chesty laugh. Some filled with pure joy and relief. “Baby, you scared me for a second. I thought I had hurt you.”

You sat up, placing your hands on his bare chest, gliding them along his toned skin towards his shoulders before resting on the back of his neck. “You could never hurt me, Sannie.” The laughter had calmed, and the tension began to grow again. Your lips found his in a soft, almost pleading kiss. A silent beg to continue the evening. So San gently laid you back down, not letting his lips break away from yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing along your own. The feeling was strange at first but quickly turned you on. His hands kept roaming your body, squeezing your curves and plump love handles. For the first time in your life, you didn’t feel insecure anymore. Maybe not confident, but you felt comfort. Safe in San’s arm. And as he slowly pulled down your shorts, you didn’t shutter away this time. You instead invited him. Helped him remove the fabrics until you were completely bare to him.

“So beautiful. My stunning girl. God, I can’t believe you are all mine.” He moaned into your mouth, shaking his own shorts off before sitting up to lean over to the nightstand. You took this moment to gaze down at San’s shorts and boxers sitting at his knees and his very hard cock against his abdomen. You gulped at this thickness. You’ve never seen a cock in real life before and they were certainly intimidating. “This is going to be very cold but It’ll be only for a moment.”

San’s voice caught your attention as you snapped your head back to him, seeing him shimmy out of his clothes so he could also now be completely naked. He had a condom and some lube in his hand. Cracking opening the bottle, his eyes met yours with a soft expression as if he was apologizing in advance. You spread your legs for him, letting him rub some of the ice-cold gel on you. The gasp you let out echoed around the room. It was certainly cold, to say the least, but there was something pleasurable about the temperature change. “Fuck, s-sannie.”

“Yeah, I know I’m sorry. You’re being such a good girl. Just a little more.” he cooed, finally finishing applying the lubricant. He tore open the packet of the condom but before he could roll the sheer rubber on his cock, you sat up and grabbed his hand.

“D-do you have to put that on?” Your voice got stuck in his head, making him almost choke on his own spit.

“I uh… I don’t think getting you pregnant is a good idea, sweetheart.” He chuckled awkwardly. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you raw but he wasn’t about to without knowing you two could be as safe as you can be. There was silence for a moment as you suddenly felt embarrassed. You didn’t like talking about your experience on birth control but since your relationship with San had moved up the ladder, it was better to explain it now.

“I’m on the bar. It was to help with my period… b-but it helps with not getting pregnant….” God you’ve ruined the mood, haven’t you? Of course, you are the perfect person to ruin the idea of sex cause you spoke about your goddamn period.

“Fuck me…” San’s groan snapped you out of your overthinking mind. “Do you want me to fuck you, raw baby? Huh? God what are you doing to me.” Blush littered your face, your ears also turning a bright crimson at the sound that spilled from San’s lips. He grabbed his cock, squeezing it with a hitched breath. He felt like he was about to bust right then and there just from your sweet innocent suggestion. “Fuck and here I thought you were my sweet girl?”

“I-I am…I j-jus…” San silenced your stutters with a simple soft kiss, smiling through it. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a tingle in your gut. Like butterflies were tickling you. All your senses were already heightened, but San knew how to make your mind even more dizzy than it already was.

“It’s okay, beautiful. I’m gonna fuck you nice and raw.” He kissed your jaw so gently you almost didn’t feel it. “Fill you up.” He kissed your collarbone, making you grab onto his shoulders. His tight grip on your hip made your breath hitch as you felt his nails dig slightly into your plump flesh. San grabbed his stroked his cock roughly, rubbing his tip against your soaked folds.

This caused you to let out a shaky whimper. “S-Sannie.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m going to make you feel me for days. Now be a good girl and take a deep breath.” He cooed, pushing his bulbous tip into your hole just slightly. You took in a sharp breath feeling every inch of his cock slowly slip into you. A burning sensation erupted from your core, leaving an ache in its wake. Tears began to form at the pain. You tried to breathe, take deep breaths like San had instructed but it was suddenly very hard to do anything when this pain began to cloud your mind.

“S-San. It h-hurts.” You cried, squeezing his shoulders tightly to the point your nails had dug little crescent shapes into his skin. He rubbed your hips, kissed your neck. Did anything to keep you distracted. He knew it would hurt the first time round, and he felt guilt shiver down his spine at the tears that fell from your beautiful face.

“I know, sweet thing. It’ll go away soon. Come here, baby.” He released a hand from your hips to grab your chin, making you look at him with pleading eyes. His lips met yours again in a gentle, passionate kiss. he inched a little more inside you, and you bit his lip in the process, causing him to moan. And then he sunk in some more, and your nails scratched down his bare back, leaving harsh red marks behind. Every inch he gave, every bit of pain he was forcing you, reciprocated. It was like some beautifully painful dance. That was until he completely bottomed you out.

“Oh my fucking god.” You whimpered. After that brief moment of pain, everything quickly subsided into a warmth of pleasure you have never experienced before. Your body grew suddenly away of how connected you were to San. How close you were. It made you feel loved, cherished. Admired even. Your arms wrapped wrapped tightly around San’s neck, bringing him down for a sloppy kiss before whispering. “Move.”

And he did as you pleased, slowly, inch by inch he pulled out… Until only his tip was inside your aching hole and then with some force pushed back inside you in one swift thrust. Your head threw back at the feeling, letting San latch his hungry mouth on your jugular. Your whole body felt like it was lit on fire from the inside out. A fire that only left room for San. His scent, his movements, his body. Your skin was sensitive to the touch, and both your toes and fingertips were tingling. Pure ecstasy would be the only way to describe what you were feeling.

“There we go. Such a pretty baby. You gonna cream on my cock for me. Please sweetheart I need to feel you come around me.” San’s gravelled words sent shock waves through you. His hot long licking stripes on your sweaty neck, tasting the saltiness your beautiful body was gifting him. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to be inside you forever. Every waking moment, he wanted nothing more than to be this close to you. Maybe he could try to convince you to cock warm him while you both play video games together. He thought. Or better yet, what if you kept his dick warm with your perfect mouth while he was busy in Zoom meetings or working at his desk. Argh, the image in San’s mind would run rampant. He was going to teach you everything he knows and more.

“S-Sannie please.” You hiccuped, feeling yourself creep closer to the edge. But you needed more. So San gripped the back of your hair and pulled. This gave him more of your neck to attack, biting down on your left side, you screamed. “Ahh Fuck!!”

Deep moans escaped your lips over and over like a sweet melody to San’s ears. He pounded harder, bringing his free hand that was perched on your hips to your ankles, helping you lift them over his broad shoulders. You were successfully folding in half for your lover, giving him the perfect angle to pound harder into you while rubbing your clit in fast circles. “Come one sweet thing. I need you to come so I can empty my load into this greedy fucking pussy.”

His words, the angle, his fingers and thrusts. Everything became too much. Too quickly. A snap erupted through your body and a silent scream fell from your saliva-covered lips. “Jesus fucking christ…” San moaned as he felt your cunt tighten around him, making his hips stutter before he stills entirely, unloading his thick cum deep inside you. Both of you laid there for a moment, panting. San had slowly moved your legs until you were laying flat while he stayed on top of you, caging you in his body warmth. Your hands played with the ends of his hair while his began to massage your hips and thighs.

No words were spoken.

Nothing needed to be said. You both simply enjoyed being close to one another. San’s hands would quickly wander a little too far, leading his fingers to graze against your completely soaked cunt that San was still very much deep inside. Actually, now that he thinks of it, there was a lot of liquid all over the sheets. This made San sit up. “Holy fuck…”

“W-what?!” You were startled at San’s sudden deep growl, sitting on your elbows you looked down and became mortified.

“You fucking squirted.” San said enthusiastically “That is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

You fell down with a huff, redness painted your face once again, and your arm covered your eyes. San chuckled, giving you a little thrust, making you hiss out. “Come on, baby. don’t shy away now.” You couldn't help but smile at your lover boy's chuckle. His lips kissed your cheek before moving your rm slowly away from your face. “Hey there beautiful…”

He pressed his lips against yours, gifting you the most loving kiss he could conjure. His heartbeat matched yours in that moment, skipping at the thought he was determined to spend the rest of his life with you. You were everything he could ever want and need. And little did he know you felt the same too.

- ♡

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© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

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[gguk-n]

The Exception (Max Verstappen x y/n)

Summary- 4 times Max let y/n get away with whatever she wanted and 1 time he didn't.

I just have so much love for maxie and I wanna show it so it came out as this. Hope you like it!! I hope maxie is only loved tbh

Max was very young when he had moved to a Netherland. If someone asked him when it was, he'd probably never be able to tell. But he could tell you about the annoying neighbours he had growing up. Yes, he did spend most of his time karting and didn't have the time at home or in school like normal kids his age would but the fleeting moments spent at that house in Netherland left behind fond memories that he can look back and only because of a certain little girl with chubby cheeks and two identical braids on either side of her head who had made quite a place in his life. Jos wasn't very happy with Max wasting his time entertaining those kids but he couldn't do much when the children's father was a tall bulky man who could take Jos out in one punch, insisted on letting the kids play together. The tall man had 3 kids Max noticed when he had dinner at their place for the first time; the oldest being the girl who we mentioned before followed by 2 younger brothers who seemed to love karting. They asked Max so many questions about it that they got scolded by their mother for ruining dinner for everyone but Max thought was cute because the youngest couldn't even pronounce karting but had a lot to say. Every time he would spend time with his neighbours, it would always be with the 2 young boys who wanted to learn how to kart better and become like Max like the younger one put it. Even now it makes Max laugh reminiscing about those days. They never really made it professionally though.

2008

Max and the 2 boys were playing around when their older sister asked if they would like to join her for a session of afternoon tea with Mr Whale and Miss Teapot. The brothers made a face of disgust and ran away from her, dejected she turned around when Max agreed. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She quickly dragged him into her room and had him sit next to Mr Longneck, the giraffe. An hour later Max was found in Y/N's room with two pigtails if you could call them that on the top of his head, a tiara and the prettiest necklace Y/N owned. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but laugh. Y/N on the contrary looked pleased with her handy work. She thanked him for being a good and compliant customer and to come back again if he ever wanted to look pretty. It wasn't easy to get Max to do what you wanted except he couldn't say no to her puppy eyes. She even gave him a drawing of him in his kart saying that it would bring him good luck since she couldn't be there and placed her favourite bracelet on his hand.

If Y/N was to ask him about the bracelet, Max would say he lost it as soon as she gave it to him, but deep down in the watch drawer of Max's Monaco apartment sat a brightly neon pink bracelet with Y/N’s initials.

2014

Y/N had started highschool and remained the annoying self Max had come to love. Her over the top demeanor and affection to screaming at the top of her lungs whenever she spotted Max never failed to make him smile. Having joined Formula one this year, meant Max was way to busy to be home but Y/N seemed to never forget to text him regularly. She would ask him to get autographs of other drivers or souvenirs from different countries. It was a regular race weekend when Y/N texted Max asking him to explain how the engine in a go kart worked. In a split second Max was on call with her asking "why she needed that?" to which she replied "I'm doing a project on that. I even made a small scale replica of your cart Look here!!!" She exclaimed. "I just need to shrink you and place you inside it" Y/N laughed. Max told her not to worry and that he would text her the details in a hour or so. Actually it took a couple hours and Y/N was starting to get agitated and called him back. Max replied with a almost done and smiled at her. He had literally written her entire report for her and sent it to review. Y/N almost screamed when she saw the assignment. She thanked Maxie for doing this for her and that she owed him her life. Max was just happy to be of help, he told himself more than he told her because who stays up till 5 in the morning on a race weekend doing someone else’s project.

He kept the small scale replica of his Kart on the mantle above the fireplace if anyone wanted to know what happened to the kart.

2018

Y/N was freshly 18, so getting drunk was the only thing on her agenda. On a night out, she was so drunk that no one could get her to move because she wanted her Maxie and would only leave with Maxie, she enunciated. Her friend was able to open up Y/N phone and thankfully find a Maxie in her favourite contacts. She called the number to be met with a groggy but worried voice. "Hi! This is Y/N's friend Kate speaking. Am I speaking with a....maxie?" she said tentatively. Max let out a sign while rubbing his eyes, "Yes, this is Max speaking." "Can you come pick Y/N up?" She asked hesitantly followed by, "She won't leave with anyone but you apparently." Max was already out of bed and near the door when he said "I'll be there in 10, where are you guys at?" She sent him the location and waited for 'maxie'. Nothing could've prepared them for this. They had thought Maxie was a friend, a boyfriend maybe even a neighbour; they did not think Maxie was Max Verstappen, F1 driver for Redbull racing. He apologised for the inconvenience and crouched down to Y/N level who seemed to have realised that he was here. She cupped his cheeks and giggled while turning his head to the crowd of people standing, "Look, this is my Maxie." Hearing Y/N say my maxie made his heart beat faster then it should've, he admits but that girl had a tight hold on his heart and he couldn't really do much about it. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Max asking him to carry her since her legs felt like mush. Max gladly carried her back to his car, as he fastened her seat belt she asked him to take her back to his place since her parents would probably disown her if she come in drunk for the 6th time this week. Max looked shocked and asked her to stop drinking so much since it wasn't good for her. All Y/N could mumble was that the alcohol made the pain in her heart bearable. This broke Max's heart. Who would dare hurt his precious little angle, if he met that guy he was so dead, Max thought. Little did he know that guy was the one driving her back home.

Y/N was a nuisance when drunk, she reminded him of the little girl he had befriended when he moved here. She wouldn't listen to anything he asked her to do that night until he agreed to let her do make up on him which he would gladly agree to, real or not.

2022

Y/N had recently graduated and was looking for a place to stay. It was one of those nights after a fruitless apartment hunt Y/N facetimed Max. He looked very comfortable in his sim racing chair in his luxurious apartment in Monaco having moved recently. "Maxie" the younger girl sighed. "Meisje, what's the problem?" came a concerned voice. "I can't seem to find a decent apartment, I've been at it for months now." she said. Max offered to help her find the right place and Y/N started listing out all the things she wanted in her apartment which was sounding a lot like Max current apartment which was true, that was Y/N's dream apartment currently; after seeing it a couple months ago when she had visited him as a housewarming surprise and even held a party for him. "You can move to Monaco, the house you're looking for is here" Max said. After a long pause Y/N replied with a chuckle, "I don't make formula 1 money. I'm too broke to afford a house here. In Monaco, I'd have to sell my organs to afford a place there." As if it was the most obvious thing, Max offered her to stay at his place and look for a job here.

The allure of Monaco was too much and Y/N was able to thankfully find a job there so that she wouldn't be completely dependent on Max which he wouldn't have minded. Max never let her pay rent, he'd always tell her to cook good food and that was rent sorted.

2023

It was the night of the Abu Dhabi grand prix. Max had just won his third WDC so him and his friends decided to go out to celebrate, Y/N included. The night carried on as usual, Max not touching much of the alcohol since Y/N decided to down drinks like a thirsty person. She was now in the middle of the dance floor making herself familiar with Lando's crotch, much to Max's dismay. He made his way to her and led her away from Lando while she shouted at him to let her go. They were now stood in the quieter part of the club but you could still hear the music blasting. Y/N looked visibly annoyed at being taken away from the dance floor. "You are drunk, you'll regret it tomorrow." Max said. "That's for sober me to deal with. Drunk me just wants to forget about everything and having an eventful night with a guy would do just the trick." she said. Max winced at the words and held her arms so that she could steady herself. "I don't wanna feel like this," was this the alcohol giving her the confidence, "the guy I've been in love with for ages can't seem to see me as a woman. I've been trying for years now. If I walked out naked, I'm sure he wouldn't even be phased." she sounded dejected. "Any guy would want you, Meisje." Max whispered. "But not the one I do" she stepped closer, enough that their breaths mingled. The woman in front of him was driving Max mad, had she not been drunk he would've shown her how much any man would want her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes before saying, "He's so dumb, can't even see the woman in front of him." The statement felt oddly targeted. "You know, he's a 3 time world drivers champion and he doesn't even get that I love him so much." she said while looking into his eyes. "You're in love with me?" Max exclaimed. "I have been since the day you let me make pigtails on your hair but thanks for realising now." she replied sarcastically. "You're drunk, you don't know what your saying" Max replied. "Well, sober me would never tell you this but I love you Max Verstappen. So much that you make my heart beat faster and my chest swell when you look at me. I think about marrying you and having a family with you, but you think I'm joking." she declared. Max couldn't help but smiled, "Tell me all of this in the morning when you're sober so that I can tell you that I love you too schat and then I can finally kiss you." "You can kiss me now" Y/N made a kissy face and eagerly leaned in. Max shook his head and carried her back to the hotel room.

