just-a-fun-loving-girl

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

— 𝓣𝓸𝓸 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ quinn hughes

🌊 prologue

next chapter

*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: quinn hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: injuries from falling off a bike, thats it :)

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: OKAY NEW FIC ALERT?! i had sm fun writing this chapter it was super cute,,,happy reading pookies

series masterlist + character intros

“LET GO OF ME!” tiny hands gripped the car door, small screams echoing all the way down the street. “rory come on it’ll be okay!”

it was april, 2009 when the gray family had just arrived to their new home in toronto. aurora, the youngest daughter was being pried off of the car door by her older brother, ashton. being only 6 years old, moving across the country was possibly the worst thing that could happen to her after having established her own friends back in kelowna— that or having her cereal in the wrong coloured bowl.

“come on you’ll like it! your bedroom has a big window!” ashton looked around in embarrassment seeing if anyone on the street was witnessing his sisters freak out. ashton was 10, the age where he started to find small things embarrassing and tried to be cool. he also wasn’t the most thrilled about their move, but it was happening and there wasn’t anything they could do to stop it. which is why he was currently trying to yank his sister off of their car. who knew kids had such strong grips?

“just leave her, she’ll calm down.” their mother approached, smiling gently. she knew that the only way to get her out of a freak out like this was to just leave her alone and let her calm down herself.

ashton shrugged, throwing his hands in the air before following his mother into the house to check out his bedroom. aurora slumped onto the ground pouting, wiping a few tears from her face. she stared at her pink sparkly sketchers and sniffled.

as she stared at her shoes she saw another pair of blue sketchers walk up towards her. “go away ash.” she mumbled, trying to stop herself from crying again. “who’s ash?” she whipped her head up to look at who was speaking, having mistaken them for her brother.

it was a small boy, maybe around her age with blonde hair and brown eyes. “i’m luke!” he grinned, some candy or something stuck in one of his teeth. aurora didn’t say anything, and she just stared at him with a blank expression, tears dried on her cheeks. “what’s your name?” his smile never faltered.

aurora stood up off the ground, dusting off her blue corduroy pants. “i’m rory.” she wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve. he cocked his head to the side as he observed her expression. “why are you sad?” he stepped closer to examine her.

“i wanna go home.” she pouted, tears threatening to fall back down as she was reminded of her situation. luke’s eyes widened as he watched the girl begin to cry again.

“LUKE! what are you doing!” an older boy came jogging towards, with another small boy trailing behind him, jumping as he tried to put his shoes on.

“she’s crying.” luke pointed at aurora who was going back and forth from wiping her tears and chewing her sleeves in nervousness

“hey what’s wrong?” the eldest boy bent down to her height. she pouted and shook her head, not wanting to answer.

“you just moved here right? i’m quinn.” the boy smiled softly at her, not wanting to scare her away. “these are my younger brothers, jack and luke.” he motioned and the boys waved with big smiles on their faces.

“let’s be friends!” luke and jack jumped up and down and aurora let out a laugh at how silly they looked.

“oh i see a smile!” quinn teased and she laughed more, unable to fight her growing grin.

“what’s going on out here?” aurora’s mom stepped out of the house, hands rested on her hips as ashton followed behind.

“hi, i’m quinn and these are my younger brothers jack and luke.” the younger boys still jumping up and down, “RORY IS GONNA BE OUR NEW FRIEND!”

aurora’s mom turned to face her daughter, her little fists gripping the edge of her sweater with a grin on her face, and a gleam in her eyes to contrast the tears on her cheeks.

they’d be the best of friends.

“rory, be careful!” ashton called out as he eyed his sister’s dangerous activities, pausing his game of street hockey with quinn and jack to warn her.

it was fall of 2011, the street was painted with leaves of every shade of orange, and rory was currently riding on the front handle bars of luke’s bike, bursting into fits of giggles as they paced up and down the street.

“looks kinda fun actually…” jack mumbled, manoeuvring a ball with his stick back and forth and quinn gave him a stern look. “don’t you dare.”

“faster lukey!” aurora giggled, tightening her grip on the bike, “i’m going as fast as i can!” he laughed, trying the speed up but his legs were burning, he didn’t mind though. he just wanted to make her laugh.

as they headed back in the direction of their houses, a few leaves that were blown in the wind got caught in the bike chain, making it stop abruptly and flinging aurora off of the front.

the three boys playing hockey hadn’t noticed the accident until they heard her cries. “oh my god, ash get your mom!” quinn exclaimed, immediately dropping the stick and running towards the scene.

she was on the ground on her hands and knees, tears falling down onto the pavement. she didn’t move, the stinging on her skin far too intense.

“rory, i’m sorry!” luke hopped off the bike, and rushing to her side. “oh no…” his eyes widened as he saw the blood on the pavement, stomach dropping at the fact that he had hurt her.

“hey hey…” quinn approached, bending down to her level. she looked up through teary eyes and could see him in front of her, with jack and her brother running into the house in the far distance.

“can you stand up?” he asked softly and she shook her head, biting her lip. “it’s okay, your mom’s coming, kay?” he reassured and she nodded and her lips quivered.

“here, just try and sit down.” he helped her off of her hands and onto her butt, grimacing when he saw the wounds on her knees and palms. there were giant holes in the knees of her star printed pants, now soaked in blood.

“i’m so sorry rory!” luke said with a shaky voice, tears welling in his eyes as he observed her wounds. “s’ okay lukey.” she said quietly and went to wipe her tears but winced when her sleeves grazed the gash on her hand.

“just sit, you’re okay.” quinn motioned for her to stop moving, and reached his hand out to wipe away her tears for her, offering a soft smile as she leant into his hand.

it was 2011 when aurora first realized she had a crush on quinn hughes.

“rory go away please! go play with jack and luke!” aurora pouted at her brothers words. she had been standing outside her brothers door, knocking and knocking. he had a girl in there, his first ‘girlfriend’ at age 13 and aurora just wanted to meet her, not seeing many girls around the house often.

she huffed and crossed her arms. she had already walked over to the hughes’ house earlier, jack was at a friend’s house and luke was feeling under the weather and needed to rest.

she groaned in frustration, heading outside to play by herself. she grabbed a bucket of chalk on the way out from the garage, humming a taylor swift song.

she plopped onto the ground, beginning to decorate the driveway with her doodles.

quinn went to open his bedroom window for a breeze when he saw aurora sitting outside by herself. he felt guilty, he knew she had come by to see if his brothers could play, he had also received a snap from ashton, a girl visible in his room. he sighed and threw on a hoodie before heading next door.

“hey! need some company?” he asked, hands tucked in his pockets as he approached her, admiring her drawings. she shrugged in silence, continuing to trace lines.

“cool drawings, you’re talented rory.” he took a seat beside her and she blushed at his compliment, thanking him quietly.

he grabbed a piece of chalk before drawing alongside her. the pavement around aurora was filled with flowers and butterflies, meanwhile the space around quinn began to fill with hockey themed doodles.

aurora looked up at him, admiring his features as her heart beat quickened. she knew that he’d probably be anywhere else, what 13 year old boy wants to be outside coloring with a 9 year old? she liked the way his hair looked fluffier in the slight breeze, and the way his face concentrated on his drawings.

“quinny?” she interrupted his concentration and he looked up with a smile. she really admired that no matter how annoying she might seem, he never seemed to have a problem with it, and would always give her a smile.

“yeah?” he responded, placing the chalk down. she got nervous and looked back down, cheeks heating up.

“do you have a girlfriend?” his eyes widened at the question, then he chuckled. “no i don’t, that’s just your brother.” she nodded at his response, and went back to drawing. “do you have a crush then?” she didn’t look up when she asked her second question.

“no, i don’t have time for girls. if i did then i wouldn’t have time to hang out with my favourite pal.” he ruffled a hand through her hair and she squealed, swatting him away.

it was 2014 when aurora decided she would be the girl quinn hughes would wait for.

“what are you talking about?” aurora’s voice was barely above a whisper as she sat at the dinner table, dropping her cutlery onto the wooden surface.

it was 2016 when rory and ashton had found out they would be moving, again.

“i mean, we’re moving rory. i found another job—a better job in california.” her dad spoke, cutting into his steak, acting like it wasn’t a big deal that they were making such a big move.

“it’ll be okay rory-“ ashton tried to comfort his sister but she interrupted, standing up from her chair.

“no! it isn’t okay, it might be okay for you since it’s not long before you’re off to michigan with quinn anyways! i don’t want to restart again!” she protested. she could feel a lump forming in her throat and she tried to push down her tears.

“honey calm down.” her mother looked at her with a sad expression, understanding her daughter’s frustration for moving. before they had come toronto, she was a very shy kid, but since meeting the boys next door they helped to being her out of her shell.

not knowing what to say, aurora ran up to her bedroom, hearing her dad call out for her to come back, but she wouldn’t.

she slammed her bedroom door and plopped onto her bed. tears finally falling onto her pillow as her mind began to race. how could they make her move away from everything she knew? surely his job here was good enough, what could they possibly need more of? they had a nice house with nice neighbors.

her stomach dropped.

she’d have to leave the hughes. she’d have to leave her best friends, and the boy she liked.

she was envious of her brother. he would be joining quinn at the university of michigan, not for hockey but for soccer. he’d probably also be able to see luke and jack often as well, while she’d have to be stuck nearly 3000 miles away by herself.

it wasn’t fair.

“rory, the boys are outside ready to say goodbye.” aurora stood in the middle of her empty bedroom while her mom stood at the doorway.

she took one last look at the bedroom that was once filled with posters of taylor swift and one direction. it was here that she and luke and many sleepovers, watching movies that were definitely not age appropriate and giggling so loud that their parents had to tell them to be quiet. it was here where she had told her girlfriends about her scandalous crush on the older boy next door. it was here where she cried, when she found out that quinn had a girl over.

she nodded, and her mom placed a hand on her shoulder guiding her down the stairs and outside.

she saw her dad and jim loading some suitcases into their car, and ashton chatting with the hughes brothers.

“hey.” she approached, tucking her hands into her pockets.

“you’re lucky you get to move to california, think of all the waves you could surf.” jack said trying to lighten the mood and aurora laughed, “yeah except i don’t know how to surf, jack.”

she turned her eyes to luke and could feel the tears she was trying so hard to fight come up to the surface. luke tried to seem cool, but when they locked eyes he started to cry as well, the two joining into a tight embrace, not knowing when they’d see each other again.

“i’m gonna miss you a lot rory.” he sniffled as she cried into his chest. “i’m gonna miss you more lukey.”

the parents stood by the car, hearts melting at the display in front of them. “those two are breaking my heart.” ellen said, placing a hand over her chest and sighing.

a few minutes had passed by and their dad was calling out that it was time to go.

“bye jack, don’t cause too much trouble.” aurora teased, and he rolled his eyes pulling her into a hug. “i could say the same to you.”

she pulled away and faced quinn. he offered the same smile that she loved and her heart melted. she went in for a hug and lingered a little longer than she did with jack, but no one seemed to notice.

“hey, you’re gonna be okay.” he pulled away, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he looked down to her. “next time i see you, you’ll probably have these wacky braces out.” he laughed, poking her cheek and she swatted him away. he always knew how to make her smile when she was sad.

“shut up, you had braces too.” she rolled her eyes but still smiled. she looked over his shoulder to see her mom and ellen hugging, and her dad and jim exchanging a from handshake and it finally felt real.

what if she would never see them again? what if they would forget about her while they’re off playing hockey, following their dreams?

“i’ll miss you guys.” she said, wiping her tears before running to the car, her two braids flapping against her back.

ashton said his goodbyes and joined her in the back seat. they waited for their parents to finish their goodbyes before hopping in as well.

as they pulled out of the driveway, aurora turned around to look through the back window of the car. luke glanced towards his brothers before booking it, chasing after the car. the two other boys looking bewildered before chasing right behind him. “DON’T FORGET US!” she could hear luke yell and she giggled. she’d never forget them, not ever.

she’d never forget her best friend, luke.

she’d never forget her partner in crime, jack.

she’d never forget the first boy to steal her heart, quinn.

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

With A Little Help From My Friends ⋆⁺₊❅.

Franco Colapinto ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

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Formula 1 college hockey team social media AU! Instagram Edition

The tight-knit college hockey team, the Silver Blades, run by team captain Max Verstappen, isn't just about scoring goals—it's a chosen family. On and off the ice, the team has each other's backs, whether that's through college assignments, throwing awesome parties, or winning the championship together. Follow these overworked, tired, college students as they post through their day-to-day life.

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Franco43Colapinto

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Franco43Colapinto college

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YukiTsunoda22 so profound of you franco, whoever says you are dumb and all you do is party has never seen this side of you before (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

Franco43Colapinto exactamente

FrancosAunt Hola Franco, necesitas llamarme inmediatamente. ¿Qué he oído acerca de que vas a fiestas y bebes alcohol? Sólo tienes diecinueve años. Será mejor que te recuperes. (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

Franco43Colapinto no fui yo

Albono Franco. Where did you acquire those skewers of meat?

