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#the way he loves her SO much and the way she is always right
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They Wouldn't Understand - LN
Dark fic - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS
Summary: Lando starts dating y/n, and despite his red flags, y/n loves him. Lando's not going to let her listen to anyone who tries to get in the way. What do they know?
Theme/warnings: toxic relationship (with Lando), manipulation, purposeful isolation, jealousy, gaslighting, possessiveness, controlling behaviours, smut ;)
naive/innocent/sweetheart!reader
No part 2 requests please - Also bc of this not being my usual content I haven't put the taglist on just incase someone who usually reads my fics would rather not read darker content
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Lando wasn't always like this. At least not in his head. He'd watched others speak to y/n and tell her to be careful, to not jump into the relationship head first.
He's only relieved she didn't listen.
By the end of the first 2 weeks he'd got her away from her meddling friends and to Monaco. They're thankfully entirely out the picture after an argument which she spend defending him, then in tears she cuddled up to him while saying she didn't understand and that they just didn't know him like she does.
It's not as if Lando doesn't love her, in fact he loves her so much he doesn't want anyone else involved. Y/n is the centre of his world and he doesn't want anyone to threaten that.
"Baby, I know it's hot. But you can't walk around the paddock like that." Lando states with a frown as he sees her choice of shorts which very nearly show the apex of her thigh and a bralette.
"Really?" Y/n mumbles looking down then sighing.
"You know I just want to protect you...not everyone is going to look at you and think nice thoughts like me...I'd love to see you walk out like that, if I knew other people wouldn't judge you for it." He also hates the thought of any other many seeing more of her body if he can help it.
"I know. I'll change." Y/n smiles lightly genuinely believing that Lando is just protecting her.
Y/n changes into a light summer maxi dress, it might show some of her chest, but Lando will compromise that and maybe he can get her in a jacket later.
"I love this dress. You look beautiful." Lando smiles gently kissing her before he checks the time and sighs. "Time to get going."
-
Lando and y/n walk through the paddock, Lando keeping a tight hold on y/n and walking with her almost pressed against him. His body very much blocking largely blocking the view of y/n from the front as they walk.
He always wants her close and he always wants to hide her as much from cameras, fans, other team personnel and especially the media.
There's been a few unappreciated comments saying y/n is out of Lando's league or she's not his type by the likes of Alex and George. Not meaning any harm in saying it, but Lando would've liked to throttle them both for the comments. Then there's fans online, and actually they do talk about y/n in such a vulgar way that Lando wants to genuinely protect her from them.
"Lando." Zak greets then leaning around to smile at y/n who is smiling slightly peaking out from behind her boyfriend. "Hi, y/n."
"Hi, Zak." Y/n smiles stepping out a little while Lando clears her throat and kicks into a conversation about the weekend.
Lando won't fault y/n for talking very briefly with Zak. He's not even very fond of her talking to Oscar or Jon unless she's feeling entirely rude for ignoring them. But really he tries to minimise her interactions with anyone else in the entire paddock. Most of the paddock just assume she's quiet.
"Right, we're just getting to my room." Lando states at the end of the conversation when Zak asks what they're doing first. He shifts his hands from holding hers to holding her waist as he pulls her in front of him.
As soon as they get to his drivers room Lando sighs pulling her back into himself and kissing her neck.
"Alright, baby. Where do you want to place yourself for the day?" Lando asks while he smirks a little at her.
"I don't know. Where do you want me?"
"You can just stay in here if you'd like. Out the way so you're not getting trampled by crowds or bothered by anyone." Lando states watching her try to hide her disappointment that he is suggesting she just stay in the unit. "I'll come back and get you later when I've got the seat fitting in the garage. Ok?"
"Ok." Y/n nods, smiling when he kisses her.
"You ok?"
"Yeah. I'm good." Y/n confirms then swallowing. "Thursdays always good quickly."
Lando nods stroking his thumb over her waist for a moment, his gaze almost burning through her.
"You know I'd bring you out to watch us do all the media, but everyone is rushing around and getting in the way and I don't want you getting hurt. Especially with fans, they might try to hassle you and I don't want that. Not after the last time."
The last time being when some fans decided to tell her exactly what they'd do in order to treat her better than Lando does. In ways that had them thrown out and y/n in tears. It worked perfectly into Lando's hands for her latching onto him for safety, but he was too caught up in his rage and doing everything to have the fans ban for what they said. He only noticed after he'd calmed down that y/n had been desperately holding onto him.
Some fans really don't like Lando, and y/n is just collateral damage of that dislike. Plus she's gorgeous and Lando is more than aware he can't let her slip out his grasp. That's why he is so protective of her the way he is.
-
Lando smiles as he lifts y/n up and puts her into the cockpit of the car and then pushes his helmet down over her head.
She changed into some borrowed joggers and a McLaren t-shirt since she couldn't get into the cockpit wearing her dress and Lando is definitely not mad about seeing her in a number 4 McLaren top and much more covered up.
"How do I look?" Y/n grins through the helmet making Lando smile down at her.
"You look amazing. As always." Lando states only for Will to appear moving to talk to him and catching his attention from y/n momentarily.
Y/n ends up pulling his helmet off and just watching him talk in a pretty intense conversation. It actually goes on a while and a mechanic ends up noticing her looking a little stranded in the cockpit.
"I can help you, love." A mechanic states making the rest of the mechanics grimace since they know not to cross such a line when it comes to y/n.
"Oh, thanks." Y/n smiles but as soon as she begins to shift, Lando has paused his conversation and is looking at the mechanic.
"I got her mate. Thanks." Lando states and wisely the mechanics reads his tone and expression enough to know to back off. Usually Lando is never so seriously or cold towards them but he draws the line with y/n. "Come on baby."
Y/n resists the urge to send a sympathetic but grateful smile to the man and instead just focuses on standing up and being lifted out with the help of Lando before she is placed on the ground.
"You ok?" Lando asks making her smile and nod then kissing him softly.
"Yeah, I'm ok." Y/n nods before Lando flicks his gaze, presumably to the mechanic but she just smiles at him. Her hands sliding around his waist as she hugs him.
Y/n isn't entirely stupid, she knows Lando might be a little more jealous and possessive than other men. But she doesn't really think there's anything wrong with that. Lando is the way he is because he loves her.
"Alright, come on baby." Lando mumbles patting her tummy where his hand had been keeping her pressed back against himself, making sure he had her closely kept pressed to him.
Lando guides her through the garage then switching her to her usual spot somewhat to the side but behind him as he links their hands.
"Are you hungry?" Lando asks making her nod a little. "Go up to my room. I grab us something."
Y/n moves up to his room mumbling hi's and how are you's to staff as she passes, never wanting to come across as rude.
When Lando appears he places down a poke bowl which is one of his go-to meals and she's always more than happy to just stick to his diet.
"I like seeing you in my clothes. Especially in my number." Lando comments suddenly once they finish eating making her smile and look up at him. "I would just always have you in my clothes if I could."
"I like wearing your clothes...even if they're a little baggy on me."
"You look beautiful in baggy clothes." Lando states with a small smirk then holding out his hand for her to take which she doesn't hesitate to take and allow him to guide her over. "But I do like what's underneath the most."
"But what if someone walks in?" Y/n mumbles then swallowing as he pulls her down.
Lando's been hard since he had her pressed against her after he got her out the car. He's already wait for them to eat, but he wants her now and thankfully y/n is always compliant.
"I'll tell them to go away. What do I tell you?"
"No one else gets to see me like that. I'm all for you." Y/n states then obediently moves her own hands down to pull him out as she stands up kicking off his joggers and her underwear before she climbs back onto him suddenly very eager before she sinks down on him. Maybe a little dry but she shudders at a ripple of pleasure from being filled.
Lando is actually patient, letting her adjust and feeling her grow wetter around him before she hums a little as if trying to contain louder noise as she holds his shoulders.
"That's it baby." Lando soothes as she begins to pull up up with the aid of his hands on her ass.
He ends up controlling the pace, pushing her down on himself till his tip is brushing her cervix and then eventually beginning to knock it hard with every thrust as he thrusts up, somehow getting deeper while she tries to contain any noise. After all these paddock units are not made of bricks. She wouldn't be surprised if people can hear them anyway and are aware of their activities.
"Fuck baby, you always feel so good." Lando grunts feeling her begin to sweet him at those words, the lust in his voice having such an effect that it's not long before she's completely seized on him. Feeling his own orgasm be triggered as he slams her down on himself, filling her with his cum. Her so tightly around him that it fills the space and leaves her feeling the pressure of being so full and she can't contain the moan that passes her lips at the feeling. "Good girl."
Lando holds her there for a few beats before gently setting her down beside him.
"Alright baby. let's get you dressed." Lando states after giving himself a bit of a clean up and tucking himself away.
"But your-"
"Next time someone wants to try and touch you, they can do it while you know my cum is leaking out of you." Lando cuts off making her remain quiet as he helps her back into her underwear and then his joggers. Gravity not quite having worked to make his cum leak back out of her yet but she can feel the movement.
"What if someone sees?" Y/n mumbles earning a small smile as he moves his hand to tip her chin up as he leans over, stopping just short of her lips.
"The joggers are black baby, no one's going to see. That felt good didn't it? And you like being full of my cum." Lando states then kissing with a very hot and heavy kiss that she can't even stop herself from melting into. "I want to see my cum all over you later when we're back at the hotel, so don't even think about about trying to clean it up."
Y/n actually feels herself twitch at the thought of what he might have planned later and how she's going to feel when it happens. If there's one place she'd never ever try to deny Lando excels it's in the bedroom, or in this case in his driver's room.
She ends up spending a couple hours being pulled around feeling the cum leak out of her, soaking her underwear which is hardly anything that protects the joggers from at least coating it from the inside along wish the top of her inner thighs where it's dried out too.
-
When they get back to Monaco, Lando is almost relieved to be able to confine both himself and y/n to his apartment. No interference and no random people trying to get close to y/n.
Though Lando has gone out to have dinner with some sponsors. He certainly was not going to have Y/n dress up nice and be the only woman there playing as eye candy for the men.
"Y/n?" Lando calls out as he returns home. "Baby?"
Y/n appears from the hallway and he feels an instead heat rise from the sight of her eyes bloodshot and puffy.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She mumbles moving to hug him with a very small but forced smile. "Missed you."
"Baby, tell me what's wrong?" Lando frowns as she sniffles. "Did you hurt yourself? Did someone say something online?"
"No. No. My mum called and said all my friends have been messaging saying that you're a bad guy and that you're going to hurt me and they're scared for me. So she wants me to go home for a bit."
"What did you say?" Lando questions immediately making her swallow. "You're not going back to England just because some fucking assholes think they know what's going on, y/n. What am I doing that's so wrong?"
"Nothing. I don't think you're doing anything wrong." Y/n rambles shaking her head.
"So you want to leave me for doing nothing wrong? You know they're just trying to get between us and now they've pulled your mum in because they think she has the power to get between us in the way they didn't. You're really just going to give them what they want?" Lando questions then scoffing as he steps back. "If you don't want to be with me just say rather than trying to put it into others."
"N-no. I want to be with you. They're wrong. I just want to prove it to them. I want to tell them." Y/n panics trying to move closer.
"If they don't support us then why do you even care about them. Baby, if your mum cared then she wouldn't upset you and make you cry because you're in a safe and happy relationship."
"You're right. You-you're right." Y/n nods feeling her heart thump in her chest.
"Why would you even want to talk to you mum if she's going to be as bad as them? What kind of mum is that unsupportive?" Lando questions making y/n blink a couple times, tears gathering in her eyes and Lando sighs. "Baby, how many times do I have to tell you? All these people they're just jealous that you're happy and they're trying to ruin this?
"I know. I was just thinking about going home. But I told my mum I'd talk to you and you're right." Y/n states then swallowing thickly while Lando sighs gently at her. "I'm sorry. I think they mean it from a good place."
"You wouldn't be upset if they meant it from a good place." Lando sighs softly as he moves closer to her and gently pulls her closer. "I love you, I'm just sick of people thinking they know anything."
Y/n nods then smiling as she loops her hands around the back of his neck.
"I just need you." Y/n smiles then sighing. "Anyway, now you're back. How was your dinner?"
Lando knows y/n is locked in. She's really just dismissed her own mother in favour of him and she's still looking at him with absolute adoration.
He still doesn't want anyone thinking they have a chance so he's not going to chance how he is with her and really he's not going to stop till he's cut everyone who poses a threat out of her life. Family, friends or not.
Y/n is gonna be all his. At any cost to herself or the other people who love her.
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propertyofwicked · 1 day
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SECRETS part 6 - LN
warnings: angst, lots of swearing angry max, angry lando, angry y/n - everyone's mad. potentially a happy ending? (u have to read to find out :) ), cheeky bit of fluff
part 1 -> part 2 -> part 3 -> part 4 -> part 5 -> next part coming soon!
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“you fucking lied right to my face, the both of you!” max said, raising his voice and breaking the silence in his living room, “i asked you a year ago and you both lied to me.”
y/n and lando quickly realised that arriving together to talk to max was quite possibly a mistake. the drive to max’s house had started off well, the music flowing through the speakers and easy conversation between the two helped. yet, the closer they got, the more anxious they both started to feel.
they were all in the living room, P had scuttered off to the kitchen, busying herself with baking. max was directing every profanity he could think of towards both lando and his sister, their mother would be horrified to learn max even knew these words let alone the fact he was screaming them at her youngest daughter, y/n thought to herself.
it’s her nature to defend herself, but for the first time in her life, she sat silently, twisting her rings around her fingers. max was so angry, she figured he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say anyways at this moment in time. so she sat silently, taking the abuse.
“have you slept together?” max suddenly asked, his voice finally calm. y/n’s face grew red, lando stuttering.
“so that’s a yes, she who prides herself on being honest and can’t even give me a straight answer,” he snorts.
“i’m an adult, max. stop being so immature and overbearing,” y/n finally spoke up, her tone bold even though she wanted to do nothing more than cry, “what does it even matter? you’re going to get mad either way.”
“of course i’m mad! you,” he stated, pointing a finger at lando, “have been fucking my sister behind my back.”
“stop saying that shit - it’s not like that.”
“no? then what is it like?” max shouted back, his anger once again bubbling to the surface.
“I LOVE HER! ok, i love her,” lando said, finally raising his voice. the room fell silent. even the blender in the kitchen stopped, letting everyone know P was listening in.
“you love me?” y/n asked softly, turning to face lando. he looked almost scared. he chose to ignore her, moving his head up to stare into max’s eyes.
“max, i love her. i think i always have. i would do anything i could for her,” lando said, his voice returning to his normal tone. max said nothing, he simply turned on his heel and left the room.
“i tried angel,” lando said to the girl next to him, his arm stretching out to rub her thigh softly.
“i know you did,” she replied sadly, “so - you love me?”
“of course i do,” he replied, smiling at her.
“don’t take my lack of reciprocation as a rejection. i just uh- i just need time,” she said, panicking slightly and fumbling her words.
“i don’t expect you to say anything back, my love. we’ll sort this out, i promise.”
she wants to believe him, she really does, but max leaving the room was a bad sign.
“you can’t promise me that,” she says, his hands coming to cup her face and press a sweet kiss to her forehead.
“i will do everything i can to sort things out with max,” he says kissing her head again, before pushing himself off the sofa to follow max’s footsteps out of the room.
y/n sat in the silence, thinking only of the way max’s face fell in a mix of anger and betrayal before he stormed out of the room. too much had happened in the past 4 days, and she hadn’t given herself time to process a single part of it. the tears started flowing, and she feared they would never stop as she started coughing from the intensity of her sobs. P must’ve heard her from the kitchen, as not long after she’d started crying, P was sat next to y/n, pulling her body down to lay her head on her lap, her hand coming to stroke her back softly.
“he’ll come around y/n. he loves you, he can’t stay mad at you forever.”
“he can, and he will,” y/n responds, another wave of tears rolling sideways down her face, landing on P’s trousers.
meanwhile, max was in his room, pacing out of pure anger.
“mate i-,” lando said as he walked in the room.
“no, i dont wanna hear it. you promised me you would never d-” he interupts.
“i know! i know what i said. and i regret it.”
“you regret promising me you’d never defile my sister?”
“i regret not telling you how i felt about her. i regret making that stupid promise when it’s all i wanted.”
“all you wanted was to defile my sister? great argument lando, thanks for stopping by. you can fuck off now.”
“all i wanted was to love your sister. to give her the fucking world if she’d let me.”
“what?”
“i love her. she’s intelligent, she’s strong willed, she’s confident in herself, and i think she’s the most beautiful woman i’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he says, barely stopping to breathe, but max was listening - finally. the two friends looked at each other, both of them slightly shaking under the pressure.
“you really love her?” max asks after a few moments of silence, his voice the lowest it had been for hours.
“i do.”
“this isn’t just for a shag?”
“are you joking?”
“just answer the fucking question.”
“no, it’s not just for a shag. i want to spend to rest of my life with her.”
“ok.”
“ok?” lando repeated, confused.
“i’m not ok with this, but i will be eventually. so long as you don’t hurt her.”
“i think you should be more worried about her hurting me,” lando joked in attempt to ease the awkwardness, to his relief max smiled slightly.
“if she hurt you, id be the proudest ive ever been,” he jokes back, earning a small snort from lando.
lando backs himself towards the door, gripping the handle.
“you coming?” he asks max, cocking his head to the side slightly in questioning.
“nah i just need a few minutes to sort myself out.”
“alright mate. i think you need to speak to y/n.”
“don’t tell me what to do,” max quips back, lando holding his hands up in defence before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
when lando re-entered the living room, he saw y/n laying on P’s lap, crying softly, his entrance causing both girls to look up at him. he breathed out a sigh before announcing -
“i think it’s all gonna be ok.”
“i’m going to go an talk to him,” y/n said boldly, sitting up and wiping any remaining tears from her eyes, still trying to regain her regular breathing.
“are you sure that’s a good idea?” lando asked, voice lace with genuine concern.
“i don’t care. i need to let him know that this is not acceptable,” and with that, she left the room. lando and P looked at each other, their eyes both conveying a sense of dread for the impending fall out.
“max?” she asked, knocking on his door.
“go away.”
“no,” she said, pushing the door fully open and sauntering into the room.
“y/n i-”
“no, you’ve done your shouting. it’s my time to talk,” y/n tone was harsh, but it worked. max sat back in the chair, silently, allowing her to finally speak her mind.
“i didn’t do this out of disrespect for you,” she prefaced, breathing in a deep breath before continuing, “i didn’t expect this to happen. i didn’t think any of this was going to happen.”
“i know.”
“but that does not give you any right to decided what or who i do,” she declares, max grimacing slightly at her choice of words, “you made him promise to stay away from me! that’s not on, max. he was my friend too and even if anything else was happening you had absolutely no right to make that decision for me.”
he says nothing, simply nodding at his sister as he digests her words.
“you owe me an apology. for thinking you can control my life and for the way you have behaved in the last 3 days. it’s not the fucking eighteen hundreds, you cannot take this ‘alpha male’ role in my life and make decisions about who i date,” she adds, using her fingers to make quotation marks.
“i know that now,” he responds, guilt laced in his voice.
“what do you mean you ‘know that now’? you should have always known that. you wouldn’t tell sam or theo who they can date, would you?” she asks.
“no, i wouldn’t,” again, responding with a sad sigh, “i’m sorry y/n.”
“you better be. and you better start behaving like you are.”
“i will.”
“starting with buying me a new car,” she jokes, finally uncrossing her arms and smiling softly at him.
“catch yourself on,” he laughs back.
“it’s ok, god loves a trier - besides, i’m pretty sure lando offered to buy me one if he got podium.”
“on second thought, maybe i will buy you a new car.”
the two laughed together, an air of awkwardness still hanging between them. finally, he pushed himself off his chair, walking over to her and embracing her in a tight hug.
“im sorry y/n, im so sorry,” he mumbled into her ear.
“it’s ok max, i don’t think id be too impressed if you started fucking my friends either.”
“ew dont - dont talk about sex or you having it,” he shudders, “in my brain, you’re still 7 and shaving the heads of your barbies.”
“fine.”
“will you do me a favour?” he asks, sheepishly.
“depends.”
“can you and, him, you know, tone it down in front of me. just for a bit? just till i get used to it?”
“i didn’t intend on jumping his bones in front of you anyways, if that’s what you mean?” she jokes.
“y/n,” he groans in feigned annoyance.
“i’m sorry i’m sorry,” she apologises, holding her hands up in defence, the exact same way lando had earlier.
“you and him are probably a good match. you have the same personality. i think i just never wanted to admit it.”
“max fewtrell, stubborn? i never would’ve guessed.”
“i think it’s genetic.”
★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶
tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream @mehrmonga @eviethetheatrefreak @thatoneembarrasingmoment @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @formula1mount @lottef1 @rayna-s @5starl1ght @cthgee @thesiduation @urfavsgf @littlehoneyfreak
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vroomvro0mferrari · 18 hours
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CL16 | Oblivious
Sorry it took me so long, I was really busy with finals the last couple of weeks but I've finally finished the fic from the poll! I hope you like it :)
Summary: Charles has been blatantly flirting with Y/N for months, but she's the only one who hasn't noticed.
Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader
WC: 2.4K
Warnings: None
Masterlist
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Charles was busy in the garage, talking with his mechanics when he saw her walk in. Y/N Sainz, the younger sister of his friend and teammate. He had seen her many, many times when she came to support her brother at his races. It seemed like Charles could sense her presence, knowing she was there without having seen or heard her, always looking up right when she walked in. Y/N Sainz was greatly loved by the Ferrari employees. With her bubbly personality, witty jokes, and bright smiles, all the team members enjoyed her presence. And Charles couldn’t help but feel the same way, although Y/N was completely oblivious to his affection. 
His face lit up when their eyes met, instantly smiling at her company. As soon as she was close enough, he greeted her, “Ah Y/N! Nice to see you again, you look lovely today!” He grinned.
“Oh, thank you, Charles. You’re so kind!” She responded with a bright smile as she hugged him in greeting, the flirty undertone going by entirely unnoticed.