Y/N indeed remembered everything and the first thing she did even though she wreaked of alcohol was finally kiss those soft pink lips.

this is just brain rot at this point. hope you liked it

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris

[stalkerr-daddy]

As we’re hanging out and smoking, I encourage you to take a big hit for me, once you do it and you’re coughing and trying to catch your breath I praise you, “you’re such a good girl! You did such a great job for me!” Seeing how much you like that, I encourage you to take more hits for me, using your praise kink against you and for my own benefit. Getting you so high you start getting dizzy, you can’t think, all you can do is close your eyes to stop the room from spinning. As you lay there unable to move I take advantage of you, sliding my hand up your shirt, groping your tits, kissing on your neck. I put my hand between your thighs and feel that your pussy is dripping wet and needy, I pull your panties to the side and finger fuck you, praising you for being so wet for me as I tell you to cum on my fingers, as you cum, I keep fingering your wet hole, forcing you to cum over and over again until your pussy is throbbing and overstimulated. You start whining and crying, saying you can’t take it anymore and I get behind you, shoving your face into the bed, muffling your cries and I shove my cock deep into your overstimulated pussy. As my thrusts get harder and more desperate, it breaks your brain more and more with each and every thrust. Your body can’t take it anymore, you start shaking uncontrollably, crying and screaming as you have no choice but to cum over and over again on my cock until I’m done with you, filling your pussy full of my cum, letting it leak out of you and leaving you there like the broken doll you are now

#bd/sm daddy #bd/sm kink #cnc k!nk #cnc free use #free use kink #rough cnc #rough daddy #rough kink #breeding k1nk #intox kink #intox cnc

[woso-dreamzzz]

Knight

Katie McCabe x England!Reader

Summary: You yell at your sister

"Well, well, well," Beth teases the moment she comes in from the showers. Her finger waggles in your direction. "If it isn't the knight in shining armour!"

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

"I think you silenced the whole stadium," Steph agrees with a little laugh," I've never seen you speak so loudly before!"

"Please stop talking."

"I mean, once second Katie's getting tackled and the next you look like you're about to clobber your sister!"

You huff, pulling on your shirt. "She shouldn't have come anywhere near Katie. It was reckless and stupid and Katie could have been seriously hurt!"

The image still replays in your mind. It stayed running on loop throughout the whole of your shower.

You don't know what was up with your sister this whole match but she clearly had it out for Katie. Wherever Katie was, so was your sister, sliding in on Katie's ankle time after time after time.

You'd had enough around the seventieth minute when Beth slid in and sent Katie tumbling to the ground.

And, yeah, maybe you yelled. Maybe you practically silenced the stadium with how loud you'd done it and maybe the almighty Spurs captain that was your sister, was greeted with the reason why everyone always compared you to Mum.

Mum was quiet. Some might even describe her as meek but she could yell. She rarely did but when it happened, everyone knew they had gone a step too far.

You'd always been like Mum, quiet enough that it was almost to your detriment, nervous enough that you didn't fight your own battles sometimes. You looked like her. You sounded like her.

You had her disposition and attitudes.

The colour had drained from Beth's face the moment you raised your voice, echoing across the pitch from your goal at the Arsenal end. She went as white as her shirt and backed up immediately...

And you had gone back into your goal silently.

You should have known no one was going to let it go.

Least of all, your actual girlfriend who, surprisingly, hadn't joined in on the teasing but had stayed stuck to your side ever since the match ended.

She'd shared a shower with you. She's changed with you and now, she was sat in her cubby waiting for you to finish braiding your hair out of your face.

"I think it was very sweet," She says finally, an easy grin on her face," Truly a knight in shining armour."

"Don't you start," You mutter, grabbing your back and throwing it over your shoulder," This is already embarrassing enough. I need to apologise to Beth."

"You don't need to apologise to me!" Arsenal Beth laughs and you roll your eyes again, sticking up your middle finger as you walk out with Katie.

"You looked good though," Katie says as soon as you're out of eavesdropping range of the changing room," Defending me and all that."

You huff. "Beth shouldn't have been going in on you like that and that ref was useless."

"But, still, the shouting? I don't think I've ever heard you shout like that before. Not even when I made your hot chocolate with water."

You stamp your foot childishly. "Hot chocolate made with water is sacrilegious and not acceptable in my house."

Katie rolls her eyes, an arm thrown over your shoulder. "Your sister really got what was coming to her. It's nice that I'm not the one coming away with the yellow today."

"Don't worry," You reply wryly," I'm sure you'll make up for it next match."

"We still up for dinner tonight?"

"So long as Beth keeps her feet to herself."

It was tradition now that at the end of a London Derby, you would go and have dinner with your parents and your sister. Katie too, though she had been a more recent addition since you had started dating.

"Your sister isn't crazy," Katie laughs," But don't worry." She winks at you. "You'll keep her in line, my knight in shining armour."

"Don't call me that," You say with no real bite in your tone," Because then everyone else will call me that too. I've only just shed Pigeon. Don't bring in another one."

"Don't worry," Katie says, sliding into the driver's seat," I won't let anyone else hear me use it."

"Katie-"

"Except maybe your sister but I can't control that."

"What did you say to her today?" You ask, staring out the window as Katie drove to the usual restuarant.

"To who?"

"To my sister. She isn't that aggressive usually and I know you, Katie. You're a shit-stirrer."

"I didn't!"

"I know you," You repeat," Come on, I won't be mad."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Katie sighs. "I made a joke."

"A joke?"

"Yeah."

"About?"

"Our sex life."

You sigh, a little laugh bubbling out from your throat. "Oh, Katie. Not again."

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

[januaryembrs]

i love your sunshine!reader x specer fics so much and ngl it's one of the best spencer fics i've ever read. i was wondering how the team would react to them dating? did anyone ever suspect that there was something going on between them or were they completely clueless??

PDA | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

description: Sunshine reader is worried about telling Unit Chief Prentiss about their budding relationship, despite Spencer telling her she's being dramatic.

length: 1.8k

warnings: fluff, TINY BIT OF HOTCHNISS BECAUSE I AM STILL MAD ABOUT THEIR SCENE AT JJ'S WEDDING I have never been blue ballsed so hard.

“Sweetheart, I think you need to calm down,” Spencer’s voice was calm and soothing, as was his hand that skirted down her arm to take hers in his own. Her palm was warm, the tiniest bit clammy as he meshed their fingers together, and stroked over the back of her knuckles with his thumb, “It’s only Emily,” 

“I know, I know, it’s just,” She conceded, and she smushed her face into his chest as a last ditch effort to revel in his affection before they had to go back to remaining professional, the elevator quickly approaching the sixth floor, “I feel like we’re breaking the rules. Are you positive it said nothing in the papers about workplace relationships?” 

“I would stake my life on it, believe me. Me and page fifty nine, sub section five, clause three are tight as can be,” Spencer reassured, after he had spent a good seven minutes reading through their entire contract, front and back, in an attempt to make her feel better because she knew she couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it, even more so couldn’t keep her hands and lips off Spencer for such an extended amount of time now she’d had him.

He watched the illuminated digits flick from four to five, and he yielded his restraint just the tiniest bit, knowing they might not get a chance to love on eachother so unapologetically until the work day was over. Spencer brought his hand that wasn’t wound tightly in her own around her shoulders, squeezing her to him with a pressed kiss to her forehead, the gesture full of eight hours worth of affections. 

Five turned to six just a little too fast for his liking and he was forced to let go of her as the doors slid open, trying to ignore the saddened expression on her face as they parted, the way her lips turned into a pout like a kicked puppy. 

“Good morning, my angels!” Penelope chirped, a sweet coffee with a buttload of creamer swirling around her octopus mug as she headed for her office, walking right past the two agents who looked like they’d forgotten how to behave normally. 

“Morning, Penelope,” She sang back, smiling at the woman who hummed as she walked, a skip in her step, yet the second the tech analyst entered her lair, the younger slapped a hand on Spencer’s arm, turning to him with wide eyes, “Oh my god, she knew!” 

He chuckled, shaking his head and resting a hand on her lower back, leading her to the bullpen as she fretted, “Relax, she did not know. And even if she did, we’re not doing anything wrong,” He cooed, thankful that the floor was empty besides Emily where she poked around her office, moving some folders between her desk and cabinet, “Derek dated pretty much every woman on the second floor within the first term of me being here, Penelope dated Kevin from Internal Affairs for years,” 

“But that’s, like, between floors, between departments. There’s no way they can get distracted if there’s a whole bunch of concrete and carpet between them,” She explained, and the two of them headed for their joint desk so they could set their bags down, “When I look at you, I get side tracked thinking about your beautiful hair and your stupidly handsome face and kissing you and-” She puffed her cheeks out, flustered already. 

“That sounds really difficult for you, I don’t know how you ever get anything done.” Spencer said with an indulging smile, because his favourite thing might just be humouring her. Besides kissing her and everything that came with it ofcourse.

“It’s a struggle, I’ll tell you now,” She said, almost unaware he wasn’t being serious as she looked at him finally, the glint in his eyes he got when he was teasing her, “It is. I nearly tipped coffee over my lap yesterday because you fixed your hair, it’s infuriating.”

He smiled, fighting every urge in him that wanted to pull her back into his chest and kiss her face a dozen times, because he knew she wasn’t joking when she said she was worried about breaking the rules. He knew Emily would be fine with them dating, they’d all turned a blind eye to the clear tension and lingering glances that had gone between her and Hotch for years, but he hated seeing her so frazzled, so he complied with her strict no PDA rule. 

He would just have to give it to her twice over later, when they were alone, and the thought of it excited him already. 

“Alright, alright, let’s do this. Am I speaking or are you speaking?” She asked, rubbing her sweating hands over her legs, and he shrugged. 

“I’ll do the talking, will you just do something for me,” He said, his voice calm and collected as he took the stairs, her footsteps nervously trailing behind him. 

“Sure, anything,” She said, looking up at him with wide eyes where he stood a whole step above her. 

“Take a deep breath,” He reminded her, grinning when he heard her pause and do as he’d said, because this was just Emily. 

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, meeting him at the top of the landing, where he waited by the office door, watching her with gentle eyes, “I just really don’t want to mess anything up, least of all with you,” 

He quickly tucked a slither of hair behind her ear in guilty pleasure, “You’re not messing anything up, I promise.” He murmured, his cadence low and calming because she already seemed worked up and they hadn’t even opened the door, “You ready?” 

She nodded after another deep breath, and he knocked on the door with those boney knuckles of his. 

Barely waiting for Emily to invite them in, he strode into the office, her trailing behind him like she was waiting for a scolding, and Spencer simply cleared his throat. 

“Everything okay?” Emily asked, her dark eyes scanning between the two of them, a look of concern flitting over her face, “Why do you guys have a weird look on your face? Did you chip Penelope’s mug again? Was it the good one? Oh man, she’ll kill you, that was her favourite-”

The rookie shook her head, and before she could breath and regulate like Spencer had been trying to tell her it happened; the word vomit she’d been shoving down for fifteen days, “We’re dating! We’re seeing each other together, I mean were seeing together, I mean wait, hang on-” 

Spencer put a hand on her shoulder to hush her, and she stopped then and there, sensing he could take over for her, because she’d quickly realised she was not one to handle pressure. 

“What she means to say is we’re dating, and according to page fifty nine, sub section five, clause three of our contract, workplace relations are acceptable as long as they aren’t hindrance to either the team or the work, so,” Spencer tucked his hand into his pocket, the other still gentle as it stroked her back soothingly, “Is that okay?” 

Emily shrugged, her lips twitching to hide the broad smile that begged to be released. 

“That seems reasonable to me,” She said politely, looking to where the rookie seemed to have found her words. 

“Th-that’s it, we’re not in trouble?” She asked on bated breath, her brows furrowed and confused. 

“Look, are you guys happy?” She nodded vehemently immediately, and Emily threw her hands up, “Then, there you go. As long as there’s no funny business in the office, it’s none of my concern,”

“Funny business?” She asked, and Spencer ran a hand over her braid she’d twisted into running down the back of her head, a small smile tugging at his lips, as he and Emily exchanged a look.

“No bang bang on company time,” Emily said plainly, ignoring the way the girl stiffened, her face hot and embarrassed as she shook her head. 

“Never, no, never. Never ever,” She spluttered, and Spencer took it as his signal to get her some space, “None of that ever, Emily, you don’t have to worry-”

“Who broke the rookie?” Tara asked, entering Emily’s office with a stack of folders in her arms, her eyes quickly zeroing in on the way Reid’s arm wrapped around her waist, and she turned to Emily with a knowing smirk, “You owe me ten bucks, Prentiss,” 

“Hold on, you guys bet on us?” Spencer asked, his expression dropping because he’d thought that the two of them had been subtle the past few weeks, even if his sweet girlfriend looked like she was keeping bees in her mouth every time there was a pause, like the secret had been begging to come out any second it got. 

Emily seemed guilty, though perhaps scathed would be a better term as she fished a bill out of her purse and handed it to Tara. 

“JJ owes forty, so I’m not too torn up about it,” She replied, catching JJ’s bluebell hues as she swanned past the office window, her eyes narrowing on the way the youngest agent was all but pressed into Spencer’s ribcage, the two of them looking like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole. 

Her face morphed into chagrin, “Two more weeks, and I would have been up by sixty bucks, you guys,” She bit at the happy couple, turning on her heel to where Luke was sipping coffee at his desk, clueless to the meeting they were having in Emily’s office, “Alvez, cough up. They told Emily already,” 

There was some sound of indignation from the desks below as Luke rummaged through his wallet, and Tara looked like that cat that got the cream as the wads of dollar bills made their way to her. 

“This is gross misconduct of workplace trust,” Spencer said, his lips pursed into something annoyed, and he could feel the way her face burnt with embarrassment without even having to look at her, “Alright, we are going out to get coffee, since we’re the only ones who know how to handle things like adults,” 

He led her out with a tight, protective grip, shielding her mortified expression from the rest of the office as they got back into the elevator, and he damned himself when he let her hug into his chest again, though this time it was to hide her humiliation in his shirt. 

“It’s okay, at least it’s out there now. No more secrets,” He comforted, and she nodded silently, her cheeks still on fire where the shame weaselled its way out of her face, “And, hey, it’s not like they can go on forever. They’ll have to give up some time,”

The group watched the doors close behind them, Luke immediately turning to the three women with an impish look in his eye, “Twenty says they’ll engage within a year,” Tara scoffed, waving her money in his face as Emily rooted around for more money, “You’re on, I give it eight months,”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

[reidrum]

two millimeters | s.r

a/n: this was literally born bc i saw reid lying on the couch in the jet at the end of demons and thought ‘i would literally sit against that wall to watch over him on the way back’ so i wrote it

summary: spencer gets hurt and you’re not leaving his side

cw: season 9 finale spoilers for angels & demons, cm violence, hurt/comfort, unestablished relationship

wc: 0.6k

___________________________________________

two millimeters to the right, and it would’ve hit his carotid.

the sentence replays in your head like a cursed mantra, rendering your other senses useless. you couldn’t hear the doctor say you could see him now, or feel penny tug your arm towards the room. and you certainly couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw spencer reid in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and iv drips, with a big fucking gauze dressage on the side of his neck.

you knew your line of work was dangerous, being a federal agent who hunts down serial killers should be enough to prove that. but it never surprised you seeing the panic that overtook all of you when one of your own was hurt.

the pure terror you felt in this moment though, was something without parallel.

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

you’re not even sure how it happened. they were on the way to tell the preacher he was innocent, and instead he opens fire on federal agents? it was a cruel twist of fate, spencer doing what he could to protect his people and pushing blake out of the way but getting hit himself. it wasn’t anyone’s fault either, the preacher had military grade machine guns, and spencer would have done what he did for anyone. you made sure to tell blake that.

but your spencer was hurt. and all you wanted to do was take away his pain somehow, and toss it in a river to never be seen again.