Franco43Colapinto none of your business grandpa who uses the word acquire in the 20th century

Albono You concern me

GeorgeRus I for one am just glad to see you doing your work for once. (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

FrancosGrandma Hola mi guapo Franco, la cosa parece que va genial, ¿estás comiendo lo suficiente? Deberías llamarme pronto. (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

Franco43Colapinto La universidad es genial, practico muchos deportes, tengo muchos amigos y puedo hablar con mucha gente, aunque muchas de ellas son muy extrañas, es divertido experimentarlas, aunque te extraño mucho a ti y a mi familia. y nunca lo harán. compararte

MaxVerstappen Oh so hes like this in every language? great

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liked by ChargingSarge, DanielRicciardo, and others

Franco43Colapinto JSUT DID MY FIRST EVR BEER KEG STND WWO HOOBOOOIOOOOOO

CarlosSainz Posting this in broad daylight is crazy (Send me the videos) (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

MaxVerstappen Franco 😐

Franco43Colapinto msx

MaxVerstappen Get home now. (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

Franco43Colapinto i gt you s chrrdrburget

ChargingSarge He threw up in my shoes 🙁

Franco43Colapinto guiltiy into proven innoncent

DanielRicciardo The coolest freshman I may know. (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

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⋆⁺₊❅. ⋆⁺₊❅. ⋆⁺₊❅. ⋆⁺₊❅. ⋆⁺₊❅. ⋆⁺₊❅. ⋆⁺₊❅.⋆⁺₊❅.

liked by MaxVerstappen, ItsYourname, and others

Franco43Colapinto i have a natural calling for sports

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MaxVerstappen FRANCO PUT A SHIRT ON

Albono You cropped me out. You cropped me out and posted a thirst trap of yourself instead.

Franco43Colapinto point is?? what else would i have done me veía perfecto

LandoNorris4 literally gnawing at the bars of my cage rn (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

OscarJP Lando???

HockeyFan Wait newbie franco is kind of fine (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

ItsYourname maybe you could teach @OscarJP how to be better at padel

OscarJP Diabolical

Franco43Colapinto oh i could teach him how to be better in so many ways

OscarJP THATS CRAZY??!!

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Franco43Colapinto first boys trip lots of fun lots of drinking i think my liver died back on 44

tagged ChargingSarge, LandoNorris4, GeorgeRus, OscarJP, and MaxVerstappen

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LilyMuniHe Franco are you okay?

Franco43Colapinto just another day en el infierno i am thriving no te preocupes por mí

CharLeclerc If anybody does ever take a trip with Franco, warning, he takes pictures of you when you're showering

OscarJP I've genuinely never heard anybody talk more in my life (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

MaxVerstappen Your a great addition to the team Franco, can't wait to see you play next season. 👍

Franco43Colapinto okay don't make it weird now you're still an old man

LandoNorris4 franco you may be my gay awakening (liked by Franco43Colapinto)

Franco43Colapinto its okay this happens a lot soy irresistible

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[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

peer pressure — charles leclerc

requests are open! send me anything!! [nav | inbox]

a/n: if there’s anything you’d like to see in this, send an ask!! please reblog if you enjoy <3

content: friends to lovers, mutual pining

part one [17.12.24]

all friends act like this… don’t they?

part two [tbc]

all friends [redacted]… don’t they?

part three [tbc]

all friends [redacted]… don’t they?

taglist; @mharmie-formula1 @mixedribbons @cloud-55 @nofingjustaninchident @sltwins @emryb @delululeclerc @sumlovesjude @weallgonnadieintheend @sid-is-gr8 @mastermindbaby @poppysrin @bookishnerd1132 @rare2306 @xxx-betty @sisinever @suns3treading @urfavnoirette @esposasatoru @peqch-pie @deleataecount @llando4norris @rana030 @loloekie @tallrock35 @mel164 @saachiep81 @charlesgirl16 @meadhbhcavanagh @youre-on-your-ownkid @izzybsingersworld @appleciderroach @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

patron of the arts au masterlist ♫

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

quinn hughes x reader

🎺 fics: part 1, part 2, part 3...

🥂 insta edits: life update...

🌃 blurbs: coming soon <3

💫 thoughts: 1, 2, 3...

🎧 reader profile

tags: @verycoolusername1

join the tag list to stay updated

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

Summers were never supposed to hurt this much (q.hughesxreader) Part 1

summary: irrevocably in love with quinn hughes

genre: it doesn't matter

a/n: I'm afraid friends to lovers trope will always get me so here i am writing again. HEY IM BACK. ALSO I used Belly as her nickname because THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED by 'The summer I turned pretty'

~

The boat rocked gently as she leaned over the edge, her fingers skimming the cold water of the lake. It was the same lake they had grown up on, summers spent barefoot and sunburned, racing across the docks, yelling over who got the best seat in the Hughes family’s old motorboat.

She sighed and tilted her head back, staring up at the stars, which burned so bright they made the rest of the world feel impossibly small. For a fleeting moment, she let herself remember what it was like to be that little girl—Luke’s inseparable shadow, always tagging along with his brothers but always watching Quinn. He’d been everything: her childhood hero, her first heartbreak, and her now unspoken unrequited love.

The boat was alive with laughter and the occasional splash of water as the group lounged lazily in the late afternoon sun. It was one of those perfect Michigan summer days, the ones they’d spent their whole lives chasing.

Despite hearing the familiar sounds of her childhood—the crackle of the firepit in the Hughes' backyard, the pop of beer cans opening, and the unmistakable sound of Trevor Zegras telling a story too dramatic to be true floating through the air, today felt off. It wasn’t just the humidity or the lack of wind.

This summer was different.

Quinn Hughes had brought a girl home.

Her name was Fiona. She was tall and sun-kissed, with perfect white teeth and a laugh that sounded like it belonged in a movie. She fit effortlessly into the group, the way Belly had always assumed she did. But Fiona didn’t have to try. She wasn’t the girl who’d been climbing trees with Luke since they were seven or getting into splash wars with Quinn when he wasn’t busy pretending she didn’t exist. She wasn’t Luke’s best friend, or, worse, like a little sister to Quinn.

No, Fiona was the girl Quinn couldn’t stop smiling at this summer.

And it was killing her.

She sat cross-legged near the bow, her oversized hoodie pulled snug over her swimsuit. She traced the edge of her drink can absentmindedly, tuning out most of the conversation swirling around her.

It wasn’t supposed to bother her, not like this. She’d spent years mastering the art of pretending she didn’t care. Even when her heart had broken at fifteen, watching Quinn kiss some girl at a party, she’d buried it under layers of distractions . She’d survived those summers by convincing herself that Quinn didn’t see her that way and never would.

“Hey Belly, you good?” Luke asked, nudging her leg with his foot. He was sprawled out on the deck beside her, sunglasses sliding down his nose, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

She blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, I guess.”

“You’re always tired,” Trevor chimed in from the driver’s seat, his signature cocky smirk firmly in place. “Or bored. Or both. Should we entertain you, princess?”

“Please don’t,” she deadpanned, chucking a pretzel at him. It hit him square in the chest, and Alex barked out a laugh.

“Easy there, Z,” Alex said, leaning back against the cooler. “She’ll throw you in the lake next.”

“She has thrown him in the lake before,” Luke added, grinning. “You deserved it, too.”

Trevor threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. But I’m just saying, She's been weird lately. What gives?”

“Nothing gives,” She muttered, rolling her eyes. Her gaze flickered, just for a moment, to Quinn and the girl sitting beside him.

“Alright, alright, back off,” Cole said, throwing an arm around her shoulders protectively. “Belly's just sick of us idiots. And honestly? Fair.”

She relaxed a little, leaning into Cole’s familiar warmth. “Thanks, Coley. At least someone’s on my side.”

This summer was supposed to be like all the others—easy, light, and uninterrupted, with her secretly pining for her best friend's oldest brother. But everything felt different now. Quinn was leaving soon, the draft was just around the corner, and with it came the fear that everything was about to change.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted as she heard Jack screaming.

“Trevor, I swear to God, if you cannonball one more time—” Jack's voice rang out across the boat as Trevor launched himself off the side, sending a massive splash in every direction.

Sitting on one of the boat's cushions with her knees pulled to her chest, she couldn’t help but laugh as Jack staggered back, water dripping from his hair and soaking through his t-shirt. He glared at Trevor, who surfaced from the water, grinning like he'd just won an Olympic medal.

“Lighten up, Jackie boy!” Trevor shouted, shaking water out of his hair.

“Jackie boy?” Jack muttered darkly, grabbing a nearby water gun and aiming it with precision. Before Trevor could react, he was drenched again.

“Can you two stop for five minutes?” Quinn’s exasperated voice cut in, holding a cooler full of drinks. He looked like he’d spent the entire day trying to keep the group from imploding, a role he’d always begrudgingly taken on as the eldest Hughes.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who takes five years to pick a movie,” Jack shot back, grabbing a towel and attempting to dry off.

“Or five years to ask a girl out,” Trevor added with a wink, earning a round of laughter from the group—except for Belly, who stayed silent.

It wasn’t just the joke that got to her. It was the way Quinn barely reacted, offering only a small smile before dropping the cooler and walking over to where Fiona stood, her sundress fluttering in the breeze. It got her thinking if this was an inside joke she didn’t learn to catch.

Jack flopped onto the chair next to her, still muttering about Trevor. He glanced at her, his irritation giving way to concern. “You good, Bells? You’ve been quiet. And not like, Luke just said something stupid quiet. Like… actual quiet.”

“I’m fine,” She said automatically, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit. You don’t get to lie to me. You’re either mad at Luke or…” His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to where Quinn and Fiona were now standing, laughing softly about something.

“Oh,” he said simply, his eyebrows lifting slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Nothing,” Jack said innocently, leaning back in his chair. “Just… makes sense, is all.”

“What makes sense?” she demanded, hating how defensive she sounded.

Jack sighed, smiling, his usual playful demeanor giving way to something softer. “Nothing, Bells."

She looked at him skeptically, but before she could say anything, Luke appeared, dripping wet and holding a half-empty water gun. “Jack, you’re up. Trevor’s got a death wish and I need backup.”

Jack hesitated, glancing between her and Luke. Finally, he stood, patting her shoulder as he passed. “Don’t let it ruin your day, okay?”

Jack was right. This summer was supposed to be all about her and Luke before they went off to college.

~

The bonfire crackled and popped as the group settled into their usual spots, the glow dancing off their faces. It was one of those perfect summer nights where the air was crisp but not cold, the stars blanketing the sky, and the laughter around the fire felt like it could wash away any worries.

Belly sat between Luke and Alex, her legs tucked under a blanket she’d dragged out of the boathouse. The smell of marshmallows and charred wood filled the air as Trevor dramatically told some wild story about a supposed run-in with a celebrity.

“And then,” Trevor said, his hands gesturing wildly, “she looked me right in the eye and said, ‘You, sir, are not tall enough to sit in this section.’”

“You made that up,” Cole interrupted, grinning as he toasted a marshmallow.

“No, I didn’t,” Trevor shot back. “Right, Jack? Back me up here!”

Jack groaned, shaking his head. “You’re on your own with this one, Z. No way am I vouching for you.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but she was barely paying attention. She stole a glance toward Quinn, who was seated across the fire with Fiona. They were sharing a blanket, and Fiona leaned into him as he murmured something in her ear. Her chest tightened as she looked away, focusing intently on the stick in her hand.

“You okay?” Luke’s voice was quiet beside her.

She startled slightly, turning to face him. His expression was soft, his brows furrowed with concern.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Luke gave her a look, the kind he reserved for when he was calling her out on her nonsense. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m not weird,” she said, poking the fire with her stick.

“You are,” he insisted, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Come on, Bells. What’s up? You’re never this quiet during one of Z’s stories. Usually, you’re jeering him the loudest.”

She hesitated, the words stuck in her throat. She’d always been able to talk to Luke about anything—school, family, the future. But this? This wasn’t something she could admit to anyone, not even him, and especially him.

"I guess I'm just scared." She could feel the weight of his gaze.

Luke frowned, leaning closer. "Of what?"

“Everything changing,” she admitted, half heartedly lying. Her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. She glanced at him, her eyes reflecting a vulnerability she sometimes showed. “We’re all going to college soon. You and Trevor are going to be off doing your thing, Jack’s already basically a superstar, and Quinn…” She trailed off, her chest tightening at the thought. “I don’t know, Luke. It feels like everything’s going to be different this summer, and I’m not ready for it.”

Luke was quiet for a moment, letting her words settle between them. Then he tilted his head, offering a small smile. “Belly, nothing’s gonna change between us. With all of us. You know that, right? You and me? We’re solid. Always have been, always will be.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not just us, though, Luke. It’s… everyone. I mean, the draft of Quinn this year, of you guys possibly moving to other states. Doesn’t it feel different already?”

Luke followed her gaze to the group around the fire, where Jack and Trevor were bickering over the last marshmallow, Cole was making some sarcastic remark towards Alex, and Quinn was sitting with Fiona, their heads close together as they talk.

“Okay,” Luke said, turning back to her. “I get it. Stuff’s changing. But it’s not all bad, you know? We’re still us. We’ll still have summers here, bonfires and boats and all the stupid stuff we do. It’s not like we’re all gonna forget about each other.”

“I know,” she said, sighing. “I just… I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t,” Luke said firmly, nudging her again. “I won’t let it happen. And if anyone tries to ruin our summers, I’ll throw them in the lake.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You’re really committed to that lake-throwing thing, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Luke said, grinning. “It’s my signature move.”

“Thanks, Luke,” she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment.

“Anytime,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Just remember, I’ve got your back. No matter what.”

She pushed aside the pang of jealousy as Quinn’s laugh drifted across the fire and let herself be comforted by Luke’s presence. Because if nothing else, at least she still had Luke.

~

The morning sun filtered through the trees as she, Cole, and Alex climbed into the old Hughes’ SUV, eager to head to the little shop in town. The guys had somehow lost the coin toss the night before, and Belly had volunteered to join them.

“Hey, we’re getting grape,” Cole called out, holding up a two-liter bottle like it was a trophy.

“No one likes grape soda, you psychopath!” Alex shot back.

Belly rolled her eyes with a grin, tuning them out as she grabbed a few bags of chips and tossed them into the basket.

“Let me guess,” a voice said behind her, warm and amused. “You’re the referee for these two?”