Charles had been enamoured with Y/N since the first time they met. In an effort to not come off too strong and scare her away, Charles tried to flirt with her subtly. However, after several occurrences without any reaction from Y/N, it seemed his flirting was too subtle. Either that or she was not into him. But he couldn’t give into that possibility just yet.
As time passed and Y/N became a more familiar face in the paddock, Charles’s flirtations became bolder. He’d constantly try to include her in conversations and would make up all kinds of excuses just to talk to her. Whenever he did manage to string her into another conversation, he’d try to make her laugh as much as he could. Simply because he could, and because he loved to see her happy and smiling. And if he was feeling really confident, he would even go as far as to touch her arm or the small of her back while they were chatting away or walking around the paddock together. Nevertheless, to Charles's frustration, Y/N didn’t seem to notice his underlying motives, dismissing his actions and words as nothing more than friendly gestures.
Meanwhile, everyone else who had ever been around the duo seemed to have caught sight of the one-sided infatuation and attempt at courtship. Everybody except for Y/N had noticed Charles was desperately trying to make his feelings for the girl obvious, but she simply kept friend-zoning him. Frankly, he found it embarrassing. 
Nearly all of Charles’s fellow drivers had been caught up in one of his attempts to woo Y/N while she simply brushed his compliments off as friendly comments. It was hard not to notice Charles’s fruitless flirting when he did it right in front of them, but they didn’t say anything about it. His colleagues merely exchanged knowing glances with others aware of the situation, amused at Charles’s futile attempts at winning Y/N over. But as time wore on, and Charles kept trying, at least a few of his colleagues started to comment on his persistence, calling him a simp, and joking about his poor flirting. Some suggested he should stop his pursuit of Y/N, as it seemed she wasn’t interested, but Charles was relentless: he would not quit until he knew for sure Y/N Sainz didn’t and would never like him.
And so, when Charles spotted Y/N walking through the paddock with Lando, one of the people in the paddock she got along with better, talking animatedly and laughing loudly with each other, he approached her once more; he would seize any opportunity to blatantly flirt with Y/N. He quickly caught up with the two, putting his hand on the small of her back as he matched his speed with theirs. “You’re absolutely radiant today, chérie” He greeted her with a cheeky grin.  
Y/N looked to her side, greeting the new presence “Hey, Charles!” As oblivious as always, she sweetly smiled up at him and replied, “Thanks! You’re such a sweet friend!”
Lando was a mere bystander in the situation as he observed the interaction, surprised and amused at the ease with which Y/N once again waved off the man who was so clearly crushing on her. He held his opinions back until Charles left, “Wow, you certainly have no trouble friend-zoning him, don’t you?” He commented.
Y/N cocked her head as she looked at him, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Lando laughed humourlessly, “Dear God, you really have no idea?” He paused, “Y/N, Charles has been flirting non-stop with you for ages. How on earth have you not noticed?”
She stopped walking and looked at him in confusion, “He’s not flirting with me, Lando, he’s just being nice. He’s a good friend.” 
“I’m actually quite sure he’s flirting with you, Y/N. So is everyone else. You could literally ask any of the drivers, and they would confirm it. The Ferrari employees too, I reckon. He likes you, Y/N.” He said unimpressed.
“Charles likes me?” She asked softly, suddenly turning shy, a blush creeping onto her face.
Lando sighed, realising his friend was even more oblivious than he initially thought. “Yeah, he does. I’m honestly surprised you’ve never noticed.” He gently squeezed her shoulder before they parted ways.
— — —
For the rest of the day, Y/N thought about Lando’s words. She thought about all her interactions with Charles over the last few months and realised that he did compliment her quite often. 
Once, on a sunny afternoon, Y/N was chatting with some of the Ferrari team members near the garage when Charles spotted her. He, as always, decided to walk over to talk with her, his usual charming smile on his face and mischief in his eyes.
"Y/N, only you can make a sunny day even brighter," he said with a big, playful smile and admiration in his voice.
Y/N blinked at him, surprised by his sudden appearance and his bold statement. "Oh, thank you, Charles! That's really sweet of you to say."
Unfazed by her obliviousness, Charles pressed on, determined to make his feelings known after such a long time. "No, really," he insisted, his gaze unwavering. "I mean it. You bring a brightness to the paddock that I can't quite explain."
Y/N laughed softly, “Well, um, thank you. That’s very kind. What can I say? I try my best.” She replied with a smile.
Another time, Y/N was in the team hospitality when she accidentally spilt her drink, leaving an obvious stain on her white shirt. Charles, who was, unsurprisingly, standing nearby (as always), had noticed immediately and courteously offered one of his extra Ferrari shirts. When he saw the girl he had liked for months in his clothes, wearing his driver’s number, he naturally couldn’t resist the urge to flirt with Y/N.
"Have I ever told you how stunning you look in red?" he remarked, his eyes sparkling with mischief and fondness at the sight of her.
Y/N laughed and replied, "No, I don't think you have," smiling at him in a friendly manner.
"Well, consider it said," he said, his tone playful. "You wear it better than anyone else, that's for sure."
Y/N laughed softly, appreciating her friend’s words, "I doubt that’s true, but thanks, Charles."
Thinking back to these moments, Y/N realised maybe Charles had indeed been flirting with her. However, he might just be like that with all of his friends, complimenting everyone he cares about. Nevertheless, now that Lando had brought this to her attention, she would surely pay extra attention to what Charles would say to her tomorrow.
— — —
The next day, Charles had caught her in a conversation again. They were talking about the race and the current situation with Ferrari. He mentioned the pressure from the team and all the fans that want him to do well, and that the car and the strategies aren’t working the way he wants them to. Of course, Y/N tried to reassure him; to relieve the pressure and stress Charles was feeling. He absolutely adored the way she was trying to comfort him and was not afraid to let her know, “I have to admit, Y/N, nobody can cheer me up like you can. You calm my nerves like no one else,” he said, looking at her lovingly while he expressed his feelings.
Y/N didn’t know how to respond. This was the first time she noticed he was flirting with her whilst he was actually doing it, and she had no idea how to react. When she felt her face heat up, she could only assume she was blushing from the nerves. She diverted her gaze, trying to come up with a good reply to Charles’s advances. How did she usually respond when Charles complimented her? She couldn’t remember now.
Charles was confused at Y/N’s lack of response to his remark. Normally, she’d immediately smile at him and thank him for whatever compliment he’d come up with, but now, she was looking away, and - was he seeing that right? Was she blushing? He had flirted with her countless times, but she had never blushed at any of his comments. Had she finally noticed his advances? Charles watched her with an amused smile while she searched for the right words.
Eventually, she shyly smiled at him, meeting his eyes in a fleeting glance before responding, “I’m glad to be of help.”
Charles, Charles, proud that he was the one to cause her flustered appearance, decided to push a little further, curious to see what would happen, “You really have no idea how much you mean to me, Y/N. Your support helps me so much.” Charles smiled gently and put his hand on her arm. When there’s no immediate response, he continues, “Anyway, I have to get ready for the race. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Y/N merely nodded and watched him walk away.
Her brother had been watching the interaction from a distance, observing the way his sister responded to Charles’s obvious flirting and, too, noticing the difference. “You finally figured it out, huh?” He said with a teasing smile. Y/N rolled her eyes at him in annoyance, but Carlos just continued, “You should let him know you like him too.” Y/N didn’t respond. “You do like him don’t you?” He asks, confused at her unresponsiveness. “Leave me alone, Carlos!” She replied, pushing her brother away. He laughed at her; that reaction was enough for him to know the answer to his question. He ruffled her hair and walked away, also needing to get ready for the race.
After her short talk with Charles, Y/N was sure that he liked her, but how to proceed? She could barely focus on the cars going around the track while all types of ideas were racing around in her head. What on earth was she supposed to do now? Should she wait until the next time Charles would flirt with her, or should she make the move instead? Considering Carlos’s advice, she decided she should take matters into her own hands.
She walked up to Charles as soon as she saw him entering the garage after the race. She had always thought Charles was incredibly attractive – like most women, but he looked especially handsome after he had raced.
“Hey, good job on the race!” She greeted Charles, pulling him into a hug. She looked at him for a second or two, contemplating whether she should actually do this. She smiled up at him shyly, “You know, I love the way your hair looks after a race.” She said blushing, running one of her hands through his messy hair. Charles is surprised at her comment, but he’s shocked at her hand in his hair. This is the first time she has complimented him – or at least, initiated it. Let alone, her touching him in such an intimate way. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape as he stared at her in disbelief. It was now Charles’s turn to be flustered as Y/N finally reciprocated his attempts at flirting.
In his silence, Y/N decided to continue, “It’s hot.” She said, avoiding eye contact. Charles was unsure how to respond. He had never experienced a situation like this before; he always knew exactly what to say, but she had caught him off guard. After Y/N had friend-zoned him countless times, he was definitely not expecting this; he was not sure what to do.
The absence of a reply only made Y/N more nervous. She distanced herself from him, letting her hand fall from his hair, realising she probably shouldn’t have touched him without permission. Charles was quick to notice her retreat and held her face to stop her from leaving. He raised her chin to make their eyes meet and asked her softly, “Let me take you to dinner?” while he stared at her with adoration.
Y/N smiled at him fondly and nodded her head, “I’d like that, Charles. I’d really like that.” 
“Good,” He said firmly, his smile growing wider, matching hers. “I have to leave now for the debrief, but I’ll text you, okay?” 
Y/N nodded her head in response, letting out a hum. Charles pulled her face closer with the hand on her cheek, and fleetingly kissed her forehead before leaving, looking over his shoulder to catch her gaze one last time.
Y/N stood still in shock for a while, processing what just happened. She had agreed to go on a date with Charles. She was staring outside, letting the situation sink in as she watched people pass by in the busy paddock. Suddenly, she spotted Lando waving wildly at her, trying to get her attention. When he realised that she had seen him, he smiled mischievously and gave her a thumbs-up, assuming the kiss he saw Charles give her was a good sign. Y/N rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his nosiness, but Lando just laughed, amused at her bother and glad his meddling had helped.
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Note
Reader coming home from a night out a little tipsy and just happy. Javi is waiting up as he always does to make sure she’s safely back in his arms. Kids are already in bed and it’s just a little cute moment between the two. Reader being quite lovey dovey i guess.
Lovey-dovey
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A/N: This was a joy to write for you, anon!
Summary: Would Javier Peña still love you if you were a worm?
Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)
Tags: +18, Drunk and horny reader, javi is a respectful man, undressing, kissing, making out, drunken tears
Word count: 1.8k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54772312
Lovey-dovey
Javier knows you’re home from the jingling of your keys outside the house, your shaking hands trying desperately to fit the key and unlock the front door without much success due to your drunken state. He is standing on the other side, entertaining himself briefly by listening to your quiet swear as you give up on your mission to get inside the right way. 
However, considerate as you are, you don’t even try to knock in case you wake up all your sleeping children. Instead, you start to pocket the keys to go around the back of the house and get inside the house through the door to the garden. 
It’s just before you step off the front porch that he opens the door for you, leaning against the doorframe to watch you whirl around in confusion. For a second, it looks like you think that you have made the door open by just wanting it enough, but then you smile warmly as you see your husband. 
You are drunk but not out of your mind. It is just enough for you to be clumsy in your state of giggles and heated cheeks, and you waltz inside with confidence that you shouldn’t really have with the way your heels make you walk like a newborn giraffe. 
“Hello husband,” you snicker. 
“Wife,” Javier closes the door after you, holding back a laugh as you hold onto the coat rack to keep your balance while stepping out of your shoes. He drops to his knees to help you, grabbing your ankle to gently slip off a heel, “Had a few martinis, huh? A few tequila sunrises?”
“No,” you grin widely.
Javier rises to his feet once more when your shoes stand perfectly perched on the shoe rack, “No?”
“I just had a little sip of everything,” you confess in a whisper, your words slightly slurred, “Connie let me taste all of her drinks, I barely got to drink mine.” 
“So you mixed a lot of alcohol?” He tuts, reaching around your waist to guide you towards the staircase as you look too unsure on your feet to not end up with your face falling into the floor if you miss a step. 
“A LOT!” You exclaim with a laugh. 
“Shhh,” he shushes you as you begin to ascend the stairs together. Not so considerate after all then but he wouldn’t have you any other way, even when you are trouble. 
“Shhh,” you parrot him with tired eyes, holding a finger in front of your pursed lips. He rolls his eyes affectionately, stepping onto the next few steps of the stairs and watching you watch your feet as you follow. 
“Sorry, I may have gotten a little drunk,” you finally admit, arm slung around Javier’s shoulder. 
“No, really?” He teases in the same tone as he might tease his daughter. 
“Can I sleep in your bed?” You ask in another whisper, almost as if you are fourteen again and Javier is your secret boyfriend that you are not allowed to be alone with. 
“Your bed is my bed,” he reassures with a twinkle in his eye. You have reached the top of the staircase now, and carefully move down the dark hallway to your bedroom whilst Javier tries shushing you when you comment on the family pictures on the walls. 
“You look so handsome here,” you point to a picture from your honeymoon but your finger slips from the glass as Javier has already dragged you further through the house. 
“Thank you. It was a long time ago,” he opens the door and pulls you inside.
As you enter the bedroom, you wrestle free from Javier’s arms and collapse onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. You have your arms out to the sides, staring up at the ceiling which spins slowly above you. 
“For the record,” you say absentmindedly, “You’re still very, very handsome.” 
“Thank you, mi amor (my love),” he chuckles softly, “C’mon, sit. I need to get you out of these clothes.”
“Oooh,” you whistle as his gentle hands start unbuttoning your blouse until it falls open and reveals your bra. He gives you a look, not even having to speak because you know he wants to say really? 
He shrugs it off your shoulders and you visibly shiver at his touch even though your skin is burning from the alcohol in your system. Javier would have you right here if you weren’t drunk. 
“Stand up,” he orders and then helps you out of your skirt, his careful fingers lingering on your waist as he lowers it to the ground. Your head swims. Javier goes quiet. He taps your legs to signal that you need to lift them one at a time so he can pull the skirt away. You sway slightly, leaning into his touch as he steadies you with a firm grip. His eyes meet yours from where he is kneeling on the floor, filled with warmth and adoration, and you can't help but smile back at him. 
“T-shirt?” He asks. 
“Mhm,” you hum.
For both of you, it is almost too much to have him undo your bra without following it up with making love to you. He remembers the first time you met and he had walked you home, drunk out of your mind and trying to get laid. He hadn’t done it back then either, and not even a ring on your finger would change that now. 
He slides the straps off of your shoulders and down your arms, collecting all the pieces of clothing from the floor so he can throw them into the laundry basket by the dresser. Then he gets one of your loose t-shirts from your drawer and turns to walk back to you.
However, you ambush him by pushing him up against the furniture to kiss him. You taste of fruity cocktails that mix with his own minty breath and Javier lets himself indulge for a moment, deepening the kiss to taste your silky tongue but keeping it slow. He throws the t-shirt over his shoulder so he can settle two hands on your cheeks, framing your face in his large palms. 
"You're so good to me," you whisper into his mouth. 
“It’s because I love taking care of you, wife,” he murmurs and guides you back to the bed, tricking you to think that he wants more (and he does, revealed by the tent in his underwear, but not like this; his cock will flag eventually). Instead, he helps you sit down and pulls the t-shirt over your head before you can protest. 
“Javi,” you pout as you move your arms through the sleeves with his help. 
“I know, baby, we can kiss tomorrow when you aren’t drunk,” he says softly, “Tell me about tonight instead. Did you have a good time?” 
“We had such a nice time,” you giggle, seeming to move on pretty quickly. He leaves your side to get you a glass of water and your makeup remover wipes from the bathroom. 
“That’s nice, mamá,” he replies with concentration on his face, beginning to rub your mascara off, “Did you talk about your husbands? Scold me behind my back, huh?”
“We talked about how horribly you treat us,” you bat your lashes innocently, “I don’t know if we can take it anymore.”
“Running off together, are we?” You take a tiny sip of your water. He holds his fingers under the bottom to make you gulp it down instead. 
“I think I might love you too much for that,” you say after swallowing. Javier’s fingers are gentle as he cleanses your skin. 
“You love me?” He asks playfully and crouches to wipe the foundation off your neck too. You hum as an answer. It’s almost too much to feel him like that, so you try to initiate another heated kiss but he shakes his head and pulls away. 
“No,” he says in the same tone as one would use to stop a cat from doing something naughty. 
“What if I promise to be a good girl?” You challenge.
“You’re making this extremely difficult for me, baby,” Javier’s breath catches in his throat, conflict written all over him. He looks like he is just about to give in but then, “No.”
“But,” you pout again, watching him leave your side. 
“Go to sleep,” he orders albeit reluctantly as he climbs into his own side of the bed, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Time goes by after he has turned off the light. Javier hears your breathing in the quiet room but there’s no sign that sleep has found you yet. He gives you the space you need to rest, tries to think about something that will make his cock flaccid again.
“Javi,” you suddenly say into the dark.
“Yes, honey?” He tries not to sigh. Besides him, you have moved to sit up once again and you are flicking on the light on your nightstand. 
When Javier turns his head to look at you, he sees, much to his shock, that you are on the verge of drunken tears. He sits up immediately with slight panic at your shifting emotions, “What’s wrong, mi amor (my love)?”
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You ask just before turning into a blubbering mess. You let yourself fall against your husband’s shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your crying form. 
There’s a fond smile on his lips as he finds out that it is nothing serious. Instead, it is you feeling everything at a heightened rate. He shushes you gently, rocking you back and forth whilst kissing your hair. 
“I would love you so much as a worm,” he promises through a chuckle. 
“Don’t laugh,” you whine into his chest, “There are physical boundaries that come with me being a worm.”
“We would overcome them,” he replies but you just continue sobbing to the point where he feels tears on his bare skin, “But I really need you to go to sleep right now, okay? I know you’re upset but I promise you that I’d love you even if you were un escarabajo pelotero (a dung beetle).” 
You breathe hard for a few seconds to calm your tears, and Javier figures that you have seen some kind of logic in his argument or at least enough to let yourself be calmed. You wipe your eyes when you pull away. Javier gets some tissues from his nightstand and helps you with the tear streaks you miss. 
“No need to cry, okay?” He runs a hand over your back.
“Okay,” you repeat with a final sniffle. 
“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he purses his lips and you peck them almost shyly. However, he just kisses you a few times more, “Good girl. Now lie down and go to sleep.” 
You do as you are told, and he lies down on his side to look at you. The crying seems to knock you out, causing you to snore softly as the clock ticks on your nightstand. He slings an arm over your stomach, cupping your side, and falls asleep too. 
You make him so happy. Even like this.
Especially like this.
.
.
.
FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️
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lightblue07 · 2 days
Text
Insecure |OP81
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Oscar Piastri x Norris! Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Oscar knew that his girlfriend is wonderful... he didn't know that other drivers thought the same. feeling insecure should not be part of your relationship
MASTERLIST
A/n: English is not my first language!! (You can send writing ideas if you have any)
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Oscar walked through the Paddock looking for his girlfriend.  The day of practice was already over and they had agreed to go to dinner.  He carried her purse in his hands, having collected all of her belongings that she had left in the garage.
His girlfriend, always sociable and friendly with everyone, took forever to say goodbye, even if they would see each other again the next day.
He found her surrounded by some drivers. Max, Carlos and Charles were talking animatedly with her.  Oscar knew that they were as tired as he felt, but he also knew that Y/n was so mesmerizing that she would trap anyone in a conversation.
He approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt her, but knowing that they had to leave sooner rather than later if they wanted to get to the restaurant.
He stood next to her and she turned her head to smile at him with the brightest smile she had. he immediately felt y/n's hand intertwining with his.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yes," she nodded and then seemed to remember something. "Wait, I didn't say goodbye to Lando, I'll be right back."
She let go of his hand, gave each driver a kiss before running towards the McLaren garage, waving off some journalists she had known for years.
"At this rate we will never leave" Oscar mocked and Carlos laughed next to him.
"Well, you managed to date the most sociable girl in the world"
"I know"
"You got lucky with her" Max commented after losing sight of her and joked "if we had known that the new guy would take the big prize, we would have sabotaged your arrival."
The other two pilots laughed and Oscar did too, but without understanding what he meant.
"what do you mean?"
Charles let out a small laugh "come on, as if you didn't know we all have a little bit of a crush on y/n."
"You are?"  He frowned
Carlos cleared his throat. "I mean, maybe... a little. But, mate, we would never do anything. She loves you and we respect her. Both of us."
Oscar saw y/n in the distance walking next to Pierre and they were both laughing.
Now, what he had always believed were kind and friendly glances, he realized were more.  Much more
"See you tomorrow." He said goodbye and walked quickly towards his girlfriend. The drivers looked at each other with regret.
"We screwed up"
"Yes, I think we did," Max confirmed.
Oscar couldn't think of anything other than knowing that everyone liked his girlfriend.
Not that he could blame them, she was one of the most wonderful people he had ever met in his life, he shouldn't be surprised that many noticed it too.
He felt strange, a feeling of insecurity settled deep in his chest and mind.
He always knew that he wasn't the best candidate to be her boyfriend.  A boyfriend like the one she deserved.  It was one of the reasons he had been so reluctant to date her in the first place.
Since he knew her, knew how different they were.  Where he was calm, she was a complete hurricane; Always going from one place to another, talking to everyone. 
And then there was him, who liked the tranquility, the silence.  He had friends, of course, and he really enjoyed their company and especially of his beautiful girlfriend, but sometimes being alone was very comforting for his brain.
And yet, she persisted with him. 
He was grateful that she had done it, but the doubt was killing him.
Did she know that she had more options than him?  What could she have whoever she wanted, if she wanted it that way?
Oscar wasn't as funny as Carlos, or as handsome as Charles.  He didn't even win as many races as Max.
It didn't make sense for Y/n, being so wonderful, to date someone like him.
And that thought was killing him.
He arrived at the garage the next day, at night he had not slept as much as he would have liked.  Dinner the night before had turned out quite awkward.