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

“hey,” you hear a voice pull you out of your head. looking up you’re met with tired soft brown eyes lying down on the jet’s couch, “i’m okay, honey. please go sit on a chair.”

if spencer had all his strength he would lecture you on the dangers of not being properly restrained on an aircraft and the statistics of plane related injuries. but that was the problem, he didn’t have all his strength. and you were not going to let him out of your sight.

which is why you are sitting on the floor of the jet, perched in front of the couch where spencer laid, resting your head on the cushion his head was on, body leaning against couch’s frame. and you planned to stay right there until you landed back in quantico.

“looks like this flight is overbooked,” your section unit chief teased upon seeing you on the ground, “hopefully the brass sees our good work and gives us a bigger jet next year.”

morgan, hotch, even jj offered you their seats to at least get some rest, something you hadn’t had in days.

“i’m fine right here.” you spoke softly.

jj and penny looked at you in concern, but knew you wouldn’t be swayed to move anyway. your stubbornness always acted as a curse and a blessing.

spencer moved his hand to graze your cheek gently, “the doctors fixed me up really good, i promise i’m okay.”

you move your hand to rest on top of his, slowly rubbing your thumb into the curve of his palm, “and i promise i’m okay right here. i’m not moving.”

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

two millimeters would haunt you for many years to come, but maybe right now you could use it to measure how much closer you can get to spencer till there’s only two millimeters between you.

spencer knew this was a war he was not winning, and let his hand intertwine with yours. if you weren’t so close to him you might’ve missed the faintest “thank you” escape from his lips. the jet takes off and the two of you are lulled to sleep almost immediately. the rest of the team unspokenly watched over you both, making sure you weren’t rattling around or spencer rolling around too much. and penny couldn’t help but take a few pics to show you later.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #mgg #dr spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fic

[theyluvkarolina]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍’ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` And then I go and spoil it all, By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you" ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃?: Yes! (Part of 1K Event!)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ Being Max’s strategist is a experience you’d cherish forever. The constant laughter, friendly teasing, shared smiles after wins, is also something Max would never change. But in Max's case, he see’s nothing of this as simply friendly. But sometimes, words are best kept to oneself.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ Max Verstappen x Strategist!Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ some photos of kelly get used but i blur out her face, rejection, ANGSTY 🥴🥴, a very slight song fic? (they are listening to it so not really a song fic)

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ So so sorry this took longer than expected! My schedule was not my bestie last week 😞 but i have a very special note for my pookie bear ash at the bottom 🫶🫶 (FOLLOW HER ON @maxtermind !! SHE HAS AMAZING WORKS)

1K EVENT MASTERLIST

2021

y/n_rbstrat ✔︎

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, danielricciardo, and others

y/n_rbstrat Max. Maxie. Max Emilian Verstappen ladies and gentlemen, your 2021 World Champion. I’m so lucky and proud to have been your strategist and I pray it’s this way for years to come. Seeing you grow along with me is something I’m forever grateful for. I love you so much, my best friend 🩷

tagged ; maxverstappen1, redbullracing

2,409 comments

username1 STOP THE MAX CELEBRATION POST :(

username2 what if i started crying rn

username3 “I love you so much, my best friend” hurt.

→ username4 NO BC WTF DO YOU MEAN FRIENDS??? Y/N HAVE YOU SEEN HOW HE LOOKS AT YOU?? → username5 max is punching air.

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ couldn’t have done it without the best strategist ever ❤️

→ y/n_rbstrat ✔︎ and i couldn’t have done it with the best driver ever 😊 ❤️ → landonorris ✔︎ fucking hell just kiss already → username6 HELP LANDO → username7 bro had enough → landonorris ✔︎ trust me if you see these two all the time in person and refuse to acknowledge their feelings, you want it to be done with. → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ what are you talking about?? → landonorris ✔︎ you know. → username8 if they don’t get together i think i might throw myself off the highway → charles_lelerc ✔︎ “best strategist” huh?

username9 max and y/n hugging is my roman empire.

username10 we are all delusional for y/nstappen.

maxverstappen1 ✔︎

liked by y/n_rbstrat, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and others

maxverstappen1 truly unbelievable. i want to thank red bull, my family, friends, y/n, and everyone else for their support. 2021 World Champion 🏆 🎉

tagged ; y/n_rbstrat, redbullracing

5,305 comments

username11 Y/N GETTING HER OWN MENTION HAS MY HEART 😭

username12 if they don’t date i might cry

username13 the hug 😭 ❤️

username14 i feel so single rn

charles_leclerc ✔︎ congratulations! i hope you remember our deal 😉

→ landonorris ✔︎ why wasn’t I informed about this deal??? → georgerussel63 ✔︎ we all know you can’t keep a secret lando → alexalbon ✔︎ says the one that follows gossip accounts and asks us if we know stuff in the gc. → georgerussel63 ✔︎ im not as bad as charles and pierre… those two do it in public WITHOUT SHAME 😒 → pierregasly ✔︎ DONT DRAG ME INTO THIS → username15 HELLO WHAT IS ALL OF THIS?? → username16 NO BECAUSE I NEED TO BE PART OF THIS F1 GROUP CHAT 😭

y/n_rbstrat ✔︎ stop it max i’m going to cry!! im so proud of you! i would never trade my favorite driver for anything in the world ❤️🥹

→ danielricciardo ✔︎ favorite driver??? what the hell am i?? 🙄 → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ the side piece now that you left → danielricciardo ✔︎ uncalled for. → y/n_rbstrat ✔︎ be nice boys pls :( → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ yes ma’am → danielricciardo ✔︎ simp → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ i didn’t know being nice was me being a simp → danielricciardo ✔︎ mate, i saw you literally carrying all her things into the paddock?? you never did that for me → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ last time i checked she’s MY ENGINEER → danielricciardo ✔︎ ugh whatever you say… → username17 guys idk about you but i think max only likes y/n → username18 the way he doe everything for her and she doesn’t see this as love 😭 → username19 i mean she did say in a interview she wasn’t looking for any relationships because of how good her career is doing → username20 idk about anyone else.. but I feel like the day max confesses is the day their relationship comes crashing down. → username21 DON’T START SAYING THIS BS NOW.

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In Person

The heavy, thumping bass reverberates through the walls as you stand in the corner of the club. The club was never your thing. The floors constantly holding spilled drinks and other concoctions, the smell of BO and alcohol overwhelming your senses, the crowded atmosphere filled with sweating people… safe to say if it weren’t for Max dragging you out to be with the team celebrating you would be wrapped in blankets watching some sort of trashy reality TV show.

Max finally made his way over to you, a wide grin plastered on his face, clearly in his element here. He took in the sight of you. Every curve of your body, yevery way your hair falls, the way your eyes twinkle slightly when you notice him, the look of your red lips. He can never get tired of it.

"Hey, glad you made it out," he shouted over the music, the classic rasp in his voice showing as he clapped you on the back trying to hope you haven’t noticed his staring.

You managed a weak smile, feeling out of place amidst the pulsating energy of the club. "Of course," you replied, slightly raising your voice to be heard, “ you think I’d miss celebrating your Championship win?”.

Max gave a smile, “Never. Besides, if you said no, I’d find someway to get you to come over here.”.

You raised a brow at his statement. “Really? How so?”

Max let out a hum as he sloshed his drink in his cup. “Hm… I’m not too sure. Not seeing the cats are a good place to start.”, a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your raised brow turned into a furrow in disbelief, “You wouldn’t dare… not Jimmy and Sassy… they love me!” You exclaimed while Max gave a laugh, running his hand through his blonde stands, well more of him doing a hair-tuck to his nonexistent length. The conversation soon comes to a halt, although the music is booming, it felt as if it is just you and him in the entire world at the moment. It was your own form of silence. A comfortable one.

"How about we get out of here.” He suggested, breaking the silence.

“Leave? Max, we just got here! You said-“

“I asked you to celebrate with me, I never said where. It’s my Championship win after all.” He smiled, his eyes wrinkling from his proposition. “We only met here because this is where the team would be. It’s not as if they would notice we’re gone anyways… they are too wasted to even think.”

You tried to hide your smile but failed as Max extended his hand pressing it against your back, his eyes shining with mischief.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he urged. And suddenly, the pulsating energy of the club faded into the background as if the world outside those doors was beckoning to you.

You both stepped out into the cool night air, and beyond the hustle and bustle of the city, there was a strange serenity. It was as if time slowed down, and you found myself feeling more alive than you had in a long while. Max’s hand felt warm… reassuring… friendly. A steady presence in the midst of the urban chaos.

Being a woman in the industry of Formula One caused many controversies, let alone being a engineer to one of the possible best upcoming drivers in the history of the sport. From the sexist comments from other Formula One fans, to even your own people, co-workers in the workplace. Their degrading looks given to you if you even tried to hold a conversation with them was enough to be said. It wasn’t until a response to a interview did others begin to take you seriously. One that Max himself gave.

"Max, how do you feel about having a new, female engineer like Y/N on your team, especially during such a critical incident like the one with Bottas in Hungary? Do you think her gender affected her performance under pressure and can contribute to this race in Belgium? I mean, women are known to crack more under pressure then men.“ The interviewer asked as the room went quiet, a singular cough reverberating in the room from the tension of the atmosphere becoming so thick you can cut it with a knife.

“Excuse me?” Max questioned, his voice holding a tone filled of disbelief and slight disgust.

“I said, Max, how do you feel about-“

“No, no, I understood what you said I’m not deaf.” Her cut the journalist off making the journalist pause his speech and hold his tongue. “Look, I couldn’t care less about her gender. What matters to me is if she can do the job, which she’s been doing remarkably well. And as for the incident with Bottas in Hungary, she handled the pressure just like any other competent engineer would. It wasn’t her fault. I’ll take the blame for it. Her gender has nothing to do with it. If anything, it adds a fresh perspective to our team, and that’s a good thing. Now if anyone has any other questions like this asshole over here, I would pick another question to do.”

No one dared to speak of you the way the interviewer did.

After the interview, you approached Max who happened to be watching over some data from the sim. Blue eyes focused with such intensity that he didn’t even notice you.

”Max, I wanted to thank you for standing up for me in there. It means a lot to have your support." You commented softly, not wanting to disrupt him due to Max being known for his rather… straightforward and blunt responses.

"No problem. We're a team, and a team supports each other. Your gender shouldn’t matter in the first place. It’s all about weather you can do your job and your doing just fine.” He said matter of fact.

You nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect. You weren’t used to it one bit. But it felt amazing. As if you can actually walk somewhere and not be treated as if you were a piece of dirt.

”Thanks you... I'm glad to be part of this team, and I'll keep giving my best."

A tender look graced your face as you remember the memory, finally gaining a friend in the hell of a industry, but you wouldn’t change it in the world if it meant that you got to meet Max and work with him. While you both walked along the quiet streets, the sounds of the city and the soft glow of the street lights enveloping us in a kind of magical cocoon.

“So… where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” was his only response, making you roll your eyes.

You two continued walking until you reach a secluded area on the white, sandy beach of the UAE. You look up to the dark, noir sky. The sun was long gone and the only shine that hits your skin was the moonlight, complemented by the clusters of stars crafting their own soft glow. Max stared at you as if you were some sort of marble statue, hand crafted by the Greeks.

How can someone be so beautiful?

The humming song from a nearby restaurant or bar was the only sound heard. It was a gentle melody, one that fits the mood so far into the night.

"Care to dance?” Max finally asked, snapping you out of your trance.

“Dance? What are we? In our early 20’s?” You teased, eyes meeting his blue eyes that glisten like the moon’s reflection in the oceans waves.

"Age doesn't define how we have fun," he retorted. You couldn't help but snort a bit, feeling the lightheartedness of the moment.

"Alright, why not?" you agreed, letting him lead you to a spot under the faint light of a nearby lamppost. He placed his calloused hand onto the small of your back, close to your hip just as he did to lead you out of the club, then leading your hand to be placed onto his shoulder

As the music enveloped you, you swayed to the gentle rhythm, feeling the warmth of the sand under your feet and the cool breeze from the ocean as his eyes meet yours.

`` I practice every day, To find some clever lines to say, To make the meaning come true ``

“I’m proud of you you, y’know that?”

“You’ve told me once or twice.”

“It’s true though.” You reassure.

“It’s just as true as me saying how beautiful you are.”

`` But then I think I'll wait Until the evening gets late And I'm alone with you ``

You let out a chuckle. “Smooth Max Emilian Verstappen. Very smooth. Practicing for some girl that caught your eye or something?”

His eyes slightly widen before losing contact with yours, “Maybe I am…”, his cheeks being brushed with a slight red.

“Well she must be a lucky girl. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

It goes faint.

`` The time is right, your perfume fills my head The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue ``

“Can-…” Max starts glancing back at you before cutting himself off choking on his own words.

“What is it, Max?”

“Godverdomme… can I tell you something?”

“Anything. I’m you friend after all.”

Friend.

`` And then I go and spoil it all By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you" ``

"I love you.”

“You… you what?”

Your movement stops.

“I love you Y/N. So much. Ever since you walked in the office I-“

“No… no no no… “

“…What?”

“Max… please tell me your messing with me…”

He is just your friend. But you’re his everything.

Twitter

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ Ash, my love, my pookie, the love of my life, you my love re the reason I’m here today. If it weren’t for you reaching out and becoming friends with me in March, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Whether it be reviewing our work together, watching GP’s together, sending THOSE edits to one another, and even just random rants and talks, I’m glad it was you who I was with when I started my writing journey and I wouldn’t change a thing. I really hope you like this fic, I def tried my best with it 🥹🫶 LOVE YOU LOTS LOVELY 🩷

#☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝ #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula one x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #f1 fic #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #f1 fandom #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 angst #f1 social media au #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #lando norris #george russell #charles leclerc #alex albon #pierre gasly

[fastandcarlos]

Not Without You : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: filled with alcohol, carlos could almost fall asleep, but there's one very important thing that's missing for him

Your head shook as you walked into the apartment, kicking Carlos’ shoes out of the way that he had left in the middle of the hallway. You want to be mad at him, but you can’t, placing them out of the way. There’s a faint light coming from the living room as you walk in, noticing a figure laid out across the sofa.

“Damn Carlos,” you snigger underneath your breath, placing your phone down before walking over to him. You knelt down just beside his head, brushing the hair out of his face. The smell of beer hit you as soon as you got close to him, the sign of a good night for Carlos as he went out drinking with a few of his friends. He was fast asleep, chest pressed into the sofa, completely unaware of you.

His keys and his phone had been discarded on the floor in his sleepy, tipsy state, which you quickly picked up and put on the coffee table to keep them safe. His shirt had a slight stain on it, knowing how incapable Carlos was at eating anything once he had just a single drink inside of him.

Your attention then turned to the man before you, lips parted, hands tucked in slightly to the sleeves of his jumper, feeling your heart pound with the adoration you had for Carlos hitting you hard. Your hand moved across his cheek, feeling his stubble tickle against the pad of your thumb as you try your best not to disturb him.

However, as you go to press a kiss to the top of his head before leaving him to rest, you end up doing exactly what you had tried your best not to do. You hear your name followed by the feeling of a hand around your wrist to keep you.

“When did you get here?” Carlos groggily asks you, slowly opening his eyes and flinching at the light. “Have I been asleep for long?”

“It’s almost three, I can’t imagine you’ve been asleep for long looking at the state of you,” you teased, taking a seat just beside where Carlos laid on the sofa. “Looks like you and the boys all must’ve had a good time, I don’t think I even want to ask what you all got up to together.”

Carlos stretches his hand out, craving for the feeling of your own intertwined with his. You do as he requests, sniggering as he lazily moves, huffing in discomfort as he rolls to face you and be able to face you on his side.

“I had a much better time then you did at work I imagine, are you alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you smile, offering Carlos a reassuring look. Even tipsy, he still cares, it’s by far one of your favourite things about him. “Do you want me to let you go back to sleep for a bit?”

“No,” he immediately responded, tightening his grip on you slightly. “You’re not allowed to leave me, you can only kiss me.”

You did as Carlos asked, closing the distance between the two of you. Carlos’ free hand cupped against the side of your face to bring you in, keeping you in position. Your hands rested against his chest to steady yourself as you forgot about the taste of beer that lingered on his lips for a moment and instead focused on savouring the feeling of Carlos’ touch against your skin.