She turned, startled, to see a guy standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the counter. He had sun-kissed blonde hair that looked like it had been bleached by endless days in the water and striking blue eyes that practically sparkled in the morning light.

Belly blinked, momentarily thrown off by how effortlessly good-looking he was. “Uh, yeah,” she managed, holding up the basket. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

He grinned. “I feel your pain. I’ve got two younger brothers. Chaos every day.”

“Tell me about it,” She said, relaxing a little. “I’m Belly, by the way.”

“Finn,” he said, extending a hand. His palm was warm and calloused, and she found herself holding on just a second too long before letting go. “You up here for the summer?”

“Yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Staying at a lake house with some… friends.”

Finn raised an eyebrow, his smile teasing but before he could respond, Cole and Alex appeared, both carrying armfuls of snacks.

“Bells, we’re set,” Alex announced, barely glancing at Finn as he dumped the snacks onto the counter.

Finn’s gaze shifted to the guys, then back to her, his smile never wavering. “So, are you a local?”

“Sort of,” Belly said. “I’ve been coming here every summer since I was a kid.”

Finn chuckled. “Weird, I don’t remember seeing you. It’s a small town—outsiders kind of stand out, you know?"

“Fair enough,” she said, smiling despite herself.

Belly stepped up, placing her basket on the counter as well. She watched as he began ringing up the items, his bright blue eyes flicked up to her every so often.

“So, my cousin Jeremy is actually throwing a party this Friday night,” Finn said, breaking the silence between them. His voice was casual, but there was an undertone of something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Nothing too crazy. Just a little house party.”

She blinked at him, a bit taken aback. “A house party?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’d be cool if you came. I mean, no pressure, of course.

This is it, she thought. You’ve got one shot to say yes to something like this—to actually make this summer memorable, instead of spending it sulking and pining over Quinn Hughes, like you always do. Don’t mess it up.

Belly swallowed, Finn is really handsome.

Suddenly feeling warmer than the summer heat outside. “Uh… yeah, okay. I’ll come.” She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, her cheeks burning as she smiled.

Finn’s grin widened at her answer. “Awesome. I’ll send you the details. It’s at this place by the lake.” He scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it across the counter. “Here’s the address. The party starts around 8, but no rush. Just come whenever.”

Belly took the paper, her fingers brushing against his, and she could’ve sworn she felt a spark. Her heart was pounding, and the thought of going to this party—and seeing Finn there—made her stomach do flip-flops.

She never thought it was unfair that Luke didn’t know about her feelings for his brother. It was just easier that way. It was better this way—better for him, better for everyone.

Belly often tried to convince herself it was just a phase—a fleeting crush that would fade with time, like the seasons. but it never did. After all, she and Quinn didn’t see much of each other once summer ended. Quinn was always gone or caught up with his other friends.

But Jack, Jack was a different story. She likes to think Jack was too smart for his own good, even though she liked to pretend he was as oblivious as the rest of them. The way he could see right through her, though, was unnerving. Sometimes, she wondered how much easier it would be if she just let herself fall for Jack instead, or maybe even Luke. Luke, with the years of friendship they shared, a foundation so deep-rooted that it felt like solid ground beneath her feet. It would be simple with Luke. Safe. No grasping at something that could never be.

But even so, her heart still ached for Quinn.

No matter how much sense it made to move on, it had always been him, and it always would be.

~

The wooden stairs creaked softly beneath her feet. She paused at the top of the stairs, her hand hovering over the railing. She smoothed her dress for what felt like the hundredth time, the faint scent of her perfume calming her nerves—or at least she hoped it would.

It's just a party. It’s not a big deal, she told herself, but the thought of walking into the living room where the boys were sprawled out made her pulse quicken. She knows she will never hear the end of this.

With a deep breath, she walked in the open space of the living room. She spotted Trevor and Cole first, lounging on the couch, controllers in hand, facing her direction while Quinn, Jack, and Luke sat on the couch with their backs to her. The boys barely noticed her at first, too focused on the game.

But then Trevor looked up.

His face lit up with a grin, and he let out a dramatic whistle. “Damn, Bells! You cleaned up nice!” he hollered, dropping his controller and leaning back with an exaggerated smirk. “What’s the occasion? Hot date?”

Belly felt her cheeks flame as all eyes turned to her. “Shut up, Trevor,” she muttered, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Trevor teased, wagging his eyebrows. “Looks like someone's getting laid tonight.”

“Trevor! Oh my god.” Belly yelped, her face burning as the boys erupted into laughter.

She shot him a glare before quickly turning to Luke. “Anyway, Luke, I’m heading out.”

Luke turned to her fully, pausing the game. His face lighting up with the realization. “Oh, right! I forgot you have a date tonight. With that guy from the store, yeah?”

Jack’s head snapped up. “Store guy?”

“Yeah,” Cole chimed in, leaning forward with a knowing grin. “When we went to the shop earlier. What was his name again? Finn, right?”

At the mention of Finn’s name, Quinn spoke up, his gaze locking onto her. “Who the hell is Finn?” he asked, his tone sharper than she’d expected.

Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist. It wasn’t anger or concern—it was something else entirely. Almost like disbelief, as he didn’t believe someone would ask her out.

Before she could find her voice, Cole spoke up, his tone lighter, as if trying to diffuse the tension. “I can drive you if you want, Bells. No problem.”

“No thanks,” Belly said quickly, giving him a polite smile. “I’m okay. It’s very near here so it’s fine.”

That did it. Now everyone was looking at her—Trevor, Jack, Cole, and especially Quinn. His gaze was intense, searching her face for something she couldn’t quite place.

“You don’t even know this guy?” Quinn asked, his voice quieter but no less pointed.

The room fell into an even heavier silence. The awkwardness was palpable, and Belly’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

Finally, Jack cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. “Just… get home safe, alright? If you need anything, call Luke. Or me. Or anyone.”

Belly’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jack,” she said softly. Her gaze flickered back to Quinn for a fleeting moment, but his expression was unreadable.

“Be safe!” Trevor called after her as she headed toward the door. “And if he turns out to be a loser, you know I’m always available.”

“Yeah, not in this lifetime, Z,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she let out a shaky breath. She tried not to think about Quinn’s gazes thrown at her way or where the fuck could Fiona be and why isn't she with her boyfriend.

Because tonight wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be.

~

The music was loud enough to feel in her chest, a pulsing rhythm that made the entire house seem alive. She made her way through the crowd, her nerves buzzing. She spotted Finn almost immediately. He was impossible to miss. His golden-blond hair catching the light like he’d stepped out of a sun-drenched daydream.

“You made it,” he said, his blue eyes locking onto hers.

“I did,” she replied, returning his smile.

Finn didn’t waste time. He introduced her to his friends and to his cousin, Jeremy. A tan Greek god who surfs in Hawaii, sometimes. They were a bit older but nice and before she knew it, she was laughing at their jokes and sipping a drink Finn handed her.

For the first time in forever, she felt 18. Wanted. Like she belonged. This, she thought, was what it felt like to be the girl someone chose. Not like the boys in high school who either ignored her or treated her like a joke. Finn wasn’t like them. He was attentive, charming, and kind.

But there was something else.

When Finn leaned in and whispered, “Want to head upstairs? It’s too loud down here,” She hesitated. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears and for a moment, Jack’s words echoed in her mind: Call us if you need anything. But she brushed the thought away. She wasn’t that kid anymore. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

Upstairs, the noise dulled to a muffled thump. Finn led her into a bedroom, closing the door behind them. He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands gentle but insistent.

“You’re so pretty, Belly,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

When he kissed her, it was everything she’d imagined it would be—soft, tender, intoxicating. But it quickly grew more intense. His hands slid up her thighs, his touch burning through her skin in a way that didn’t feel right. The warmth in her chest twisted into something cold.

She froze, her breath catching. Something about it didn’t sit right, and that unease deepened with every passing second.

“Finn,” she said softly, pulling back.

He didn’t stop, his lips trailing down her neck as his hands gripped her tighter.

“Stop,” she said, louder this time, her voice trembling.

Finn leaned back just enough to look at her, his expression twisting with frustration. “What? Seriously?” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief. “I thought this is what you wanted. You came up here with me, didn’t you?”

Belly’s heart pounded. “I said stop.”

But Finn didn’t move away. Instead, he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You’re just another tease, aren’t you? You act like you’re into it, then pull this?”

Her stomach turned at the words, anger bubbling up alongside her fear. She scrambled off the bed, keeping her distance.

“I’m leaving,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Finn’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Whatever,” he spat, turning his back on her. “Waste of my fucking time.”

Belly didn’t wait for him to say anything else. She bolted from the room, her legs shaking as she made her way down the stairs and out of the house. The cool night air hit her like a slap, grounding her. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed a number.

Luke picked up on the third ring. “Belly? What’s wrong?”

Her voice broke as she spoke. “Can you come get me?”

The car was heavy with silence, the air thick and suffocating. Belly sat rigidly in her seat, staring out the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to keep her emotions from spilling out. She couldn’t bear to look at Luke. She couldn’t bear to look at anything.

Luke’s eyes darted to her every few seconds, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel. His voice broke through the stillness, low and trembling. "Belly," he said softly, but the worry in his tone hit like a hammer. "Please. Tell me what happened. Where is Finn? Did someone… Did someone do to something you? Because I swear to God, I’ll kill them."

Her throat closed, the words she needed stuck behind a wall of tears. She shook her head weakly, her voice barely audible. "Luke, please… Just drive. I just want to go home. Please."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as his grip on the wheel faltered. "Belly, I—"

"Luke," she interrupted, her voice breaking, "just drive. I’m begging you."

He exhaled sharply, his frustration and helplessness palpable, but he obeyed, focusing his attention on the road. The silence in the car was unbearable, but Belly couldn’t bring herself to break it. She could feel the weight of Luke’s concern pressing against her, and it only made her feel worse.

As they pulled into the garage, Belly barely waited for the car to come to a full stop before bolting out, her tears blurring her vision. She stumbled through the door, her breath hitching, and froze when she entered the living room.

The living room was like how she left it earlier, full. Quinn was sitting close to Fiona on the couch, Trevor and Alex sprawled lazily nearby, Jack leaning back in the armchair with a slice of pizza in hand and Cole probably sleeping in the guest room. They were all watching a movie, the quiet hum of the TV the only sound until she entered.

One by one, their eyes turned to her.

"Belly?" Jack’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. He sat up abruptly, his face a mask of confusion and alarm. "What the fuck happened? Why are you crying?"

Trevor’s reaction was instant. He stood, his voice softer but no less urgent. "Bells? What’s wrong?"

Her cheeks burned under their stares. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and foolish all at once. The tears came harder now, and her voice failed her completely. She couldn’t explain. Couldn’t face their questions.

Instead, she turned on her heel and ran upstairs, her heart pounding in her chest as she slammed the door behind her.

She collapsed onto her bed, the sobs breaking free as she buried her face into the pillow. The muffled sounds of the living room faded as the tears poured out, soaking the fabric beneath her.

Her mind spiraled, the weight of the night pressing down on her like a crushing wave. Of course it wasn’t real. Of course Finn didn’t like her—not in the way she’d foolishly believed, even for a moment. Her chest tightened as the truth settled like a stone in her stomach. She’d been nothing more than a convenience to him, another girl he could charm into submission.

Her tears came faster, hotter. She thought about how she’d been so determined to forget about Quinn. She’d convinced herself she could move on, that she could prove—to herself, to him—that she didn’t want him anymore. But all that resolve had led her to Finn, and Finn… he’d been a nightmare disguised as a dream.

She hated herself for falling for it, for believing even for a second that someone like Finn could actually like her. Not the way she wanted to be liked. Not for real.

Finn was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be a step forward, a reminder that the world was full of possibilities, that she could find someone who would make her feel worthy and wanted without Quinn lingering in the background of her mind.

Now, humiliation added a fresh sting to her pain. Quinn had been right. She doesn't even know the guy.

And once again, Quinn Hughes had won.

N/A: I wanna add here flashbacks from childhood and also Q is a little weird, no? LOL

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

SOMETHING SPOILED !!! FERNANDO A. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she could easily get away with things and when she couldn’t, he always made sure to put her back in her place

content warning: smut (minors dni!), pwp(ish?), what is context, explicit language, themes of jealousy and sugar daddy/baby relationship, degradation, dumbification, spitting, dacryphilia, impact play, brief mention of oral sex (m receiving), brat taming (dom!fernando), brief lance stroll x reader interaction, shitty smut, what’s beta reading we just rawdog our writing in here

note: i will be making a separate masterlist for this i think… lmk what you think and enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

send your 💌re:moony’s planner requests here!

she can get away from a lot of things. she knew that. fernando knew that. 

in fact, fernando would even reward her for it. after all, she never demanded too much and all he wanted was to give her the world.

she wanted a new pair of shoes? he’d buy her the sneakers AND a pair of red bottoms. she wanted something from macy’s? fuck that; he’d have his assistant book the whole floor of harrods just so she can pick out new clothes for her closet. 

he would give her everything. even if she tends to be very playful and hilarious, he’d give her everything just to see it.

her cheekiness was a welcome distraction from his busy life as a professional racer. she’d often tease him in different ways but not once did she ever cross the lines and tested his patience and limits. she wasn’t really a brat, to say the least— she’d often give up by the time fernando would wrap his arms around her and press kisses all over her face.

and if she didn’t give up her act, he’d put her back to her place. it rarely happened, and when it did— they were rough. she would continue to act up just so he could punish her. she welcomed the pain with no hesitation and allowed him to control her like she was nothing but a body to be tossed around. 

she could get away from a lot. whenever she couldn’t, her excitement would soak through her knickers while thinking about his next move.

but right now, she wasn’t really at fault for being so bratty. her petulant attitude toward him wasn’t something that she expected from herself, but when her partner continued to ignore her throughout the party after arriving separately— the least she could do was throw his attitude right back at him. more petulantly, if you were to compare her actions to his.

she sat by the bar counter and quietly sipped on her drink, her ears ringing at the sound of his laughter from the distance alongside other men while they spoke about the happenings during the race earlier today.

she looked so pathetic like this; dressed up in the prettiest slip dress that turned to be a fabric of despair. she was the prettiest woman to have ever existed, and even the rest of the grid thought so, yet she looked so alone. she blamed fernando for this. 

all she wanted was him. she only wanted him right now. nothing more, nothing less. 

yet, in a world where he’d give her everything, he wouldn’t hand himself over to her. instead, he was laughing with lewis and carlos as they chatted about whatever the fuck it was. 