Y/n had felt bad, believing that she had done something wrong to make Oscar calmer than normal.  But she knew that had done nothing more than be the way that always was. She had decided to stay in her hotel room for the day to give him some space.
"Where is my sister?"  Lando approached Oscar to greet him
"She decided to stay at the hotel for today" he answered, put down the notebook he was reading "can I ask you a question?"
"sure"
"did you know that some people here like y/n?"
Lando nodded "well, yeah."  He looked at Oscar "It's been a lifetime, she has something that attracts people... and it's not her bond with me" he saw the frown of his partner and understood "You didn't know that?"
"No, I mean, yeah," he sighed tiredly, "it doesn't matter."
"I've never seen her as in love as is with you," Lando commented, patting his on the shoulder. "Don't worry."
"I am not worried"
"Well, tell to your face then. See you later"
"bye"
Oscar pulled out his cell phone when it rang, it was y/n.  he answered on the third ring
"Hey"
"hey babe" her voice was as sweet as always "I wanted to wish you luck today in qualifying"
Oscar smiled unconsciously "thank you" he made a silence and spoke again "I think I'll be a little late today, but we can order something from the room service if you want"
"I would love to, I'm sure we can find something that fits your diet"
"Yes, surely you will order the biggest hamburger you can find"
"You know me darling" he heard the soft laughter from the other side "see you in a couple of hours"
"Yes take care"
"always, I love you" y/n waited carefully for the response.
Oscar swallowed, and whispered "I love you too"
When she hung up, she stared at the phone for a second and then put it aside, laying down on the bed and staring at the ceiling.  Oscar had been acting strange since the day before and it was making her nervous.
Did he not love her anymore?  Was he doubting her relationship?  Was he finally getting tired of her and her personality overflowing from her? 
God, he hoped not, because she would be devastated if Oscar broke up with her.
Charles, Carlos and Max watched carefully as Oscar spoke to Logan from a distance.
"He's frowning," Leclerc commented to his teammates.
"maybe he's just concentrating on what they're talking about" Carlos said
"he seems a little angry" Max continued "If y/n finds out that we made her boyfriend mad, do you think she'll be mad at us?"
The Ferrari boys spoke at the same time
"Yes"
Max nodded "let's hope she doesn't find out then, y/n being angry isn't something I like to see...or face"
Oscar was listening to Logan speak, but without really listening to him.  His mind was completely out of whack and the Williams driver noticed it, in addition to his bad mood.
"Are you okay, mate?"
"yes, I'm sorry"
"don't worry, I understand. y/n didn't come today."
"why do you assume it's because of y/n?"
"Well, she keeps things pretty fun around here. I guess we all noticed when she didn't come to the Paddock."
Oscar let out a humorless laugh "I guess so, apparently everyone does" and added nonsensically, standing up a little straighter "She's my girlfriend."
Logan frowned in confusion and laughed a little without understanding "I know, everyone knows."
"right" he nodded without changing his posture, gathering his things "I have to go, my girlfriend is waiting for me. See you tomorrow"
"Sure. Tell her I hope to see her tomorrow, see you"
On the way back to the hotel, his bad mood settled on the road. When he got to his room he sighed before opening the door.
The room was empty.  He left the things on the desk
"love, is you?" he hear her voice from the bathroom.
"Yes," he answered, approaching the door, "can I come in?"
"of course"
Oscar opened the door to find her in the bathtub, surrounded by foam, her hair tied up, and she looked at him with a smile.
"How did it go?"
"P5, better than previous practices" he leaned against the door frame "how was your day?"
"Quiet, I went to the hotel gym and then to the spa. It was relaxing"
"I'm glad your day was good" he tried to smile "I'll go see what's on the hotel menu."
He was about to turn around to pick up the phone when she stopped him.
"Wait, you're not going to kiss me?"
"Yes, I'm sorry" Oscar cursed himself internally as he approached her and placed a soft kiss on her lips and got up from her before she could deepen the kiss "I'll order you a hamburger and fries."
Y/n frowned as she watched him leave her. she stood up from the bathtub and grabbed a towel to wrap it around her.
She found him talking on the phone and ordering food.  She waited for him to finish speaking so as not to interrupt him.
"You're going to catch a cold if you don't change quickly," he told her when he found her standing in the bathroom door.
"Are you going to break up with me?"
"What?"
"Are you going to break up with me?"  She repeated it slowly, separating the words
"No, why would I?"
"Since yesterday you've been acting strange, at dinner you barely spoke, then you don't want to kiss me and you talk as if you don't want to talk to me. If you need a little space..."
"Hey, hey, stop. I don't need space, I'm sorry for acting like that. I think I'm just tired from practice."
"and now you're lying to me" y/n shook her head and grabbed some clothes to go back to the bathroom to change.
When she came out, Oscar was sitting on the bed, with his hands on his face, looking stressed.  She tried not to pity him, after all he was the one who was lying and acting strange with her.
She was thinking about taking her things and going to Lando. Y/n knew her brother wouldn't mind sharing her room with her.
"Did you know you could date anyone you wanted?"  her boyfriend's voice sounded
"what?"
"literally anyone, you could be with someone who is more fun, sociable, handsome..."
"Wow, I need you to stop there and explain to me what all this is about."
Oscar removed his hands from her face and looked at her almost sadly.
"You could date anyone else, but you're with me. Why me? I need you to explain it to me, honey, because the doubt is killing me."
y/n walked up to him and sat next to him
"What do you mean by why? It's you. Everything about you fascinates me. From the first time I saw you, I knew I had to be with you. I can't imagine loving anyone else. You, with that calmness that counteracts my hyperactivity. You with all the things you do for me. You, who have done nothing but make me feel so loved."
Oscar looked at her with unshed tears "but I..."
She cut him off "there are no buts with you. I love you and I don't want to love anyone else. Because no one is more fun, handsome than you. And you are sociable in your own way, you always let me drag you to all the events I can. I think you don't realize how terrified I am that you'll realize you can do it better than me."
Oscar wiped away his tears "I feel stupid now" y/n stayed silent, waiting for her next action.  Her boyfriend opened the hugs "can I have a hug?"
"All that you want"
They stayed there, hugging the edge of the bed for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to make you feel like that, I would never break up with you."
"It's good to know" she separated from him and they knocked on the door to deliver the food.
Minutes later, when they were both already eating on the bed.
"Hey," she called after swallowing a big bite.
"What?"
"When you said I could have any man I wanted"
"yes..." he replied cautiously
"Do you think Henry Cavill would be with me?" she asked mockingly
Oscar took a piece of bread and threw it at her, causing her to laugh "shut up."
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bouncybongfairy · 2 days
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Not A Peep
Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader Smut
Summary: You're a medic on Task Force 141 and Ghost finds out you have a thing for him when you get flustered stitching him up. Once you guys get back to the barracks, he fucks your throat under a desk.
Word Count: 1.0k+
Ref Account: @kaionyx
TW: Dom Ghost, Face Fucking, Rough Smut, BJ Under Desk
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
It was easy to separate yourself from all the stories being told while studying to be a combat medic. Tales about women falling for soldiers and then being immortally traumatized from watching the war take its effect on him. Whether it be emotionally or physically, the horror stories were gruesome. One teacher talked about how she had to treat her fiance after he’d been shot in the arm, apparently it fucked her up for a while. In a way, you would mock the fact that anyone would put themselves in that situation. Falling in love with someone with such a high risk job. It seemed like common sense not to put your heart on the line, especially when it could affect your job. 
That was until I met Simon and you started to understand that those wives tales weren’t so far fetched. The two of you didn’t talk much but it always felt like there was so much tension. Constantly making eye contact, becoming flustered and tongue tied whenever he spoke to you. Avoiding him when you could, not liking the feeling of your heart racing when you did. He held so much emotion in his eyes, like he was projecting his thoughts through eye contact. On a recent mission, a bullet brushed past the area above his hip bone; creating a laceration that needed stitches. Barding into the tent and pulling his pants down and shedding his gear.
 Immediately you get on your knees, pulling everything you needed to treat him out of your tactical vest. Looking up just before starting the first stitch, he was already looking down at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were narrowed onto you. Blood was running down, trailing down the contour of his v-line. Hands started shaking slightly, especially as he started to moan and curse in pain. Even though you were fully aware his reaction was from discomfort, you couldn’t but imagine if it… wasn’t. 
He was watching you like a hawk, swiveling his head to watch you whenever you grabbed gauze. All hope that he didn’t notice you acting flustered was ditched when you started feeling dizzy, swaying a little. He grabbed your arm to prevent you from falling, your partner taking over. Now back in the barracks, you took a long hot shower. Trying to figure out why you got so in your head, the water began to run cold. Prompting you to get out and get dressed, walking back into your room. Ghost who was stripped of gear, laying back on the bed supporting his weight with his elbows. 
“Do you need me to redress that for you?” you asked, assuming he was waiting to see you about his wound. 
“No. Do you need me to undress you?” he asked, sitting up. 
“I- What?” you asked, taken off guard. 
“Do you. Need me to. Undress you?” he asked slower, like you were too dumb to answer the question. 
“I don’t understand-” you began saying. 
“No no, I saw you today. The way your eyes widened when you were on your knees in front of me. The desperation and neediness was so potent I could practically smell it on you. I could have taken you right there if I wanted, forced myself into your throat. So hot and bothered you couldn’t even do your job, I consume your thoughts. Don’t act like I don’t” he said, backing you against the desk that was in the corner. 
“I don’t-” he interrupted. 
“Wanna say something you regret,” he said, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Dipping it into your mouth, feeling around to see your reaction, “I think it safe to say that if you didn’t want my cock, you wouldn’t be sucking my finger like a whore. Would you?” he asks, you shake your head and in response he gives you a sharp smack on the cheek.
“Would you?” he asks again, giving you a chance to correct your answer. 
“Yes sir,” you say, melting at the way he looked at you. 
“Good girl, get under the desk.” He said, which you did without hesitation. 
He unzipped his fly, struggling for a second to free his member but finally got there. Sitting down in the office chair, rolling into the small space under the desk. Completely trapping you inside the small space. No longer being able to see above his shoulders, not that it mattered when his cock was right in front of you. Every time your lips finally encased his tip, he would use his hand and pull it away. You reach up and try to take his length into your hand. His voice booming through the room as he pulls away a couple inches to look you in the eyes. 
“Put your fucking hand down, you haven’t done anything to deserve it,” he said, scooting back in, using his hand to guide your head down. 
After all the teasing, the feelings of his cock pushing past your lips felt like heaven. Ever since you met him all you could think about was him ravaging you. Using your body for whatever he wanted. A loud groan coming from the back of your throat, his other hand was stroking your cheek. Slowly starting to push your head down further, you gagged which made him chuckle. 
“Fuck, I knew i’d eventually have you gagging around my dick,” he cooed, letting his head fall back. You looked up, now being able to see his exposed jawline. Reaching your hand down and starting to play with yourself. Spreading your wetness around and circling your clit. Moaning as drool and pre-cum started sliding down his shaft. He grabbed your hair and starting to fuck your mouth. His eyes were rolling back, feeling feral hearing the wet slobbering and slapping sounds. There was a knock at the door which made you squeal and try to pull away. 
“Shhhhh!” He hisses before clearing his throat and answering the door. However just before he does, he presses your head down, applying pressure with both hands on the back of your head. Forcing your lips all the way down to the base of his cock. 
“Yeah!” he yelled, Soap opened the door but remained in the doorway. 
“Have you seen y/n? We have training soon,” Soap asked while you were digging your fingernails into his boots, swallowing around his length which hurt slightly.
“Yeah, I think she went to get some fresh air,” Ghost said, stars were forming in your vision. Soap thanked him and promptly exited and Ghost finally let you pull back. Gasping for air and wiping the tears out of your eyes. He moaned as the cold air hit his dick just after getting used to your hot throat. 
“That’s a good girl, just breathe. Yeah, you’re a such a good fucking girl,” he snarled and pulled you back down on you. 
He stood up and balled his fist in your hair, and pinning his hands onto the top of the desk. Essentially locking you into place and he obliterated your throat. Making sure your nose was pressed into his base with every thrust. Not bothering to pull his cock out as he started came. Warm cum flooding down your throat and into your stomach. He pulled out, not wasting any time putting his dick away. You rested your upper body on the now empty chair that sat in front of you. Ghost squatted down and grabbed your wet chin to look up at him before speaking, 
“Firstly, you should thank me for feeding you before training. Secondly, I didn’t make you cum because you left scratch marks on my boot,” he said, walking out of the room.
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whiskeyghoul · 3 days
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She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader] Pt2.
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Read part 1 here
A/N: OMG I can’t believe how much people enjoyed part 1? Seriously, as I am finishing this part up it has reached over 500 notes, I am shocked and so very thankful for the love. I didn’t expect it. A silly little fic not proof read, totally self indulgent, really this is so wonderful and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read it and reblog, like or comment on it. I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint. Part 3 is going to be here soon too, which will be the unofficial date.
WC: 1,9K ~
Tags: Fluff, just fluff, Spencer is a flustered mess, Alt!Reader, Goth!Reader, 2 idiots flirting, Reader and Penelope are besties, use of Y/N, Penelope has been playing matchmaker, alluding to a date, crushes.
Warnings: None. 
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Your pov.
It was a late Sunday afternoon. You were sitting on Penelope Garcia’s couch, cup of hot tea in hand. Legs curled up on the couch with a colorful blanket over your lap. It clashed just ever so slightly with your dark outfit. The two of you are in complete contrast to each other. Penelope was a ball of color in a bright purple dress with a lemon pattern, large yellow earrings and a blue bolero sweater. Compared to your all black ensemble she was a ray of sunshine. An array of snacks spread out over the coffee table. The aforementioned peppy blonde was sitting next to you on the couch. Deeply engrossed with the romance show playing on the TV. You watched it together every Sunday, when a new episode would come out. Today your mind was somewhere else completely.
“He hasn’t called yet.” You spoke up. Penelope eyed you curiously, “Who?” She asked, her focus gone from the show. Her eyes peered at you with interest from behind the cat eye glasses she had picked out that day. “Doctor Reid.” You turned your head back to the TV casually, trying to not seem bothered. You could hear Penelope hold back a small squeal. It sounded more like a gasp that way. “Oh my god! Are you interested in him? What did he do to impress you? I have been trying to set you up for ages! You have shot down any person I have discussed with you. Always something wrong.” She started rambling, hearing the clink of her glass being put on the coffee table. Her hands grabbed yours, making you look back at her and rolling your eyes. “Firstly: I am not ‘interested’ in him. Secondly: I just thought he would have called by now. Or stopped by at least.” You shrugged noncommittally. You were just a little interested. Thinking back to that meeting.
When Spencer had stepped into the lab earlier that week, courtesy of Penelope, you had found his awkward demeanor endearing. He was hot, that was for sure, and tall, you remembered having to look up at him, Those dark brown eyes pinning you in place. Especially when you had stood so close together. You had wanted to tease him after watching him stumble over his sentences. See him even more flustered. It made you somewhat excited. When you had given him your number you could feel his pulse racing under his skin. He had shown many signs of being interested yet he hadn’t even texted you. It made you rethink the interaction. 
“Well, he couldn’t have stopped by. They got called on a case in Utah so he’s not really in the area right now.” Penelope clarified. Those words put your mind at ease more than you expected them to. “Oh, I guess he can’t really get to the lab then.” You shrugged. Just a little disappointed but feeling relieved that apparently he hadn’t meant to not visit you. Or maybe he had done so on purpose if he would be close. Your earlier relief was replaced by a mild panic again. Trying to convince yourself you weren’t interested in Dr. Reid. Although, he could have texted. You could practically feel Penelope smirk as you turned your attention back on the TV. Unable to focus but pretending to. “Spence is not one for texting. He probably has been getting to the hotel at ungodly hours and hasn’t had time to call.” it was like she could read your mind. “Don’t do that.” You said with a shudder. “Do what?” Penelope questioned innocently. “Read my mind like that. It’s weird.” You answered, making her laugh. “Just goes to show how well I know you.” She answered with a smile. It was true. She knew you too well you would even argue. The fact both of you were women in a male dominated field, both dressed eccentricly, and both with a passion for cheesy movies and tv shows. It was only a matter of time until you were best friends after your first run in.
Your phone, which was placed on the table, lit up at that moment. The ringtone played at a high volume, making the cure blast through the room. Your eyes quickly flickered to the screen. Caller ID unknown. You picked up the phone, hesitant of the unknown caller, deciding to hang up instead. You had been plagued by telemarketers for the past month and really didn’t want to deal with that right now. If it was important they would call again. And they did, you still had your phone in your hands when it went off again. “Just pick it up! I will keep watch over our show, fill you in later.” Penelope said, motioning her hands for you to get up. You got off the couch, soft blanket falling to the ground as you picked up the phone. Softly padding away to the kitchen to be out of earshot of Penelope. “Y/n speaking.” you answered, waiting to hear from the other end of the line. “Hey… ehm… is this not the right time? Are you busy?” The voice on the other end of the line made you straighten up slightly in surprise. “Doctor Reid.” You breathe out his name quietly, adding a “Now is a perfectly good time.” to your sentence. Wondering how hearing his voice through the slightly tin-like phone speaker made you feel a little flutter in your stomach. “Good… I didn’t want to bother you. You can just call me Spencer by the way. Doctor sounds too formal. I just introduce myself like that. It’s a habit. I don’t call you Doctor L/n either. So call me Spencer.” He started rambling. A smile spread across your lips, this rambly version was different from how speechless he had been in the lab. You held back a giggle. Apparently you had rendered him speechless in the lab. “Alright, Spencer.” You answered, the humor in your voice apparent. His breath hitched a little on the other side of the line. 
“Why did you call?” You asked, trying to continue on without dawdling. “Oh eh, the report, I ehm…” He was quiet for a moment. It crossed your mind that maybe he didn’t need to speak with you, but he wanted to. “Yes?” You urged after a silence had fallen on the other side of the phone line. There was an intake of breath from Spencer, a moment that signaled he might be trying to raise some courage. “I didn’t want to talk about the report.” He finally spoke. It made you smile, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh, well then what did you want to talk about?” You added a bit of playfulness in your tone. You pictured him, holding the phone to his ears that were tipped red. His face was probably just as flushed as it had been in the lab. 
“I ehm- I haven’t been able to focus, on the case that is. Because I keep thinking about the lab. How I probably came off as a mess, I just didn’t know what to say because you looked so… Not that you look bad because you don’t, you looked really nice. Emily says my IQ gets slashed down to 68 when I am around pretty girls. I wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t find the words though. I usually don’t make great first impressions, because I tend to ramble. Just- I really really hope I didn’t make a bad first impression.” His sentences flowed into each other like word vomit. Nervous, quick, and hardly understandable. Luckily, you were trained in the art of understanding nervous rambles when Penelope would spiral into one from time to time. However he had called you pretty. “Spencer.” You said his name almost like a question. There was a beat of silence. “Yes?” He asked softly, he sounded so nervous.
“You didn’t make a bad impression. I gave you my number for a reason.” You told him with a smile, a little giddy as the words ‘he called me pretty’ kept bouncing around your head. “And I am sorry I called without any real reason to… I know it was for talking about the report. Though Morgan tried to convince me it wasn’t.” Spencer answered. You rolled your eyes at that. Ofcourse, this hyper intelligent man would mix up what you were trying to do. “I gave you my number because I wanted you to call me. Not about the report. I just wanted you to call me. About anything.” There was apparently a need to clear up that confusion. It was silent for another moment. “Oh.” It was like realization dawned on him. “So I should have called sooner, right?” His question made you laugh softly, trying not to clue in Penelope on your call.  “Yes, you should have. Or could have at least. I was waiting.” You answered back, smiling at the ground. You fidgeted with one of the large rings on your free hand, twisting the cool metal round with your thumb.
“I’m sorry I didn’t.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. The slight uptick in his pitch. You imagined he was still fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, or was perhaps looking at his shoes with a grin. “You can make it up to me by buying me a coffee when you get back.” The suggestion came naturally, you didn’t even have to think about it. The words left your lips before you could, really. “What do you like?” Spencer asked without hesitation. “Cinnamon latte.” You answered it softly, a little surprised he agreed so readily. A giddy feeling in your stomach. “Alright, cinnamon latte, I’ll remember.” Spencer sounded a little breathy, like he too was feeling giddy at the prospects of having coffee together. Like the idea of taking time to get to know each other at work over a warm beverage was the perfect first date. “What do you like?” You asked in turn, wanting to know what he would usually get. Knowing more about him would feel so domestic and sweet. “Black coffee, usually with tons of sugar.” He had a hint of embarrassment in your voice. A little muffled like he had covered his mouth to hold in the confession of drinking it so sweet. You smiled at his answer. Of course he had a sweet tooth. “Tons of sugar, I’ll remember.” You mirrored his words. 
“Oh! My! God!” You heard Penelope gasp from the living room. Knocking you out of your little phone call bubble with Spencer. “I think I have to go. You better call me tomorrow.” You said it lightheartedly. Just wanting to hear from him again soon. “I will. I’ll call you.” Spencer answered. “Bye Spencer.” “Bye Y/n.” You hung up with a smile, already turning and walking back into the living room. Penelope turned around on the couch to look at you, “They shot Richard!” She looked absolutely shocked as she gave you the news of your favorite character being hurt. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face though. “Spencer called.” You saw her face form from a shocked to surprise expression, “Oh! My! God!” She sounded a lot happier that time, and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of it.
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sweetestdesire · 1 day
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ON THE ROAD AGAIN
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WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.
PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Quinn Hughes leaving for road games is always hard.
Y/N absolutely loved that Quinn got to play in the NHL, that he was happy doing what he did best, that much was true. What she didn’t love, however, was when he left to go on roadies. She watched with sulky pouts and sullen expressions every time as he packed his bags for road games, huffing as he’d take that hoodie she liked instead of leaving it for her.
“I like that one.” She’d always say bitterly. It was a different hoodie every time, and Y/N knew that he knew she said that just to be whiny, but he never said as much, and a small part of her appreciated it.
“You like all of them.” He’d always say blankly, and then she’d sit and mourn that one hoodie she couldn’t have from him, even as he left her the rest of them at her disposal.