After a few moments Carlos pulls away, but doesn’t let you move too far away from him. “I can smell coffee on you baby.”

“And I can smell beer on you, so I guess we’re even,” you teased in reply, dreading to think how many coffees you’d had in order to keep yourself awake. “You should really get some sleep now Carlos, I’ll be through to join you shortly.”

“I’m not moving,” he huffed, folding his arms across his chest, tapping the tiny space beside him on the sofa, inviting you to join him.

“I’m going to sort myself out,” you told him again, pushing yourself up off of the ground, using the sofa to help you. Once again, Carlos’ hand reaches out for you, but this time he’s not quick enough, reluctantly watching you walk away and head into the bathroom so you could sort yourself out and get into your cosy bed.

You were lost in your own little world as you started to get yourself ready for bed, you had a makeup wipe in hand, hair tied back as you wiped away the effects of the day. It almost didn’t seem fair how Carlos was awake after a night of fun with his friends, whilst you returned home off the back of a twelve hour shift, barely able to move anymore.

Once everything was sorted, you tidied up the bathroom, and the mess that Carlos had left in there too after he arrived home. You were ready to sleep, and for a long time too, safe in the knowledge that you’d have the bed to yourself tonight, with Carlos stubbornly unwilling to pry himself off of the sofa.

Or so you thought, as you opened the door.

“What the hell Carlos?”

Your hand grabbed onto the bathroom door in order to steady yourself, heart racing at the sight of the figure who stood as close to the doorway as he possibly could. There was a weak smile on his face as he looked blankly back at you, not realising just how much he had managed to scare you.

You reached out and pushed gently against Carlos’ chest, “what happened to not moving off of the sofa, you gave me such a fright.”

You wanted to yell and shout, but Carlos’ exhausted eyes soon stopped you. He leant against the doorway, too tired to find the strength in his legs to keep himself upright. You could only shake your head as he frowned at you, surprised you weren’t expecting him to have moved when you went away.

“The sofa was nice, but it’s not as nice as being able to lay in bed with you,” he softly speaks, keeping his voice as convincing as he can. “It’s not the same without you baby.”

You were left stunned by Carlos’ sudden confession, despite how drunk he was, you could tell by his voice just how much he meant exactly what he was saying to you, there was no doubt in your mind that he really wanted to sleep with you.

The two of you had so many moments when you were apart, that Carlos always promised himself to make the most of the ones when you were together. He made the most of every second, and made sure that every second was spent with his full attention on you. You often reassured Carlos that you understood the demand of his job, but he never took it for granted. He’d trained himself, no matter how tired, drunk or stressed he was to make sure that he still made the most of having you there with him. You never expected any of it from Carlos, and he never expected anything in return for the kindness that he showed you too, it was all that Carlos just wanted to do for you. The little moments were the ones that he treasured the most, particularly when he was able to fall asleep with you.

The closeness that you shared was the envy of others, they wished they could be as tentative and selfless as Carlos, or as sympathetic as you were. You both sacrificed a lot to make your relationship work, but the rewards at the end of it always proved to be more than worth it.

“You didn’t really want to get up, did you?” You asked as you took a hold of Carlos’ hand to help him to steady himself.

“You weren’t there,” he protested, shrugging his shoulders back at you, expecting you to be able to figure that out yourself. “There was just this cold, empty space beside me that some mean woman decided to ignore rather than cuddle up with me in.”

You had to give Carlos credit, if he was good at one thing, it was his ability to try and guilt you in order to get his own way. He knew exactly what to say to get you to do as he wanted, which was why he couldn’t help but smile when he found himself sat on the edge of your bed, watching as you looked through your drawers to try and find yourself a fresh pair of pyjamas to wear.

He’s lost in a moment of disbelief as he studies you, asking the same questions that he’s been asking for years, wondering if maybe today would finally give him the answer. How did he get so lucky? When did life get so perfect? What was it about him that drew you in and made you decide Carlos was your forever?

The click of fingers in front of his face snapped Carlos back into his reality, feeling the bed dip beside him. Your hand rested against Carlos’ thigh, squeezing against it gently. He responds by throwing his arm over your shoulders, pulling you down so that you’re both laid in the middle of your bed.

“Did you like what you saw there Sainz?” You enquired, referring back to you changing in front of him a few moments ago. There were no words, but as his smile slightly turned up, you knew exactly what Carlos was trying to tell you. “Come on, I think the both of us are on the verge of being overtired now.”

“Much better,” Carlos whispered to himself as the two of you pushed up and then pulled the duvet over you both. He could hear your giggles, unaware that you heard him, but with how drunk he was, nothing that Carlos did was quiet.

“You’re going to be such a giant pain in the morning,” you huffed as you watched Carlos relax as soon as his head hit the pillow. “You and hangovers are never a good combination for me.”

You knew all too well that Carlos was never going to remember any of this in the morning, if you told him how clingy he was or how needy he was for you to share the bed with him, he never would believe you. He could never imagine himself being so embarrassing, refusing to take on the role of soppy, emotional boyfriend.

After making himself comfortable, Carlos’ complete attention turned to you. His grip on you was incredibly strong as he pulled you into his hold, tying his legs in with your own. You were much colder than he was, still recovering from the chill in the air as you returned home, leaving Carlos running his hands along your body in order to try and warm you up a little bit.

“You’re not allowed to move for the rest of the night,” Carlos told you as he pressed a lazy kiss against the top of your head, “you’re mine forever now.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to escape even if I tried,” you joked, barely able to move in amongst Carlos’ tight embrace.

“I love you.”

“Carlos,” you whispered, resting your head against his chest. “I love you too,” you smiled, pausing for a moment to make sure that he was listening, wondering what world he was daydreaming in beside you. You still knew he wouldn’t remember what you had said, but the two of you had always promised that if one of you said ‘I love you,’ then the other always said it back.

“Be quiet now, it’s sleep time.”

You scoffed at how quick he was to shut you down, as if you had not been the one trying to get him to sleep half an hour earlier. How he’d finally decided it was time for him to sleep so now that meant that you had to be the one to go to sleep too. You could only shake your head, but seeing as Carlos had decided it was time to sleep, having not listened to you, you decided to test his boundaries.

“Do you really want to sleep now?” You asked, moving your hand down Carlos’ chest so that it settled just above his waistband.

You could feel his body tense up, he wasn’t drunk enough to miss what you were implying. “You said that I stunk of beer earlier.”

“And you said I stank of coffee,” you reminded him, propping yourself up to get a better look at him. “But I guess if I smell of coffee then you’ll just want me to move my hand back up here, won’t you?”

Carlos’ head shook as your eyes looked at him expectedly, “please don’t do this to me, it’s not fair baby.”

Before you know it, a pair of hands grip at your waist and turn you over so that Carlos is now the one hovering over the top of you. A shiver run downs your spine at how close he lays to you, not expecting Carlos to get so close. He can’t help it though, you’re like a magnet pulling him in, and the second that you drop the hint, he’s there and desperate to make the most of the situation.

“Carlos…please.”

It never fails to make him smile when he hears you whisper his name, followed by a shaky breath. He leans down and presses a kiss against your lips, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He tugs lightly, feeling your hands hold against his waist to try and pull him even closer towards him. Once you’re happy with where he is, you grab at the hem of his shirt and begin to lift it up, your kiss broken momentarily so that you could discard it to your bedroom floor.

“I love you,” Carlos repeats again, meeting your eyes as he pulls away from you.

You nod back at him, admiring the fiery passion that’s staring down at you. “I love you more,” you smirked, “why don’t you let me show you just how much I love you?”

“Baby…I am all yours.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 reaction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #f1 fic

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request batboys learn of reader's fake death, she is on a mission and they find her.

Reader can be read as gn or whoever you see fit.

Dick

‘Is that you?’ Dick asks softly as he neared you.

‘No.’ You replied in hopes that he’d leave but you knew deep down that he wouldn’t, not if leaving meant leaving you behind also. Not the way you chose to erase yourself out of the picture for this stupid suicide mission.

Dick on the other hand was hellbent to not loose you again, the house you both built wasn’t a home if you weren’t in it to share it with him and Hayley, the poor dog was still fast sleeping on your side of the bed before Dick left for his nightly patrol; Hayley missed you very much and would whimper when she realises that your scent was slowly fading away.

It hurt Dick more then he liked to admit, and he tried to suppress it for as long as he could but he would often find himself trying to look for you in other people, other things but it always ended with him looking at the pictures of the two of you on the wall and feeling nothing but cold. Everything felt out of place without you but Dick would always try to act as though he was coping better then he was behind closed doors doors, clutching at the clothes you’ll never wear again as he silently sobs into the fabric.

Now here you were stood before him in what people would call as pure coincidence or luck because anyone would give anything to see their lost ones again, absolutely anything, even if it was by morally questionable means and Dick can understand the reason why that might be.

‘I- I wish I could tell you but I can’t.’ You replied, not wanting to put Dick in danger because of the dangerous people you’ve wronged.

‘Why not?’ Dick asked, worried that something had happened when he wasn’t nearby to help.

‘It doesn’t concern you.’ You told him as you tried to make distance but Dick was quick to close it. ‘It does concern me if it involves you.’ He says lowly, gently reaching out to hold your face to make sure this was real and not a dream and when you leaned into his touch, eyes closed shut Dick lets out a relieved sigh as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. ‘So please, don’t make me loose you again. let me help.’ He whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

Now you really couldn’t reject his help, he made it impossible just like how he made it impossible for you not to fall in love with him all over again.

Tim

Didn’t know what to expect from what he was seeing.

He had heard that there was someone of your stature going about town during the night but he wasn’t one to believe it until he’s seen it with his own eyes. So when he did catch of glimpse of you or someone pretending to be you, he didn’t know what to do, he was brought back to where he was when he found out about your supposed death; helpless and confused as to how such a thing could happen.

It wasn’t until your eyes met his did Tim feel his blood go cold from how dull and borderline dead your eyes looked when glaring right at him. There was a flash of familiarity but that was gone before Tim could blink, something was wrong, very wrong but he didn’t know what exactly.

You weren’t…well you.

Now Tim did have dreams about what he’d do if you were to be magically reanimated, brought back to life but those were dreams for a reason, a alternative reality that didn’t abide to realism or the more likeliest of outcomes; this was reality and reality wasn’t pretty and is often disappointing on most accounts.

So Tim stood there, frozen as you made a quick exit, much to the confusion of his siblings -Dick and Damian- who knew how hard your death had struck Tim, they didn’t need to be told how difficult it must’ve been to see your dead partner somehow alive again.

‘Are you okay?’ Dick asks.

‘Somethings wrong.’ Tim said. ‘Why would they feel the need to fake their own death and not tell me about it beforehand?’ He asks himself.

‘Only if someone powerful wanted you dead.’ Damian suggested. ‘What other reason is there besides that one?’

‘If that’s truly is the case,’ Tim began as he looked between Dick and Damian, ‘then why reappear after only a week? It’d be common sense to stay low for far longer until the smoke clears, unless...’

Dick then places a hand on Tim’s shoulder. ‘Looks like we’ve got work to do.’

Tim wasn’t certain what he would do if you ever did come back, but now it seems as though he did know; to save you from whatever has been nipping at your heels.

Jason

Wasn’t sure whether or not the sleepless nights had finally caught up to him ever since your passing, spending them staring at the door to your shared bedroom as though you’d magically walk through it with a smile, telling him that everything that had happened was just a nightmare before kissing him on the forehead and cuddling into his side to fall asleep.

However Jason had pinched his skin that many times to know well enough that was all a fallacy created by his own mind because he didn’t want you seeing the man he’d become from whether afterlife you resided in.

So when he spotted sow thing he believes looked a lot like your silhouette, his body followed after it, much like it did whenever things pertaining to you sparked that sense of familiarity within him, that sense of home and belonging. However this lack of subtly on his end didn’t end up well as he was soon enough laid flat out on his back as your masked face hovered over his.

‘Why were you following me?’ You asked through gritted teeth.

‘I thought you were dead.’ He replied In disbelief.

‘That was the plan until you ruined it.’ You grunted as you pulled him up to his feet, ‘you weren’t followed were you?’ You asked as your eyes shifted from shadow to shadow.

‘No, listen sweetheart-‘ Jason tried to speak but you sharply shushed him. ‘What’s going on, you can tell me.’ He now whispers and you sigh, finding it hard to exist within the same space as Jason without hugging him to death, but you couldn’t risk dragging him into your troubles.

‘I can’t.’ You tell him, knowing that there was a heartbroken expression behind that red helmet of his, ‘and even if I can all I would be allowed to say is that some bad people are after me.’ Jason’s shoulders tensed at this.

‘Why did you say anything earlier.’ He asked, he was holding back from exploding because had this been brought up earlier then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to be subjected to witnessing your ‘death.’ ‘I could’ve helped you out-‘

‘And risk you becoming their next target? Not thanks Jason I already lost you once I’m not doing it again.’ You tell him firmly but he wasn’t having it, not after what you put him through. ‘And I thought I lost you or has that not ever come to mind.’ He bites back with the sharpness of someone who was deeply hurt by the actions of someone who he loved more than life.

‘Jason.’ You tried to say but you knew him better then most, once his mind had been made up there was little chance to change it.

‘No. I’m going to help you get out of this mess, either you want me to or not, this is my war now.’ Jason tells you as he marched ahead. You sighed as you followed after him.

This was going to be a long night.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #tim drake x you #tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #nightwing fluff #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines #red hood x you

[firewasabeast]

I just absolutely love the possibilities with both buck and tommy being best friends with Eddie and they both come to him all the time for everything and it’s obviously different for both of them like-

Buck comes to Eddie when he and tommy fight, and he lays the whole situation out and just expects Eddie to take his side but eddies like nah, you’re both idiots. Fix it.

Tommy finds himself pouring out concern for buck in the middle of Muay Thai. Bucks been quiet lately, like he’s got something on his mind. did he say anything to you? And Eddie just shrugs and says all the guy talks about is how much he loves you, dude. But they haven’t even said I love you yet, so tommy has to leave immediately and go see buck.

Buck makes sure Eddie goes and sits with tommy after tommy gets hurt at work because buck has a shift and tommy can’t be there alone (he very much could) and he leaves Eddie a list of things he needs to do. Make homemade soup (make sure it’s not too hot), he needs to stretch his muscles, he can’t sit for too long cause he’ll cramp up, make sure he naps. Eddie tosses the list, they order takeout, and watch movies all day. But he does make tommy get up and walk some, because he doesn’t want buck to murder him.

Tommy goes to Eddie during wedding prep because, somehow, buck got a clipboard in his hands and he’s gone crazy and no one can talk sense into him but maybe Eddie can. Please for the love of god rip the clipboard from his hands!! But Eddie ends up getting reeled into whatever bucks decided to do now and then they both have clipboards so tommy has to do a double intervention.

Buck and Tommy both go to Eddie, at his own insistence, when their baby has been up for three nights straight and god they need some sleep- just a couple hours and they look so tired that Eddie offers them his room so they don’t have to drive back home and Eddie takes the baby out for a walk (where it immediately falls asleep for uncle Eddie, of course).

Anyway, just thinking.

#911 #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #eddie diaz

[linoveins]

hi sweetie, how are u? i luv ur writings ^^

could you write a fic about lino's tummy scar? i'm so soft about it, wanna worship him 🥺

a/n: hi!! i'm really stressed with uni rn :( i finally found time to write this though! it's just simple and short i hope u like it!! i felt all warm and fuzzy writing this. i adore minho sm i wanna worship him toooo (also have you seen the latest pics of him he looks so buff like DAMN)

+-+-+-+-+

idol!minho is really busy and tired from work lately. reader misses him and takes matters into their own hands.

genre: smut, fluff, some angst

warnings: MDNI! oral m!receiving, body worship, mentions of dom minho, dirty talk.

w.c.: 1.6k

minho had been busy lately from all the comeback preparations. you knew how hectic his schedule was so you don't blame him for the lack of quality time between you two.

you know how physically and mentally exhausting it is for him, waking up at 6 in the morning and often coming home past midnight.

you have been together for multiple comebacks now. you knew the drill. both of you did. and still you can't get used to it. but you didn't wanna add onto the things he was thinking, and all of this was really out of both your control, so you just made the most of what you had. but you still miss him.

sure, whenever he comes home, he lays on his side of the bed and pulls you closer to him from behind. sometimes he leaves a trail of soft kisses on your shoulder before passing out.

but you miss more of him. so when he came home a little bit earlier tonight, just an hour before midnight, you can't help but tackle the man in bed and hug him tight. you were practically squeezing and grabbing his skin while you buried your face on the crook of his neck.

you inhale him in.

you latch onto his figure, your body on top of him hugging impossibly tighter, and you all but melt.

he smells so good. so familiar and warm and just... good. you nuzzle your head deeper into his neck as you hear him chuckle and wrap his arms around you.