“you’d make a good renaissance painting,” her head shot up at the sound as she found lance stroll sitting next to her. the canadian beamed at her teasingly before sipping on his whiskey on the rocks. 

she scoffed, “if you want to see me naked, just say that.” 

lance laughed over the club music that continued to bust everyone’s eardrums. he then continued, “i would say that but do i really want to get my engines busted by a certain teammate before the next race?” 

her thoughts drifted back to fernando, who, from afar, had gone quiet (not that she knew that), before she rolled her eyes. “don’t be stupid,” she said, “i don’t think he’d care enough to ruin your car.” 

“you’re underestimating the man,” lance chuckled, “way too much, if anything. he could kill with just a look if anyone’s made a passing comment about you.” 

“i really should stop showing up at these stupid races,” she muttered quietly, “it’ll get worse as soon as people find out i hang out in the garages or paddock.”

“why?” lance asked, his frown an evident of concern as he said, “are you two not a…” 

“no, we’re not,” she interrupted with a huff, downing the rest of her drink as she continued, “it’s still the same arrangement. i could just stay at home and still get an allowance— i dunno why i said i’d come with him. look where i am now. he’s doing the same shit he does whenever he’s arriving at the paddock— i have to go after him so nobody knows who i am.” 

it was so obvious that she and fernando should be more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. he showed her something more than financial support and casual intimacy— yet he kept it on the down low as if she’s just a pastime. 

“damn,” lance muttered, offering her a sympathetic smile as he said, “is the money that good?”

“i don’t even care about the money anymore,” she laughed quietly, her eyes pausing from their track as she saw the obvious glare from her partner. he certainly wasn’t happy with what he was seeing.

yet she ignored his heavy scowl as she beamed, “i’m sure you’d be able to provide more if it was about it.” 

lance smirked lazily, now realizing what she was implying as he replied, “i’m sure i would’ve given it to you already if you weren’t as attached to fernando as you are now.” 

looking away from fernando, she covered her excitement and petulance with a giggle before she shoved lance lightly. “shut up.” 

sure, she could get away from a lot of things. but the way fernando stared at her coldly while she was acting all playful towards lance told her enough about the kind of treatment a spoiled brat like her would get from him. 

all she could do was squirm at the thought. 

her mouth let out a shrill cry as fernando pulled her mouth away from his cock, saliva dribbling down her chin to her chest as she felt a sharp pain on the roots of her head. he continued to grab a handful of her hair as he looked down at her. 

his eyes showed nothing of affection. his face offered nothing but mockery and anger. not towards her— but her bratty attitude that she showed tonight. 

he never felt so jealous until he saw lance talking to her up close. and he’s never been angrier than what he felt when she let his teammate get close like that. like she could just move on after talking to the man with a flirtatious smile and get away from her crimes that easily. 

her petulance and constant refusal on the way back to the hotel led to where she was now. her thighs rubbed against each other while tears trickled down her reddening cheeks.

she was desperate for his cock and his touch. both of which she didn’t even deserve despite being his spoiled girlfriend.

she tried to be prideful and strong as she refused to listen to his orders. 

it was too bad for her because while she thought that her pride was big, fernando alonso’s pride was bigger. his ego and his desire to control were what she enjoyed most about this— and these were his tools to tame her. 

“did you think that you can get away from that, hermosa?” he spewed out, watching her as she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “not listening to me and letting those men get near you— you’re not very smart, are you?”

“m- fer—“ she babbled, only to be interrupted by the clicking of his tongue as his other hand gripped her chin tightly. finally letting go of her hair, he tilted her chin up to his direction without a word. 

he growled quietly, “you’re such a disobedient girl. a very ungrateful and disobedient girl. you don’t deserve my cock after all of this, hermosa.”

“n- no! please-“ she exclaimed, squirming against the hold on her chin as she pleaded with him, “‘ll be good! i’ll be a good girl, i pr- promise. jus’ wan’ your cock- please nando!” 

his breath fanned on her face as he chuckled quietly, “you don’t listen to me unless you want it, hm?”

his hand let go of the grip for a moment, only for his palm to strike her cheek as he gripped her face once more. “open.” 

her brain, feeling hazy from the impact of his slapping and being deprived of his touch and his cock, short circuited. fernando tsked, tapping her reddening cheek once more as he crooned, “look at you, amor. you’re so dumb for my cock, eh? such a stupid bratty girl— wanting my cock when she doesn’t deserve it— open your mouth, hermosa.” 

she obliged, not wanting to disobey him anymore as he grinned. his grin eventually turned into a frown before spitting in her mouth as he demanded, “you know what to do.”

closing her mouth, she swallowed without a hesitation while her glistening eyes looked up at him.

“so you listen then,” he laughed mockingly, “i thought i’ve already fucked your mouth until you turned stupid.” 

she rubbed her thighs against each other, hoping for some sort of relief as a whine escaped her throat. “what’s wrong, hermosa?” tears escaped her eyes as she continued to plead with him wordlessly. “that’s not going to get you anywhere right now— not after you pulled that shit earlier just so you can piss me off.”

she couldn’t find a way to speak, humiliation and pleasure mixed with her adrenaline as she babbled, “i- i wan’- ‘m…” 

“speak up,” he laughed once more. “you’re way too mouthy earlier— what is stopping you now?” 

she whimpered, feeling too frustrated and already feeling too fucked out. she really wasn’t going to get away with all of those things that she did just to catch his attention earlier.

she just wanted him, but she couldn’t seem to get it all out because of the immense pleasure that she received from being disciplined. 

he chuckled quietly, “you want my cock?” 

she nodded frantically, a series of murmurs escaped her mouth as she meekly cried out, “want you to fuck me, please, please, please nando~ ‘m a good girl.”

“no, you’re really not, hermosa,” he grinned wickedly, “if you were you would’ve known not to flirt with those people. but i guess it was my fault that i’ve left you hanging and horny before we went, no? otherwise you wouldn’t have been that stupid to tease them like you would with me.”

she squirmed again, whimpering at his words as fernando continued, “but i’ve given you so much that you always find a way to get some more. i think that my little slut should be thankful for what she’s getting instead of acting like a spoiled brat.”

she couldn’t even find herself to protest. she was so drunk in lust and his dominance that she couldn’t find herself to fight back against his words. 

her love for him would have to wait. she was in too deep right now and if it meant that she’ll get an orgasm and maybe more then she’d do whatever it takes to please him. 

after all, she was spoiled already. working hard didn’t sound too bad. 

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 3: Gossip

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’ve always felt like you belonged right at Franco’s side, but as he begins to grow in popularity, you begin to wonder if his world has any place for you. 

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: Hurt/comfort. Use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has major self esteem issues and panic attacks. Appearance of Christian Horner (that man needs his own CW). There is a “manager” character that is not a reference to any of Franco’s IRL managers!

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @xivilivix

A/N: I can’t thank you all enough for all the love you’ve shown on this fic 💙 It’s been incredible. I do want to sincerely apologize for leaving you with all this cliffhanger before I have to take a small hiatus with the holidays haha. I played around a bit with perspective in this chapter, so I hope it still reads clearly! Also, if you want to be added to the tag list, make sure your blog isn’t set to hidden and that you allow tags or else I’ll be unable to do that on my end. As always I hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Sip the gossip, drink ‘til you choke

Sip the gossip, burn down your throat

You’re not iconic, you are just like them all

Don’t act like you don’t know 

Austin had been beautiful, and you had written down every word you could describing it. Mexico, however, was a race you wouldn’t exactly want to document.

It started out okay. Franco’s Forbes cover shoot was released, and, as predicted, it blew up the internet. Of course, you were happy for him. But to see the entire world want him almost as much as you wanted him was…disheartening.

For a long time, it had just been you and Franco. He had clawed his way up and earned everything he had achieved through hard work and unmatchable determination. You were his biggest fan and supporter. And it was just you and him against the odds.

You had been so happy for him to make it to F1 after all he’d worked for. And to see the world embrace him so wholeheartedly was beautiful. But you were scared, deep down, that you’d lose him in the glitz and glamor of pilot stardom. 

His place at Williams was only temporary, of course, but you knew that when he did eventually get a secure seat, your friendship would have to change. After all, you couldn’t fly around the world with him forever. But you figured you’d adapt, like you always did. It would all be okay in the end. Franco never gave you any reason to believe that you’d get left behind. 

That is, until Mexico. 

You barely saw him at the beginning of the week, with him being so busy filming for brand sponsorships. Come the weekend, a phone call from home had soured his mood. You let it be, knowing that now was the time to just support him in any way you could, even if that was just giving him space.

But on Saturday he had woken up feeling better, and you were happy, thinking that he’d turn this weekend around for the better. Mexico was full of Argentine fans, and again, you were both ecstatic for him and feeling a bit left behind. You weren’t from Argentina. You didn’t really speak Spanish. These random fans had that connection with him that you’d never have. 

You pushed it down—for now. You’d write about it later. 

But now you were on your way to Williams hospitality to meet Franco. He was beaming when you’d seen him at breakfast that morning. Some big Argentine musicians were coming to the paddock.

You would have been happier for him if he had introduced you to them. But now you sat in hospitality with Franco and the group, and they all completely ignored you. Franco hadn’t even introduced you.

Yes, you were naturally on the quieter side. Yes, you didn’t speak Spanish, which they now all excitedly talked in, laughing about something you’d never know. But did that really mean that you deserved to sit there, awkwardly glancing at your phone as your best friend ignored you?

And all the while, he was glancing over to the female singer sat opposite him. God, she was beautiful. And from Franco’s tone, you could tell he thought so too. He was flirting with her right in front of you.

Yes, you were just friends. But you had slept in his bed with him curled up into your side. He had celebrated every win with you since you were teenagers. But right now, you were nothing.

You just kind of stared off into the distance until you saw a familiar face. Lily to the rescue! She came over and waved to Franco and the group, who stopped their conversation for a brief second to wave back. 

“Hey YN, wanna come help us film a video?” she asked. Clearly this was just an out to help you escape the torture of being ignored. 

“Sure,” you agreed. When you got up to leave, Franco didn’t even acknowledge you. 

You and Lily walked into the garage. “Thank you for helping me out there.”

“Yeah, you looked like you were going through it. Were they that bad?”

“Well, I don’t know. Franco never even introduced me and I don’t speak Spanish.”

“So he just ignored you? That’s so rude,” he said, her face grimacing, “I’m sorry.”

You just shrugged and offered her a weak smile. There was that unspoken recognition from both of you; Franco had ignored you to flirt with the singer. She was everything you weren’t: beautiful, popular, confident. 

“Well, come hang with me and Alex. I’ll teach you how to make a tiktok,” she said.

You were surprised that her excuse hadn’t been an excuse at all—she actually wanted your company, unlike someone else. 

You went out to the pit lane to meet Alex. Fans were cheering from the sidelines. They were all screaming for Alex, of course, but a few yelled for Lily too. And one yelled for you. 

“YN! YN!” the girl yelled, Argentine flag in her grasp. Your head turned.  “YN! Can I get a picture with you?” she asked. 

You paused. “You want a picture with me?” 

She smiled. “Yes, if that’s okay.” You laughed, not mocking her, but just unsure to do with the absurdity of it all. 

“Of course,” you said, smiling for the camera. “I wasn’t trying to be rude,” you explained, “I’m just surprised you knew me.”

“Oh, we all know you. Everyone’s seen the videos of you and Franco. You all are so cute!” You knew what she meant—your friendship with him was endearing, you had to admit. But the reminder of him felt like a sharp dagger to the heart. Lily called you over, so you bid goodbye to the fan, an odd feeling settling in your chest. That could be unpacked later.

But later was sooner than you anticipated. You had a great time making videos with Lily and Alex, but they had gone to get lunch before qualifying, and you couldn’t find Franco anywhere. So you went to his driver’s room, and finding that even empty, you just gave up and stayed there. He had told you that his room was fair game to hide in if you ever felt overwhelmed, and you definitely did. Now that you were alone, all the emotions were rushing to the surface. 

So you opened your notebook to write.

I can’t believe Franco didn’t even introduce me to anyone this morning. I get it, I’m not like them. I’m not talented or famous or as beautiful as that girl is. God, she’s perfect. She’s everything a man could want. Why would Franco ever want someone like me? I’m just an anxious, dependent mess. I don’t blame him for flirting with her. I just wish he wouldn’t do it in front of me. 

You were spiraling, and soon enough tears came to your eyes. You tried to blink them away but it was futile. You felt like you were losing your best friend.

But, speak of the devil, he was at the door. 

“Oh, YN, I was looking for you,” he said absentmindedly as he walked in the room and fiddled with his helmet. “You left your phone in the garage, Lily has it.”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. It seemed like you were developing a habit of losing things. You got up to meet Lily in the garage, making a mental note to stop at the bathroom to take a breather. You prayed that Franco wouldn't look at you, but today was your unlucky day, it seemed. As you walked out, he looked up and his eyes met yours, and you saw the concern dawn in his eyes. He moved to say something, but you just quickened your pace, and ignored him when you did hear him call after you. 