This time was no different. Quinn left the first day of winter, the frigid air kissing her skin as she shivered at the front door, standing with a pout on her face as he turned to her. "I’ll see you in two weeks, sweetheart." He said, an arm looping around her to give her a hug.
Y/N sniffled, and she felt silly. She felt like she must seem pathetic every time. It was two weeks, not two decades. But the bed was colder without Quinn to keep her warm in the harshness of winter nights, and breakfast was lonely without someone to listen to her babble away, and the TV was boring when she couldn’t share snacks and make fun of the poor choices of blandly written main characters. She was silly and a bit childish to cry like this every time, but she couldn’t help it. She was happy that Quinn got to play, but she just couldn’t ever get used when he was away.
Quinn lightly traced his fingers down her cheek, watching the way she leaned into his palm. This was the worst part about his job, the only part he hated: saying goodbye to her. Her eyes fluttered closed as he ran his thumb along her lower lip, his fingers trembling slightly. “Be good for me, okay?” He softly spoke.
“Always am.” Y/N wrapped her hand around his, bringing it to her lips. “I’ll miss you.” She croaked. “Don’t forget about me, okay? I’ll die."
"So dramatic.” Quinn playfully rolled his eyes, but his voice was soft and his hand rubbed those soothing circles into the small of her back, and she thought maybe she wasn’t so annoying if he treated her so softly, so gentle and sweet.
It was cold and dry, and the wind was harsh and Quinn should really get going if he wanted to make it to the airport on time, but Y/N was sniffling into his shoulder. Perhaps there were more pressing things to worry about for now.
"Are you gonna miss me, too?" Y/N asked, poking his shoulder a few times. “You will, right? You’ll be so lonely without me and super sad?"
"You’re too much.” Quinn grunted, but his grip tightened around her anyway as if to say, yes. As if to say, I’ll miss you every day, and I’ll keep missing you even when I’m back. "It’s two weeks, baby.” He reassured. “You’ll live."
"What if I die? Would you come back for my funeral even if you'd miss your game? You would, right? Don’t let them pick a bad picture of me.”
"I’ll pick the ugliest one I can find.” He grumbled, making her slap his shoulder with a gasp.
"I hope you get stuck sitting next to a crying baby on your flight.” Y/N sulked.
"I’m stuck with a crying baby at home, too.” He teasingly muttered. “What’s the difference?" She could almost feel him smile even if she couldn’t see it.
Quinn didn’t smile too often, that's what everyone else said, anyway. Y/N told them differently though, that he smiled often, that he was pretty and soft and innocent underneath the dim lights of their living room or the gentle rays of sun under the morning sheets. And it was always small, the way his lips stretch. It was barely noticeable and all too brief, but his muscles moved before his brain thought, and just a quick glance at her was enough to make his eyes soften and his mouth twitch.
Quinn tugged her back into his arms when she tried to leave his embrace. His body always ran warm, but he’s grown used to her touch, and he found he became cold without it. And come to think of it, his lips were a bit cold right now, he realized, and there was only one thing that could warm them up quick enough to his liking. Cupping her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her, soft and sweet to make up for the sharpness he couldn’t help but always expel.
Quinn left her alone at home on the first day of winter, and he realized he fell in love with her a little more every season. He loved her through the gentle breeze of summer and the vibrant petals of spring. He saw pieces of her in the warm hues of autumn everywhere he went, and when winter came and the harsh chill settled under his bones, he realized it was her body he wanted against his to ease the ache of the brittle cold.
"You’re so rude." Y/N said, looking back up at him. His eyes were so soft, so tender. So full of adoration. There were too many words to say and no time to say them. None of them could help though, they both knew that. Saying goodbye was gut wrenching, no amount of soft words would heal the emptiness he’d leave behind. She stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, trying to pretend that time wasn’t looming over her shoulder.
"I’ve gotta go, baby.” was all he said. "I’ll see you in two weeks?" And he always did that, always asked if he'd see her like he had to make sure she’d be here with warm arms and a soft smile and those kind eyes of hers that he didn’t deserve but couldn’t possibly forget.
"Yeah.” Y/N mumbled softly. “Yeah, I’ll see you in two weeks. Be safe, Quinn.” She mumbled against his shoulder.
This was the hard part. If she had to pick, the hardest part was where she let go. The part where her body screamed for the heated press of his as it pulled away. It was always easier for Quinn than it was for her, always simpler for him to reason it was only two weeks. He’d come back, he always did, and she didn’t think he'd ever stop. But it was the hardest part anyway, and she hated it. She wished, selfishly deep down, that it'd be just a bit hard for him, too.
"I’ll see you in two weeks.” Quinn repeated again, as if to reassure her. But this time, he still didn’t let go. He didn’t make a move to leave like usual, and it hit her all at once. She realized maybe it wasn’t just her he said it for, that maybe Quinn, underneath his blank stare and blunt words, didn’t think it was any easier than she did when he walked away.
Y/N nodded slowly. “Two weeks. Shouldn’t be too bad.” She whispered.
"No.” He said quietly. “You’ll live." And then his arms squeezed her tighter, and his breath exhaled slowly, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead that couldn’t be anything other than stalling. And suddenly, Y/N realized maybe it had never been as easy for him as she thought it had been.
"I’ll live.” Y/N agreed softly. “I’ll have to since I can't let someone get away with picking an ugly picture for my funeral."
Quinn chuckled at that. It was a sound he didn’t really make that often, but somehow, it was one that bled into every moment with her. Y/N turned her head and kissed his shoulder, squeezing around his waist and keeping him warm outside the door as the cold wind of winter grazed her skin.
"Don’t die.” Quinn said. “I’ll be back."
"I won't.” Y/N giggled. “Bye, Quinny. I love you, and I’ll see you in two weeks." She said, and this time, it was her lips that craved his warmth, to feel the heat that he radiated, the simple yet overwhelming passion he carried. She cupped his cheek much softer than he did, but she kissed him a lot rougher too, pressing her lips to his like it was the last she’d ever get of him.
"Yeah.” Quinn hummed. And finally, he pulled away. Her body was gone and so was her warmth, but he wasn’t cold and didn’t think he could be when his heart burned like that in his chest. “I love you, too.” He mumbled before he turned around and walked out the door. “And don't forget to watch me win."
To most people, Quinn Hughes seemed like he didn’t know anything about love, that he was just emotionally stunted and a little clueless to his own feelings. But the truth was, he knew more than anyone. He knew himself better than anyone did because for the longest time, that’s who he's been around for most of his day.
So Quinn knew pretty early on that he was in love with Y/N. The reality was that he fell in love first because when she accidentally leaves a few strands of hair in his sink, his first response isn't to roll his eyes, it's to chuckle. He knew she was special enough to get away with that because when she teased him about things, he got excited that she’s comfortable enough with him to mess around, not annoyed that she was poking fun at his expense.
At times, Quinn felt as though he needed Y/N more than she needed him, so he tried to give her more of him, even if there were days he felt like there was nothing left to give. He fell deeper and deeper for her, hopelessly plummeting into her arms and praying they were open for him to fall into. He didn’t want to feel the cold again after knowing the warmth of her embrace. But she always let him fall into her, wrapping her arms around him and entwining herself against his figure. He simply loved her because she’s diligently pieced the jagged shards of himself into something whole again.
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solarlunarsstuff · 2 days
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hello 👀👀👀 may i request an alastor trying to woo lucifer's oldest daughter while the big boss of hell and charlie are watching 👀👀👀
thank you so much and have a wonderful day!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
YIPPEE !! A hazbin Hotel req ! I only watched around 4-5 episodes of the newest show so it might not be accurate ! Enjoy :) !
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Alastor x Fem!Reader (FANFIC)
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A/n: He might be a little bit obsessed with you, but don't worry, he'll make you quiet if he has to force it. (HUSKERDUST 4 LIFEEEEE)
TW: Fingering, READER IS A HOOKER !!!, semi-public, getting caught, his horn thingies grow, tongue fucking, getting eaten out, dry humping, pet names (slut, whore, baby, doll, ect), you look a little bit like Charlie, dirty talk, nipple play, messy make-outs, overestimating, and edging. Lmk if I missed anything ! 😙
Synopsis: Alastor, the 7'3 radio demon, the overlord of a lot of land in hell. Even though he's shown no sign of wanting to experience intimacy, he can change that rule...
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The first daughter of the big boss of hell.
That was your title, ever since you were born. Later on though, you had gotten a little sister.
Charlie Morningstar.
She was a big ray of sunshine despite being born in this hellish place. You loved her, you really did.
The both of you nearly look the same. You did dye your hair to (F/c) so there is quite a difference. You're about 6'9, a few inches taller than her.
You also held that wicked smile from your father, typical.
Anyway, you were in the middle of cleaning your apartment when you heard a knock on your door and the sound of paper falling onto the floor.
You thought it was those stupid kids on floor 4 playing games again, but it wasn't. Turned out to be a letter, signed by... your younger sister?
Of course, having nothing else to do, you ripped it open with your nails and unfolded the neat paper.
It read,
'My dear sister, I know we don't talk much anymore, but I would love it if you paid a visit to the hotel! I also know you probably don't have a job, but dad wanted to see you too. He had just come to the hotel about an hour ago. He was basically pleading to see your pretty face again! So, please, think of this and get back to me as soon as possible.
XOXO, Charlie'
You always loved the way that she signed letters. She's been sending you letters with her sign off like that for years now.
Either way, you sat on your couch, contemplating if you should just go or not.
"Fuck it..." You thought out loud
Choosing something comfortable and not something you wore while hooking up.
Oh, right... You're a hooker. It's a job that's actually nicely paid, paid enough for food and your bills. That's it, that's what you were worried about.
What if one of your clients worked there? What of your dad and sister find out?
One client stood out to you though, what was his name? Did it start with an 'A'? Either way, he was one of those people who would choose a hooker and later on be actually interested.
You? Never, it would ruin your job reputation, not wanting to let your job go, you kindly refused, and he went on with his life.
Until you have gotten various notes from someone, some of them were wholesome? In a way, like, "I miss you" or "Just give me a chance".
Others... others were sort of... sexual... For example, "My cock aches for you" and they even sent a paper that had been covered in lipstick kisses.
But it wasn't lips. It was, uhm, you get the idea. He might have been a little bit crazy for you, but it stopped a couple of years ago.
Maybe he realized that I wasn't interested in something serious? You still thought about it as you took the taxi to the front street of the hotel.
You thanked the driver, but instead of him saying your welcome...
"How about I give you a ten? You know, for your pretty body?" He grinned
"No thanks, you don't seem like the type that I would bother with. Plus, that 10 won't even cover 20 minutes.." You snarled back
He whispered some slur under his breath but drove off anyway.
"People think they can just ask me for -" you stumbled back as you ran into something, more like someone...
Red vest, big deer ears, a staff...
'Oh shit..' You thought to yourself
Maybe he won't remember you?
"Back for round two, love?" He grinned maliciously
'God fucking dammit..' you looked up seeing that stupid radio demon overlord.
"No, I'm not, you sick fuck. I'm here to see my little sister.." You moved around him and continued to walk towards the hotel.
"Ahh, that's why I thought you looked familiar.." his voice had a hint of static to it.
You stayed silent and opened the doors, your sister turned around to see who it was.
"Alastor, I said that you -" she stopped once she saw you.
'That's what his name was...' You smiled a little at how your sister nearly knocked you over as she came and wrapped her arms around you.
"OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU CAMEE!!!" She jumped up and down while hugging the shit out of you.
"Hah, yep, it's me!" You awkwardly hugged her back, noticing your father talking to the other workers on the lobby couches.
Lucifer turned from the sound of your voice and did the same thing as Charlie.
"MY SWEET GIRL!" He squealed
"Hey, dad." I sighed as he also hugged me
Charlie's personality was mostly taken by your father's side while you to your mother's.
Not really knowing your mom, but you knew you had almost the same personality. The little family bonding was broken by the voice of presumed 'Alastor'.
"Y/n, was it? Pleasure to meet you!~" As if... This fucker is acting as if you've never met before.
"Right..." You went along with it, about to shake his hand, but almost forgot that he is an overlord of souls.
You just smiled lightly at him, seemed like it was the safest option.
[1 hour later]
Nifty was off somewhere cleaning, Angeldust was flirting with Husk, Lucifer and Charlie were laughing at something stupid. And you, you were just sitting on the end of the couch, sipping on your (F/d).
Everything was going lovely until you heard a little bit of static start to form behind you. Everybody else didn't seem to notice, but you did. While turning around, you saw that dumb fucks face.
"Darling, tell me.. Do you like me for the money? Or for how your pretty walls wrapped around my d-" you instantly cut him off, not wanting anybody to hear.
"Shut the fuck up..." You glared at him
He smuggly smiled and sat next to you, squishing you between the armrest and him.
"Could you move-" Your voice stopped in your throat when his hand landed on your thigh.
Alastor kept his hand there, slightly rubbing his hand closer to your cunt.
He paid no mind to your silent pleas. Instead, he started talking with Husk and Angeldust. Thank the gods you were in a blindspot, or everybody would've seen Alastor touching you up.
His hand swiftly slipped into your shorts, rubbing your dampened panties from the outside.
You started to softly buck your hips into his fingers, wanting to gain friction. As if it was obvious, he stopped, grinning from you silently whining.
"Are you okay?" Your father, Lucifer, asked. He noticed how you were twitching.
"Mhm!" Was all you could muster as Alastor started to pump his fingers again.
Your arm flared out, gripping his shoulder. "A-alastor... You..." You couldn't speak for shit.
"Please let me and Miss Y/N excuse ourselves!" Alastor announced to the group.
Before you could speak up, he dragged you a few feet around the corner. "What the fuck-" he cut you off by forcing his lips onto yours.
"You're going to shut the fuck up and take me right here..." He pulled away slightly before diving back in.
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A/N: I'm gonna edge yall since I want this to be done before school starts tm!! :3
195 notes · View notes
igotanidea · 23 hours
Text
Strain: Jason Todd x reader
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A/N: nsfw themes. Not explicit but still, so I'd rather put MDNI here.
***
Every touch every move every stroke had only one single purpose.
To bring her pleasure.
And judging by the soft moans and gasps of delight he was doing quite a good job at it.
"Mmh...Jay..." she whimpered.
"Like that, princess?" He made his voice deeper only to tease her more.
"Yes, please... So good, don't stop..."
"I won't" he leaned to plant a string of soft kisses on her delicate and exposed neck. In return she gripped the sheets, her body responding to the caresses and rocking it's been subjected to. And Jason couldn't help but grin from complacency.
At this point he was becoming rougher, compressing her body like something that belonged to him, that only he knew how to handle and worship in the right way.
How to make her satisfied.
"You're so responsive and I love it..." he gasped pawing her skin and every curve.
"Cause your working in all the right places..." she whined her voice a little muffled from the fact that her face was buried in the pillow. "Though I believe you're getting too excited..."
"Yeah, you're still so tense Princess."
"Yeah it's been a heavy week..."
"Don't worry, we'll get rid of that in no time... Just forget that and relax with me..."
His hands moved lower on her body, getting more curious, wandering in all the right places as he kept moving. What was even more exciting, was that she couldn't see him, as she was lying on her belly. It made all the situation even more bone-deep cause as she was focusing solely on the touch and not other senses.
"Oh yes...."
"Here?" He pressed on that one spot and she moaned in acknowledgement. "Guess it's here then..." He smirked while continuing his attack on the new found place.
"Shit!" She whined arching her back a little "it hurts!"
"I know baby but trust me you'll feel better in a moment..."
For a few good minutes the silence in the room were being torn only by the groans and rustling of the sheets and after then a deep sigh of relaxation made Jason aware he finally reached his goal.
With a signature smirk he pulled back and laid next to her side searching for her eyes.
"Feeling better sunshine?"
"Much better, thank you. Dare I ask where you learned all that things?"
"Self education." He grinned
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, see those muscles?" Jason pointed at his chest and body "they did not come from nothing. And with all the soreness i had to deal with throughout I had to learn a thing or two about anatomy. Guess it came handy tonight huh?"
"I'll be sure to use your sevices more in the future."
"Sure thing princess" he kissed her forehead affectionately "I'll get you a regular customer discount."
"Tease!" she nudged his shoulder.
"Hey!" his reaction was immediate and took a form of grabbing her wrist "behave princess, you know my massages are good for your health and posture, you have no contrargument to that."
"Ok, fine! fine! They are. But unless you want me to use someone else's services you'd better accept payment for kisses."
Jason groaned in frustration.
She always knew how to take away any words of objection from him.
So what else could he do rather than accept his fate, nod his head and enojy the little smooches all over his face in the form of thanks for his professional rub down?
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thebadboyfanclub · 3 days
Text
Together As One (Daemon x Reader)
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So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!
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Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.
That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.
Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.
“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”
(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.
(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.
She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?
-
“Mother”
“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”
“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”
“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”
(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.
“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”
“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”
Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.
“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”
“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”
“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”
“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”
(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?
“How is the king?”
“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”
“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”
“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”
(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.
“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”
Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.
“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”
“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”
-
(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.
Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.
“My Love”
“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”
“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”
“Viserys? What about- no”
“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”
(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.
“Viserys”
Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.
“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”
“What does Elora have to do with this?”
“She is to be queen, she needs her father”
“Queen? Have you gone mad?”
(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.
“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”
“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”
“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”
“This is not a matter to discuss”
“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”
Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.
“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”
Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.
(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.
“You may enter”
“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”
(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.
“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”
“Right away”
The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.
Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.
(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.
“My dearest loves”
Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.
“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”
“Father I-“
“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”
“I will do anything to see you happy”
“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”
Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.
“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”
“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”
‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.
“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”
“I will be waiting for you”
Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.
“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”
“I spoke nothing but the truth”
She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.
Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.
“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”
“The war?”
“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”
“You have gone mad”
“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”
“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”
“Because I love you”
(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.
“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”
“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”
“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”
“You truly mean all this?”
“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”
(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.
“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”
“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”
Requests are open!
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ohbabydollie · 3 days
Note
omg heyy 🤭 ive only just found your blog but i absolutely adore your writing!! could i please request some housewife headcanons? ty <3
my ideal career is housewife but i js need to marry schlatt so i don’t have to worry abt money first 😔
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taking care of him during streams!
bringing in water, food, anything he needs
he takes that chance to show you off to his stream, shower you in compliments before you head out of his office
he will literally take any chance he can to rub it into anyone’s face
“what am i eatin right now? it’s just some soup my WIFE made me, it’s whatever, she does it all the time” he says with a cocky grin
he loves home cooked meals and will asks for seconds constantly
he gets a taste for your cooking (and baking) to the point he doesn’t enjoy eating out as much
he loves that you basically can be around him 24/7 since he works from home and you don’t have a job
if he ever tries cooking for a stream, he’s struggling so hard
he gains so much respect for you if you make almost everything by scratch
if you take up a little hobby like baking or pottery or gardening
he.fucking.loves.it.
he shows off anything and everything you make
drinks from mugs you make, eats whatever you baked or grew and makes a point to tell everyone
“well ted, while you’re eatin’ your nasty ass rap snacks, i’ll be eating this” he says smiling and holding up a bowl of strawberries, “delicious, home grown, organic, non-micro plastic, strawberries, that my wife grew” he says with a satisfied smile “not to mention she also made the bowl, it’s bpa free”
hes literally such a dick to everyone about how he’s married to you
“i’m havin’ chicken n dumplins for dinner, they’re HOMEMADE by the way, not the nasty trader joe’s shit you gotta eat” schlatt says to ted with a grin “m’ wife is makin it all from scratch”
he says you “balance him out” with how sweet and soft you are
makes tradwife jokes all the time
he also likes making jokes about other people wanting you and actively brags about it
“we were a beach the other day and i saw men eyein her up, didn’t even care ‘cause i was the guy rubbin tannin oil on her back”
he loves buying you pretty new clothes, jewelry, makeup, etc.
he pays for you to get your hair, nails, etc. done
loves doing little things with you from grocery shopping to wasting time at a retail store
he says the cats got into something on stream and always comes back with light lipstick marks on his lips and face
looks for any excuse to kiss and touch you on camera
flirts with you even when you’ve been married for years
he only has eyes for you as you do him and every one knows
everyone can tell that even with the jokes he makes he loves you so much
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janeyseymour · 16 hours
Text
Love Thy Neighbor- pt 12
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11.
Summary: What happens after Melissa catches you kissing your ex-husband?
WC: 2.65k
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Melissa comes in just as Jared plants his lips on yours. You push him away weakly, your stomach absolutely killing you as you do so.
“What the fuck?” your girlfriend rages. There’s a fire in her eyes that you’ve only seen a few other times, and they’ve never been directed at you. It’s… terrifying to say the least. Jared just looks smug as he looks to her.
“What? Babe, did you not tell Melissa that the two of you were through and we were back together?” he asks, feigning confusion- although it’s very clear to both you and Melissa that he knows exactly what he’s saying and doing.
“Mel, it- it isn’t what it looks like,” you try to tell her, but you know it’s no use. She thinks she knows what she saw.
“Fuck you. Fuck both of you,” she points a finger at the two of you. She turns on her heel and storms out, slamming your front door as she goes. That startles Ellie out of her slumber, and you hear her cries from the living room. Ellie hates loud noises, and she always has- she can’t handle them when she’s just woken up. Across the hall, you can hear Melissa slam her own front door too. Somehow, it shakes your side of the hall again.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” you hiss at your ex-husband as you do your best to rush to your daughter’s side. You collapse on the couch next to her and pull her into your arms as much as you can, peppering kisses to her head in hopes of calming her down.
“Momma! Why did the house shake?!” your little girl whimpers into your chest. “Where’s Mel? I want Mel.”
Jared sets himself down on the couch next to you and has the audacity to try to twist what happened to your daughter. “Melissa isn’t happy that Momma and Daddy are getting back together. I doubt you’ll see much of her again.”
“Jared, I said to get the hell out,” you seethe as you continue to run your fingers through Ellie’s hair. “We are not getting back together, Ellie. And you will continue to see Mel, I promise.” You just hope that you can keep that promise. If you and Melissa are through, you can only hope that the redhead who has wormed her way into your daughter’s heart will continue to be there for Ellie.