"you missed me, jagi?" minho says softly while running his hand down your back with the other, petting your hair.

you hum in agreement while licking his neck, just smelling him not enough anymore.

"smell so good, min." you mumble against his skin in between soft kisses.

minho coos at your actions. you're too adorable right now.

soon enough you started biting and sucking on his neck. you wanted to swallow him. you haven't felt him for so long you thought you were gonna lose your mind.

"mmh.. you want something, baby?" minho says, his breathing a bit labored. he missed you so fucking much too.

you remove yourself from the comfort of his neck to really look at him.

his eyes were gazing up at you tiredly, but still full of love and longing. you can see him trying to fight his eyes from closing.

"i just want you. but you're tired-"

"it's okay, i want you too. just give me a moment-"

"shh." you kiss his lips softly. and then his nose, and then leaving a bunch of kisses on his temple. "can i take over for now? wanna make you feel good. wanna take care of you this time."

you say it so sweetly with pleading eyes. how can he deny you, really?

"okay, baby."

you smile brightly at that, and minho feels like his heart is about to burst.

his sweet angel. the sweetest. what did he ever do to deserve you?

noticing the furrow on his brow, you planted a kiss to it.

"don't worry. just relax. it's okay if you fall asleep. my baby has been working so hard..."

your hands start to run over his chest, and you notice how big he's gotten. you gave one of his pecs a squeeze and he laughs.

"yah, stop playing."

"okay, okay. help me take this off." you tug on his shirt. "wanna kiss all of you."

"yeah?" minho says with a teasing smile before helping you get his shirt off.

and holy fuck.

his PT sessions really did one on him. his chest had gotten bigger and firmer. not just that. you can tell he's getting more buff all over.

"jagi." minho says, pulling you out of your trance.

"min, holy shit! so beautiful.." your soft hands run all over his exposed body and he can't help but shiver at the contrast of your warmth from the chill of the room.

"you like it?" he teases, obviously already knowing the answer.

you answer with a lick on his pecs and you can feel him stiffen beneath you. you're groping and squeezing all over and minho can't help the huffs slipping past his pretty lips.

"jagiya, don't tease." he warns.

"but you're so pretty." you whine while kissing his skin. "your arms have gotten bigger..."

you gave them a firm squeeze.

"so strong." you feel minho's cock twitch at the praise. "you could easily take me. any way you want."

your voice is dizzying. your words are sending him to heaven. you're regularly not this vocal. well, not with coherent words coming out of your mouth. but usually, it's him doing the talking. so this is new. he feels like he's floating.

"and these." you squeezed his pecs again. "you always complain about working out. but you did it. im so proud of you."

you leave a bunch of wet kisses down his torso until you reach his scar. you know minho wasn't the type to show off his body. he thought his scar isn't exactly something people would like to see.

when you both first had sex, the lights were all off as per your wishes. what you didn't know was that minho wanted that too for his own concerns since he didn't want to let you see him that time.

once you two got more comfortable with each other, you assured him the scar looked "sexy as fuck", which made him laugh.

and it really was. minho thought you just said that cause you loved him, and since the scar was on him, your love would naturally extend to that. but no, even just the scar on him is really hot. he still didn't believe you so you told him "it's like toji fushiguro with his scar". he kinda got it after that.

you kissed the permanent mark on his body, whispering out a little "pretty".

minho was incredibly horny at this point but his heart also felt heavy from the overwhelming emotions you're pulling out of him.

you lick the length of the scar, and his cock pokes at you from within his sleep shorts.

"baby-"

"i got you." you whisper softly while trailing more wet kisses down his belly until you reach the hem of his shorts.

minho hisses as you pull the material down, his heavy dick springing up.

your soft hand grips the shaft and he clenches his jaw hard.

"always so hard and pretty for me." you say with gentle strokes. "so big..."

minho can't help the little whimper escaping his throat.

you're driving him insane.

"love hearing you, min." you swipe your thumb on the tip and give it a gentle squeeze. "i always cum so hard when you're panting in my ear."

minho moans loudly at your words. his sweet baby is talking so dirty. all his.

his cock looks fucking good in your hand right now, all red, and hard, and fucking leaking. you lick the head for a taste and it takes everything out of minho not to cum fast.

it's been so long. but you're here again, all pretty and enchanting with his cock in your mouth.

soon enough, you started sucking him off, trying to take as much as you can in your mouth and gripping the rest of what you can't fit with your hand. you're minding your teeth, swirling your tongue just how he likes it, and drooling on it.

the squelches are driving both of you crazy. he tried his best to open his eyes and he starts gripping the sheets hard so he wouldn't use them to hold your head and just fuck up into it.

minho wasn't really a man of spirituality and religion but this? you deserved all of his devotion. your eyebrows are scrunched in focus, eyes a bit teary and hazed from taking his cock just how he likes it– just how he taught you, and your fucking mouth. your pretty fucking lips wrapped around him, your hot, and wet tongue- it's too fucking much.

and you're moaning. you're moaning on his cock as if you're the one getting the most pleasure out of it. his sweet messy fucking angel.

after a couple of squeezes from your hand and swirls from your tongue, you could feel him tightening, and you look up right into his eyes.

he cums hard, moaning your name coupled with strings of praises. you keep licking and swallowing all he could offer. your personal fucking God.

minho is breathing heavily, still trying to calm down from the intense orgasm. he's long gone but it's okay. you clean up the other mess and take care of him like you said you would and like he always does.

"thank you, jagi." minho smiles as he kisses you on the lips. he tries to escalate it further, pushing his tongue past your mouth, but you break the kiss.

"mmh- you should sleep. you have an early day tomorrow." you say while minho groans.

"but you-"

"some other time. you're barely awake!" you giggle while minho tries to grab you. you can't believe you're getting away with interrupting him multiple times tonight. you bet his half-asleep brain can't even register that right now. you laugh softly at his cuteness.

he eventually just cuddles you, his breathing now even and his eyes closed.

"i love you, y/n. m'sorry for not being here a lot." he says sleepily, whispering into your ear.

"i love you too. and don't worry. i'll keep being here when u get home."

"miss you... a lot. wanna make it up to you" minho mumbles while pulling you closer.

"you will." you melt into his embrace. "but sleep for now, hm?. i miss you too. so much..."

#🍮 mail #🍮 requests #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #minho smut #skz smut #skz imagines

[chvoswxtch]

secrets

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: in the aftermath of your fight with frank, you get more than one unexpected visitor.

warnings: swearing, lots & lots & lots of angst

word count: 4.4k

a/n: it's getting juicyyyy. friendly reminder y'all voted for a double drop this week, so chapter twenty one is coming this friday. enjoy. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [series masterlist]

“You keep frownin’ like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Lifting your focused gaze from your computer screen to the source of a familiar voice, the creases etched along your forehead deepened at the sight of Billy standing in your office doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit pants and that signature vain smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, darlin’.”

Billy let out a dry chuckle, crossing the threshold over towards your desk in just a few quick strides. Leaning over your desk, Billy stretched his hand out to brush his thumb along the space between your eyebrows, effectively smoothing out the crinkles of concentration coupled with confusion. The gesture caught you off guard, and you blinked a few times in surprise as Billy unbuttoned the middle button on his dark gray suit jacket before sitting down in the chair in front of your desk.

“There, that’s better. Now, how ‘bout you at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, that same smirk still gracing the edge of his lips in a silent tease. Looking over at him, it occurred to you that there always seemed to be some hint of mischief lingering in his deep espresso tinted eyes. Leaning back in your chair and folding your arms over your chest, you gave him a pointed look.

“What can I do for you, Billy?”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine today.”

“I could be worse, if you’d like.”

Billy’s lips split into a full blown grin, and he let out an amused chuckle at the sass dripping from your dry reply.

“Nah, I’ve seen you pissed. I’d prefer to stay on your good side, sweetheart. You wanna tell me what’s got you in such a pleasant mood this mornin’?”

Being around Billy just made you think about Frank, and thinking about Frank only reminded you of the fact that the two of you weren’t in a good place right now. He swore to you the night you confronted him that he was going to wrap this job up as quickly as he could, but that meant he had to devote all of his time to it, which resulted in him being around even less than he had been last month. 

Two weeks had passed since you’d last seen Frank in person. When you woke up in his bed the morning after you’d shown up at his apartment to confront him, he was already gone. He’d left a note on his pillow saying that he would call you soon, but that call didn’t come for four days, and neither one of you had much to say. You thought hearing his voice after being apart for a while would make you feel better about the whole situation, grant you some sense of relief or jumpstart a spark of acceptance you couldn’t find beforehand, but it only made you even more pissed off about what was happening.

And then the call you had with him two days ago really set you off.

Frank had been trying to keep the conversation light, and there was an apologetic tone to his gruff voice, but you couldn’t bite your tongue. The more you sat alone with the vague explanation he had given you, the more his promise of reassurance felt like fraud. You drew blood first, like you always did, but after a round of back and forth passive aggressive exchanges, Frank lost his own temper and went on the defense.

“For Christ’s sake, what else you want me to say, huh? How many other ways I gotta apologize?”

“We shouldn’t even be in this situation right now, Frank-”

“Yeah, well we are, and you’re gonna have to find a way to deal with it cause it ain’t changin’ any goddamn time soon.”

Frank’s aggressive retort only incensed you further. The stress of the current job combined with the growing rift between the two of you eroded his patience into raw frustration, and you were matching his verbal lashes blow for blow.

“Just deal with it? Just deal with you being away and hiding things from me?”

“That’s the job sometimes, alright? You know first hand the kinda shit I gotta do. You know what my world’s like. I told you I was gonna do what I could to get this handled as soon as possible-”

“But this isn’t your normal job, Frank! Stop using that as a fucking excuse. You’ve never had to disappear to God only knows where before, and you’ve never kept secrets from me-”

“Oh for fucks sake. You think that’s what I’m doin’? Makin’ excuses? That’s bullshit and you know it. I told you what I could-”

“And that’s supposed to be enough?“

“It was enough for Maria.”

Those five simple words stunned you silent. They struck a nerve you didn’t even know existed, and Frank, blinded by his aggravation, just kept hacking away at it with his verbal arsenal.

“Ya’know, she never gave me this much fuckin’ shit, and she had to deal with way worse than you. I was away from her and the kids for months at a time, couldn’t tell her a goddamn thing ‘bout what I was really doin’, and she was never on my ass the way you are right now-”

“I’m not her, Frank!”

The only sounds on the line were yours and Frank’s labored breathing, shallow and heavy from yelling and exhausting your vexed emotions on one another. For several moments, neither of you spoke a word, until finally you broke the silence by gritting your teeth and delivering one last blow.

“You know what, don’t fucking call me again until this shit is over.”

Frank, being the stubborn ass that he was, hadn’t attempted to contact you to smooth things over or to apologize. It infuriated you, but in the same breath, you didn’t want to speak to him right now. 

Still, it wasn’t fair of you to take your sour mood out on Billy. He hadn’t done anything wrong. You were upset with Frank, not him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you slowly dragged your palm down your face before leaning back in your chair. You hadn’t noticed how stiffly you’d been sitting until you felt a dull ache in your lower back.

“I…sorry. There’s just…a lot going on right now. I’m spread kinda thin so, I’m…a bit on edge.”

“A bit?”

When you shot him an unamused look, Billy let out a light chuckle and held up his hands in a show of faux surrender.

“Alright, alright. I didn’t come to here to fuck with ya. I actually came to ask a favor.”

An expression of surprise swiftly coveted your features. What could you possibly have to offer Billy Russo?

“A favor?”

Billy leaned back in the chair, adjusting the lapels of his suit before crossing his left leg over his right knee, placing his elbows on the arm rests. Maybe it was because your office was familiar to him, or maybe it was because he was so rich he felt like he owned everything, but Billy had a way of being able to make himself comfortable no matter what setting he was in. Fixing his deep brown eyes on you, that signature smirk of his graced his lips once again when he caught your look of intrigue and confusion.

“As you know, Anvil has a government contract with Homeland Security. It was a big deal for the company, and it’s proven to be a damn good business investment. As a matter of fact, it’s been so successful, that I’ve been meetin’ with a few other branches negotiatin’ another expansion, and recently closed a deal with the CIA.”

“Don’t government contracts kinda defeat the whole private military operation thing?”

“I didn’t hear you complainin’ when that Homeland contract brought you to me.”

Rolling your eyes at the smugness in his voice, you reached for the nearly empty iced coffee sitting on your desk.

“It wasn’t a complaint.”

“Anvil is more than personal protection, darlin’. It’s also convoy security, tactical operations, tailored training, and more. Most of our military contracts are outside of the U.S, so havin’ two on American soil is a huge deal.”

“If you’re trying to sell me on investing, I hate to break it to you, but I think the number currently reflecting in my bank account would make you cry.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, his lips stretching open into a tooth bearing grin. Giving a faint shake of his head, he ran his right hand along the top of his head, smoothing his perfectly styled raven hair back into place.

“That’s not what I’m askin’.”

“Then how do I come into this, exactly?”

“The news hasn’t hit the media yet. Anvil’s hosting a Veteran’s Charity Ball this Saturday night, and I’m gonna make the announcement then. That, pretty girl, is where you come into play. I’d like you to personally cover the story.”

Looking across your desk at Billy, you could see by the look on his face that he was serious about wanting you to cover the piece. A slight furrow nestled between your brows at the idea.

“Why me?”

Billy cocked his head to the side, a sparkle of mirth in his eyes and a sly smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Why would I ask anyone else? You know me, you know the company-”

“Which is kind of conflict of interest-”

“I already cleared it with your editor. You bein’ under the protection of Anvil is classified through Homeland, and since we’re a private company like you mentioned, our records ain’t public. Besides, your editor seemed pretty confident you could write without bias. Look, I want you on this. I’ve read the work of some of the other journalists here, and I gotta tell ya, even if I didn’t know ya, I still woulda picked you.”

Hearing that Billy had already talked to Ellison about this was a surprise to you because Ellison hadn’t mentioned it at all to you. When had Billy talked to him about this? Why hadn’t Ellison told you? Perplexity shrouded your features as you looked over at Billy.

“Ellison didn’t say anything-”

“I asked him not to. I wanted to ask you first, in person. He gave it the green light, but ultimately, it’s up to you if you wanna do it.”

Being kept in the dark seemed to be a recurring theme in your life lately that you weren’t happy with, and it stirred up dull embers of irritation from your fight with Frank. A part of you didn’t want to do it purely out of immature spite, since Billy indirectly had a hand in creating the chasm currently deepening between you and Frank. But that wasn’t fair to Billy. You owed him your life as much as you did Frank and Dinah. Billy played a vital part in keeping you safe and protected from the Defenders of Freedom, and recording Steven’s confession ended up being the smoking gun in proving his involvement.

After a moment of silent contemplation, you let out a light exhale through your lips.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t get too excited, now. It’s only a fancy party with an extensive open bar and catering from all of the best restaurants in the city.”

Trying to fight the smile that threatened to escape across your lips, you looked over at Billy and arched one of your brows.

“Are you trying to bribe me to write you a good article, Mr. Russo?”

“Is it workin’?”

Billy’s mouth was stretched in a wide, wolfish grin, showcasing the top row of his dazzling pearly white teeth. His dark brows were raised slightly up his forehead, and he had that familiar devilish twinkle in his eyes. Giving a soft shake of your head with a dry laugh, you crossed your arms over your chest and relaxed back in your chair.

“What time?”

“Starts at seven, I’ll send a car for ya ‘round six-thirty.”

“You don’t have to do that, I can take a cab-”

“C’mon, you’re doin’ me a favor.”

“Hey, I never agreed to write a good article. I might make you look terrible, just for the fun of it.”

Returning your teasing smile with an amused grin, Billy chuckled with a shake of his head. As he stood up and fixed his maroon tie, he motioned towards your office door with his head.