You found the nearest bathroom and broke down, allowing yourself to just cry it out for a few minutes. Your thoughts kept spiraling. You were ridiculous, you thought, breaking down over something so small. You were pathetic. No wonder he didn’t want you. Why would anyone? 

After a few minutes, you took a few deep breaths and steadied yourself and tried to make it look as if you hadn’t been crying. Qualifying would be starting soon. You quickly grabbed your phone from Lily, who thankfully didn’t say anything about your clearly post-sobbing session face, and you found a comfortable spot in the back of the garage to watch qualifying. 

He qualified 15th. Not great. Nothing to elicit a celebratory hug, though, God, you needed one right now. 

You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and sleep away the weariness. So that’s what you did, skillfully avoiding Franco’s eye scanning the paddock for you.

When you got back to the hotel, you could barely change into your pajamas and get in the bed. You felt heavy like a block of lead. You checked your phone before bed, seeing that Franco had taken a photo with the musicians and posted it to Instagram. 

It was taken after you left, of course. As if you were never there at all.

The sight brought another wave of tears. You sighed in frustration and cried until the weight of it all lulled you to sleep.

The next morning, you didn’t even want to go to the grand prix. As you got up and tidied where you had gotten back and just thrown things around last night, you contemplated what to do.

On one hand, you wanted to support Franco even if you were upset. On the other hand, you thought you might burst into tears if you saw him again.

You just needed to write it out, and then you’d be able to face him. You grabbed your bag and fished around for your journal.

It was gone.

Shit.

Then you remembered, you had left it in his driver’s room yesterday. You groaned.

You checked your phone, intending to text him about it, only to find that he had already texted you last night while you were asleep. Just a simple, You okay? but you hadn’t answered. 

Frantic, you called him. He answered immediately. 

“Hey YN, you—”

“Have you seen my journal?”

“What?”

“My journal. I accidentally left it in your driver’s room yesterday.”

“No? I don’t remember seeing it.”

“Shit…” you whispered. Tears pricked in your eyes yet again. 

“I’m on my way to the track, I’ll check when I get there and ask the team about it,” he assured. “We’ll find it.”

“Thanks,” you said, your voice dry. 

“Look, are you okay? You just disappeared yesterday—”

“I’m fine,” you lied. He knew you were lying. 

“YN, talk to me. Please.” His voice was soft with genuine concern, but it pissed you off. There was no way he could know he was the cause of your upset if you didn’t tell him. But you just couldn’t. Not now, at least.

“Can I just meet you at your driver’s room to look for it?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.” You hung up the call.

You had calmed yourself down a bit before you reached the track, but it was no use when you met Franco at his room and found it empty. The desk where you had set yesterday to write looked strangely devoid of life. 

You all wordlessly continued to look for a while, and even went around asking the Williams employees about it, but it was no use. It was gone. 

When you returned back to the room, defeated, you couldn’t help but cry. 

For fear of embarrassment, you'd never cried in front of Franco before, but you didn’t even have the capacity to try and hide it anymore. At first he looked startled, like he didn’t know what to do. But as you crumpled onto the small couch and he saw your body wracked with sobs, he knew all he could do was hold you.

So that’s what he did. 

His touch was warm and comforting, but it just made you weep all the more. He just held you tighter, and you were enveloped in the smell of his cologne. “It’s okay,” he whispered gently to you, “I’m here.”

When the sobs finally left you, he looked in your tear-stained eyes and asked, “Will you talk to me?”

You had never wanted to do anything less. But you knew that these were the moments that counted. Your journal had become a crutch rather than a tool—now was the time to actually do the hard work to get better. 

You began, “It’s stupid—” 

“I want to know anyway,” he assured.

You paused, then resumed, “It just really hurt me yesterday when you didn’t introduce me to anyone.”

He made a confused face at you. “I didn’t?” 

“No, Franco, you didn’t,” you said, your tone getting angrier. “You were too busy flirting with that singer to notice that I was sitting there alone.”

“She asked about you, though. I told her you were just a friend.”

Ouch. Just a friend. 

“I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are,” he assured, but it felt hollow. 

“It doesn’t feel like it when Lily has to come rescue me from being ignored all day.”

“I’m sorry, YN. I didn’t even realize it, I was just caught up in the conversation. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I just felt like an intruder. I mean… I’m not a famous musician or anyone important in Formula 1. I’m not from Argentina, I don’t speak Spanish—”

He cut you off, “So? And you know my mother would adopt you in a heartbeat.”

You were unamused by his attempt at banter. “So, it just hurts because I don’t belong here. And when you ignore me, I’m just alone.”

He paused. “YN, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He continued, “But for the record, I was not flirting with anyone. You know the main reason I spend time with all these people is for the brand, right?”

You looked confused. “The brand? Since when do you care about your brand?” Franco was known for being impossible to media train. Why was he suddenly so concerned with his public reputation?

Even though you were alone in his driver’s room, he looked over his shoulder, listening out for any approaching footsteps. But you all were truly alone in the quiet morning at the paddock. “You have to promise to keep it quiet,” he said.

“I promise,” you whispered.

He leaned in closer. “There’s a chance, a very small chance, but a chance…that I could get a contract with Redbull next year.”

Your eyes widened. He continued, “Checo has been driving so bad that they want him out. But he brings in a lot of money and it’ll cost a lot to break my Williams contract. I need to show them that I can have just as much backing in Argentina as Checo has in Mexico.”

You were practically speechless. “Oh my God, Franco, that’s…”

But Franco was more worried about you. “The people are all nice enough, but I’d prefer your company over theirs any day. You’re still my best friend.”

The tears that threatened to fall now were happy ones, from pride in your best friend and the love you felt for him. 

You confessed, “I hope you get it. But I’m so scared that I’ll be left behind and forgotten.”

He reached to hold you again and you let him. “Never,” he said, “never. You’ve been here since the beginning, you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

You both broke the embrace and he wiped a tear from your cheek. The soft touch sent shivers down your spine.

“Thank you,” you said. 

He smiled at you. “No, thank you for opening up to me. You ready for the race today?”

You nodded, “Always.”

He didn’t score any points, but the points weren’t the point anymore. Your conversation earlier had made you feel so close to him in a way you never had before. You watched the screens in the garage with a religious reverence, looking into his eyes when the camera switched to face him. They were focused, like the only things in the world were him, the car, and the track ahead. And for you, that was all there was in the world, too.

Your celebration after the race was more subdued, but nonetheless supportive. As he walked to the media tent, you all glanced at each other and you mouthed to him proud of you. He winked back.

You all had fallen into a familiar routine of dinner together and winding down in his hotel room, and tonight was no different. Again you all found yourselves in the same positions: him, cross legged on the bed, and you in the chair near him. 

The atmosphere was a bit tense though. Being back at the hotel, you couldn’t help but remember the horrible morning, and what you had lost—your journal. Who would have thrown away a journal from his driver's room? You had asked around the paddock again after the race and no one had seen it.

Or maybe it hadn’t been thrown away. Maybe someone took it.

Your mind wandered back to the last few conversations with Franco: your “stolen” lipstick, his asking to read the journal…

No. He wouldn’t. That’d cross a line.

But weren’t the contents of the journal crossing a line themselves?

Franco noticed how you’d gone quieter since you got home from the paddock. You all were both exhausted.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, lazily tracing circles in the comforter.

You responded with your own question. “Franco, will you be honest with me?”

He looked up at you, his face hardened with concern. “Of course.” He looked nervous. 

“Do you have my journal?”

He shifted his gaze away from you. “No,” he said, simple as that. 

“Franco,” you began, “listen to me. I’m not mad, but you understand how this looks, right? I know we joke about this kind of stuff a lot, but you asked to read it and then it suddenly disappears after I left it in your driver’s room.”

“I didn’t even go back to the room after you left,” he said.

“Maybe not. But you got there this morning before I did. And now it’s gone.”

He paused. “You really think I’d steal your diary?”

The situation had become too tense for your liking. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything,” you explained, “and I promise, I’m not mad. I just… there’s some things in there that are too personal for me to share with anyone, even you.”

“YN, I don’t have it.”

“Okay. I’m just saying, if you happen to find it, please promise me that you won’t read it. Please,” you quite literally begged. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, YN. You know I was joking when I asked to read it, right?”

He wasn’t joking. Both of you knew that. And both of you knew that he had taken the diary.

You hoped that he would understand what you asked and respect your wishes. In a few days he’d text you saying that a Williams employee had randomly found it—another lie—and he would give it back to you, unread. And your friendship would go on like nothing had ever happened.

But what if it didn’t? What if he read every filthy word you had written about him?

You thought it through over and over later that night, back in your own room but unable to sleep. So you made a plan.

You and Franco, thankfully, would be on the same flight to Brazil. When you landed and went to the hotel, you’d swap out your room keys and go to his room while he did his media duties. Then, you’d find the journal in his room and take it back.

A few problems with the plan. One, It gave him the first 3 days of the week to read it, and two, it was fucking unhinged of you to go through your best friend’s stuff. 

You rolled over and angrily groaned into the pillow. 

Brazil was going to be an interesting time. 

Well, interesting was the understatement of the century.

It began on the flight, a flight that was way too fucking long. Thankfully, Franco had arranged for you to take this one together, so at least you had his company. 

You could never sleep on planes, they were too loud and uncomfortable. Franco usually did, but today it seemed he couldn’t; he bounced his legs and darted his eyes around the plane.

“Nervous?” you asked.

“Very,” he answered honestly. “There’s just so much going on this weekend.”

“I know,” you said reassuringly rather than condescendingly. “You really should try to get some rest though. It’s been a long few weeks for you.”

“I can’t. I’m too wired up.”

You felt an unexpected boldness come over you. “Close your eyes,” you directed, “and take a few deep breaths. Stay still.” 

He obeyed, and you grabbed his hand from the armrest between you and held it in yours. You felt him tense at the unexpected touch, but you slowly began to trace circles into his palm with your thumb, and he relaxed into it. With his own boldness, he placed his head on your shoulder and exhaled. Within minutes, he was fast asleep. You knew from experience that he’d be asleep for the rest of the flight, so you let yourself get comfortable with the familiar weight of your sleeping best friend pressing into your side.

Slivers of sunlight from the window traced the soft edges of his sleeping form. Even when unconscious, he was beautiful. If you truly wanted to, you could have turned ever so slightly and kissed his forehead without waking him. And God, you truly wanted to.

So you did, gently pressing your lips to the smooth surface of his skin. Maybe this was crossing a line, but it seemed like, at this point, all lines had been crossed between you two.

His presence calmed you enough that you were able to fall asleep, too. When you woke a few hours later, he was still fast asleep by your side, and you savored the moment.

But deep down you wondered how long this would last. You were head over heels in love with him. He was… well, you didn’t know how he felt. But he was your best friend in the entire world. He knew almost everything there was to know about you. 

He had four races left in F1. Four races until you would go back to your day to day lives; still intertwined, but not this close. And if he did get the seat, that you so desperately wanted for him? He’d be gone even more than he already was. You couldn’t follow him around the world forever. He’d go from city to city, race to race, club to club, woman to woman.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of him with another woman. You remembered the singer in Austin, how he said he wasn’t flirting with her, it was for the brand, whatever excuse he could come up with. You guessed it was true. Or maybe he meant that it didn’t really mean anything to him. Just playing up that side of him that the media absolutely loved. His Argentine charm was undeniable. 

Okay, then maybe it was true. Everyone knew Franco was a flirt, you especially. But it made it so much harder to determine, then, what was truly meaningful to him and what wasn’t. 

But your friendship meant something to him, right? He had asked you to come along to all his races. He made time for you in the midst of the paddock’s chaos. You had slept in the same bed. He held you when you cried. And now, he slept peacefully on your shoulder, hands still intertwined. How could that not mean something?

You didn’t want your fears of the future to make you miss out on the present. At some point you’d have to open up to him. But that moment wasn’t right now. 

And you were determined that you’d be the one in control, so when you landed and made it to the hotel, you enacted your plan you’d concocted earlier. When the receptionist handed you the keys, you waited until Franco was fiddling with your luggage to switch out two, making sure to hand him the correct key. He would never need to know that the other key in the little paper pocket was the key to your room, and if he did, he’d just assume there was an issue. A natural cover.

Okay, maybe you were smart and smooth with it. 

You knew you wouldn’t see much of Franco in Brazil. With stakes this high, he had an overwhelming amount of team meetings and media duties. Still, as usual, you all made your way to the paddock together. 

The energy was electric—in good ways and bad. Good: there were so many Argentine fans that you often found yourself questioning what country you were in. The amount of support was unreal. And each one of them were proud of Franco—but not as proud as you were.

Bad: Literally everything else.

But that was yet to come. You entered the paddock to a flurry of camera shots and a cacophony of voices yelling for Franco. 

Usually you liked to stay out of the shot of cameras, but it was impossible here. Franco did his best to draw their attention towards him and away from you, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.

As you all passed a group of fans, one in particular caught your eye. She was holding out two bracelets. “Franco, YN!” she called out. 

You both stopped to speak to her. “I made you all bracelets,” she said, handing one to you and the other to Franco. You read the beads: it had Franco’s name, number, and blue hearts. You smiled at the adorable gesture. 

“Oh,” Franco said, looking at you, “This one has your name on it. Let’s switch.”

As he moved his hand to do so, the fan said, “No, they’re supposed to be like that. They’re friendship bracelets for you all!”

“Thank you,” you said, unsure if the warmth of your cheeks was a soft blush forming or from the chaos around you. The fan had wanted you to wear each other’s names.