“I’m trying to comfort my daughter,” he tells you and continues to gently rub the little girl’s back.
“Jared, if you are not out of this house within the next ten seconds, I swear to God,” you close your eyes and threaten him angrily. 
“What are you going to do, Y/N?” he tells you. “I’m not leaving.”
“Elizabeth, go over to Melissa’s, please,” you say seriously. “She’ll watch you while your father and I talk.”
You’ve never seen your little girl move so fast, and she’s always running around. She sprints out the front door, leaving it open and knocks frantically on your neighbor’s door.
“Mel, please! It’s Ellie!”
The door whips open, and at the tears and the fear in your daughter’s eyes, Melissa scoops up your little girl. She presses a soft kiss to Ellie’s head as your daughter hides her face in the crook of your neighbor’s neck. Melissa glares at you through the opening in your door before turning back into her own living space.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you shout at Jared. “You cheat on me, you leave our family and our life, and then when I’m finally happy again, you come in and ruin it all!”
“I came back to say I was sorry and that I wanted to get back together!” he yells right back at you.
“And I told you very clearly, that I wanted no parts of that! And then you drag our daughter into it?! Jesus Christ, Jared. If I had known that this was the-” you cut yourself off to gasp in pain at the terrible pain on the right side of your abdomen. “If I had know that this was what our lives would turn out to be…”
“Don’t you dare fucking say that,” he hisses at you. “We made Ellie together, and you cannot go and say that you would wish her away.”
“I would never wish my child away- like you did, and for what?! To go sleep with her babysitter!”
“And I realized that I fucked up!”
“No fucking shit!” you scream. “We had the perfect life! The perfect family! And you went and fucked it all up! And now, now that I have the perfect life here with my parents and my little girl and my girlfriend, you find your way back and manage to fuck all of that up too!” That gets the attention of Melissa and Ellie. The redhead hasn���t closed the door to her apartment, and she can hear and see the two of you perfectly from where she holds Ellie close to her on the couch.
“I didn’t fuck anything up! You fucked it all up by moving across the country and being gay!”
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with me loving who I love! What is wrong is that you decided to become a dirty, rotten-” He smacks you clean across the face. You cry out in pain as a hand flies up to your face. But you regain your composure again because the slap across the face pales in comparison to the absolutely searing pain in your stomach. “Get the fuck out of my apartment. And don’t think that I won’t be filing for-”
You get cut off again, but this time it’s by Ellie and Melissa. You hadn’t realized that the redhead had kept her door open and that yours was still ajar. Both of them had just witnessed your ex-husband lay his hands on you.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Melissa seethes. “Get the fuck away from her, or so help me, God.”
Jared stands from his place. “And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”
“Ellie,” you cut in. “Your room, now. Headphones on.”
Your child, for once, doesn’t follow your orders. Instead, she marches herself straight up to your ex-husband. “Don’t hit Momma!”
He, in a fit of rage, raises his hand. Before he can strike her though, Melissa rips him away from the couch. You pull your daughter as close to you as you can, terrified of what might happen. You know Melissa has a temper on her, and you also know that she isn’t one to back down from a bare knuckled fist fight, even against a man as fit as your ex-husband. Luckily, her adrenaline takes over and she’s able to throw him out the door before slamming it shut and locking him out.
She shouts through the door, knowing that he’ll hear her, “I wouldn’t try anything else, asshole!”
He continues to yell and scream about how she has no right to take his child and wife away from him before the redhead reaches for your phone and calls the police.
As Jared continues to shout at you through the door, Melissa turns her attention to you. Your cheek is bright red, and the outline of Jared’s hand is etched into your skin.
“Melissa, I-”
“Don’t,” is all she says before she walks into your kitchen and grabs an ice pack.
“But I-”
“Don’t worry about nothing,” Melissa tells you as she presses it to skin gently. She smirks. “He’s fucked. I got it all on video with my phone set up on the counter in my apartment.”
“Oh my god,” you whisper as you cling to Ellie.
Your little girl is hysterical as she clings to you just as much. “Momma, I didn’t- I didn’t like that. I didn’t- I hated that!”
“I know, I know,” you mumble into her hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Melissa does her best to help soothe your daughter, but nothing really works because watching her father strike her mother and then almost being hit herself has Ellie quite shaken- and with good reason.
Jared is still yelling at all three of you through the door about how this isn’t over- how he’s going to get you and Ellie back. Thankfully, Melissa has the sense to go into Ellie’s room and grab her headphones to help block out the noise. Still, your little girl is more shaken than you’ve seen her before. It feels like forever before the police show up at your door. They cart him away before knocking.
“You’re gonna fucking pay for this!” you hear Jared threaten as they pull him down the hall. You go to stand up to answer it, but your girlfriend gently pushes you back into the cushions with your daughter before going to open it.
“Schemmenti?” the officer asks. “Damn, I should’ve known.”
“I didn’t do nothin’ this time, Jerome,” the redhead smirks before sobering. “I called because that asshole was laying hands on my girlfriend.”
“You two know each other?” you look between the two of them curiously.
“I told you I know guys in almost every department, didn’t I?” Melissa turns to you before inviting the man in blue in. 
The officer take your statement, Melissa’s statement, and Ellie’s statement before they leave with a promise that a restraining order will go through for the three of you against your ex-husband. Ellie shocks everyone in the room by stating that she never wants to see her father again- that she didn’t like the mean side of him and doesn’t want him to hit her.
“I also got in touch with Marco about the child support,” Melissa tells her guy. He nods with a chuckle. The man in blue heads out not much later, leaving you with your girlfriend (you think she’s still your girlfriend) and your daughter.
“Melissa, I-”
“Not right now,” is all she says. “All that matters right now is getting Ellie to calm down, fed, and in bed, and then we can talk, okay?”
You nod. You know she’s right.
“Give me five minutes to go change into my pajamas and grab my phone, and I’ll be back.”
“Promise?”
She just kisses your temple in lieu of an answer before heading across the hall. And she is back in the promised five minutes- it actually only takes her about three to return back to you.
“You started on dinner?” she asks, not quite sure what else to say in the tense air.
“Nothin’s been cooked,” you sigh.
“Pizza it is,” the redhead tells you as she heads into the kitchen. She returns a few seconds later with the heating pad in hand and some Midol to help alleviate your pains. She pulls Ellie into her arms before gesturing for you to lay your head in her lap. You follow her instruction before she hands you the supplies. You smile at her gratefully.
By the time the pizza has come, you’ve fallen asleep and Ellie isn’t hysterical anymore. You wake up with your head on a pillow as opposed to your girlfriend’s lap, and the redhead and daughter are both quietly eating dinner when you look into the kitchen. When you really listen in, you can hear Melissa trying to soothe your daughter’s fears over what happened earlier today.
“Daddy said that he and Momma are getting back together, and that I won’t see you anymore though,” Ellie sighs sadly. “I don’t want you to go… I love you, Mel.”
“El, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I am not leaving you, or your momma, for you to believe me,” the redhead assures your daughter with yet another kiss to her head. “I love you both so much.”
“‘M just scared,” your little girl admits quietly. “I already losed Daddy, but he isn’t my favoritest anymore. I don’t want to lose you Mel. You’re my one of my favoritest people, and I know your Momma’s favoritest too. ”
“I think you take the title of your Momma’s favorite person in the world,” Melissa smiles at your daughter. Then she validates your child’s feelings. “And I understand that you’re scared, but I promise you that I am here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere if I can help it. I don’t wanna lose my two favorite people either.”
Your heart swells at that admission. She still loves you- Jared may not have ruined your relationship after all. You had thought that maybe she was just playing the part for Ellie, but it’s confirmed now in your mind that you aren’t losing Melissa in your life. Deciding now is a good time to make it known that you’re awake, you pull the blanket that had been draped around you with you into the kitchen and kiss both of their heads before settling in your chair. Almost immediately, Ellie is wiggling her way into your arms and holding onto you tightly.
Dinner is quiet and tense, and so is the hour that you all spend on the couch before putting your little girl to bed.
Melissa, as much as she just wants to get your daughter to bed, fully puts herself into character as she reads Ellie’s favorite bedtime story with all of the theatrics that she would usually use- and it feels so good to hear your little girl’s giggles against you, especially after the shit that hit the fan today. But when it comes time to leave Ellie in her room, she doesn’t want any of it.
“Momma, I’m scared,” she whispers as she clutches your shirt desperately. I want you and Mel.”
You can’t blame her for that. So you simply whisk her away and into your own bedroom. Melissa follows, of course she does.
It doesn’t take long for your daughter to fall asleep between you and the redhead, the day’s events exhausting her. And when she starts to snore softly, you know she’s out for the night.
You turn your head to look at Melissa. “Mel, can we talk?”
“Yeah, hun,” the redhead sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry I stormed out. I thought-”
“I know what you thought you saw,” you tell her softly. “And I-” 
“Can you let me get this out?” your girlfriend asks. “I need to get this off my chest.”
“I’m listening,” you promise.
“I’ve been cheated on before too, as you know,” she mumbles. Then she clears her throat. “I thought that you really were getting back with him and that you were just stringing me along… that the reason you didn’t tell me about meeting him at first was because you were planning on getting back with him. And I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. I- I should’ve known, but my emotions and fears got the best of me, and I reacted before I could be rational.”
You reach across your daughter curled up into you and squeeze your girlfriend’s hand gently.
“I understand,” is what you say. “I totally understand. But please… please know that I don’t want him. I only want you. I want to get past all of this drama with him and then just focus on us and the life that we’re building together.”
She smiles at you with warm eyes. “That’s all I want to do too.”
“We’re gonna get through this,” you promise her.
She pushes herself up on her elbows just slightly in order to kiss you gently. “We’re gonna get through this. We’ll get everything with him straightened out, I’ll make sure that you get the child support money, and we’ll start our lives together.”
The next morning, when you wake up with Ellie on top of you snoring softly and Melissa's arms wrapped around you, you know that maybe... just maybe, everything will be okay.
AND THAT FOLKS IS THE END OF THIS SERIES UNLESS SOMEONE GIVES ME REASON TO WRITE MORE :) 🤍
tags: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson
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All-American Dream Team – LS2
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logan sargeant x fem!equestrian!reader
When you attend the Miami GP with your closest friends (only a week after your own Grand Prix win at Miami Beach), you realize that the guy you've been talking to for months is an F1 driver and not a mechanical engineer like he told you at the garden party where you met. Classic combination of horse girl meets car guy <3
content warnings: rich people, unsafe driving, mentions of alcohol, angst(?) idk more like slow burn because it just takes forever, horses
word count: too many (14.5k) please ignore any typos.
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As the warm Florida breeze blows strands of your hair across your face, you look up across the expanse of the garden trying to think of something, anything to write in your journal. It’s hard to find the time when you’re working, or traveling for work, or training, or traveling for training, or…the list goes on.
As much as you like Instagram, you’ve always wanted to be one of those girls who has a cute journal to document your life’s experiences, one of those girls who has everything. You do basically have everything, but you’re not that girl. Not when it comes to journaling that is.
The garden at your parent’s house is always the first place you come to when you get back home; something about it just feels right. The way the sunlight casts dappled shadows across the sandy-colored gravel pathways as it filters through the manicured shrubs and greenery around you reminds you of a certain someone. Well, something. No, you guess she is a someone, because she’s your first love.
Giving up on your 'it girl' journalistic endeavors, you decide to visit that love, since she got back from Belgium last night and you didn’t really get a proper reunion when you were unloading her from the truck at 1am—filling out paperwork, taking off her shipping boots, and settling her in for the night like you were on autopilot. Oh yeah, sorry, your first love (arguably the love of your life) is your horse.
Yeah, yeah, you’re a 'horse girl' whatever, but you’re a horse girl that made it. Every little girl who grows up jumping wants to be a show jumper, wants to compete at the Grand Prix level, win at the Grand Prix level, and your baby girl, your everything, Melusine V (“mella” for short when you were babying her and “smelly” when she was being an ass), was your ticket to success. She was still young and so were you. While you’d learned on older horses, something had just clicked when you rode her for the first time. She had been a five-year-old when you bought her, a total youngster—not necessarily the smartest investment for someone hoping to advance their career quickly—but the two of you had grown together as a pair and were real contenders for this year’s Longines Global Champions Tour event at Miami Beach, assuming you do well in Doha. You were training hard for upcoming the season, even though it was still technically your 'winter break' as your trainer liked to call it (if you’re being honest, you never actually get a real break from work).
Doha was important, but Miami Beach was special for you because it was home…well close enough to home.
When you get to the family stable, you’re greeted by whinnies and nickers from a few of the horses, and pointedly not greeted by some of the grumpier residents, but one whinny stands out from the rest.
“Hi angel!” You call out to her, still quite a few paces away.
Her neck is stretched as far out of the stall door as she can manage. With her ears keenly pricked forward, she nods her head at you in anticipation as you approach. When you reach her, you rub your left hand up and down the broad blaze that streaks across her face, small white hairs landing on your pullover as you do, and you keep your right hand tucked firmly behind your back. Your companion wastes no time in searching you for pockets…well, for what she knows you keep in your pockets.
You’re wearing a light sweater and tennis skirt today though, so she’s out of luck in the pockets department, but she knows you’d never leave her hanging, and you don’t. Bringing your right hand around from behind your back and opening your palm, you reveal the cookies she knows that you were hiding.
“You didn’t miss me at all did you?” You laugh as she dirties your hand with bits of her breakfast and only a touch of slobber while she eats out of your hand. It had only been a couple of days without her (it’s easier to put a human on a plane back home than it is a horse), but you had still missed her.
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If it wasn’t obvious from your day job (riding your pony really fast and jumping over colorful sticks all over the world) or the fact that your family had a 20+ acre horse property in one of the nicest parts of Florida, or…yeah, it’s pretty obvious. Your family is well-off, alright more than well-off, but no one likes to talk about that—or about your grandpa’s crippling yacht addiction, champagne problems truly.
Your family’s main home is in Wellington. There are a lot of horse capitals of the US (and the world), and this is one of them. This isn’t just any kind of horse country though; this is expensive imported sport horse country. Mella and the rest of your family’s horses are no exception.
You slip her halter on and lead her out to one of the pastures, chatting absentmindedly to her as you walk together, nearly in-step. You watch her from the fence after you’ve turned her out, enjoying the look of how the sun dances across her coat as she trots off to join her friends, when your mom calls out to you from the driveway.
“Y/N! Grandma says she wants to see you this afternoon! I told her you’d swing by. I’m heading out to run some errands—do you want to come with, and I can drop you off? Or do you want to drive over yourself?”
You glance at your hands; bits of grain are dried across your palm and that particular kind of horse-dirt is wedged in the creases of your fingers and underneath your fingernails.
“That’s alright, I’ll drive myself! I need to wash up first!” You call back.
Your mom nods and tells you to drive safe before waving out the window as she leaves. You wave back as you watch the SUV head towards the front gate before walking, then jogging your way back to the house. You wonder if part of your athleticism is due to having to run all over the place.
Your grandparents live in Fort Lauderdale, where you were born, and you try and visit them as much as you can when you’re home. Your grandmother is always very prompt in reminding your family when you’re due for a visit, and four days at home meant that if the call hadn’t come today, it would have come tomorrow. You wash your hands before putting on a light blue sundress, and throw on a bit of makeup, trying in vain to hide the dark lines under your eyes that had still yet to fade entirely from your jet lag. You slipped into a pair of white sneakers, throwing your things into a handbag as you rushed out the door to your car. You weren’t in a terrible hurry, but it was about an hour drive to your grandparent’s place, and you weren’t one to waste time.
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As you wound your way towards the main road, your phone buzzed.
You’d check it later.
It buzzed again as you approached the highway.
Then buzzed again, and again, and again.
You waited until you’d shifted into sixth gear on the highway—probably going too fast…definitely going too fast, but you had a sports car, so who could blame you—before you glanced at the screen. It was the group chat of your hometown friends, and they were going NUTS.
You tried to figure out what was going on, stealing brief glances when you could, as you wove between what your older brother called “regular traffic”. You rolled your eyes at the thought; he didn’t even need to be there to annoy you. You were unsuccessful at discerning what your two closest friends were talking about—something about Miami? a race? They weren’t horsey people, but you knew they knew better than to call your competitions “races” at this point. You silenced your phone, deciding to focus instead on the music you were playing and the sound of your car’s engine right behind you…until the music cut.
You looked at the screen and saw that Charlotte—your best friend since kindergarten, and likely the one causing the group chat havoc—was calling you.
“Lottie what is going on with you guys?” You asked with a laugh when you picked up the call, “I’m driving to see my grandparents right now and you guys are blowing up my phone, did someone die?? I came home on Sunday, so I KNOW it’s not because you miss me.” You joke. 
“Awwwe say hi to them for us!!” Charlotte responded, clearly shoving in the pleasantry as fast as she could to get to the main point, “and no, no one died, but you might when you hear this news!!!”.
She loved to play 'guess what' when she had news and you had known her for long enough that you could spot it from a mile away.
“OMG. NO WAY. Timothée Chalamet proposed to you?!?!” You ask in exaggerated sarcasm.
“You’re no fun,” your friend replied, you could almost hear the half-pout that you knew she had on her face, “No! Sammy got passes for the Formula 1 Grand Prix in Miami!!” Charlotte nearly screeched.
You flinch a little from the high pitch and turned the volume down a few notches, “Oh that’s awesome, I’m sure he’s excited! Did he invite you?? Surely, they can’t start the race without the sport’s biggest fan?”
Charlotte laughed in response, her family are diehard motorsports fans (hard not to be living in this part of Florida), and her brother Sammy was nearly just as bad as her in terms of obsession.
“That’s the THING,” Charlotte continued, “he got FOUR paddock passes!!! He said I can invite you and Stellz!! Will you come?? Please please pleaseee???”
She was talking so fast you were amazed that the audio hadn’t cut out.
“I will, I will I promise.” You laugh and by the time you realize your mistake, it’s too late.
Before you can get another word in, Charlotte is rambling on and on about all the drivers she’s excited to see, how she and Estelle are going to have to give you a lecture series on the ins and outs of Formula one, and how the three of you “just HAVE” to coordinate outfits. You know that last part will mean a barrage of links to boutiques you’ve never heard of (some of which must be scams), Pinterest photos, and fashion tiktoks as inspo.
You enjoy the few moments of silence you have pulling into the driveway of your grandparents’ waterfront home having finally convinced Lottie to hang up the phone. Walking around your car towards the house, you let your fingers trace the wing on the back of your Audi. You’d always loved this car and in the afternoon sun she was particularly stunning. It’s only after you look up that you realize another car was pulling into the driveway. The windows are tinted so you can’t see inside well, but you raise your hand in a friendly wave before heading inside.
“Grandma are you expecting any—” You’re interrupted by your grandmother pulling you into a tight hug the moment she sees you coming around the corner from the entryway.
“Oh, y/n, you look LOVELY. I cannot believe how long it’s been since I last saw you! What a cute dress too, oh this is just perfect.” She says as she pulls back from the embrace, holding your arms in her hands as she looks you up and down approvingly.
You want to finish your sentence, but you’re interrupted once more, this time by your grandmother’s instructions to help bring various glasses, flatware, and other accoutrements outside to the veranda.
It’s then, looking out across the water, that you realize you’re the first guest to arrive for a party. God damn it grandma. How do you fall for this every single time?
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The first guests to arrive are the ones you assume were driving the SUV that you waved to. You were introduced to them, Madelyn and Daniel, by your grandma who winks at you when they say that their sons will be joining shortly.
This was not new, your grandmother thought you were the hottest thing in town and as soon as she heard that a friend or acquaintance had a son around your age with a pulse, your mom, sometimes you, and sometimes even your brother, were informed immediately. At this point you had lost count and had given up trying to remember all their names.
More guests filter through, you exchange pleasantries with almost all of them, but as more people arrive, that task becomes difficult. Eventually you give up on the endeavor entirely and instead set off to find your grandfather, who has been not so mysteriously absent this whole time.
You know exactly where he is.
As you make your way along the edge of the property, you look down into the deep blue of the water and watch a small school of fish dart about. Approaching the boat, you can hear the rhythmic squeak of the smooth fiberglass hull against the fenders as the swell rocks the yacht ever so slightly. You make your way to the bridge once onboard the vessel, following the sounds of someone shuffling papers and muttering.
“Hi Grandpa.” You say sweetly as you see the old man hunched before you, screwdriver in hand, attempting to install God-knows-what without any help. He’s always been stubborn in that way, and your grandma had accepted this reality long ago.
“Y/n…” He says smiling up at you and beginning the process of untangling himself from the wiring that he’s been tinkering with.
“Another project?” You ask as you offer your hand to help him up.
“Yes! Very excited about this one as well. The chart display system has been giving me trouble, and I’m hoping this new module will improve the interface.” The old man replies cheerily, obviously enthralled in this week’s project.
For your grandfather, the whole ship of Theseus thing is not a thought experiment, but the stark reality of his "crippling addiction to yachts and yacht accessories" as you and your brother referred to it.
“You should come join the party.” You smile, not particularly interested in picking his brain about the navigational systems of the boat.
“Shoot,” he replies, the realization clear on his face, “you know, I made a point to myself this morning that I wouldn’t let myself get too distracted and I’ve done just that haven’t I?”
You laugh quietly and shake your head. “No grandpa, I’m sure no one will mind, but come out and say hi. I’m sure your friends will want to see what you’ve been working on.”
If you ever had any doubts about pulling your grandfather away from his project, you knew that the promise of showing off his handiwork to his friends would be a surefire way to entice him to socialize.
Your grandfather reintroduces you to some of his old friends and introduces you to some of his new ones. You spend the next few hours in this fashion, saying lots of hellos, accepting compliments and congratulations from the handful of people that are aware of your accomplishments from the last year.
You’re reintroduced to Madelyn and Daniel who assure you that their sons are somewhere and would love to meet you. You smile graciously as always and look in the general direction that Madelyn has gestured to, catching the eye of the boy you assume is one of hers. He’s tall with an athletic build, attractive, and if his eyes are anything like his mom’s…you rein in your thoughts.