“Alright, c’mon.”

Staring up at him with a puzzled expression, you let out a soft laugh while he buttoned the middle button of his suit jacket.

“What?”

“I’m takin’ your bratty ass to lunch. Maybe after some food you’ll be a bit nicer.”

Making a show of rolling your eyes in faux exasperation, you stood from your chair and locked your computer before closing your notebook.

“No promises.”

“Well in my experience, you’re more tolerable when you’re fed.”

“Keep talking. Your article is getting worse and worse.”

“I’m sure a few glasses of expensive champagne will fix that.”

Billy turned to take a step towards the door and then abruptly paused, turning back to look at you with another teasing grin.

“Oh, and do me another favor, would ya? See if you can get Frankie to drag his ass out and make an appearance. I think he’s forgotten how to use his phone.”

The mention of Frank’s name instantly tarnished the light hearted mood Billy’s banter had put you in. Letting out a dry scoff, you slipped your phone into your purse and pulled the straps over your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath. That job you and Madani have him working has not only turned him into a ghost, but also a complete dick. I’ll let you deal with him.”

Tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, you started to round your desk when you looked up and caught the expression on Billy’s face, and it made you stop in your tracks. His sharp features were suddenly void of their usual playful warmth, and there was no charming smirk etched onto his mouth. His lips were set in a firm line, outlining his chiseled jaw that was covered in a perfectly trimmed dark beard, and his dark brown eyes looked nearly obsidian. 

“The job with Madani?”

There was a faint serrated edge to his tone when he spoke, but you didn’t miss it. Billy’s stare was intense, and you realized he probably thought that you knew something you shouldn’t. Crossing your arms over your chest, you let an irritated exhale escape through your nose as your gaze drifted towards the window of your office.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t tell me anything. Not where he was going, not what he was doing, nothing. So whatever top secret thing you two have him doing, it’s still top secret, alright?”

There was a long pause of silence, and your annoyance started to fade into a feeling of perplexity when you looked back at him and saw a look in Billy’s eyes that you didn’t know how to read. There was a sudden coldness to him, and an emotion you couldn’t decode hidden in his steely gaze. The tense quietness in your office sent an uneasy shiver down your spine, but then it was like a switch was suddenly flipped, and Billy reverted back to the version of him you’re familiar with.

He plastered that charming smirk on his lips again, but you noticed this time, it wasn’t accompanied by the usual mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you dropped your gaze down to the floor for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t like being lied to, or kept in the dark. I know your line of work is…complicated, I just…I thought Frank and I didn’t have any secrets between us.”

“Sometimes lyin’ and keepin’ somethin’ hidden is the only way to protect someone from the pain of the truth.”

Lifting your head, you met Billy’s intense gaze with an incredulous and inquisitive look.

“You really believe that?”

“Trust me, some secrets are better left buried, darlin’.”

»»———　　———««

The following evening when you came home from work, all you wanted was a long soak in a hot bath and an entire bottle of wine. The stress of the last two weeks wasn’t just taking a toll on you emotionally, it was also physically manifesting in your body. Closing the front door behind you, the lock sounded with a click when you twisted the oval knob, and you lazily tossed your keys onto the side table in the entryway before carelessly tossing your purse onto it as well. 

Coming around the corner into your living room, you nearly had a heart attack when you were suddenly met with the sight of a large figure sitting at your dining table, waiting in the dark. Clutching at your chest in panic and jumping nearly two feet in the air, your voice came out in a shrill shriek.

“Jesus Christ, Frank!”

Frank didn’t physically react to your outburst. He sat as still as a statue in one of the chairs, slightly hunched over with his thighs spread wide, his forearms resting just a few inches above his knees. A bit of dark stubble coated his cheeks and sharp jawline, and his grown out hair was a tousled mess of ebony waves resting against his forehead instead of being pushed back in their usual style.

The swift scare of Frank’s intrusion, his silent treatment, and the lingering resentment you’d been harboring for the past two weeks had you glaring at him.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

His deep brown eyes were fixated on you and his plump lips were set in a stubborn line. Frank’s rugged features were even more pronounced in his resting semi-permanent broody expression. Wordlessly, he lifted one of his large hands, showcasing a set of keys on a ring pinched between his thumb and index finger. One of which, belonged to your front door. 

After everything that had happened at your last place, you couldn’t stay there anymore. You’d quickly moved into a new place that happened to be closer to the Bulletin, and as far as you knew no one had died in it, and there weren’t lingering bullet holes under the paint. Frank had helped you move and set up your security system for you again. You’d forgotten that you’d given him a spare key so he could get in while you were at work.

When you crossed your arms over your chest in a defensive stance, Frank caught the pissed off look on your face, and when you opened your mouth to lash out at him, he quickly cut you off with his rough voice before you could get a word out.

“Said not to call. Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout comin’ to see ya.”

The snippiness of his comment made you narrow your eyes in his direction. Clenching your jaw, you pursed your lips tightly as your face contorted into a portrait of annoyance. You were about to snap back at him when you noticed out of the corner of your eye that there was a packed bag sitting on the dining table next to him.

It was yours.

Eyes flickering between your bag and Frank, you stared at him in a mixture of irritation and confusion.

“What the hell is that for?”

“I gotta leave town for a bit. I told ya I’d make sure you were taken care of while I was gone, so you’re gonna stay with a friend of mine.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me if that was something I even wanted to do?”

“It ain’t up for discussion.”

Frank hadn’t been this cold towards you since the early days of when he was your bodyguard. For a moment your exasperation evaporated, wondering if things between the two of you were worse than you thought. Picking up on the slight change in your body language and facial expression, Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose and slowly stood up from the chair.

“I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worryin’ ‘bout you bein’ alone here, alright? It’s just for a few days.”

“Frank, I’m not in any danger anymore. No one is actively trying to kill me. If you’re that worried about me being alone, Billy can stop by-”

“No.”

The aggressive tone of Frank’s voice and the roughness of his tone caught you off guard. Frank glanced away from you, his eyes darting around your living room for a few seconds before they finally returned to you. His left hand was tightly grasped in a fist, but on his right, his index and middle finger twitched. A sharp exhale escaped his large nose, and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip quickly before he spoke again.

“Look you wanna be pissed at me, be pissed at me, but don’t put yourself at risk cause of it. Maybe you’re right, yeah? Maybe you ain’t a target no more. But I’d rather know you were safe than have to deal with the fact later on that I shoulda done more. I ain’t takin’ that risk again.”

It was like a light bulb went off in your head when he spoke that last sentence. In the midst of your own tangled mess of selfish feelings, you hadn’t once stopped to think about how Frank felt about all of this. A sinking feeling of remorse settled in your stomach hearing the frustration but also the lingering pain in his voice when he spoke. 

I ain’t takin’ that risk again.

He’d had his entire family ripped away from him in one single moment, right in front of his eyes, of course he was fucking paranoid. From your perspective, Steven was facing life in prison, and all the remaining members of the Defenders of Freedom were gonna rot with him, so you didn’t think you had anything to be worried about.

But Frank saw danger everywhere. He anticipated it. He planned for it. And that’s what he was doing right now. 

Frank was doing the exact same thing he’d been doing every single day since he met you: keeping you safe.

Letting out a deep sigh, you looked down at the floor for a moment to gather your irrational thoughts and rein in your impulsive emotions. When you raised your head, your eyes flickered from the packed bag sitting on your dining table back to Frank’s unrelenting stare. Running one of your hands stressfully through the roots of your hair, you made a faint gesture of throwing your hands up in concession.

“Alright, well if you’re not leaving me with Billy, I’m assuming you’re not taking me to Madani either. So, does Matt know I’m coming?”

Frank’s steely expression crumbled at the mention of Matt’s name. He pulled a face like you’d just asked a ridiculous question, a furrow of annoyance and confusion settling between his thick brows.

“You think I’d leave you with him?”

Letting out a dry scoff void of humor, you rolled your eyes with a shake of your head and folded your arms across your chest.

“Just because he’s blind-”

“It ain’t got shit to do with him bein’ blind.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I don’t trust him to keep his fuckin’ hands to himself, and I ain’t lettin’ him pull that ‘poor blind orphan’ shit on you.”

A look of surprise crossed your face as your brows lifted slightly up your forehead, and it took every ounce of self control not to laugh or show any indication of amusement. Frank wouldn’t leave you in Matt’s care because he was worried he would…hit on you?

Letting out a grunt, Frank grabbed the handles of your bag in his left hand and swiped it off the table.

“He’s too preoccupied at night anyway.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Bein’ the goddamn Devil. C’mon.”

When Frank walked past you towards your front door, you turned around to watch him, narrowing your eyes in irritation.

“Can you at least tell me who you’ve employed to babysit me then?”

Frank paused at your front door, which he took up the entire frame of, and his head dropped between his shoulders for a moment. You could hear him audibly voice his frustration with your attitude when he let out another sharp exhale before turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“A friend of mine.”

“Yeah, you said that. A friend of yours, that you’ve never mentioned before. Do I have to have some kind of top secret security clearance for you to tell me their name?”

There was a scowl on Frank’s face as he glowered at you, turning around to face you fully. He dropped your bag on the floor with a light thud, scrunching up his face for a moment as he inhaled sharply through his large nose, cocking his head to the side.

“Christ. This what you wanna do right now, huh?”

Returning his glare with just as much vehemence, you let out a dry and humorless laugh as you gestured around loosely.

“No, Frank. This isn’t what I want-”

“Look you wanna keep bustin’ my goddamn balls, fine. But do it from the truck, yeah? You can antagonize me with your bullshit all you want while I drive, but we got somewhere to be.”

Clenching your jaw, your hands balled into frustrated fists at your sides. For a moment the two of you were locked in some kind of silent staring contest. You were so sick of every conversation with Frank lately turning into an argument that ended with the two of you at each other’s throats. You didn’t have the patience to combat his stubborn dedication to being a self righteous asshole. Gritting your teeth, you stormed forward and grabbed your own bag as you brushed past him out your front door, swearing under your breath.

“Dick.”

Frank pursed his full lips and nodded his head, turning around to follow you after forcefully shutting your front door behind himself.

“Yeah yeah, get in the goddamn truck.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

[lost-in-fandoms]

This is inspired by my own post. Don't even look at me.

It's a long shot, and Daniel is perfectly aware of it as he rides the elevator up to Max's room, but he refuses to think too hard about it, afraid he will reconsider the sanity of it and turn back.

You see, they used to have this...thing, back in the day. It didn't happen often enough to give a name to it, but when Daniel got pole or won a race, Max would find him and get on his knees for him.

It had started in 2016, Max fresh faced and wide eyed, pulling him into the bathroom of the club they were in. Not in Monaco, not even Max was bold enough for that, but in Malaysia. It had been hot and wet, and Daniel had tangled his fingers in Max's sweaty hair, pulling hard enough to make tears spring in his blue eyes, before coming down his throat.

Their thing had always been one way only. Max had been the one getting on his knees, and Daniel had never offered to get him back. It had been a relief, when Max had started winning more than him, he didn't want to owe blowjobs that often. Not that Max would have hold him to that if Daniel didn't want to, but it would have been a matter of pride, and justice, or whatever.

Daniel has spent a lot of time in the last couple of years thinking about it. Not much about the act itself, even if he has gotten off to the memories of Max's mouth more times than he can count, but about the whole concept of it. He had started wondering if it had been Max's first (debatable, kid had been too sure of himself, but again Max always was), if Max had wanted more (probably, he had seen the looks he would get on his face sometimes), why Max had never tried to talk to him about it. Why Daniel, arguably the more mature of the two, hadn't done it. If Max still thought about it too. If he thought about it as much as Daniel did.

The last time they had done this it had been Monza, in 2021. Max had shoved in his motorhome, flushed and furious, and had sucked Daniel off with such a passionate drive it had felt like maybe he was trying to get Daniel's soul too. Or like maybe he was trying to suck Daniel's P1 out of him through his dick. It had been one of the best blowjobs of his life, had left him dazed and panting on the couch while Max had bit out a congratulations and stormed out again, his shoulders just marginally less stiff.

And now Daniel is in front of Max's door, with a P5 that feels like a P1, feeling like he's going to be taking a step right out of a plane.

He hears shuffling when he finally knocks, and it's only when he hears Max open the door that the uncertainty hits him in full force. He has not thought this through at all. Or well, he has, just not further than this. How do you ask someone "hey it's been almost three years but I would like to cash in a blowjob"??

Max looks...soft. He has a pair of sweats on, one of his white tshirts, hair freshly washed and unstyled. The blank expression and small polite smile he's sporting when he opens the door, as if he was expecting to have to send someone away, immediately morph into a blinding smile when he spots Daniel. It's always been so easy, at least for Daniel, to make Max smile like that.

"Daniel!" he says, eyes crinkling, moving to the side to let Daniel in without having to be asked.

"Hello, Max."

His room is fairly tidy, his luggage open in a corner with a few team shirts spilling out just as it had always been, but the blankets on the bed are all askew, a comfy little nest around Max's open laptop.

"Am I interrupting something?" Daniel asks, motioning towards it. He never knows when Max is working, watching something, or playing with his friends, but he hopes it's nothing important. If it's something important and Max sends him away, Daniel knows he will never find the guts to do this ever again.

"No," Max starts, then turns, smiling more, "well, yes. I was watching Lando's onboards. But they are not important now."

It hits him unexpectedly hard, the casual acknowledgement that Daniel's presence is more important than whatever Max was already planning for his evening. It's nothing new, but it's been a while since Daniel has felt it, the way Max loves him so simply. Since he has felt deserving of it.

Something must show on his face, because Max's smile turns soft as he sits down on the couch near the window, patting the space next to him for Daniel to join him.

"Why are you here?" From anyone else, it would sound rude, but Daniel has been used to Max's bluntness since day one, misses it sometimes these days, now that he's a little more careful with it, so he knows Max only means exactly what he's asking.

Daniel also knows this could be the moment to bring it up, his request, but it feels wrong to just barge in on Max's evening, get an orgasm and leave. Back then he would have done it, but they're both different people now.

"I wanted to see you, Maxy," he says, aiming for joke and hitting fond instead. It's not a lie, but the way Max goes all pink and pleased feels too dangerous for his heart, so Daniel redirects. "P2, yeah?"

It's enough to set Max off, talking about corners and turns and steering and this car. Not my car, Daniel notes. He's not surprised by the difference, but he wonders if Max means to make it so obvious, how he feels about this year's car. Or maybe Daniel is just really versed in Max-speak.

He also notices the tension around his eyes a couple of times, when Max mentions the team, and if it was another night he maybe would have asked; it never took much for Max to tell Daniel things, especially when he was unhappy about something. But today he got P5, and something about the blush growing on Max's cheeks as he gets more and more animated, making his eyes looks even more blue, firmly sets him back on jumping off the plane and send it plans.

He waits for Max to slow down a little, then nudges his calf with his foot, enjoying the way Max immediately reacts by jabbing a finger into Daniel's side, tension disappearing from his face.

"P5 is not P2, but it's still pretty good, right?"

Max's smile is his best one yet, all bright and proud as he nods, reaching for Daniel again to squeeze his shoulder.

"Of course, you have been very good today, Daniel! I am glad you are again feeling the car right."

Always so sweet and earnest. If he hadn't already teared up a little before press, face hidden in Blake's shoulder, Daniel would have probably done it now. As it is, he just smiles back, lets Max talk through his lap, quietly pleased by the knowledge that Max had obviously watched his onboard already, before Lando's. Maybe, if he dares to hope it, even before George's.

It's probably that, feeling like he's still important to Max, what gives him the confidence to throw things into motion.

"Feels like a P1, mate."

For a split second, he doesn't know what to expect. Will Max understand what he means? Maybe Max has not been thinking about their past times together, maybe saying P1 will mean nothing to him, maybe he will just go on another rant on how different P1 is of course from P5. Or maybe he will understand Daniel, and he will just slide off the couch and onto his knees, and Daniel won't have to say anything else.

Max, obviously, because he's Max, does neither thing.

His expression changes, something focused and pinched, as he tilts his head a little and stares at Daniel, lips slightly pursed.

"You want to feel like P1?" he asks. To someone else it would sound like a perfectly normal question, but Daniel knows that Max has understood, because somehow Max always gets him, even now. He also knows that he will not get out of this without talking about it at least a little. They're both different people, he has to remind himself. He's not the only one who's changed.