You kept walking, but when you were out of eyeshot, you offered to switch the bracelets around again, thinking the implication was a little too much for him. He refused, keeping your name around his wrist.

He went off to wherever he needed to be, and you went to William’s hospitality to find Lily, but unfortunately, she wasn’t in Brazil at all.

Maybe, in hindsight, what you did next was a terrible decision. But you did it anyway. 

You made your way to Franco’s drivers room for some privacy and pulled up your social media, looking to see what people were saying about him. 

Ever since he had confided about his potential for a seat next year, you had also cared about his brand, too. And, officially or unofficially, you were a part of that. Like Lily had told you, people were speculating. You just hoped that what she said about the people loving you was true. 

Fortunately, it was. 

Franco and YN being obliviously in love with each other; a thread

You tapped on the post, reading your way through the comments.

Does YN know that she’s living our dream?

Oh to be YN, being loved by Franco like that.

Need someone to look at me the way YN and Franco look at each other.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love YN, but Franco should be with an Argentine girl. They’d be a power couple. 

The comment soured your mood. You kept reading anyway.

Guys, I met YN in Austin and she was so sweet! Our girl is chronically offline because she was so surprised that I even knew who she was and like, girl, WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!!

You smiled, the memory of the girl in Austin coming back to your mind. 

I love how we have all collectively decided to adopt YN as the newest wag even though her and Franco aren’t even dating 

You laughed to yourself, remembering how Lily had mistaken you for a wag when you first talked. Maybe that was the reason why.

You read the replies: 

To be fair, you don’t look at someone like that unless you LOVE LOVE them

Does anyone else think this is weird tho? I mean, they're just friends but the entire internet wants them to get together, must make things so awkward…

Honestly I’m glad they’re not together because if my bf flirted with other women the way Franco flirts with reporters, I’d throw the whole man away

You snorted. Of course, these random people on the internet didn’t know you, but they seemed to get inside your head a little too much for comfort. Or maybe you just weren’t as good at hiding your emotions as you always thought you were. 

Speaking of hiding your emotions, you had a job to do. Checking your clock, you knew that Franco was going to be busy for the next 3 hours before you all had planned to meet up again. He had a very important meeting with Christian Horner. Your heart skipped a beat and you said a silent prayer for your friend.

But now, you have a mission. You were going to get your journal back.

It would have been an easy task, if not for the fans. Thankfully you got out and into an uber undetected, but upon opening the door to his room, you cursed them in your head.

Gifts were everywhere. His team must have been gathering them all week, and Franco clearly wasn’t organizing them. 

You thought 3 hours would be more than enough to leave, find your journal, return it to your room, and get back to the paddock unnoticed. Maybe, you thought wrong. This was going to be a long 3 hours. 

As you searched, back at the paddock, Franco sat in the meeting that would decide the course of the rest of his life. His leg bounced uncontrollably, his mouth was dry, and he felt like he was going to throw up his breakfast. 

He wished you were here. Your presence always calmed him in moments like these; he had no idea where you were, and the intimidating presence of Christian Horner across the table did nothing to ease his nerves. 

“I’ve got to admit,” Horner said, “he’s exceeded everyone’s expectations. But a couple good races doesn’t tell us much.”

Franco’s manager replied, “Of course, we understand. But he’s got more than enough of a fanbase to rival any driver. I mean, just look outside and it’s a sea of Argentine flags!”

“Fans are good, but does that translate to sponsors? I mean, you’ve got to compete with Disney here. Not every driver can bring in that level of support.”

“We’ve gotten some strong sponsors recently, and a lot more in the works currently. Franco’s future is promising.”

“What about his PR? Any disasters there?” Horner laughed.  

Franco’s manager, however, did not. “He’s good. The fans love him, and he knows when to shut up.”

Franco suppressed a laugh. Anyone who had been around him for more than 5 minutes knew that he was a PR nightmare. And it seemed Horner knew it too.

“Now, that’s not what I’ve heard,” he said. “I’ve seen the videos. You strike the balance well for the most part, but you can’t be telling people not to buy Redbull merch.” They all laughed. “And you can’t be bringing your girlfriend to every race.”

Franco’s manager began to speak, but not before Franco cut her off. “My girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, YN isn’t it? As far as I’ve seen, the fans like her, but if she’s constantly around they’ll get fatigued. Again, it’s a delicate balance.”

“YN isn’t my girlfriend.” The sentence felt…odd, as Franco said it with a matter of fact tone.

“Oh, even better. We can get you with an Argentinian woman, then. Maximize that market.”

“A PR relationship? Those are real?” Franco questioned, and Horner laughed, as if Franco was the dumbest one in the room, and he certainly felt like it. 

“Not really. Just be seen a few times, like some posts, maybe go to events together if you wanna really get serious about it. Generate talk, you know.”

“Isn’t that what happens with YN now anyway? I mean, everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

“Yeah, but she’s nobody. No offense,” Horner said, as if his comment held no weight. “But with a celebrity or model? That really gets people talking. A little controversy is good.”

Franco felt sick to his stomach. She’s nobody. But she was somebody, to him. She was his best friend. 

“Look, kid,” Horner began, “I agree that you’ve got promise, but it’s too early to make any decisions right now. Show us what you’ve got in these last few races, and maybe we can work something out.”

Everyone rose to exchange polite goodbyes and handshakes. Franco felt like he was in a totally different plane of existence.

His manager came over to him afterwards. “You did well, Franco. We’ll just do as he said—keep focused, get results, and keep your head down. Seriously, watch it with the media.”

Franco nodded absentmindedly, but his manager wasn’t happy with that response. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Franco began, “Look, a PR relationship, seriously? And he’s telling me I can’t have my best friend in the paddock?”

“I think YN will survive if she doesn’t come to every single race.”

“But I want her here with me. I don’t want to hurt her.” He remembered Austin, holding you while you cried, afraid that he’d leave you behind. And here push had come to shove. 

His manager looked at him, incredulous. “Seriously, Franco, this is what you're focused on? You have a shot at a seat with Redbull, and you’re more focused on not hurting YN’s feelings? How do you expect to achieve this with that attitude?” 

Franco was upset now. “Don’t say that. Even Horner said I’ve been exceeding expectations.”

“I know you have, and we’re all proud of you. But you need to stay focused. Leave the women alone.”

“YN is not just a random woman, she’s my best friend.”

His manager’s frustration was growing by the second. “I know Franco. I know you love her, we all love her. But she is not your priority right now. Your future is, okay?” 

Hearing those words felt like a rollercoaster, complete with the euphoric highs and stomach churning lows. I know you love her—well, it was true, you were his best friend. But what kind of love? He didn’t know, and besides, the low—she is not your priority right now—he didn’t have the time or space to find out. 

He had a job to do.

All the while, you also had a job to do, but you were failing spectacularly. You had searched every square inch of that fucking room. You looked in every nook and cranny, every pocket and pouch, under the covers and even in the bathroom. Your journal wasn’t there. 

There was no way Franco was this good at hiding anything (other than emotions, maybe). You now had to entertain the possibility that you had been wrong all along.

Maybe he didn’t have the journal. Maybe you had just accused him of lying and shown that you don’t really trust your best friend. 

You let out a frustrated groan as you put everything back in place. You couldn’t believe it. 

If he didn’t have the journal, then where was it?

It was a question you’d have to answer later, because right now you were racing to reconfigure his room and get back to the paddock before anyone noticed that you were gone. 

You barely made it in time, arriving at the Williams garage with your body in fight or flight mode. You spotted Franco instantly.

“YN! There you are,” he said. “I thought I lost you.”

“Oh yeah, I was with some fans.” The lie just slipped out without you having to think about it. You’d never done that before—who were you becoming?

Franco looked confused. “You were? Since when do you willingly leave the paddock?” he questioned, clearly joking.

“Since I have to help the brand,” you smiled. “By the way, how did the meeting go?”

He just replied, “Good.” 

Franco was never a man of few words, so his hesitancy to speak was a red flag.

“Top secret?” you asked, thankfully giving him an out.

“Yeah, it’s… complicated.” 

“Well, you know I’m always here rooting for you,” you said, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. The gesture sent shivers down your spine.

Seriously, who were you becoming?

The next day didn’t make the situation any easier. The morning sprint had granted Franco another 12th place finish—no points, but still respectable. At least, it was to you. You could tell that he wasn’t happy. You knew that he pushed himself too hard, because how else would he be able to achieve, but it still broke your heart. You assumed that the meeting yesterday hadn’t been the greatest, and you wished that Franco would talk to you about it. But he didn’t. That was okay, you’d done the same to him before. You just wanted to be there to support him, even if it meant being on the sidelines, in the dark both physically and metaphorically.

And the darkness was looming over Interlagos. The forecast was horrific. The reality was even more horrific. 

As the rain poured down in sheets, you silently said a prayer for all the poor souls with General Admission tickets who must be swimming right now. You were nice and dry under the paddock, thankfully, but outside it was practically a monsoon.

Everyone knew qualifying would get postponed, it was just a matter of time until a final decision would be made. The atmosphere was tense—a championship battle loomed in the distance between Max and Lando, and Franco would be driving for his life. 

But as the hours passed and the rain continued, the energy around the paddock loosened up. You saw Lando and Oscar at the gates waving to fans, George jumping in puddles, Ollie taking naps against the warm tires. 

So, of course, Franco would enjoy his time too.

His manager stood in the back corner of the garage, talking with one of the media interns. Looking at her, Franco felt his frustration return. He had never been the stubborn type. But since making it to Formula 1, he had been told what to do left and right. Go here, say this, don’t do that. It pissed him off. 

He was going to do what he wanted to, at least this once. 

Of course, you were oblivious to all of this. You didn’t know what to make of it when he walked onto the pit lane, exposing himself to the elements. Within seconds his fluffy curls were flattened and he would be dripping in rainwater when he came back into the garage. 

“YN!” he called into the garage. “Come dance with me!” 

You looked up from your phone, and the garage around you was still buzzing, but you could feel everyone’s necks craning to listen and look upon whatever antics Franco was up to.

You just laughed and shook your head. You weren’t getting out in that mess.

But you didn’t have a choice. Franco marched his way up to the garage and yanked you out. 

You yelped his name playfully as he dragged you to the middle of the pitlane and put his arms around your waist. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him through your widening smile.

“Dancing. Having fun,” he answered. His arms stayed around your waist, too close to be platonic.

You turned to the crowd of fans in the grandstand in the distance. “We have an audience. Is this good for the brand?” 

It would seem ‘the brand’ was becoming a running bit, until Franco shut it down. “Fuck the brand. Dance with me.”

He pulled you closer, the only thing separating you being the layers of clothes that were thinning with the rain. He spun you and you all danced back and forth, giggling when you splashed in the  puddles swiftly gathering around you. 

And then he dipped you. The world felt like it stopped for a moment. You were suspended in air, an electric warmth between you and your best friend, the only two people in the world.

He brought you back up and you both stopped. Your eyes met for what must have only been a split second. It was like all at once, all the love you had for him flooded your heart, stronger than the unrelenting rain. 

Everything about him was beautiful. His arms wrapped around your waist, his eyes now looking at your lips—

He was going to kiss you.

That is, until his manager yelled at you both from inside the garage. “Franco! Quit fucking around and get in here!”

The moment was ruined.

You both sheepishly returned to the garage. Your anxiety had faded in that perfect moment with him, but had now returned with a vengeance upon hearing the frustration of his manager. Luckily, everyone else in the garage seemed to not care. But Franco looked like a kid getting called to the principal’s office at school.

Before you even got back in the garage, you turned to him and said, “Franco, I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, I—”

He cut you off. “You didn’t get me in trouble,” he joked, “I got myself in trouble. Don’t worry about it. You can shower in my driver’s room, I should have a spare sweater in there. I’ll try to meet you there.”

You nodded as you went your separate ways.

You did as Franco said, having a quick shower and doing your best to dry your hair in his driver’s room. You grabbed the spare Williams quarter zip he had and slid it on, relishing in the warmth and the smell of his cologne. You felt safe here, quiet and alone, knowing that he’d come meet you when he could. You scrolled on your phone to pass the time.

Of course, it had only been minutes and you all had already gone viral.  

You tapped on the post of a gossip page.

Williams driver Franco Colapinto and friend YN seen in Interlagos having a sweet moment dancing in the rain! Although the pair are quoted calling each other just friends, fans continue to speculate about the true nature of their relationship. What do you think? Sound off below!

You scrolled to the comments.

Might as well just make out with her in parc ferme smh

Why are they actually the main characters of a rom com

Sooooooo when is he proposing

YN the woman that you are. I’d ask what we are after being held like that

You smiled. Maybe the internet was starting to grow on you. 

Back in the paddock, Franco was soaked to the bone, shivering, and being scolded by his manager.

“I told you to keep a low profile. What was that stunt?”

“I was just having fun—”

“I know. That’s the problem. You are not here to have fun. You are here to compete.”

“Having fun doesn’t impact my ability to drive,” he said, his voice sharp with anger. “Look, I get that you want what is best for me. But I’m not stupid. Fans love this kind of stuff, they eat it up. And I’m improving every day with my driving. Just let me do what I do best.”

“And you’re doing this purely for the fans?” she asked. They both knew the answer. Franco was silent. She continued, “Franco, she’ll be here at the end of the season no matter what. But this opportunity won't if you don’t focus. You’re distracted.”

“This will be good publicity. The fans like it when I’m flirty.”

“You’re not here to be flirty. You’re here to drive,” she said with a forceful and final tone. She sighed. “The FIA just announced that quali is postponed until tomorrow morning. Go back to the hotel, get some rest, and come back tomorrow ready to perform, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. 