You reassure Madelyn (and your grandparents) that you’ll be sure to say hello, before excusing yourself to grab another drink. You choose something non-alcoholic—you still have to drive home, and alcohol of any concentration mixed with a v10 is a bad idea—and turn to admire the way the sunlight glinting off the water.
Sipping your drink, you notice the same figure as before—his features outlined by the glow of the sun that was now low in the sky—but this time he’s alone.
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By this point, your social battery is in the low double digits, honestly maybe high single digits, but you had said that you would introduce yourself and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit intrigued. Your footsteps were soft on the grass as you made your way towards him, and he doesn’t notice you at first when you get close.
“Hi” you say, trying not to startle him, “I’ve been told that you would love to meet me” you continue, mimicking Madelyn’s cadence in which she had said the phrase to you (not once, but twice) previously.
The blonde laughed quietly to himself for a moment before telling you that you sound cocky.
“I’m Logan by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” He says finally, extending a hand in what you can’t tell is a sincere or sarcastic handshake.
“Likewise.” You say with a smile, taking his hand.
His hands are callused but still soft. The two of you exchange pleasantries about the weather and the party. He’s surprisingly soft-spoken for someone who looks like he should be a heart-breaker. He asks about your job; you have no doubt that his parents relayed the same spiel to him that your grandmother always gives to people about you.
“Yeah, I’m a show jumper, it’s a lot of work and a lot of traveling, but it was always my dream.” You say looking out over the water.
“Traveling?” He asks.
“Yeah. I spend a lot of my time training in Europe. I get to come home sometimes, but other than that its Belgium, Germany, or on the road somewhere for competitions.”
“Is it tough being an American in that sense? I can’t imagine a ton of the other people you work with over there are from here.” He’s looking at you with an expression that you can’t entirely put your finger on.
“Uh, yeah it can be tough sometimes,” you reply, “I don’t speak French or German very well which has caused a few problems, but other than that it’s mainly just missing home and dealing with mild teasing from colleagues, etc.”
He has that same expression when you look back at him, you don’t really know what to say, but your phone fills the silence with its perpetual buzzing.
“Work?” He asks, gesturing to your phone.
“No...” you say, frowning slightly as you unlock it and try to parse what Lottie and Stella are going on about now—you should have guessed, “no, sorry, my friends got paddock passes to the formula one grand prix here.”
You silence the notifications and look back to him, his eyes have widened slightly.
“They’re…very excited.” You laugh.
“Are you going as well?”
 “Yeah, I am. I know it’ll be fun, but I have my own grand prix in Miami the weekend before…so, hopefully I won’t be too tired.” You laugh again, trying to convince yourself that this is a good idea.
Sitting with your legs hanging off the seawall, the two of you chat for a while longer, enjoying the sunset and pointing out fish to one another when one gets close to the surface. He knows a surprising amount of information about fish—typical Florida boy you think to yourself. The conversation flows easily, and you like the sound of his laugh.
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The party is wrapping up, with the number of people having significantly diminished from before. You say your goodbyes, hugging and kissing your grandparents, and reassuring them that this isn’t the last time they’ll see you before you leave for Qatar. Logan offers to walk you to your car. You’ve enjoyed his company, he’s easy-going and the conversation was a nice change of pace, so you agree.
On your walk towards the driveway, you can feel the temperature drop with the sun now well-below the horizon. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder, some of his body heat radiating enough for you to feel in such close proximity. The silence between you as you walk is comfortable, like the two of you were old friends.
The silence doesn’t last long.
“You have an R8??” Logan asks, unable to hide his surprise when you come to a halt in front of the sports car.
You laugh, he’s not the first person to assume that a pretty girl like you can’t drive a real car.
“Yes, I bought it myself and everything,” you reply, slightly sarcastically, “it’s even a manual." You're now feigning a look of shock and horror, as you tease him.
He still looks a little shocked, although he’s smiling now.
“Wow, yeah I–I’m sorry, I just wouldn’t have–” he stumbles over his words.
“You’re not the first.” You smile, getting into the car and reaching for the ignition.
 He comes around to your window as you start the car and roll it down to say goodbye. He waits for the roar of the engine to die down a bit before he speaks.
“It was really nice to meet you,” he says with a smile, leaning down slightly to see you better, “by the way if your friends ever want to go to a NASCAR race, my brother Dalton can definitely make that happen”.
You both know this isn’t necessary, you’d told him about how obsessed Lottie’s family was with motorsports, and with Sammy managing to secure paddock passes for an F1 race, there was no question he could do the same for NASCAR. You indulge him regardless.
“Yeah that would be fantastic, I’m sure they’d love that,” you smile back at him as you say it, “I’ll give you my number.”
The city lights are a blur as you fly home on the highway. Your face is still warm from the afternoon sun, maybe more than that, but you try to ignore the giddy feeling you get when you think about the way Logan looked at you as you talked on the lawn of your grandparent’s house watching the sunset.
The song “Only Be Me” comes on. It’s an older song at this point, but you leave it on, accepting that you just can't help but think about Logan’s smile as you listen to the lyrics. Part of you almost resented your grandparents for succeeding in finding someone that you liked maybe liked.
Logan was the same way.
The whole drive home he couldn’t help himself but run through his conversations with you again in his head. When you’d asked what he did for work he’d lied. Did she know? She had to. Was she humoring him with it all? Maybe. But her friends and the Miami GP…if she knew, then why didn’t she say anything? The thoughts raced through his mind. She has to have a boyfriend he thought to himself, but if that was the case, why was she there alone, and why had her grandmother winked at him when he’d arrived at the party.
It was starting to hurt his head.
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The sound of the lock sliding back into place inside the front door was the only sound in the house when you returned home.
Your parents played golf together on Friday mornings, so you knew they must already be in bed. You grabbed a chocolate mint from the kitchen counter before you quietly made your way upstairs—the little candies were your favorite part of having housekeepers.
It was dark in your room when you pushed the door open, but when you reached your bed, you instinctively reached your hand out to pet the lump of black fur that you knew was curled up against your pillow. “Hi Ranger,” you whispered, addressing the little dog, and receiving a dry lick on your hand when he felt your touch.
Ranger always slept in your bed when you were home.
Your family’s two Shetland sheepdogs, Ranger and Kitty, took the job of protecting the family very seriously—despite each weighing less than 20 pounds. Typically, they both slept downstairs at the foot of your parents’ bed, but every time you returned home, without fail, Ranger would tuck himself into your bed and sleep with you.
Slipping out of your sundress and into a robe, you begin getting ready for bed. As you finish washing your face, the buzz of your phone vibrating against the cold marble countertop causes you to jump. Letting out a bated breath with your hand still placed instinctively over your heart, you dry your face and look at the message:
“Hey, nice to meet you earlier. I hope you got home safe.”
You smiled at your phone, the unsaved number making your heart skip a beat against your will.
You respond, telling him that you did get home safe and that you appreciated having someone else your age to talk to that evening. As you settle into the soft sheets, Ranger tucked snuggly in the crook of your legs, you can’t help smiling at the brief conversation. You’d only known him for a few hours, but it felt longer. You tried to shake the feelings, reminding yourself that you were too busy for guys, but it was no use.
You turn on the lamp on your nightstand and pull out the notebook that you use as your journal.
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The two of you exchange messages on and off for the remainder of your 'break', never mentioning the NASCAR idea that he had used to get your number—you both knew that was just a means to an end.
You learn that he’s quite athletic, unsurprising based on the way he looks, and he starts sending you photos from the gym as he does his workouts. Your workouts make him complain about his legs (such a baby) and his make your neck sore for days. Nevertheless, trying to one-up each other in your training had made the arduous process of preparing for Doha a bit more bearable. Although you still make fun of him for playing so much padel—always calling it pickleball to piss him off—and telling him to play tennis like a real man, his retorts about the sport being better for reaction time falling on deaf ears.
Soon the days before you had to leave for Qatar were numbered. Logan had mentioned off-handedly that he had been there previously for work and would be back there later in the year. You wondered what on earth a mechanical engineer who spent most of his time in the UK would be doing in Qatar frequently but didn’t dwell on it.
When you landed, you sent him a photo of the plane on the tarmac with the caption “beat you there”, to which he responded with the thumbs down emoji before saying that he was kidding and wished you good luck.
The next weeks are long and tiring. The days are hot, and it’s crucial that you acclimate before the event, but every night after training and then after qualifying rounds, you’re exhausted.
Thanks to your somehow tireless efforts, you make it into the top 35—qualifying for the Grand Prix.
The course isn’t too challenging, but it certainly isn’t easy. You run through it again in your head: start…left-hand bend to the oxer…skinny single before the combination…forward four to the triple…another tight combination before the roll-back…you sigh.
You’ve trained yourself out of most of the pre-competition nerves, but there’s always a bit of a pang in your heart when you get the go-ahead to enter the arena. Not to mention that you’re going last out of all the riders. Lovely you think to yourself, cringing at the thought of the worst-case scenario, especially if you make it to the jump-off. You push the thoughts out of your head and zero-in when the buzzer goes off.
41.034 seconds with no faults.
Not bad, the result was enough to get into the jump-off which is all that mattered. The only downside being that you’d go last again, great. But you had no time to think about that long, and a final push pays off big time.
You’re drenched in sweat, not as much sweat as Mella, whose coat is now a few shades darker in places, but more than that, you’re happy with your time: 39.055
It’s a podium win for you that night, just barely. If you hadn’t shaved 0.03 seconds off the previous rider’s time, you would have been fourth. Either way you wouldn’t complain.
The German national anthem plays, and you turn to the image of flag, smiling respectfully as you think about nothing other than going to bed. You accept your trophy from the Sheikha, thanking her and smiling as best you can despite the exhaustion.
When you wake up, your phone is flooded with unread messages, most of them excited congratulations from friends, family, and other equestrians, but one of them stands out.
It’s a message from Logan that reads: “Next time you’re on the podium I better hear the star-spangled banner.”
You laugh at how brazen the message is.
“I didn’t realize you were such a fan.” You respond.
“I had to see what all the hype is about.” He texts back immediately.
You look at your phone confused and text, “Go to bed it’s like 1am”.
“No it’s not, I’m in Azerbaijan right now, it’s 9 in the morning for me 😂”
You put your phone down.
What is going on with this guy? Maybe you’d misheard him at the party, and he actually works in oil or something. You shake your head and start packing your things, running through the checklist of things you need to do in your head.
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“Mate who are you texting? We’re in the middle of a conversation.” Alex says nudging Logan a bit harder than he meant to.
The two Williams drivers were having breakfast together on their last day in Baku, somewhat celebrating their not-entirely-miserable GP last weekend. They knew not to expect too much from their cars, but anything above p15 was worth celebrating—even though neither of them had scored any points.
“This girl that I met over break,” he responds, rolling his eyes at the face Alex makes at him, “she rides horses and won her competition yesterday—well, she got podium at least.”
“Must be nice,” Alex scoffs, looking out across the city, “maybe her success will rub off on us.”
Alex continued to talk about tech specs and things he wanted to chat with the team about improving for Miami, but Alex’s comment had put a rock in Logan’s stomach. Miami…he’d almost forgotten about the paddock passes. He thought about the way you’d said it, how your friends were excited but that you hoped you wouldn’t be too tired. He thought about the way the sun had caught in your hair the day you met, the way you’d stood closer to him when the two of you were leaving, the way he could still smell your perfume even after you’d driven away. He could feel his neck flushing hot at the thought of seeing you again.
“Do you want to see about getting her a paddock pass for the next race? She’s in Florida yeah?” The off-handed remark from Alex snaps Logan out of his daze.
“Uh no, not yet at least. It’s really not that serious.” Logan said, finally making eye contact again with his teammate. Not wanting to admit that you already had a pass.
“Dude you are literally stalking her Instagram right now…” Alex points out, gesturing to Logan’s phone, which was in fact open to your Instagram page.
“You don’t even follow her?” Alex asked, craning his neck around to see the screen better.
Logan shuts off his phone.
“No!” He replied defensively, before trying to explain himself. “She doesn’t know. If I follow her, she’d…” he trailed off.
His teammate looked at him amused from the other side of the table; his arms folded across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything, Logan knew what he would have said anyways, and it wasn’t worth hashing out when they both needed to be on a plane in a couple hours.
On the flight home, the anxiety of possibly seeing y/n in Miami, in the paddock no less, was hitting Logan like a freight train. He hadn’t told Alex that you’d be attending. He thought through every possible scenario as he stared blankly out the window.
She doesn’t see me and it’s fine…my face is going to be plastered everywhere.
She doesn’t recognize me…no, I’ve been sending her photos and she’s not dumb.
She does recognize me but it’s not a big deal…what if it is a big deal.
She freaks out and becomes a totally different person…that would be bad.
Let me check all the photos I’ve sent her to make sure nothing could be a PR disaster…this is going to take hours.
She freaks out in a bad way and hates me for lying…that one sucks.
For all it’s cracked up to be, being a Formula One driver was not a helpful attribute when it came to dating, and Logan sighed to himself as he got off the plane back in London—checking your Instagram one last time to see if you’d posted anything new.
You hadn’t. Just the photo of you on the podium in Doha smiled back at him through the screen.
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You check your watch, automatically converting the time to whatever time it is in Oxfordshire in your head. You hoped Logan would watch as he’d promised to, even though it was getting late for him. Walking Mella in another wide circle, your trainer comes to get you.
“You’re up in two. Ready?” She asks in her usual stern, yet peppy manner.
“Yeah, we’ve got this.” You say, looking towards the arena, letting out a quiet, but forced breath.
The Global Champions Tour event in Miami isn’t called Miami Beach for no reason. The competition is literally on the beach. Sure, they bring in actual footing for the arena, so you’re not jumping on bare sand, but it still looks like you are. You watch the turquoise waves turn a light crystalline blue before crashing lazily on the beach—only a stone’s throw from the arena. Before you can get lost in the beauty of it all, it’s your turn.
You breeze your way into the jump-off. You feel your phone vibrate in your hand as you pull it out of your pocket. You glance at the new message.
“Go get ‘em 🇺🇸” the message reads.
You smile at your phone, sending back a heart before handing off the phone to your trainer and making your way into the area. As they announce your name, you think about the plan you’d devised with your trainer: there’s a possible shortcut to fence 11 if you take an insane line in between fences 8 and 2. It’s nuts, but Mella has more than enough ‘go’ in her as you called it, and it’s worth the gamble if it can save you the time…if.
Logan watches as you enter the arena, his phone screen creating a glow around his face in the darkness of his room. The commentators announce your name and make remarks about your performance earlier in the Grand Prix and in qualifying; he can feel his heart start to beat a bit faster. It’s approaching 10pm for him and he knows his performance coach would kill him if he knew he was staying up, but he didn’t care.
The buzzer goes off and you fly through the first two thirds of the course. As you take off over fence 10, Logan’s comment about wanting to hear the American national anthem sticks in your head and you make your decision. Mella lands and you whip your head around, burying your seat into the saddle and opening your inside rein as you commit hard to the line. You feel her shift underneath you as you push, immediately understanding what you were asking of her. It’s a short approach and, since you’ve gone last again, if you mess this up, it will mark a disappointing end to the event.
You land clear.
37.002 on the clock.
Nearly 2 whole seconds faster than the current time to beat.
You throw your fist into the air and let go of the reins to pat Mella vigorously as you let her cool down. You don’t think you could smile harder if you tried. Once the ringside interview was over with, and you’d had time to throw on a hat to cover your helmet hair, you checked your phone. There were too many messages to deal with right now.
You stand tall on the first-place podium with your hands clasped behind your back. You take a deep breath to try and soak it all in, and as the American national anthem begins to play, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.
You smile just a bit more; you don’t have to check to know who the message was from.
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The rest of that weekend flies by with a few more interviews, parties thrown by friends and family, and a lot of sleeping. You have the next week off which will finally give you time to be a good friend to Lottie who has been all but begging you on her hands and knees to come out with her and Stella to finalize your F1 paddock outfits.
You pick out a cream and blue patterned sundress. There are a few golden yellow accents in the pattern printed on the fabric which Stella thinks take away from the dress, you disagree—not admitting that the color reminds you of the sunset you watched with a certain engineer. The dress fits you like a glove, with the shoulder straps tying in loose bows—the fabric flowing like water off your shoulders and down almost to the small of your back. The small cutouts at the edges of your ribcage are a bit racy, but you knew it was going to be hot and decided that more airflow would be better than less.
You’d all stopped by the Autodrome over the last few days to experience the excitement of free practice and qualifying, but you had been a shell of a person. It was all honestly a little overwhelming, especially in your diminished state, but you did what you could to enjoy the experience and be there for Lottie. You smiled for pictures together in all of your various outfits leading up to the race (you were saving the new dress for Sunday), grabbed Stella’s phone for her when she absentmindedly left it on tables, chairs, etc., and nodded along with Lottie’s excitement anytime she squealed about seeing anyone remotely important wearing red.
You’re still feeling a bit out of it Sunday morning when you’re woken by someone banging at your door and Ranger barking at said someone for disturbing him you.
“Y/N OPEN UP!! ITS RACE DAYYYYY!!!” Lottie yells through your door.
“Ok, ok, ok,” you groan as you pull yourself out of bed, “I’m coming.”
Stella is there too and the three of you get ready together, packing extra things you think you’ll need into Sammy’s backpack as you go. As the three of you head out the door, you grab a pair of sneakers to slip into the backpack for good measure. You’re good with heels, but you’re still tired, and you know it’s going to be a long day.
The track is a zoo.
Once you’re past the paddock security, things are a bit calmer, albeit not by a large margin. Sammy’s connections with F1 ended up being with Aston Martin through a convoluted friend of a friend of a cousin kind of situation that you no longer remembered the specifics of; although with Stella and Lottie both being models…it probably wouldn’t have been all that difficult for him to get the passes without the connection. You’re sure that of the three of you, you were likely the hardest sell to whoever was responsible for allocating passes.
That said, as you kept out of the way in the corner of the Aston Martin garage, you weren’t going to look the gift horse in the mouth.
When the drivers go by, you can hear the fans going crazy in the stands. You can’t imagine what that must be like, and you count your blessings that no one recognizes you without your horse. Honestly most people probably wouldn’t recognize you even with your horse. You’re pulled from your thoughts by Lottie’s hand grabbing your arm, leading you out of the garage with the rest of them in anticipation of the drivers returning from the parade. You stand out from the sea of Aston Martin racing green, Stellz a bit less so in her off-white dress, and Lottie blending in almost completely in her dark teal.
Maybe it’s this contrast that catches his eye, or something else, but Logan spots you right away. He manages to dip into the Williams garage quickly, but not before you’d noticed him as well even at such a distance.
That can’t be him, can it? You think to yourself, furrowing your brow ever so slightly. You pull out your phone and, speak of the devil, he’s just texted you:
“Enjoying the GP so far?”
“Yeah, it’s been fun! :)” You reply, following that first message up with: “I swear one of the drivers looks exactly like you.”
It takes a minute for him to respond.
Your phone buzzes and when you open the message there’s a photo. You zoom in and realize that it’s a photo of you and your friends just now chatting with the hospitality staff who have been shepherding you around. How was he here? You thought as you turned in the direction from which the photo must have been taken. You don’t see him.
Your phone buzzes again a moment later.
“That’s so weird, there’s a girl here that looks exactly like you 😂”
And again.
“Sorry, meeting in a sec, I’ll text you later. Enjoy the race ❤️”
Your mind is racing along with your heart.
Well, that would explain all the weird travel you think to yourself, and I couldn’t really blame him for not wanting to be up front about his job with some random girl he met at a party…
Still a bit foggy from the exhaustion of the last week, everything snaps into focus for you when you’ve left the paddock to grab some food (Sammy’s stomach had turned into a black hole as a teenager and stayed the same way ever since).
There was Logan.
Well, a poster of him—and a massive one at that—staring back at you in one of the main throughways. How had you missed this?? You thought, furrowing your brow once more.
You knew how you’d missed this; you weren’t as interested in the drivers as Lottie, and had spent most of your time checking your phone, or…yeah, it was mostly just checking your phone to see if Logan had texted you. The two of you had been texting a lot more frequently, especially now that you were both in the same state, never mind country, but the implications of your friendship (?)—you weren’t really sure what to call it—were hitting you like a freight train.
Stella and Lottie knew about Logan, but they didn’t know what he looked like. From what you’d told them, he was just the cute mechanical engineer son of some of your grandparent’s friend’s. He traveled a lot for work, but so did you, and he’d lasted the longest out of any of your previous relationship prospects; the two of you had been talking for around four and a half months by now. You had to keep the reality of your situation to yourself, at least for now, because you knew Lottie would FLIP the second you told her, and at the Miami GP of all places?  You winced at the thought.
Things are ramping up as the start of the race approaches. The four of you make your way back to the pit lane for a second time—Aston Martin hospitality seemingly intent on giving you a “real look at the action” as though you weren’t about to watch the race itself. You watch the team continue their preparations, still just as busy as before, but this time with more people.
You’re far away, but Logan notices you again, admiring the way your hair looks in the sun and the way the breeze catches the hem of your dress. He only has a few seconds to take you in, but it’s enough to drive him crazy.
He’d managed to qualify well, starting at p14, and as he settles into the car, he confirms with his race engineer that the goal is to have a clean race first and maybe fight his way into the points second. The race is not clean, with a pretty nasty crash through the chicane.
With a smaller field, Logan has a bit more of a chance. As the safety car pulls off into the pit lane ahead, he takes a deep breath—remembering that you’re up there somewhere watching him. He was p12 now, and as he waited for Verstappen to take off at the front of the pack, he thought about watching you win only a week before. He’d watched the livestream on his phone, but even through the small screen, the emotion was palpable. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit envious.
Maybe it was this envy that drove him to fight the way he did. With only 7 laps to go, it would be a tough push. Overtaking Tsunoda on the straight, he turned his attention to Magnussen who was only a second or two ahead of him.
Now just three laps before the end of the race.
He was aggressive, now right up on the Haas’s tail.