He nods, because he's not one to go back on his steps when he's already decided to send it, but he doesn't say anything else.

Max still looks deep in thought.

"We..." he starts, then immediately changes trajectory, "I can. If that is what you want."

As if Daniel might have walked all the way over without wanting this, without wanting Max. He nods again, watches as Max shifts a little, eyes flicking down to Daniel's lap, then to his own hands. His ears are red.

"Why now?" he blurts out, fingers twisting together. "You have of course got P5 before, but you have never come to me."

For a second, Daniel feels breathless with the knowledge that this whole time, Max would have been willing. This whole time, he could have asked and Max would have said yes, even after all these years, even after his championships, even after 2022.

"It didn't feel the same," he answers, before adding in a whisper, a belated confession, "I missed you."

He sees the way Max's shoulders jolt, his head snapping up again, eyes wide and surprised. Daniel doesn't get it, they have said it before, but he doesn't get time to dwell on it before Max is smiling again, grabbing a pillow and gracelessly following it on the floor.

Suddenly, just from seeing Max on his knees, Daniel is half hard. No wanking memory could hold a light to the real thing, to Max, broad and solid and real.

He lets Max get his hands on his legs, spreading them gently and shuffling forward, fingers sliding up to his thighs. It's hard to swallow now, the air in the room suddenly heavy with anticipation.

"I have missed you," Max rasps, kneading at Daniel's legs, not even reaching for his waistband yet. "I have missed doing this for you."

Daniel closes his eyes, lets his head fall back, but he regrets it immediately when he realizes it means not looking at Max anymore. Max, who's now looking up at him, pupils blown and lips red. For a moment, Daniel wishes things were different, wishes this thing was one where they kissed too, where he got to drag Max in his lap and get to touch him, feel all the way he's different now.

"Up," is all Max says, breaking his dangerous train of thought, and Daniel just obeys, lifting his hips and letting Max take down his pants, leaving them pooled at his ankles.

He's sure he's imagining the sigh Max lets out, the way his fingers are trembling a little when they reach just barely inside his underwear, grazing the top of his thigh.

And then Max leans forward and licks over one of Daniel's tattoos.

The sound Daniel lets out is a mix of a yelp and a moan. He can feel the little shit smiling against his skin, right before he does it again, adding a bite at the end, followed by an apology kiss, and this too is different from how they used to do it, quick and dirty, straight to the prize. Daniel is not going to complain.

Max takes his time, kissing and licking his way up his tattoos, until his nose hits the side of Daniel's clothed dick, now well on its way to fully hard.

"Hello," Max whispers, like a nerd, flashing a cheeky smile up at Daniel, who's tempted to swat at him until Max opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the head of his cock, underwear and all.

Daniel barely has time to squeak out a curse, hips bucking up in surprise, before Max steps back, smile gone. When he looks up again, he looks so intensely hungry Daniel struggles to swallow, and for his next revelation of the day, he understands that the gangly and overenthusiastic teenager who had drooled all over his dick in a club in Malaysia must have gained quite a lot of experience since then.

He refuses to analyze how that makes him feel, at least for now.

Max doesn't waste any more time, luckily, since Daniel is now hot and straining, making quick work of Daniel's boxers and of putting his mouth on him. For a second, with Max's lips around his tip, Daniel gets thrown back in time, and maybe things are not so different after all. Then Max takes a breath and sinks all the way down.

"What the...shit!" Daniel swears, scrambling for something to hold onto and finding Max's shoulders, as his brain goes completely blank, fuzzy with static and pleasure.

Yes, Max has definitely gotten more experience, because what the fuck is this. He's still enthusiastic, moaning and drooling around Daniel, tongue swirling as if his dick is some sort of delicacy, but the technique is different now. It's like he graduated in cock sucking or something, like he's trying to prove he's not only a racing champion, but a sex champion, or maybe like he's trying to kill Daniel. Or all three together.

Daniel knows he's being loud, moans and swears tumbling from his lips without hope of being restrained, but it seems to only spur Max on, as he fucking deepthroats him again with no sign of gagging. What the fuck.

"Max, Maxy, babe," Daniel tugs at Max's hair, struggling to string enough words together to let him know that, embarrassingly, he's already close, but all that does is make Max moan, the vibration of it feeling like sparks up Daniel's back.

Luckily, Max seems to still get the message though, because he lets up a little, gently suckling at Daniel's tip, pressing a kiss to it before pulling back completely to look up at Daniel.

He's like a vision, cheeks red and eyes bright, mouth spit slicked and a bit swollen, hair falling on his forehead, and Daniel's desire to kiss him comes back in full force. Again, almost as if he was reading it on Daniel's face, Max stops that particular train of though.

"Can I swallow?" Max asks, voice rough, as if it is a totally normal question and not a way to make Daniel feel like he's going to die on the spot.

"Do you want to?" Somehow, Daniel's voice is worse than Max's, all breathy and fucked up, and he can see Max being pleased about it. Menace.

"I always want to."

Max always used to, even back then, but Daniel had never questioned if it was because he thought that was how it was supposed to be or because he wanted to. Having the answer now is devastating. He groans, letting his head fall back and nodding weakly, hoping Max will just have mercy on him and finally kill him, but it doesn't seem good enough for the other, who reaches up to grab Daniel's chin, gently but firmly pulling his head back down.

"Yes?"

Daniel is acutely aware he had never explicitly asked for consent before, and neither had Max.

Things are different now.

"Yes."

It doesn't take long after that, Max throwing himself back into it like a man starved, and Daniel falling apart under him, unable to control his hands, his hips or the volume of his voice. He swears Max moans when Daniel finally comes down his throat, shaking and twitching as Max sucks him through it. He's still dazed and out of it while Max helps him back into his clothes, fondly patting his dick before tucking it in, and he can only watch as Max hauls himself to his feet again, wincing slightly, and dropping back on the couch next to Daniel.

"Good?" Max asks, because he's a nerd and a little shit.

Daniel limply hits him with his eyes still closed, feeling himself smile in response to Max's laugh.

This is different too, he distantly thinks. Usually it was Max coming to him, and he would always leave immediately after, never hanging out for Daniel's comedown. Now, when he finally opens his eyes, Max is curled up next to him, still looking flushed and happy. Still obviously hard.

Things are different now, Daniel reminds himself, checking with himself for a second as he reaches forward to tap on Max's knee.

"Want help with that?"

#i KNOW this is not great but if i dont post bad smut then how am i supposed to get to the good smut??? #and i am also deeply sorry this is almost 3k it was meant to be like half of that but i do not have the gift of brevity #if this is really bad let me know and i will delete and die in shame <3 please and thank you! #one day i will learn how to write i promise! #also i know the pacing of the sentences is weird sometimes but i have read it over once and i dont know how to fix it #and i don't want to do it again i just want to post it and get rid of it godbless #if there are typos no there aren't #my writing #maxiel

[drabbles-mc]

We Were Just Leaving

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut (protected p in v), language, alcohol, strangers to lovers

For Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer: "What should I call you?"

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: my first time ever writing smut for bucky. it truly is a Hot Bucky Summer! 😂 biggest thanks to @buckybarnesevents for putting on this event! endless appreciation for all of your hard work 💞 maybe i'll write more for these two in this event if another prompt strikes inspo for them 👀

Going out on your own to get a drink and decompress after a long week had sounded like a great idea until about three minutes ago. Ever since then you’d been silently kicking and cursing yourself for not taking up your coworkers on their Happy Hour offer. The last thing you’d wanted to do after the way your week had gone was socialize, even with coworkers that you generally liked and got along with.

But now that seemed like the greatest thing in the world compared to the situation you were about to find yourself in. Theo from the finance department and his same half a dozen jokes seemed like a dream to be across a table from compared to your ex who had just walked through the door of the bar you were at.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

You had less than a couple minutes to try and scamper out before he saw you. And the only reason you had that kind of time at all was because the bar was busy and it would take longer to spot you in the midst of everyone. But the second that your ex got up to the bar with his buddies to order drinks, your cover would be blown.

You dug some cash out of your purse, tossing enough onto the top of the bar to cover the one drink you’d ordered so far and the tip for the bartender. You were zipping your bag back up as you were hopping off the stool that you’d been sitting on. Your eyes were fixed on your purse, frustrated that this was the one time that the zipper decided to jam. The whole time you were straining your ear to make sure that you could hear how close your ex was, trying to hear his voice or his laughter.

“Fuck,” you were trying to weave your way through the crowd but the clusters and groups of friends all lingering and waiting for their chance to slink up to the bar and order were all packed tightly. You didn’t remember when this spot became a popular place to be. You huffed, trying to say, “Excuse me,” loud enough for people to hear you but not so loud that it came across as rude or drew any real attention to you.

A pocket of space opened up and you were more relieved than you should’ve been. Clutching your bag tight to you, you took long, measured strides to try and slip through the small groups of people that had parted ways just enough for you to sneak through. You were almost to the other side of them, almost out of what would be an easy range for your ex to see you, when someone took a step backwards as they laughed and inadvertently bumped right into you.

The fact that it was an accident did nothing to soothe your nerves. Them stepping back sent you stumbling mid-stride and bumping right into someone sitting at one of the few small high-top tables that the bar had scattered around. You felt a hand on your back and the heat flaring up in your face and you were already sputtering out five different apologies at once before you’d even fully turned around to face the person you’d bumped into.

When you looked at his face, all the words stopped cascading past your lips. Still white-knuckling your purse, still feeling like your face and throat were on fire from embarrassment, you found yourself incapable of looking anywhere but at the icy blue eyes staring back at you.

He didn’t look happy about you bumping into him, per se, but he didn’t look as angry or annoyed as other people in the bar might’ve been. No drinks were spilled in the process, which was a bonus. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at you, but his expression was otherwise neutral.

“S-sorry,” you finally forced out, clear but still uncertain.

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay.” You nodded, knowing that you should be forcing your feet to carry you away, but you were locked in place.

His eyebrows went from raised to pinched together. Apparently, he took your hesitancy to leave as you not believing his simple reassurance. “Really,” he emphasized with a small nod, “it’s fine. You can go—seemed like you were in a rush anyway.”

Your eyes widened slightly at that, the full scope of the situation coming back to you. You cleared your throat. “Right. Thanks. Thank you. Sorry. I’m just gonna—” you were halfway to motioning over your shoulder when a vaguely familiar voice blared like an airhorn in your ear.

“Well look who it is!”

Turning to look over your shoulder, your stomach dropped. It wasn’t your ex, but you knew that he was going to run right back to your ex and tell him that you were here. Even if you tried to bolt it wasn’t going to do you any good. You were in it now.

“Hey,” you said, keeping it short, trying to make your tone as unenthusiastic as possible.

“Oh, Ricky’s gonna be stoked that you’re—”

“I was just—”

He waved you off. “Wait right here—I’ll go grab him.”

“Don’t—” It didn’t matter what you were going to say next because he was already taking back off towards the bar. You let out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

You’d nearly forgotten the man stuck in the middle of all this until he spoke up again. “So, who’s Ricky?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice despite the fact that his expression hadn’t changed much at all.

You shook your head. “Whatever you’re already thinking, just go with that,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Rough.”

You had to laugh at the simple response. “Yeah. That’s why I was, you know,” you gestured vaguely towards the door that you had previously been trying to get to as quickly as possible.

You shook your head again, unable to do anything else. Each second that passed you could feel the anxious jitters building. You had no interest in talking to him ever again, and you knew that if he started talking to you, it was going to be nearly impossible to get out of it. That’s just how he was. You were so deep in thought and oncoming panic that you hadn’t noticed the way you were gnawing the inside of your lip until you felt a slight sting from it.

Turning to look at the man who hadn’t asked for any of this, you said, “You don’t owe me a favor, but do you think you could still do one for me?”

He shook his head, “I’m not gonna beat up—”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. “No, no. I mean, I bet you could. But just, can you pretend that we were here together and that we were leaving? I just, I need an exit strategy.”

“What, you want me to pretend to be your new boyfriend so your old one will leave you alone?”

“You don’t have to be my boyfriend. Just, be some friend that wanted to grab a drink with me. And get me the fuck out of here. Please.”

The pause that ensued didn’t give you anything resembling hope. But he must’ve taken just enough pity on you because his shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Relief coursed through you even though you were nowhere near through this exchange yet. “Thank you.”

“What should I call you?” he asked.

You gave him a confused look. “My…my name, I guess?”

Your face and the tone of your response had him feeling whatever embarrassment you’d been battling with earlier when you bumped into him. He saw it all over your face then, and he was certain that you could see it all over his face now. The whole situation was much simpler about sixty seconds ago when you were the more flustered one in the scenario. Now he was the one in uncertain territory. He didn’t know why he asked it like that, but it was what had come out of his mouth when he tried to ask you for your name. It crossed his mind for a moment that maybe you’d bumped into the wrong person to get you out of this mess but it was too late now.

“Yeah. Um, enlighten me?” The laugh that you let out at that wasn’t a cruel one, which was the only reason he didn’t double-down on his embarrassment. You were amused, perhaps even a little relieved. After all, you could’ve just told him your name in response to his first question. As it stood, you told him now and he nodded. “Right.”

You figured you should know his too. “What’s—”

You didn’t get to finish the question let alone get the answer before your ex and his friend reappeared in front of you. They each had a drink in their hand and smug smiles on their faces. The reality of what had you asking ridiculous favors of a stranger you’d only known for about five minutes suddenly crashed down over you again. The knot in your stomach was back with a vengeance as you looked at the man in front of you, knowing that he was feeling none of the dread that you currently were.

“I didn’t believe it when he told me,” Ricky spoke up, nodding in the direction of his friend. “Thought you were still avoiding me.”

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. “I tried to tell him that we were just taking off,” you replied, hating how defeated you sounded.

The smug look on your ex’s face disappeared instantly when he heard the word we. It was only then that he realized you were standing right next to a man. A man whose name you still didn’t know but he didn’t know that part.

“We?” Ricky repeated. “Well, care to introduce us?”

You tried not to let your panic show on your face. At this point you were ready to just give this random stranger you’d met in a bar an equally random name and apologize for it later. You barely registered the sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it away from the table and stood himself up from it.

Fighting the uncertainty out of your voice, you said, “This is—”

He cut you off by putting himself between you and Ricky, holding his hand out for the man to shake in the process. “James,” he said as he nonchalantly slipped his free hand into yours. It wasn’t a gesture you’d been expecting, but you weren’t going to go against it either. There was something reassuring about the callouses of his palm against your skin as he threaded your fingers together. When he broke off the handshake with your ex, he gave a small tilt of his head and said, “Ricky, right?”

You knew that you weren’t doing a good job at all at hiding the pleased and surprised look on your face. The feeling only intensified when you saw the way it through Ricky completely off-kilter, whatever hand he had been planning on playing now no longer available to him.

He cleared his throat, and you noticed the way he adjusted, tightened his grip on the glass he was holding. He tried to recover from the temporary upset. “So, you’ve heard about me, then?” he asked, the look on his face letting you know that he considered it to be a good thing.

You were rolling your eyes and about to come back with something when James beat you to the punch. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

You tried to suppress the smile that wanted to take over your face but you weren’t sure if you did. You found yourself giving James’s hand a light squeeze, instinctively placing your other hand in the center of his back.

Ricky was trying to sputter out a response and James didn’t let him get a single coherent word out. “Like she said,” he gave you a small, gentle nudge towards the door, “we were just leaving.”

“I—”

James was already turning around and taking off towards the door. He called back over his shoulder, more nonchalant than your ex could ever hope to be, “Nice meeting you, Ricky.”

You were glad that the music and general chatter of the bar was hiding the sound of your laughter as the two of you made your way towards the door. Navigating the crowds was so much easier when you were attached to a man built the way that he was—funny how that seemed to work. The two of you were able to quickly maneuver your way to and out the door.

There was no better sound in the world to you than your boots hitting the concrete sidewalk outside the bar. The relief of being out of there was more than you were able to say in the moment, so instead you just kept laughing as you instinctively headed in the direction on the sidewalk that would eventually lead back to your apartment.

In that moment, there was no better sound in the world to James than the sound of you laughing. You were thanking him as the two of you walked away, and he was content to follow you under the guise of being committed to the little ruse you’d put together, to getting you far enough away from the bar to be considered out of the danger zone. He wondered if you, in the midst of your relief, even noticed that you were still holding onto his hand. He certainly still noticed.

You stopped suddenly and turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” you gasped.

He looked over his shoulder, expecting your reaction to be because your ex had followed the two of you, or something similar. “What?”

You gestured back towards the bar. “Your drink! We didn’t pay—”

His laughter stopped you short. Shaking his head he said, “I was paid up.”

Your shock and tension both disappeared. “Oh. Okay.” It was then that you realized you were still holding his hand. You let go immediately, face warm as you let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The two of you stood on the sidewalk, a few inches separating you as you faced each other. “So,” you started, the awkwardness that had previously disappeared rearing its head again, “James your real name or just something you made up so my ex can’t stalk you on Facebook or something?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have Facebook. But yeah, it’s my real name. You,” he cracked a tiny grin, “you can call me Bucky, though.”

You smiled. “Bucky? That, you know, that what I should call you?” you joked.

He laughed, head tilting back slightly as did. He felt the way his face heated up at that and he just hoped that it was dark enough outside to hide the fact that he was probably blushing. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on the outside of his bicep for all of a moment, not that it stopped him from being able to feel the warmth of your palm through the blue fabric of his henley. “Well, thank you, Bucky. I appreciate it. Sorry if I totally ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” he said with no hesitation. “Sorry that your ex ruined yours.”

You shrugged, feeling the way that your lips were slowly tugging up into a smile. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Do you have plans right now?” Bucky asked, unsure of where the question came from or how it got out past his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I was just planning on going home. Why? Have better plans in mind?”

It took him no time at all to realize that he’d walked himself into this with no idea where he was going with it. He knew that he had a decent poker face but even so he had a feeling you could read him like a book in that moment. And he definitely wasn’t reading like a mystery novel.

“I didn’t know if…you know…” he trailed off for a moment, “Wanna get…coffee? Or something?”

You chuckled and gave a small shrug. “Sure. Coffee sounds good.” You started to walk. “Or something.”

He quickly strode to catch up with you. “Got a place in mind?”

You laughed as you looked over at him. “Well, it didn’t seem like you did.”

It could’ve been a much more embarrassing call out if there hadn’t been such a warm look in your eyes. The only thing that he could think to do in the moment was follow you, so that was exactly what he did.

You couldn’t remember the last time that an invitation for a simple cup of coffee had suddenly caused an entire night to slip by. You didn’t even end up drinking all your coffee, too wrapped up in the conversation that you were having with Bucky. Funny that at the start of your evening you’d figured that a night alone was what you’d been needing, and yet sitting across from Bucky at a little café table, going wherever the conversation strayed to, left you feeling better than any number of nights by yourself at a bar or at home.

Bucky was fairly certain that he could talk to you all the way until the sun came back up again. He was also fairly certain that that fact had nothing to do with the caffeine from the coffee he’d had. His cup was empty, but he still found himself toying with it in his hands as the two of you talked. He didn’t know when the last time he got coffee with someone was. At least, someone who wasn’t Steve or Sam or Nat. This felt so foreign and new, yet there was something so familiar about you.

The pair of young twenty-somethings who were working at the coffee shop didn’t exactly tell you both to leave, didn’t exactly kick you out. But you both noticed the way that they were starting to wipe down the counter and tables and you knew better than to be the people who stayed right up until the last minute. Even though this time, you really wanted to. Getting a few more minutes with Bucky almost seemed worth it.

When the two of you were back out on the sidewalk once more, you turned to face him. The jitters you’d had when you left the bar hours before were gone, but there was a new feeling in its place. Similar but different. More excitement, more curiosity, more hope. You didn’t know what to do about it, though, didn’t know what to say to articulate those feelings.

“Well,” you finally said with a soft laugh, “now I really took up your whole night.”

The smile that Bucky gave you was charming enough to nearly have your knees knocking together. “Not the whole night.”

You hummed in amusement. “Then I’ll let you go before it turns into that.”

He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You’re alright getting home?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’m only a couple blocks away.”

“I can walk you,” he offered.

You should’ve hesitated at least a little bit, but you didn’t. “That’d be nice.”

The two of you fell into stride beside each other. The first little stint was silent, but not uncomfortably so. You couldn’t speak for Bucky, but you knew that you were trying to figure out what was going to happen when you made it to the main door of your apartment building. You also knew, though, that no amount of overthinking it now was going to make it any easier to navigate then. So, you did what the two of you had been doing successfully for the last few hours, and picked a new topic out of thin air to talk about.

By the time you reached your building, you were walking so close to Bucky that your arm was practically pressed against his. He didn’t seem to mind—it wasn’t as though he was trying to pull away. Every now and then when you laughed, you’d give him a playful little bump, shoulder to shoulder, and Bucky had to fight the urge to drape his arm around you and pull you closer.

Stopping in front of one of the many tall brick buildings on the block, you nodded towards the door before opening your purse to find your keys. “This is me.”

Even though you’d hold him that you were only a couple of blocks away from the café, he still found himself surprised at how quickly you’d arrived. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that the evening was over so soon. Never mind the fact that the evening had started hours ago, and completely on accident.

It took him a couple seconds longer than it should’ve to realize he was supposed to be saying something to you. “Oh,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment show, “okay.”

You were smiling as your eyes stayed trained on your purse, still fishing around for your keys. “Thank you for, well, all of it I guess,” you punctuated your sentence with a laugh.

He smiled warmly at you even though you weren’t looking at him yet. “No problem.”

“Ah,” you said as you finally found your keyring. You never thought your purse was all that large and yet you never seemed to find what you needed when you needed it. “Right. Well, I’d, um,” you stammered, wanting to ask and say about twenty different things and unable to decide on a single one of them. Taking a breath to get yourself together, you said, “I had a really good time, despite how all of this started,” you laughed for a moment and so did he, “and it’d be, I don’t know, I’d like to see you again…” you trailed off even though you didn’t mean to.

He smiled, relief and excitement battling it out in his chest. “I’d like that.”

Without giving it a second thought, he pulled out his phone and gave it to you, fumbling his way through asking you for your number. He would’ve been more self-conscious about his lack of grace with it if you hadn’t seemed so eager to type in your name and number.

You held his phone back out to him. “So, yeah, let me know when you’re free.”

He reached to take it back from you. There was the briefest moment of hesitation before you let his phone go, one that got him to look up from where your hands were nearly touching and into your eyes. You let go of his phone, and he slipped it back into the pocket of his jeans, but neither of you took your eyes off the other. Bucky couldn’t help but to notice the way that your teeth pulled just slightly at your bottom lip. He found himself opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He could’ve let it all die out there, or he could’ve let himself succumb to the nerves of not being able to conjure up something to say, but instead he found himself choosing a third option that he hadn’t even thought was available to him.

Stepping in and closing the tiny strip of space left between you, Bucky pressed his lips to yours. It was gentle, and brief. He pulled away when you’d barely gotten past the shock of him kissing you at all. You saw the way his eyes were searching yours, looking for the cue to either get lost or come back for more. The moment of silence terrified him, almost had him sputtering out an apology.

Then you closed the gap and kissed him again. A little more conviction, a palm resting against his chest. It was a minor miracle that you hadn’t dropped your keys to the ground as he kissed you back. His hand came up and cupped your cheek, palm warm against you despite the chilly night air.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t hide that it’d left you a little breathless. His hand was still cupping your face and it had you smiling wide enough to make your cheeks ache. Fidgeting with the keys in your hand, you forced yourself to speak. You purposely ignored how soft and breathy your voice was.

“You can come up if you want,” you offered.

You were just far enough away from him to see the surprise that crossed his features. “Yeah?”

You nodded, keenly aware of the way his hand felt on your face as you did. “Yeah.”

The slowness of the elevator in your apartment building was usually something that served to be a mild annoyance for you. However, this time, you wished that it would’ve taken longer to climb up to the fifth floor where your apartment was. Hell, you would’ve been fine if it had gotten stuck if it meant you had a few more moments with Bucky keeping you pressed against the wall, his lips capturing yours over and over again.

It was the singular chime that broke the two of you apart, the alert that you’d arrived at your floor. The walk from the elevator door to your apartment door was a short one but it felt tragically long when you had Bucky behind you with his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. You had no idea how you managed to get your key into the lock so that the two of you could get inside, but you did it.

You closed and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Out of habit you reached and flicked the lights on. Bucky still had one hand on the small of your back, using the other to deftly undo the laces on his boots so he could toe them off beside your door where the rest of your shoes had been tossed haphazardly as the weeks had passed by.

You’d hardly dropped your purse and keys off when he was pressed up against you again, his chest flush against your back. You sucked in a tiny gasp as your body melted back into him. You wanted to say something but the second he was pulling the collar of your shirt to the side and pressing his lips to your shoulders, whatever pleasantries you’d been thinking of went completely out the window.

 Even though you knew your apartment like the back of your hand, had navigated through it in the dark and after nights out when you had more than a few drinks, you nearly found yourself stumbling as you walked through the lit-up room with Bucky attached to you.

Once the two of you were in your bedroom, Bucky put his hands on your hips and spun you around so that you were facing him. He wasted no time as he leaned in and kissed your lips, like the few minutes of being unable to had been hours instead. His hands trailed their way up to your face, palms warm and rough to the touch all at once. Keeping his lips on yours, he walked you back towards your bed. You were reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt just as the backs of your legs pressed against the side of your mattress.

Bucky indulged you, assisting you in peeling his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. Any time that you would’ve spent standing there gawking at him was quickly stolen away as he pressed himself close to you again, firmly but gently getting you back onto the bed.

Every movement felt like it fed so easily into the next. The pair of you were nothing but wandering hands and ragged breaths as you stripped the clothes off each other. The floor was littered with them but neither of you cared. Bucky was down to his boxers, you your bra and panties. He had you pinned underneath him but it didn’t stop his hands from roaming everywhere they could. They wandered across your stomach, up and down your thighs, grazing over your chest. Every touch and graze had you pressing yourself into him more and more, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you let out little whines and whimpers of encouragement.

You could feel the effect that it had on him. No amount of wanting to feel every inch of you underneath his fingertips could stop him from grinding his hips against yours. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had him feeling so desperate so quickly—he didn’t know if there ever had been a last time.

Like you could hear his thoughts, Bucky felt your fingers curling over the edge of the waistband of his boxers. You started pushing them down his hips and Bucky had no intention of stopping you. He quickly kicked them off the rest of the way before his fingertips dragged down your stomach until they slipped underneath the waistband of your panties. The lightest brush of his fingers had you bucking into his hand and whatever plans he’d had to drag this out no longer mattered. He easily pulled the flimsy fabric down your legs, making quick work of it as you lifted your legs to help.

It took every last shred of Bucky’s self-control to not just slip right into you. The way you had your legs wrapped around his waist would’ve made it so easy to do. He kissed you, neediness bleeding from his lips to yours as his hands continued to trace lines up and down your thighs.

 “Do you have—” Pulling away just enough so that your lips weren’t touching anymore, but not so much that you couldn’t feel his breath on your skin as he spoke. He managed to get out half the question he had before you cut him off.

“Top drawer,” you answered, already knowing where it was going.

The chuckle he let out got a smile out of you. The awkwardness and discomfort that occasionally accompanied first-time hookups was nowhere to be found. He pressed a brisk kiss to your lips before leaning and reaching over for the handle of the top drawer of your nightstand. You took advantage of the momentary position of vulnerability that he was in, lifting your head to kiss and then suck a mark where his neck met his shoulder. You heard the groan he let out, but more than that you could feel it as you kept your lips pressed there.

Him quickly tearing the foil of the condom with his teeth shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and yet you found yourself staring. He caught it, too, and the smirk on his face would’ve made your knees week if you’d been standing rather than on your back beneath him.

You watched him roll the condom on, biting down so hard on your lip you were surprised that you didn’t draw blood. Your eyes slowly traveled their way back up his torso until you were looking into his. The eagerness, the tension in his body could be felt in all the places the two of you were connected. Even so, he still waited for one more yes from you.

The yes he was waiting for came in the form of you putting your hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss, in the way you wrapped your legs a little tighter around him and pulled him in closer to you. You felt the way that he instantly gave in, slowly pushing into you as you moaned into his mouth at the sensation. You felt the way that he smiled into your kiss as your nails bit down into the flesh of his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck,” he rasped out, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. He took a moment to revel in it, the feeling of being buried into you so that his hips were flush against yours.

Moving your hand from the back of his neck so that it was cupping his chin, you pulled him back into another kiss. You felt each little hum and moan that he let out as he started to thrust into you, his arms on either side of your head caging you in. He kept himself pressed tightly to you, leaving your hands to wander the broad, muscular expanse of his back. The way you moaned his name, the moments when you’d rake your nails down his back, let him know that he was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

He peeled himself off you, separating his chest from yours. You longed for the contact as soon as it was gone, but before you could think too much on it, he moved one of your legs so that it was draped over his shoulder. When he picked up his rhythm once more, you were grabbing onto his hips before you even knew what you were doing, begging him not to stop like he’d ever even dream of that in the first place.

Your leg was starting to tremble against his shoulder. Instinctively he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your calf as he continued to thrust into you. Your grip on him tightened as you breathlessly moaned, “Just like that.”

A few more thrusts just like that and you were coming undone around him. He soaked in every moment of it, the feeling of you, the way you cried out his name, the way your body arched and tensed before going pliant.

He was chasing right after you, after that same high. He was nearly there and the soft, needy way you whined out, “Bucky,” in the waves of aftershock sent him clean over the edge. His hips stuttered as he came, your name tumbling from his lips. He collapsed against you, face buried in the crook of your neck as your legs went back to looping around his waist, keeping him pulled tight and still inside you.

You weren’t sure if it was your own heartbeat that you were feeling thudding in your chest or his, but you supposed it didn’t matter. Both of you were fighting to catch your breath, bodies practically melting into each other’s. You wrapped your arms around him, hands gentle on his back where just minutes before you’d been digging your nails into the cords of muscle there. He kissed the column of your throat, the little bit of stubble that was growing in feeling extra ticklish in your sensitive state, enough to get you to giggle and twitch at the sensation.

Once he’d gotten a little bit of his breath back, he propped himself up enough to look at you properly. “You okay?”

You laughed, unable to do anything else but that and nod for a moment. Finally, you said, “I’m great, yeah.” It got a chuckle out of him as you reached and trailed your fingertips down his cheek. “You okay?”

He nodded before leaning in and kissing you. “I’m great.” A few more moments passed in comfortable silence, the two of you just taking in the sight and state of each other. You noticed the small shifts in his expression, and you waited for whatever was coming next. “Um,” he looked over towards the door of your bedroom, “where’s your…so I can…”

You laughed, head dropping back against your pillow. “Out the door and to the left.”

He chuckled, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll be, you know, right back.”

You afforded him the illusion of privacy as he searched and grabbed his boxers off the floor and scampered off to your bathroom. You chuckled as you managed to get yourself out of bed, making your way over to your dresser on wobbly legs to you could grab your own shirt to sleep in. You were back in bed and under the covers by the time Bucky came back.

When he got back to your bedside, he reached down and grabbed his shirt off the floor. He didn’t make an immediate move to put it on, instead just holding it loosely in his hand. “I can—”

“Stay,” you didn’t even want him to put the idea of leaving out into the universe. Not after the night the two of you had just had. “I mean,” you laughed softly, “if you want. I’d like that.”

There was no hesitation as he dropped his shirt to the ground. “Okay.”

He easily shimmied down underneath the covers beside you. You curled into him, allowing his arm to slip beneath you and pull you tighter so that your head was resting on his chest. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the thrumming of his heartbeat. You also started to feel not just the tiredness in your muscles from everything that had just happened, but also the exhaustion of how late it was now.

The same tiredness was present in Bucky’s voice as he spoke, words partially mumbled as he spoke them into your hair. “Light’s still on out there.”

“Leave it,” you replied words equally mumbled as you said them with your lips partially pressed against his chest. “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

The hum of amusement that he made let you know that he wasn’t going to worry about it now either. Draping his other arm around you, he slipped his hand underneath your shirt so that his hand was splayed across the center of your back and keeping you tight to him. Nestling farther into him, you rested your palm on his chest as you finally let yourself start drifting off to sleep.

(divider by @saradika-graphics 💞)

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