P10 was so close he could almost feel it.
After a failed overtake on the 56th lap, he only had one more shot. Pushing Magnussen at every turn he was starting to wear him down, the distraction in his mirrors causing the Dane to fall for the speed trap going into turn 17.
He tried desperately to defend his position from Logan, but the Williams managed to push past and finish 0.027 seconds ahead of the Haas.
Even though it was just one point, it was the second of his career and as he stepped out of the car, he was swarmed by his team; fielding the aggressive hugs, handshakes, and slaps on his helmet from them as they celebrated. He felt good.
You smile at the result; your friends don’t notice that you’re still watching the finish as they celebrate Leclerc’s podium. You send him a quick message:
“Proud of you 💪🇺🇸”
It’s the same thing he’d sent you last weekend when you were on the podium. You meant it too, despite your shock earlier, you can’t help but feel proud of the other American…among other things.
The four of you stayed until after the podium ceremony. Lottie rolled her eyes when the Dutch national anthem started to play, her annoyed comments replaced by coos when Leclerc took an unnecessarily passionate drink from the champagne bottle, letting the wine stream down the sides of his jaw and along his neck before spraying his colleagues with it.
“That’ll keep you going for a week.” You laugh, nudging Lottie with your elbow. She’s already giggling like a schoolgirl over the sight of the Ferrari driver.
“Careful, I think you might start drooling.” Stella piles on with a smile, amused by yet another of Lottie’s shameless displays of attraction.
You chatted once more with the Aston Martin hospitality staff, thanking them for their…hospitality and telling them to pass on your congratulations to the team on the drivers’ p5 and p9 finishes, before making your way back to the Maybach that Sammy insisted on driving—even though you all told him it made him look like an asshole.
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You’re not sure why you thought you’d feel less tired after arriving home from the Grand Prix, but that certainly wasn’t the case. You scrounged together your own makeshift dinner in the kitchen from whatever you could find in the fridge as you recounted the day to your parents. They had some fancy party to go to that evening, but still wanted to hear all about your day. Excusing yourself, partially so that your mom would finally stop asking questions and go get ready to leave, you went upstairs and flopped back onto your bed. You fully intended to get up after a minute and change out of your dress, shower, etc., but you were awoken almost 45 minutes later by your phone vibrating.
Logan was calling you.
You’d never sat up faster in your life.
“Hey, how’s that second point feeling?” You ask with a smile as you answer the call.
“Pretty amazing, I doubt you’ve experienced anything like it, probably can’t relate…” He replies with sarcastic grandeur.
You laugh and tell him that you really enjoyed watching the race, even though he was the last person you expected to see there. He feigns hurt, as though you’re accusing him of not looking like a race car driver, before apologizing for lying to you.
“I honestly thought you already knew.” He admitted. “You told me that you were going to be there…in January…I assumed you were just humoring me by asking me about my job. When I realized you genuinely didn’t know, I was worried about how you’d react.” He continued, laughing a bit at his assumption.
“I get that. I mean I took a gamble on you when I told you my real job, you wouldn’t BELIEVE the number of guys who would do anything to date me just so they can pet my horse.” You jokingly reply.
“Horse? No. Car? I would believe that.” He responded with a laugh.
There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation, he’s not quite sure how to ask, but you interrupt his thoughts.
“So, I assume your team had a big party this evening? Finishing top ten is a big deal! Did you do anything fun?” You ask, playing with the fabric of your dress absentmindedly.
“We did yeah, it was nice to have everyone in such a good mood after a race. It isn’t always like that.”
“Hey, you said it not me.” You tease in return.
“Shut up.”
You could hear him smile even as he said it.
“But hey speaking of celebrating, I keep meaning to ask if you’d want to get together? I was going to suggest dinner tonight, but I went out with the team, and I’m sure you’ve already eaten, and since I’m–I figured it–” He stumbles over his words a bit, trying to find a nice way to say that he doesn’t want the two of you in the public eye.
“Logan, it’s ok,” you laugh, “why don’t you just come up to the farm? It’s a bit of a drive from Miami, but it’s not terrible.”
You can hear him let out what you assume is a quick sigh of relief.
“Yeah actually, that sounds perfect. Text me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
You tell him to park at the stable instead of the house and that you’ll be there to let him in. Finally getting off your bed, you decide it’s not worth it to change. You don’t know what kind of car Logan has, but you assume he’ll be here much faster than your maps says it will take. You freshen up your face and brush your hair, taking a moment to make sure that you look alright in the mirror before you head downstairs.
You tug on your sneakers in the entryway before slipping out the door into the cool night air.
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You rub a hand over the goosebumps on your arm as you wait for Logan outside the stable. You should have grabbed a jacket but couldn’t bring yourself to care given that in only a few minutes you’d finally get to see the boy you’d been talking to and falling for throughout the past several months.
You’d texted Logan the gate code when he’d messaged you that he was five minutes out, and now you couldn’t take your eyes off the driveway as you waited—searching for any trace of his headlights in the darkness.
You didn’t have to wait long.
You greeted him with a hug and another congratulations as he stepped out of his car. As he wrapped his arms around, you he faltered. Pulling back, he felt your arms—the warmth of his hands sending sparks through your body.
“Y/n…you’re freezing.” He said quietly, pulling you back into the hug and almost instinctively bringing you closer to his chest. You tuck your arms around him inside his jacket—the warmth is almost intoxicating.
“I know,” you say muffled by his t-shirt, “I meant to grab a jacket, but I was too excited.”
“Excited?” He asks, pulling away once more. You watch his eyes flicker across your figure.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” You roll your eyes, ignoring the hint of a smirk on his face, and trying to ignore the way your heart rate spikes every time he looks at you.
The silence between you only lasts a fraction of a second, but the tension isn’t something you can bear.
“A walk will warm me up,” you say as you turn from him and start walking toward the stable, “come on, I’ll show you around.”
You introduce him to the horses, laughing at how timid a man who drives over 200mph for work could be around what are glorified farm animals. The time passes quickly as you wander the grounds, chatting about everything that’s happened in the time since you’d first met.
Finding yourselves in the garden, the two of you sit side by side on one of the benches near the fountain. Your light-hearted banter about the struggles of international travel had shifted to commiserating over how difficult it can be to form and maintain friendships with jobs like yours, nevertheless relationships.
 When you make a comment that you’d accepted that you might never find someone since guys your age aren’t interested in a girl who travels so much and is so successful, Logan goes quiet.
Gingerly he takes your hand, and you feel your cheeks flush as his eyes meet yours.
He looks as though he wants to say something; his eyes searching your face. You can’t bear the silence, although you don’t mind looking at him like this with his hair illuminated by the cool moonlight.
“Logan, I didn’t mean you…” you say softly.
He really did want to say something. He wanted to tell you how he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you, how he wished he could have taken you out for a proper date that evening, and how desperately he wanted to kiss you.
You shiver a bit and the two of you agree that it’s getting late.
He gives you another hug before he gets into his car. It’s tight and you relax into his touch, breathing in the way he smells, and appreciating his strength as he holds you into the embrace. He presses the side of his head against yours for a moment before letting you go.
The two of you say your goodbyes, promising to see each other again soon, and you make your way back to the house; somehow the chill of the air doesn’t bother you quite as much.
When you’ve finally changed out of your dress and into the silk robe you sleep in, your phone vibrates. You look over at it on the bathroom counter as you brush your teeth. Logan has texted you.
“Thanks for this evening :) it was lovely to see you again and meet the horses”, the message reads.
You smile and type back a quick message: “Anytime :)”
You pause for a moment, thinking about your date (? could you even call it that? you thought to yourself), before sending a second message.
His phone lights up with the new message, immediately catching his attention.
“You could have kissed me tonight you know.” The message from you reads.
He closes his eyes, sighing to himself as he tipped his head back to rest against his bedframe. He knew he could have, hell he wanted to, and it took almost everything to hold himself back, but he was acutely aware of the fact that being a formula one driver comes with a lot of baggage—baggage he often wished he didn’t have to deal with.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“I wanted to, but I didn’t want to make things awkward or make you think I was taking advantage of you”, he continued in a second text.
Ranger cuddles up a bit closer to you on your bed and you stroke the little dog’s fur as you contemplate the messages. You know it must be hard for him, with girls probably throwing themselves at him any chance they get. The thought makes you a bit jealous, but you still feel for him—thinking back to his hesitation to tell you about his real career and how free he must have felt in those months getting to know you as nothing more than a 9-5 mech e.
“I appreciate that :)” you reply, before making your feelings a bit more explicit. “I would have wanted you to kiss me even if you were just a mechanical engineer.”
He stares at your message. The gears in his head turning as he tries to fit what you’re saying with what he’s always believed about himself—realizing he perhaps has a flawed perception of reality when it came to dating.
Looking out across the city lights from his window, he thought about how he’d always envied Oscar for having such a perfect relationship even before the two of them moved up into F1, about how effortless Alex’s relationship was despite both of them being elite athletes, about how at ease he’d felt with you tonight and all those months prior when you’d first met.
Maybe he does deserve having something like that himself.
Maybe he’d been too cautious with you.
“That means a lot, Y/n, really.” He responds after a moment before the two of you say your good-nights.
You wake up to a good morning message from Logan asking how you slept. The two of you exchanged messages all morning, making you smile as you ate breakfast, took the dogs for a walk, prepped your tack trunk for your next flight.
By the afternoon, Logan had meetings and you took your notebook with you to the garden.
Leaning back against the stone wall, you closed your eyes—reveling in the warm sun caressing your face and the sound of the fountain filling the air. When you opened your eyes, you look to the bench where you and Logan had sat together not even 24 hours previously and smiled to yourself.
Writing in your journal had never been easier.
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Only a couple months had passed since seeing Logan after the Miami GP, but you still missed his warmth. Not a day had gone by without the two of you texting each other. It wasn’t always anything important or meaningful, but the connection itself was grounding in the midst of all your travel.
You were doing well. Despite your falter in Mexico City, you had managed to get on the podium again in Madrid and had arrived in Monaco early to train. Typically, the French events were before Monaco, but something to do with politics? Weather? —you couldn’t remember—had caused the organizers to rearrange the calendar, and you had no complaints. Monte-Carlo was always as beautiful as you remembered it to be, and you spent the little time you had between training, sleeping, and eating, letting yourself get lost in the public gardens or winding streets in the hills above the city. Any excuse you could use to soak up the stunning city.
One evening, you wandered down from your hotel room to one of the harbors. It had become almost a tradition for you to scour the slips for yachts you thought your grandfather would like and send photos of them to him. He didn’t hide how much he enjoyed the activity, particularly because it often meant making new yachting friends through your encounters with them about their boats—not many older men could resist coming to talk to the pretty young girl taking photos of their yachts.
It always played out the same way: either you were spotted walking along the dock by someone, or spotted as you took photos. No one had ever been harsh with you, but especially at some of the more prestigious places you went, you were always expected to have a reason for being there.
Upon learning that your grandfather has many yachts himself and that you yourself were a member of a yacht club in the states with reciprocal privileges almost anywhere—you always had to carry your membership card with you when you traveled for this purpose—the folks you ran into would always swiftly change into good spirits, if they hadn’t been already.
As much as you enjoyed getting to talk boats with people in all these different countries, you were thankful that tonight no one bothered you. That is until you turned back onto the main walkway after leaving the marina. You were in the middle of replying to one of your grandfather’s many texts about the boats you’d sent him when your phone started buzzing—Logan's contact showing up on your screen as he called.
“Hey what’s up?” You ask nonchalantly.
“I’ve just arrived for the race this weekend and there’s a girl here that looks just like you.” Logan responds.
You think you might be hearing things because you swear that you could hear his voice in person at the same time you heard it through the phone.
You turn your head slowly and see Logan smiling at you a couple paces back. A similar smile spreads across your face as you end the call, almost running to him.
He catches you in a hug, instinctively greeting you with a light kiss to the temple as he does—a move that you both realize is a big risk in a place like Monaco.
“What are you doing here so early? I thought your Grand Prix wasn’t for another two weeks?” He asks as you pull away.
“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” You tease, smiling a bit deviously at him.
“Y/n…” he says with gentle exasperation, “you know I can’t get you a paddock pass we talked about this. It’s too much too soon.” His eyes dart around quickly to make sure no one’s listening.
“Hey you’re the one who kissed me just now…” You say raising your eyebrows at him with the same smile.
He rolls his eyes at you, and you continue, “besides, my hotel room overlooks the track so I don’t NEED a paddock pass.”
He understands the devious look now. He knows that you enjoy tormenting him with information like this.
“Ah right, sorry, I forgot I’m talking to someone whose team actually has money.” He looks at you with a smile and only a slight hint of annoyance.
The two of you walk along the deep blue water together, happy to be in each other’s company, chatting about all manner of things, but particularly both of your feelings about your respective upcoming Grands Prix. When the two of you come to the end of the breakwater you’d been walking along, Logan suggests that the two of you sit and watch the sunset. It’s a secluded spot, and after a quick look around, you lean into him, placing your head on his shoulder as you watch the golden light dance across the water. He turns his head and plants a kiss on the top of your head in response.
“I’ve missed you.” He says quietly, his lips still brushing against your hair.
“I’ve missed you too.” You say as you smile softly and close your eyes, turning your focus to the sounds of the gulls circling overhead and the water lapping near your feet.
You sit in silence together and he wraps his arm around you as you watch the light fade—the sky turning from a peachy pink to brilliant orange, then slightly red—listening to the sound of each other’s breathing and feeling the warmth reflected between your bodies.
It had been a few hours but felt like it had only been minutes.
“Do you want to come over?” Logan asked, still looking out at the sea.
“Logan–”
“Yeah, sorry it’s probably a bad idea.” He cut you off.
“No,” you laugh as you sit up to face him properly, “I would love that, but I was going to ask if you want to stay at my place...it’s definitely bigger.”
He shakes his head, laughing at your unabashed bragging, but agrees.
The fact is that your hotel room IS bigger than his, which becomes thuddingly obvious to him as soon as you scan into the room.
“How do you guys afford this kind of stuff?” Logan asks you as he walks towards the balcony to see the track that he’ll be driving in only a few days.
“Eh,” you shrug, “drive for a better team and you can stay in hotels like this too.” You laugh, winking teasingly at him when he glares at you over his shoulder. He’s annoyed but he still can’t help but smile.
“I’ve heard some of the other drivers even have homes here…maybe you should buy one? You wouldn’t even have to stay in a hotel…” You say with a smirk, adding fuel to the fire. You tease him plenty over text, but this is the first time you’ve been comfortable enough with him to do it in person, and he knows exactly what you’re doing.
He takes the bid and before you know it, he’s tackled you onto the bed.
“You’re trouble. You know that?” He asks, looking down at you like he knows something you don’t, his lips curling into a mischievous smile.
Before you can answer, one of his legs pin you to the bed and you feel his fingers begin pinching playfully at your sides. You spiral into a fit of laughter, trying to push him off you in vain until your ribs hurt from laughing. He takes mercy on you and relents, satisfied that the tickling has proved his point.
“Ok, ok, you win!” You laugh breathlessly.
He smiles in triumph and collapses onto you, causing you to let out a pathetic wheeze which only makes the two of you laugh harder. He shifts his body weight off of you, rolling slightly onto his side, but never breaks his gaze as he watches you catch your breath.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long,” he says, his face now a bit more serious, “I really like you and I was just–I was scared.”
You turn your head to look at him, smiling at his vulnerability.
“That’s ok, I get it. I’d probably feel the same way in your position.” You reply, still a bit winded. “I really like you too, so I didn’t mind; we make a pretty good team” you add, unable to contain your smile.
He looks at you for a moment, studying your face, before reaching for you.
The two of you were closer to each other than you thought and as his fingers slid to the back of your neck, his thumb cradling the back of your jaw, he did what you’d been waiting for him to do for a long time. The kiss was soft and sweet. As attached as the two of you had become over the last six months, he still gave you butterflies every time he got close, and this had them almost bursting from your chest. He started to pull away, but this time you were the one to pull him in, placing your hand on the back of his neck to mirror his on yours. This second kiss was hungrier and more passionate, as though the only way to breath was through him. It was as like you were trying to make up for the months you’d spent as just friends.
You spent the rest of the evening tangled up with one another, probably inseparable even if you tried. He kissed your neck as you ordered room service for the two of you, trying to distract you despite the fact that you were both starving. When he notified his team that he’d be staying the night with you, you were cuddled up on his chest watching him type out the message, your head nestled between his collar and jaw.
The two of you talked about everything that night, falling asleep snuggled up together—your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.
Your eyes flutter open, the early morning light just starting to filter in through the curtains. Logan is firmly pressed up against you with one arm under your neck and the other wrapped around your chest and under your arm, holding you close to him. His legs are in the same position as yours, seemingly desperate to have every part of his body touching yours. You can feel each breath he takes fall soft and warm across your bare shoulder. You lace your fingers into his with your left hand and clutch his thumb with your right.
He's still fast asleep.
Right as you’re about to wake him, you feel him stir against you.
“Good morning.” He says groggily, his voice still scratchy with sleep.
“Good morning princess...” you tease, pulling out of his grasp to kiss his forehead.
He grumbles at the comment and loss of warmth but gives you a kiss in return, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he gets up.
He has a late start that day so the two of you decide to share a room service breakfast out on the balcony. You listen intently as he explains the track to you turn by turn, unable to help yourself smile at his passion for the sport. He catches your eye as you grin at him in adoration, your smile infecting him as he continues his explanation.
Since you’re wearing nothing but your robe, Logan gets up when there’s a knock on the door. He pulls on his pants from the day before and throws on your old CWD jacket that you still bring everywhere—it’s a bit tight on him.
“You know I preferred the boxers to this.” You smile in amusement, looking him up and down in his cobbled-together outfit.
“I bet you did,” he says rolling his eyes a bit as he placed the food on the table, kissing the top of your head before settling back into his seat, “but I’m not taking it off now just because you’ve said that.” He smirks at you from across the table, knowing full well how ridiculous he looks in your old jacket as he starts to eat.
The food is surprisingly good—it had better be for the price—but it’s still room service food. The two of you eat quietly, both still a bit hungry from the night before, trading bits of food from between each other’s plates as though you’ve had breakfast together a million times before.
“You know, I’ve heard Monaco actually has good food.” You say sarcastically, poking a sad looking blueberry with your fork.
“I have heard that,” Logan nods, looking across the immeasurable blue of the Mediterranean, “such a shame we can’t experience it.” His eyes flicker to meet yours, glinting with that same mischief as last night.
You laugh together. Everything is so easy with him.
He’s quiet for a minute before he reaches for your hand.
“Y/n, I know this is sooner than we talked about, but will you be my girlfriend?” His expression is soft, but part of him almost looks anxious. “I’ve never had something like this before…every time I’m away from you I just–I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” He says looking down, then to the road, then back to you.
You smile as you squeeze his hand, “Logan I would love that,” he was still looking at you expectantly, “…yes.”
You can’t help but laugh as he relaxes back into his chair letting out a quick sigh of relief in response to your answer before joining in your laughter. He spends the rest of your breakfast together beaming at you across the table, looking at you like he’s trying to drink you in with his eyes.
It’s only 10:23 in the morning, but it’s the best day of his life.
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It’s November in Prague.
You’re exhausted.
Smiling in your Longines baseball cap, the blue sash awkwardly across your chest, you lift your second-place trophy into the air as flames rise up from behind the podium. You hadn’t managed to score enough points to win the championships—a few penalties and a 9th place in Rome had dashed those hopes—but you were more than happy to be runner-up.
After lots of hugs, a few interviews, and a bit more champagne from your team, you finally have a chance to check your phone.
“I’m so proud of you baby ❤️” The message from Logan reads.
You can’t believe that even after all this time he still gives you butterflies.
The two of you had kept things incredibly quiet. You’d followed each other on Instagram but that was the most public you had taken things, and even that took weeks of deliberation for the two of you to decide. You’d come to Silverstone and Austin, sort of. The locations kind of lined up with your events so were able to sneak away for a night or two to be with him, but even then, your dates were mostly confined to hotels.
Now that the Global Champions tour was finished, could finally see him a bit more, and the two of you were both counting down the days to his winter break.
It’s late in Brazil but you call him anyway when you get back to your hotel room. When he picks up, the two of you talk for hours. You congratulate him again on his p11 finish from the night before and he laughs, commenting that your accomplishment is far more impressive than a p11. He’s too humble for his own good. He does admit, however, that he’s feeling better and better about the car, and that he wants you to be at the Las Vegas GP. It’s another street circuit so you’d be able to book a hotel room overlooking the track and watch from there like you had in Monaco.
You couldn’t help but agree and the two of you sketched out plans—him telling you about his favorite turns and where the best place would be to watch, and you tapping through booking websites to find something reasonable, sending the ones you like best to him for vetting. You find the perfect one and book it that night.
A week or so passes and you’re standing in your hotel room overlooking the Las Vegas circuit. You know Logan’s down there somewhere since he’s been sending you unbelievably blurry, zoomed-in pictures of your hotel from the garage saying that he can see you. You chuckle to yourself and shake your head each time you get one of these messages.
“Get back to work 😂” You reply to the latest one.
“🙄” is all you get in response.
The F1TV channel blares from the hotel tv behind you as you wish him good luck. He sends back his thanks and the usual string of red heart emojis that litter your text conversations.
As the lights go off, he manages to get a good start off his p13 box. Fighting through the pack through the blur of white and neon lights of the city, he manages to move up into p10 by the 45th lap. Stroll has had a bad go of the race, the Aston Martin slightly damaged from an incident earlier in the race. His pace is faltering and as he crosses into the 48th lap, Logan is right on his rear wing.
You feel like your neck is going to snap from the way you whip your head back and forth from the track below you to the tv when you can’t see the cars, but you don’t have to when Logan overtakes the Aston Martin right in front of you to take p9.
From the Williams car, he can’t take his eyes off the track, but Logan knows which part of the circuit you’re on. He knows you just watched the best overtake of his career. His heart is beating a bit faster than usual.
It’s a good thing your heart rate isn’t the one being monitored because you can feel it beating out of your chest when Logan maintains the position not only for the rest of this lap, but for the next two.
You text him immediately after he crosses the finish line, gushing your congratulations and telling him how proud of him you are.
He doesn’t respond, but that’s not unusual. You leave the post-race show on as you get ready for bed and distractedly scroll through social media. You can barely stand the few photos of him in his race suit that show up on your feed. It’s unfair that he looks so good even when he’s functionally wearing a onesie.
Not even an hour later, there’s a knock at your door.
 You’re not expecting anyone, and when you open the door, you’re even more surprised to see Logan. He smothers you in a hug as the door closes behind him, kissing you anywhere he can. You laugh trying to push him away to ask him how he managed to get up to you so fast.
“I begged James to let me go early,” he says in between kisses, anticipating your question before you can even ask. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued, “I missed you so much, I couldn’t stand being away from you another minute.”
His blonde hair is still sweaty as you run your hands through it, and the collar of his white Nomex is peeking out from the top of his hoodie. You wonder for a second how no one could have noticed it, but you couldn’t care less because all that mattered now was that he was here. Pulling him in for a real kiss—the hungry, desperate kind that you only got when the two of you had been apart for too long—you felt him take hold of you and push you back onto the bed, never breaking the kiss.
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The soft rustle of the trees in the wind outside your window distracts you from the book you've been lost in for the last hour. You were finally back home in Florida and your parents had left the house to you while they were away for an event with friends in California. Well, they'd left it to you and Logan, but his flight hadn't landed yet.
You'd both told your families about the relationship, and a couple close friends but not many. It was still a small step, but it felt promising. You’d never felt this way about someone before.
Hearing a car pulling up the driveway, you leapt to your feet and nearly tripped down the stairs in your hurry. You were bursting out the front door as Logan stepped out of his car. He picked you up and spun you around when you made it to him. Once he set you back down on the ground, he kissed you long and hard, cradling your jaw with one hand and your waist with the other.
“Hi angel.” He said with a smile when he finally pulled away. It was cute that he’d started picking up on the pet names you called him.
You helped him unload his bags and bring them upstairs to your room, chatting about his results from the end of the season, your plans together for the next few weeks, the weather forecast, and anything else that came to mind. Ranger and Kitty dancing about at his feet in excitement as he tried to move about the house. The two of you laughed at their antics before returning to the rambling conversation, unpacking his things in your well-practiced routine—the two of you working together like a well-oiled machine.
It was early afternoon, and you were hungry, so the two of you moved your conversation to the kitchen to make lunch together. As much as the distance could be tough, it was all worth it for moments like this, loosely tangled in each other’s arms chatting in the kitchen about everything you hadn’t been there in person for. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The days pass like minutes. Living together with him like this is heaven. You’d both been a bit apprehensive about the situation when your parents had first offered to have him stay at the house, but like the rest of your relationship with Logan, it was as easy as anything. He often joked that he got all of his allotted ‘struggle’ out of him on the racetrack.
As much time as you spend flopped on top of one another, you did both like having your own time to be alone, and Logan had become fond of the garden—probably in no small part to the moment you’d shared there under the moonlight all those months ago. He told you that he was going to head down there to hang out for a bit when something caught his attention—a small leather-bound notebook on the corner of your dresser.
“Is this your journal?” He asked inquisitively, “I didn’t know you had one”, he continued, running a few fingers across the worn cover to point it out to you.
 “I’m not really sure you can call it that,” you laughed, “I barely write anything in it, you can read it if you’d like.”
He takes you up on the offer, leafing through the pages as he makes his way down to the garden. He can’t seem to put it down. Even though the entries are sporadic, they go all the way back to 2013, and he’s fascinated by how similar you are now in some ways and how different in others to the young girl who first started writing in the journal. No one is going to deny that your life has been easy, but he can see the bits of conflict and moments of great success that have shaped the woman you are now, even if it’s only through these fragmented passages.
He reaches one of the latest entries, dated January 11th of that year. His breath hitches in his chest as he reads about the first time that you met from your perspective. He knows now how much you care about him for him, but seeing that all laid out in front of his eyes through your writing is something else. Flipping the page, he sees that the next entry is from the day after the Miami GP, May 8th. His eyes dart across the page; if he had to guess based on the way you write about him alone, he’d think that the two entries had been written on the same day.
He looks up from the pages to study the flowers and perfectly manicured shrubs around him that sway lazily in the breeze, blinking away the tears that form at the corners of his eyes. Putting the notebook on the bench, he leaves the garden momentarily to find a pen in the kitchen.
When you step out into the garden, your hair flutters in the cool breeze like the dappled shadows that flutter on the ground beneath you as you walk towards Logan. He’s sitting with his back to you, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders when you reach him, placing gentle kisses on the side of his neck. You smile when you see that he’s still holding your journal.
“So? How was the world’s most inconsistent novel?” You ask with a kind smile, amused that he would have spent such a large chunk of his afternoon reading your ramblings.
Logan looked up at you in your little yellow sundress, mulling your words over in his head. Inconsistent he thought, smiling to himself, you had no idea how wrong you were.
“I liked it,” he said finally, “I really liked the last entry.”
Flipping to the right page, he handed the journal to you before kissing your forehead and getting up to start making dinner for the two of you. You smiled as you looked at the page, reading your own writing was always a bit strange, but this time it felt almost comforting. You read the parts about how the best part of him being an F1 driver meant that you could see him again that afternoon, and how warm and kind his was that evening on the farm. How he gave you butterflies just like the first night you’d met. You laughed to yourself, amazed that so little had changed. When you finished reading the entry, you noticed something that you swear hadn’t been there before: a small arrow at the bottom of the page pointing to the next. You don’t remember doing that.
Furrowing your brow slightly, you flip the page. Your eyes widen when you see that Logan has written an entry of his own. It’s not long, but its heartfelt. He mirrors your own writing from the previous passages, writing about how nervous you made him feel, how nervous he felt at the thought of things not working out, and how nervous he felt that it had all been too good to be true, until he read your journal. Your heart ached by the time you reached the end of the entry:
“You said in Monaco that you think we make a pretty good team, but you’re wrong. We make an amazing team.
I love you so much.”
Fighting back tears of your own, you head straight to him in the kitchen.
Thrusting yourself into his arms—interrupting whatever he’s been tending to on the stove—you bury your face in his chest. He laughs and runs his fingers through your hair with one hand as he sets down the spatula he had in the other. He holds you close for a moment before you compose yourself.
“I love you too.” You say softly, smiling up at him.
“I love you more.” He responds, tucking a stray bit of hair behind your ear, his smile brighter than any star.
Outside on the bench in the garden, the pages of your journal flutter slightly in the breeze before flipping ahead to a blank page as the wind picks up. A pair of leaves from the tree above fall in a flurry, glowing in the golden light of the early evening, and dancing around one another before landing on the empty page—becoming wedged in the crease between the pages with another gust of wind.
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author's note: this is my first time doing this and I got WAY in over my head. I did have to shuffle around the F1/LGCT schedule and some logistics a little bit so don't pay too close attention to that...or how well Logan does...or inconsistencies with normal hotel security practices. Also, I doubt that many people are going to make it all the way through this monster, but if you like it I am so sorry but I am literally not writing anything again. This ruined my life bc it took so long to complete :'|
dividers modified from those created by @/saradika
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brailsthesmolgurl · 3 days
Text
Delirious
No matter how much you had offered your heart and arms to him, you were never his. And he was never yours.
Another oneshot requested by my angsty babies, I am glad you chose Rafayel. Yes, the writer you had wished for is back. Hang on tight to your seats baby gurl, this one gonna be hard to swallow.
Warnings: Angst, no comfort. Make your eyes bleed. Character death. Descriptive Mentions of dark topics so if ur sensitive please refrain.
Artwork is not mine, please support the original artwork!
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Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. dINg dOng. DiNg dOnG.
You slammed your door opened and the 183cm drama queen stands in your doorway, head hung low, face drooped towards the floor. If he is not made of solid muscle and bones, you would be watching him melting right into the floor. Sighing, you stood aside and let him in, not even bothering to ask him a single question. You sort of having a gist on what had happened.
"Here, soup for you." He replied solemnly, feet carrying him lazily across the living room and to your kitchen. He brought soup this time, must be something big. Him bringing a souvenir over also means he would probably be staying the night. Not that you guys are in a relationship or anything, but 'complicated' is the right term for the both of you as of this stage.
The chair creaked under his weight as he took a seat on the wooden chair slotted at your dining table. "Rafayel." You grabbed a tissue box and sat down on the opposite end, a good necessity whenever he drops by your house unannounced. His hunched over form under the harsh lighting of your dining room's light unexpectedly painted a blob of shadow on your table. You reached your hand out this time, finger tapped on the wooden table just a few centimeters away from his hand. "Rafayel, are you okay?"
"She broke up with me." His reply was short. No details, no whining, no accusations, but just one sentence. This is an untouched territory for you. Most of the time, he would pressed on the doorbell nonstop until you slam open the door and his lips would not shut off till he was done venting. There were a couple of times he did came in looking like a dreaded fish, but the smell of alcohol would be the perfume of his. Today, however, no alcohol smell and no usual harangues.
.⋆。⋆☂˚。⋆。˚☽˚。⋆.
Few days passed, till few weeks, then few months after. For such a while, Rafayel had been hanging out more frequently with you, bringing you to the most random places to hang out such as going to a bowling alley just to get their waffles because he claims he likes to watch people roll balls but he also likes the waffles there. A trip to the market only to buy crabs and releasing them into the backyard to watch which one could run the fastest then the winner shall be rewarded as dinner on the dining table.
He had never been weirder than ever, but maybe this is his way of coping and who are you to judge? You had never been in love. But reading through romance books and watching all of the romantic shows, when love comes to your mind, Rafayel comes to your mind. You thought, maybe you do love him?
"Get out." Your words were final. Index finger sliced through the air and pointed straight towards your front door. Your cheeks glistened under the reflecting light casted by the television that was playing a teen romance flick. But no attention was spared for the movie anymore. "Rafayel. GET. OUT."
"What do you mean?" Eyebrows sewn together, eyeing your expression that spelled hurt. He was confused about your sudden burst of anger. "All I did was talk about the movie. And you got mad at me all of a sudden."
"You did not talk about the movie. All you did, was compared me to her, with the context of the movie." Your nostrils flared, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as if you had inhaled poison. Your throat and chest tightening further the more you held your tears in. "You lied to me. You said you got over her." Your arm fell to your sides, voice feeble. "But, why do you always find the need to compare me to her?"
"Oh spare me, I just went through a breakup, I could use the space to let loose, can't I?" His ignorance egged you on, seeing how indifferent he is about this situation. "Furthermore, I could use the---"
"And you think it's okay to play with my feelings?!" You belted, eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You stepped up to him, hands pointed towards his face this time and you seethed in anger. "You, came here everytime, when she broke your heart. And out of everytime, I stayed. I waited." Your voice started cracking. "I was there for you when you had nobody else. And I picked you up when you thought you could not live without her anymore."
"Well, you could have just left if you---" He chipped in and you slapped him across his face with your palm. Although your hands are small, but it packed enough of a force to cause his cheek to ache, an uncomfortable throbbing pain following afterwards. He left his head tilted to the side, taking in the reality of what had happened. He just got slapped by a girl. Never in his life, he thought he would do something so outrageous that he would get slapped across the face. Guess he just broke his streak of not getting slapped by women.
"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, CAN'T YOU TELL?!" You withdrew your hands and slid onto the floor, full on sobbing as you hugged onto your body to gain warmth for yourself. All of the blood had rushed up to your head which explains why you could not feel your legs anymore, hence the position on the floor. You desperately hoped Rafayel would grab you right now, and hug you tight within his arms.
You heard hurried shuffles, sound of keys jangling and a soft thud next to you. Those noises not tending to your curiosity at all. "I am sorry." His reply was bland, numb even. A sentence for remorse, also a sentence for a goodbye. The doors closed behind you and you were left alone, a forlorn soul basked within the lights emitted from the romance show. Silent sobs overheard by the moon that was peeking in through the windows of your sky roof.
.⋆。⋆☂˚。⋆。˚☽˚。⋆.
"Rafayel!" Thomas burst in the front doors, scurrying towards Rafayel's room at full speed after spotting the empty canvas sitting at the living room. Slamming the door that leads to Rafayel's room, the artist was sprawled out on the bed, his room so cold that Thomas could have just witnessed the North Pole without having to be there. The floor was surrounded in trash, papers crumpled up, pencils of all kinds used for sketching strewn across the floor. One may call it an organised mess, but Thomas calls this artist block.
"How long have you been in this room?!" Thomas shook Rafayel's shoulders to wake him up. "Your room is as cold as the cold storage that you use to store your seafood!" Thomas wasted no time in having to collect the pieces of papers and pencils on the floor, arranging them in his hand. "Why are you not done with---"
His nag came to a halt when Rafayel had sat up straight, back hunched over and eye bags the only colour present on his pale features. "What do you want?" Even his voice sounds hoarse, like a teen boy cycling through the age of puberty. "I do not wish to be disturbed."
"Your calls, as usual, went unanswered for the past few days so I helped myself by going over to ask y/n about your whereabouts because I thought you were staying with her pretty often these days." Placing the items onto the artist's white desk, Thomas turned to study his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I know that look from somewhere." He squinted his eyes, studying him even further. "You had that same look when you caught your ex cheating on you that night." Thomas was referring to the girl that came before you. The one that had broke Rafayel's fragile heart. "Funny, now that I think of it, y/n's not doing any better than you."
Coming to realisation, the light bulb in Thomas' head flipped the switch. "Did anything happened to the both of you?"
"Did she asked anything about me?" Rafayel answered his question with another question. Eyes finally slanted upwards to face the manager of his. He just wanted to hear something, at least something to give him a reason to find her. He felt guilty, remorseful even for putting his burdens onto her. Leaving her all alone, drowning her in her own agony that day was the worse thing he could ever do to someone who had only ever been kind to him. And it took him three days to figure that out in his fish brain.
"No, she just asked me to hand you this." The older man reached into the pocket of his blazer, fishing a pink note out of his pocket and he handed it to Rafayel. The paper a little wrinkled, but the contents of it are a mark of your handwriting.
//𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹.// Your cursive writing always a form of art to his eyes. A small, dainty note was all that takes for her to personally pass on the will to him. Rafayel stared at the note for a good minute, the wind coming out of the air-conditioner turning Thomas into a popsicle but filling the silence.
"I have to go." Rafayel uttered, hoisting himself out of the bed in one go and he threw on his dark pistachio green open collared shirt. The one you always quipped about how healthy his skin tone looks in it but with him constantly bantering that the green was a direct insult to his hair and eye colour. Just for this time, he would smother his ego, put on your favourite outfit, and head over to find you.
.⋆。⋆☂˚。⋆。˚☽˚。⋆.
The keys he held onto, the same set of extra keys you had entrusted him with, slotted into the keyhole and turning it clockwise, a 'clack' could be heard and he opened the door with the twist of the copper-painted doorknob. The balcony's sliding door remained opened, the sheer white curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind. The lights in your house were dimly lit, providing Rafayel with just enough lighting to navigate himself towards your room.
At this timing, in the middle of the night, he tiptoed through your wooden floors, afraid even the smallest of creaks would give you the spooks. He twisted the doorknob to your door but it jammed halfway. Trying again, with a bit more exerted force this time, the door remained unbudgable. "Y/N...?" He called out for your name, using his knuckle to give a light knock on your door. "It's me Rafayel. Can we talk?"
He was met with a deafening silence. Of course you would not want him to be anywhere near you, be it to hear him apologise for his stupidity or for him to comfort you within his arms. He bet you could care less about him given the last stunt he had pulled on you. He grappled for his phone, pulling out of his pant's back pocket and he turned on the screen, the light on his phone screen puts the dim lightings to shame.
He scrolled through his phone book till he stopped at your name, a heart symbol edited in next to your name. It was not just a stunt for him to catch your attention, the heart emoji has always been there, but after you had taken him in and allowed him to stay with you for a couple of weeks, the heart started making more sense to him, but poor Rafayel couldn’t distinguish what is love and what is bare attraction. If he could get to talk to you this time, then maybe the heart would mean the world to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he will not mess his speech up and break your heart again.
The phone was set to dial mode and he pressed onto the green call button, ready to receive shoutings from the other side of the room. Your ringtone rang, the stupid song for the Toothless Meme played on rewind. Did you slept a bit too well maybe? He called again, and the same scenario happened.
His heart was hit with a sudden pang of fear. You had always been a light sleeper and noticing the obnoxiously loud ringtone not even waking you up for the slightest bit, he decided to take a step back and bust down the door with his shoulder. Luckily, just with one hard nudge of his broad shoulders, the door dislodged itself.
So does his heart. Your whole room was thrashed, filled with the pink notes that you had given to Thomas earlier. Some were torn, some were sheathed, some had scribbles all over it, all of the notes littered with handwritten notes beyond his comprehension. Rafayel watched you, held up vertically, legs far from touching the ground, a noose was the only thing connecting you towards the ceiling. "Y/N!" He ran up to you and grabbed you, his lanky legs kicking all of the notes out of his way. "Y/N!"
A short burst of flames from his fingers burnt the noose and you fell to the floor. Your face a shade match to the moon that was sitting outside. Rafayel's hands fumbled with his phone, calling the emergency hotline as soon as he could. Strings of curses coming out of his mouth afterwards when he asked for help to be deployed to your location as soon as possible.
While awaiting for the ambulance, Rafayel did CPR, or at least what he could remember from the lesson he had taken years ago. Pumping steadily to a rhythm, blowing air through your mouth to hopefully deliver air to your lungs. The sirens of the ambulances huddled outside of your condominium, the blue and red lights adding on a speck of neon to the monotonous night.
"Stay with me please. Please stay with me y/n." Rafayel held you in his arms, your ice cold skin prickled against his warmth. His tears fell down his cheeks and continued its trail down your already tear-stricken face. He never thought his ruse would cause you this much damage. He thought that you could be the end to his delirium, and the start to his new reality.
The paramedics that arrived on the scene stood aimlessly at the door frame, watching the broken man in front of them, amidst the thrashed room, holding onto a lifeless body of a woman who seemingly cried herself to death.
.⋆。⋆☂˚。⋆。˚☽˚。⋆.
Angsty af, this piece is part and partial of my experience as I had once struggled with my mental health before, and it was also due to a shitty ex. But I am doing much better now, and writing this brings back those shitty feels that I used to have, but also reminded me of how much more happier and stronger I am now, and that I am not choosing death because of my ex! :)
But if any of you, do have issues with mental health, please do seek for reliable help. As cliche as it sounds, life is not at all bad if you have people that are supportive of your recovery journey. If you needed someone to rant to, my dms are always open <3.
I do not wish harm for any of my readers, and I want you guys to know that just as much as ur supporting my works, I want to be there to support you if you have any hardships in life as well. Just know that you are loved, and I love you <3.
Sincerely, Brails.
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newtonsheffield · 2 days
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while I know all the Bridgersibs are ultimately happy for Anthony (esp now that he’s less of a hardass because he’s distracted by his beautiful wife LOL) I can’t wait to see the look of exasperation on their faces the 1000th time they’ve seen Kanthony giggle and kiss like lovesick teens on a random Tuesday afternoon. I know Eloise is the snarkiest about it at least 😆
Oh they’re super happy for Anthony. There’s such a difference in him after he tried to burn down the entire ton to be with Kate. He’s calmer, he’s more relaxed and they all love Kate. They loved her before it was certain that they’d be married. They love how she rolls her eyes and ignores Anthony. They love how she has no shame in taking a sly little dig at someone who expresses their concern and delight to find her still in England.
“Well, Lord Bridgerton and I have decided that our marriage might work best if I were to stay in England. A distant marriage isn’t suited for us I fear.”
Eloise and Francesca found themselves hiding their laughter behind their hands very poorly as the other woman gaped at Kate who seemed entirely unbothered as she sighed.
“Girls, your mother is expecting us for tea, we’d better be getting along.”
“I think you’re who I’d like to be when I grow up.” Eloise said still laughing as they made their way down the street. “You always seem to be able to get things exactly the way you want them. Anthony told me many times I couldn’t have a dog as he wouldn’t allow one in the house. I found Newton on the sofa the other day.”
Kate scoffed. “I find the trick to dealing with your brother is ignoring him and doing exactly as you mean to any way.”
They love Kate. They love that she gets so involved in their family games, they love her.
But the thing about Kate and Anthony is… they’re also Kate and Anthony.
They’re always tossing one another smiles and looks across the room and they sit after dinner with their heads bowed together giggling at something or other. Some private joke between the two of them.
It gets to be a bit much some time.
“Oh please!” Benedict groaned one night at the dinner table as Anthony grinned at his wife beside him. “No more I beg of you!”
“Yes!” Eloise hissed, “Some of us, are eating.”
“Some of us,” Anthony said easing his eyebrows, “Should be thankful that their brother hasn’t mentioned the articles I found tucked into a book calling for revolution.”
Eloise fell silent but Benedict only tutted, appealing to Kate. “Kate, I love you. You know I do. I would… fight a duel over you with Anthony if I thought you’d have me.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “I doubt that.”
Anthony looked affronted, “Don’t tempt me.”
“If you’ve ever cared for me,” Benedict carried on, “Please, please go and sit at the opposite end of the table.”
Anthony scoffed, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Who are you?!” Benedict hissed, “You used to care about propriety!”
Kate gave Benedict a slow smile, winking at Anthony. “No, darling. Benedict’s right, this isn’t proper.” She turned down the table still smirking. “Violet would you swap with me?”
Violet looked a little wary but stood and took Kate’s seat so Kate was sat at the opposite end of the table from her husband, the entire family between them. She cleared her throat, talking loudly enough that they all had to hear.
“As I was saying, Darling: You look very handsome tonight.”
Anthony grinned as his siblings groaned, “You’re right Benedict. I do prefer this.”
“Yes!” Kate called out, “This is much more proper!”
“Thank you, Benedict.” Eloise sighed, “Thank you for this.”
“This isn’t exactly what I meant, obviously.”
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