When he finally made it back to his driver’s room, he found you asleep on the small couch. He thought his heart would burst.

Quietly, he took a shower and changed into dry clothes. He sat down and just watched your sleeping frame, taking in how beautiful you were.

But you couldn’t stay here all night. He woke you up by gently brushing your hair out of your face, and you stirred at his touch.

“YN,” he whispered. “Quali is postponed. Time to go.” You sleepily rose and followed him out of the paddock, only fully waking up on the Uber ride back to the hotel.

The drive was quiet, but peaceful. It was dark out, and the rain scattered the light from the street lamps of Sao Paulo. Franco looked out the window, contemplative. It was a side of him you'd never seen before.

You placed your hand in the middle between you two, and wordlessly, he held it in his own.

It was unspoken, this new…thing, between you two. You both knew that something had fundamentally changed. It was a question of who would crack first. 

Franco knew, though, that his manager was right. He needed to focus. He needed to deliver. And you’d be here at the end.

But when he laid in his bed alone later that night, he couldn’t rest. All he could think about was that moment you both had felt, and his eyes that had focused on the soft skin of your lips. How badly he had wanted you in that moment. 

A line had been crossed, yes, but that wasn’t the only one. 

In his backpack, there had been a weight that had hung over him the past few days. A metaphorical one. He had kept it on his person at all times for safekeeping, not wanting to risk anyone finding out what he’d done.

He told himself he wouldn’t do it. But he needed more of you that he couldn’t have—not now, at least. 

But he could have this, right now.

So he sat up in bed, grabbing the small leather diary from the bag, and opened the first page.  

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

Racing Hearts | CL16

Charles Leclerc x Head Engineer! Reader

Series Masterlist

"When I first saw you, I didn't think that you were one day going to become the brightest part of my life "

_______________________________________

Status: Ongoing

Last updated : 4 Dec 2024

_______________________________________

Permanent Taglist

Part 1

Part 2

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

SWEET JESUS RESTRAIN ME I’M GOING FERAL

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

Racing Hearts | CL16

Charles Leclerc x Engineer! Reader

Summary: She comes as Ferrari's only hope at the right moment, and maybe she's the only hope for not only Ferrari, but their driver as well.

Warning(s): Mild Language, Events of the 2024 Vegas GP could be considered changed according to your perspective. Use of Y/N. Pre-relationship.

"It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me.. and I'm feeling...good''

The Las Vegas Grand Prix had ended, and while the roar of the crowd and the energy of the spectacle still reverberated in the paddock, inside the Ferrari garage, the mood was far from celebratory. Carlos Sainz had secured a solid P3 finish—his podium moment—while Charles Leclerc crossed the line in P4, a respectable finish but one that was fraught with frustration. Points were earned, but both men felt a sense of dissatisfaction. It wasn’t about the result—it was about the glaring miscommunications from the team.

As they made their way back to the debrief room, Charles was already tense, his hands balled into fists, and his jaw clenched. Carlos followed, clearly annoyed, his eyes scanning the room but not yet ready to speak. They both knew what they were about to discuss.

"You didn’t listen to the team, Carlos," Charles said, his voice tight with anger, the words cutting through the air. His tone was harsh, and the frustration he’d held in during the race was finally spilling out. "You overtook me when you shouldn’t have."

Carlos paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. He shook his head, already frustrated with the assumption. “What? What are you talking about? I didn’t ignore anything. I was told not to pressure you—so I didn’t. I made a clean, smooth overtake. I didn’t force it. I followed the orders they gave me.”

Charles blinked, his anger faltering for a brief moment. “Wait. You were told not to pressure me?”

Carlos nodded, his expression becoming more frustrated as he relayed the details. “Yeah. I wasn’t told to hold back, but I was specifically told not to put pressure on you. They said I should let you race. That’s why I waited. And then, when I overtook, I did it cleanly, no aggressive moves. It was a smooth pass.”

The words landed hard with Charles. He had assumed Carlos was disobeying orders—perhaps trying to seize a better position. He had thought the reason for Carlos overtaking was because of a breach of protocol, but now, the truth was clearer. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t know that. I thought you were going off-script. I thought you were making a play for position when you shouldn’t have.”

Carlos exhaled sharply, the annoyance creeping into his tone. “Well, that’s where the problem lies, isn’t it? The communication from the team was unclear, and they’ve messed it all up. If they had listened to me and pitted earlier when I asked, I could’ve gotten P2. And you, Charles, could’ve fought for P3. But no, they kept us out there longer than we needed to be. That’s why we’re here now.”

Charles’s anger started to shift, replaced by a deep sense of disbelief. His fists loosened, and his gaze fell to the floor as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. He hadn’t known the full story. He hadn’t realized Carlos was making decisions based on miscommunication.

"Merde," Charles muttered, a mix of regret and disbelief in his voice. "We both could’ve had better results. If they had just listened, we both could’ve been in a better position. They’ve messed this up—again."

Carlos nodded slowly, the bitterness evident in his words. “Exactly. I could’ve been in P2, and you could’ve fought for P3. But instead, we were both forced to hold back because of Ferrari’s mistakes.”

The two stood in silence for a long moment, both realizing the bitter truth: they had been sabotaged by their own team’s ineptitude. They had fought tooth and nail, following orders, doing everything right, and yet it still hadn’t been enough. Not because of their performance, but because of the constant miscommunications from Ferrari.

Charles broke the silence with a sigh, his voice softer now, more reflective. “I’m sorry, Carlos. I didn’t know they told you that. I thought you were trying to make a move, break the orders.”

Carlos gave a small, resigned nod. “It’s alright. I get it. You didn’t know. But Ferrari... they need to get their act together. We can’t keep racing like this.”

Charles nodded in agreement. He had been patient, but this was the last straw. Something had to change.

“You know, Carlos,” Charles said, his voice firming again, “this can’t go on. Ferrari needs to fix this. If we keep racing like this, we’re never going to get anywhere.”

Carlos’s gaze locked with his, a silent understanding passing between them. “I agree. Enough is enough. We’ve been giving them the benefit of the doubt for too long, but we need a team that can support us—one that’s actually prepared to help us win. We can’t afford any more of this. I'll be leaving after this year, but I refuse for us to part ways in a bitter manner”

Charles met Carlos’s eyes, his expression serious and resolute. “We need to make sure they hear us loud and clear. We can’t let this happen again.”

Carlos smiled grimly. “We will. They’ll have no choice but to listen.”

And with that, they stood in a moment of shared understanding. The results had been salvaged, but the bigger picture was clear: Ferrari had one last chance to fix things, or both drivers would be looking for answers elsewhere.

______________________________________

The atmosphere in the Ferrari briefing room was tense. Strategists, race engineers, mechanics, and team principal Fred Vasseur filled the room, all waiting for the discussion to begin. At the head of the table sat Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, their body language unified and determined. Both had reached their breaking point after the events in Las Vegas, and they were here to ensure that Ferrari’s issues were finally addressed.

Charles broke the silence, his tone sharp and cutting. "Let’s be clear. The Las Vegas Grand Prix should have been a triumph. Instead, we’re sitting here dissecting yet another race ruined by poor communication and indecision."

Carlos leaned forward, echoing Charles’s frustration. "We got a podium and P4, but it could’ve been so much more. The constructors' championship is within reach, but we’re being let down at every critical moment. Enough is enough."

The room buzzed with murmurs as the strategists exchanged uneasy glances. One of them spoke up, trying to justify the weekend's mishaps. "We made decisions based on the data available at the time. It’s not always easy—"

Charles cut him off, his voice icy. "Don’t. Don’t try to excuse this. We’ve heard it all before. This isn’t just about one race. It’s a pattern. We’re fed up with being told to trust the strategy only to see it fall apart time and time again."

Carlos nodded in agreement. "When I said I wanted to pit earlier, I wasn’t guessing—I was driving. I felt the tires going. If we had listened to that call, we’d have had P2 and Charles could've fought for P3. We need a system that actually supports our instincts as drivers. Otherwise, what’s the point?"

Fred leaned back in his chair, observing the escalating tension as members of the team began shifting blame. A strategist piped up defensively, "The issue was in the relay. If the engineers had communicated faster—"

Another interrupted, "No, the problem was with the pit wall. The timing wasn’t clear—"

Charles slammed his palm on the table, silencing the room. "Stop. We don’t care whose fault it was. We care that it keeps happening. And if nothing changes, you won’t have to worry about strategies in Qatar, because we won’t race."

The room froze. Carlos leaned in, his voice calm but firm. "We mean it. Throwing away Qatar means throwing away the constructors' championship. That’s how serious we are."

Fred’s expression hardened, but he held up a hand to calm the escalating panic in the room. "Enough," he said, his tone commanding. "You’re right. This team has been letting you down. And I take full responsibility for that."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Fred continued. "But changes are already being made. As of now, I’ve brought someone in to overhaul our operations. Someone who will make sure these mistakes don’t happen again."

Charles and Carlos exchanged skeptical glances, and one of the engineers dared to ask the question on everyone’s mind. "Who?"

Fred’s lips curved into a small smile, his confidence unmistakable. "You’ll know when she’s here."

The cryptic answer left the room buzzing with curiosity, but Fred didn’t elaborate. Instead, he stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Prepare for Qatar as if it’s the first race of the season. We’ll prove to everyone why Ferrari deserves to win."

Charles and Carlos exchanged a look as they left the room. Whatever Fred had planned, they would hold him to his promise. And for the first time in a long time, they allowed themselves a sliver of hope.

But one thing was running on both of their minds.

Who was she?

______________________________________

They got their answers before they had even went to sleep. Right at midnight, the announcement was made on the official Ferrari accounts.

________________________________________

Official Ferrari Announcement

Scuderia Ferrari is delighted to announce the appointment of Y/N L/N as the new Head Engineer. Y/N will play a pivotal role in leading the technical development of the team’s Formula 1 program. With a proven track record of excellence in motorsport engineering, her appointment marks a new chapter in Ferrari’s pursuit of continued success and innovation.

Ferrari looks forward to Y/N’s leadership in enhancing the performance of the team’s technical operations and advancing the Scuderia's efforts on the racetrack.

________________________________________

It was every where, their socials, the newspapers. Everyone was saying her name.

"Y/N L/N Joins Ferrari as Head Engineer: A New Era for the Scuderia"

"Ferrari’s Secret Weapon: Y/N L/N Takes the Helm for F1 Glory"

"Y/N L/N Joins Ferrari: Can She Turn the Team’s Fortune Around?"

"With Y/N L/N on Board, Ferrari Hopes for a Stronger, Smarter Future"

Y/N L/N

Excerpt from a newspaper 5 days after announcement.

(A/N:please read, I've worked hard on this)

________________________________________

The first rays of sunlight spilled through the curtains, lighting up the room with a soft, golden hue. Charles stirred awake, blinking sleepily as his alarm vibrated quietly on the nightstand. He reached over to silence it, the day’s schedule already playing in his mind. Today wasn’t just another day at Ferrari—it was the day. The day they would meet Y/N L/N.

Her name lingered in his thoughts as he swung his legs out of bed. The engineering prodigy everyone couldn’t stop talking about. He didn’t know what to expect, but he hoped—no, he needed—her to be everything the rumors promised. If she truly had the talent to fix their car, to help Ferrari finally stand tall again, then she’d have his loyalty without question.

"I’ll do whatever she asks, no arguments, if she can get this car into shape," he thought, running a hand through his messy hair with a wry smile.

_____________________________________

Charles moved through his morning routine with the precision of someone used to tight schedules. He pulled on a pair of running shoes and headed out for a quick jog through the quiet streets of Maranello. The crisp morning air helped clear his mind, though it didn’t stop the questions from surfacing.

What would she be like?

Would she come in all business, demanding immediate changes?

Or would she be the quiet, calculating type, studying them all before making her move?

Charles didn’t mind either way, as long as she delivered. But still, he couldn’t help his curiosity.

After his jog, he returned to his apartment, his movements brisk as he showered, dressed, and made himself a light breakfast. A plain omelet and black coffee sat untouched on the counter as he scrolled through his phone.

Articles about Y/N L/N dominated his feed. “The genius who broke barriers in aerodynamics,” one headline read. “The woman who could save Ferrari,” claimed another. Charles couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope, though he quickly tamped it down.

No expectations, no disappointment.

____________________________________

By the time Charles arrived at Ferrari HQ, the building was already buzzing with life. Engineers, strategists, and team members moved through the halls with an energy he hadn’t seen in weeks. He met Carlos at the entrance, his teammate looking just as intrigued.

“You ready for this?” Carlos asked, his expression somewhere between amused and hopeful.

Charles shrugged, though he couldn’t hide the glint of curiosity in his eyes. “I just want to see if she’s as good as they say. If she is, I’ll listen to every word she says, no complaints.”

Carlos smirked. “No complaints? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Charles laughed, but deep down, he meant it. Today could be the start of something new, something great. And if Y/N L/N could be the key to unlocking Ferrari’s potential, then he’d give her everything she needed.

As they walked into the meeting room, anticipation crackled in the air. Charles straightened his shoulders, his focus sharpening. Today wasn’t just another day—it was the beginning of a new chapter. And he was ready for it.

______________________________________

Charles wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d heard the rumors, the whispers about her brilliance, but now, as the door swung open, he wasn’t prepared for the immediate effect it would have on him.

Inside the room, Fred was seated next to a woman he didn’t recognize, but she was clearly important. Her posture was poised, her dark hair framing her face with an effortless elegance. She was scribbling something on a notepad, listening to Fred speak intently, a quiet intensity in her demeanor. It was immediately clear that she wasn’t just another engineer—she commanded the room in a way that made Charles take a breath before walking in.

Y/N.

Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly, her features sharp but softened by an easy expression. There was something about the way she sat there, listening, processing—like she belonged in this room, like she owned it. And, if the whispers around the paddock were anything to go by, she did.

Before he realized it, his thoughts were drifting away, mesmerized by the way her lips moved as she spoke, the way she held herself with an ease that made everything else fade into the background. He barely noticed when Carlos had walked ahead of him, but the sudden nudge to his side was enough to shake him out of his reverie.

“Charles,” Carlos whispered, half teasing. “Are you planning to stand there and stare all day?”

Charles blinked, trying to shake off the dazed feeling that had come over him. That’s when he realized that Y/N was standing up in front of him now, a smile on her lips, her hand extended towards him.

“Hello, Charles,” she said smoothly, her voice calm but confident. “I’m Y/N.”

His heart skipped for a moment.

How had he not noticed her standing right in front of him?

He quickly reached out, shaking her hand—though in that moment, he couldn’t help but notice how impossibly soft her skin was. His mind was still reeling from his earlier thoughts, and he found himself wondering, How could someone with hands like that—so delicate and soft—possibly be an engineer?

The question slipped out before he could stop himself. “Your hands... how are they so soft? I didn’t expect that from an engineer.”

Immediately, he regretted it. His face flushed, and he tried to correct himself, but the damage was done.

Carlos snickered from beside him, and Y/N’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “I get that a lot,” she replied, her voice calm, smooth, and strangely amused. “But don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of fixing a car, soft hands or not.”

Charles’s face flushed. Carlos was trying his best not to laugh, but Charles couldn’t help feeling embarrassed by his own impulsive question, though he couldn’t help but admire how she handled it with such ease. She didn’t flinch or show any sign of being put off. If anything, her confidence only grew.

Before the awkwardness could settle in, Y/N looked towards Fred, her tone shifting to a more professional one. “Fred, could you give us a moment?” she asked, her voice firm but polite.

Fred hesitated, glancing at her with a raised brow. “Are you sure? I thought—”

Y/N cut him off smoothly. “I’ve got this, Fred. Let me do my job.”

Fred seemed to recognize the authority in her voice, and with a reluctant nod, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

As Fred left, Y/N turned back to Charles and Carlos, her voice shifting to a more serious tone. “Take a seat. I’m sure you’ve got questions, but I’d prefer to start by talking about what we’re going to do next.”

Charles, still recovering from his embarrassing moment, sat down with Carlos, though his mind was still partially on Y/N. There was no denying it—she was impressive. He tried not to stare at her too much. She was beautiful, yes, but more than that, she was poised, intelligent, and confident in a way that made him feel like he was in the presence of someone who would change everything.

He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If I get requests about a part 2, I would love to write one, but for now this is a oneshot.

If you liked this, please leave a like, comment, and reblog.

Once again, I would like to remind you that's requests are open. Please send in some:)

Jules♡

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

one night

summary: one night with Max left a problem that you didn't talk to him about

warnings: pregnancy, and idk you tell me

word counter: 8005

author’s note: english is not my first language

The night was charged with a strange electricity that you didn't know how to explain. It was one of those improvised meetings in the house of a mutual friend, where laughter and talk mixed with the low sound of the music. You had known Max all your life, shared years of friendship, confidences and mutual support. He had always been your refuge, the kind of person who could read you with a single look.

That night, however, everything felt different.

Max was sitting next to you on the couch, closer than usual, and you couldn't help but notice every detail of his presence. The way his fingers played with the edge of his glass, the sound of his deep laughter when someone told an absurd joke, and how his eyes seemed to look for yours more than necessary. You tried to ignore it, attributing everything to your imagination, but it was useless. There was something there, something that both seemed to feel but did not want to admit.

The night advanced and the hours became more blurry. Most of the guests had left, leaving only a small group of close friends. But even they began to disappear, until you found yourself alone with Max in the dimly lit room.

"Another glass?" he offered you, getting up to fill your glass of wine.

"I don't know if I should," you replied, laughing softly, but you accepted anyway.

The conversation became more intimate, the topics more personal. They talked about the moments they had shared, how they had changed on time. At some point, Max leaned towards you, his expression more serious than usual.

"Have you ever wondered...?" he began, but left the phrase in the air.

"What?" you asked, feeling how your heart was racing.

He shook his head, as if he had decided not to say it. But his eyes told you something he couldn't put into words. Then it happened. A moment of courage - or madness - led you to close the distance between the two. The kiss was unexpected, intense, full of years of repressed feelings that finally found a way out.

The night continued between caresses and whispers, the outside world disappearing completely. For a few hours, everything felt like it was fine, as if this was what both had been waiting for without knowing it.

But the next morning, reality struck like a bucket of cold water. Max was in the kitchen when you woke up, his movements tense, avoiding your gaze. They barely spoke, an uncomfortable silence that looked nothing like the dynamics they had had for years.

"Last night..." he began, scratching the back of his neck, "it was... unexpected.

"Yes, it was," you admitted, pretending to feel a tranquility that you didn't feel.

They both knew that something had changed, something they couldn't ignore, but they didn't know how to handle it either. So, slowly, they began to move away. Messages that were previously constant became sporadic, and then non-existent. The calls stopped. His absence hurt, but you didn't know what to do about it.

Weeks later, while trying to move on with your life, you realized that something was not right. Morning sickness, constant fatigue, and the absence of your period led you to buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy, your hands shaking while you waited for the result.

Two lines. Positive.

Your mind was filled with questions, fears and doubts, but one thing was clear: the baby was Max's. And although your first instinct was to call him, reason prevailed. Max had been in a serious relationship with Kelly for a while, a woman who had a little daughter whom he had accepted as his own. You knew he was committed to that life, and you couldn't ruin it all.

You decided to keep quiet. You would raise your baby alone, without complicating anyone else's life. But deep down, you knew that this secret would not be easy to carry. The life you had shared with Max felt like a distant memory, a "and if" that would never have a response.

You refused to think too much about what it implied. The more you thought about it, the more you sank into a whirlwind of contradictory emotions: fear, sadness, pride, and a kind of determination that you didn't know you had. You knew that your life would change drastically, but you also knew that you didn't want Max to be part of this new chapter. Not because you didn't trust him, but because his life was already defined, and you didn't want to be the person who broke it to pieces.

The decision was clear to you: you needed space, distance, something that would help you start again without Max's shadow and his responsibilities. So, little by little, you began to prepare your escape.

First, you stopped frequenting the places where you knew you might meet him. You changed your phone number, blocked almost all mutual friends on your social networks and pretended that you needed "time for yourself" when someone asked about your disappearance. Weeks passed, and your pregnancy began to be harder to hide. You looked in the mirror every morning, noticing the changes in your body and reminding yourself why you were doing it.

One day, after a visit to the doctor, you sat in your car and made the final decision. You looked at the familiar streets around you, the places that had always been your home, and you knew it was time to leave them behind.

London. You had always wanted to live there, and now it seemed like the perfect opportunity to start over. Without telling anyone but your boss, you submitted your resignation, packed your things and booked a plane ticket. The plan was simple: you would settle in an apartment, work in your family's company as they had wanted so long, and raise your baby away from any possibility of Max discovering the truth.

When you arrived in London, the city greeted you with a cold and humid air, typical of early autumn. You moved to an apartment in a quiet area, with enough cafes and parks nearby to keep you busy.

Then you had disappeared from the digital radar for months. Your social networks, which used to be full of spontaneous photos, updates and everyday moments, had been left in absolute silence. You hadn't posted anything for a long time, and although you kept looking from time to time, reviewing the stories and publications of others, you made sure not to leave any traces of your presence. It was as if you had become a ghost that I watched from a distance.

People began to notice your absence. You knew it because, when reviewing your old posts, you found endless comments asking you where you were. "Everything okay?", "We miss you", "Why haven't you uploaded anything?" some said. Others simply left emojis, hearts, or words of support. But even when nostalgia for your previous life invaded you, you still didn't respond.

It wasn't exactly fear, but a feeling of wanting to protect this very personal stage. The pregnancy had been a roller coaster of emotions: illusion, uncertainty, and moments of loneliness that you fought remembering why you were doing this. Your little world in London had become your refuge, and sharing it with the rest of the world still didn't seem necessary to you.

But everything changed when the month came in which you decided to know the gender of your baby. The doctor's appointment was marked on your calendar, and you couldn't deny that you were excited and a little nervous. It was a strange feeling, as if knowing the gender made everything even more real, as if the baby that grew inside you began to take the form of a person you would soon meet.

The doctor's room was lit with a warm light, and the constant sound of the monitor filled the air. You lay back on the stretcher, taking a deep breath while the doctor applied the cold gel to your belly. The screen in front of you showed the blurred silhouette of your baby, and you felt that knot in your chest that always invaded you when you saw it.

"Do you want to know the gender?" the doctor asked, with a smile.

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment they told you was unforgettable. A child. A child who would soon become the center of your world. You smiled as tears accumulated in your eyes. For an instant, all the doubts, fears and difficult decisions vanished, replaced by pure and simple happiness.

That same afternoon, while you were walking back to your apartment, you decided it was time. For the first time in months, you felt the impulse to share this part of your life with others. It wasn't out of pressure, or to please anyone, but because you wanted to celebrate this little miracle you were waiting for.

You took a couple of pictures, wearing a white dress that highlighted your belly. The brightness of your skin, the pride in your eyes and the shy smile on your face were more than evident. You weren't the type to plan great revelations, but you knew you wanted to do something special.

You sat on the edge of your bed, carefully selecting the images and writing a description that reflected how you felt:

"After months of silence, I finally want to share the reason why my world changed. I'm expecting a beautiful baby, a boy who will arrive soon to light up my life. I can't explain in words the joy and love I feel knowing that I will be a mom. Thank you to everyone who has been asking about me and worrying in silence. I'm fine, better than I've been in a long time. 💙”

You took a breath before publishing it, hesitating for a moment. What would happen if this reached Max's ears? You knew I would do it but you pushed those thoughts away from your mind and pressed the publish button.

Within minutes, notifications began to flood your phone. Comments of surprise, love and congratulations appeared one after another. "Congratulations!", "You're going to be an amazing mom!", "A child? What a thrill!". The answer was overwhelming, and as you read them, you felt a warmth that enveloped you.

You allowed yoursellelless to smile again. For the first time in a long time, you let the world know a part of your new reality.

You didn't expect all that to go so far. After posting the news on your social networks, you felt a mixture of relief and vulnerability. You had shared your truth with the world, but you couldn't control who could see it, how they would react or what they would say behind your back.

Then Max's message arrived.

It was almost ten o'clock at night and you were on your couch, with your legs crossed and a bowl of ice cream in your hands, responding to the hundreds of comments that kept coming. Your phone vibrated, and when you looked at the notification, you felt how the air left your lungs.

It was a message from Max.

"Congratulations to you and the baby's father. I hope you are well. Really, I'm glad to know that you're happy."

You were frozen, reading and rereading the message as if you were unable to process it. How did he get your number? Who had told him? Why had I decided to write to you after so long? All these questions crowded into your mind, but none had an immediate answer.

You didn't know what to do. The most instinctive part of you wanted to ignore it, as if you had never seen the message. But another part, more emotional, I knew that would not be fair. He had been kind, had respected the distance, and had not hinted at anything that could complicate things.

You put the phone aside, squeezing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You had to answer, but what to say? You couldn't reveal the truth, that was clear. But you didn't want to sound cold or distant either. So you took your time, thinking about every word, every semicomon, before writing:

"Thank you, Max. I'm fine and so is the baby. I'm glad to hear from you."

You hit "send" before you could regret it, your heart beating hard while you waited, not knowing if he would answer. Every vibration of your phone made you jump, but the minutes passed, then the hours, and nothing else arrived.

Silence was a relief and torture at the same time. On the one hand, you were grateful that he didn't insist, that he didn't ask questions that you couldn't or didn't want to answer. But on the other hand, you wondered what he would be thinking, if he had really believed your version.

That night, before going to sleep, you thought about his message over and over again. It was so typical of Max: courteous, respectful, but letting out that closeness that had always existed between you. You knew him well enough to know that he must be curious, even if he didn't say it.

Max didn't write to you again. There were no more messages, calls or contact attempts. And although one part of you hoped it wasn't like that, another, more practical, deeply thanked him. The conversation had been at a neutral point, without complications or confrontations, exactly as you wanted.

The days passed with a strange tranquility. Since Max's message, you had not heard from him again, and life in London was on course. Your daily routines had become a kind of comfort: working from home, walking through nearby parks and mentally preparing for the arrival of your baby. But that calm was suddenly broken when your family called you with news that you did not expect.

You were lying on the couch, reviewing a list of things for the baby, when your mother called you. Her voice sounded excited, almost as if she was holding herst out so as not to scream with joy.

"We have something to tell you," he said, without even saying hello first.

"What happened?" you asked, anticipating that something important was coming.

“Your father and I have decided to go back to Monaco. The company is doing better than ever, and we believe it is the perfect time to return home. We've been away too long.”

The news hit you like a gust of cold air. Monaco Your lifelong home, the place where you had grown up, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you. But also the place you had left behind when you moved to London, in search of a new beginning.

"When do you plan to move?" you asked, trying to sound calmer than you felt.

"In a few weeks." We want you to come with us, of course. It's time for us to get back together, especially now that you're expecting a baby.

The proposal left you silent. You knew that your mother didn't say it with bad intentions; she was excited about the idea of having her first grandson around. But for you, the decision was not so simple. London had become your refuge, the place where you had managed to rebuild your life away from everything that tied you to your past. Returning would mean facing everything you had been avoiding, starting with Max.

Monaco was not a place where you could easily hide. Your family was well known, with important connections in the business and social circles of the city. If you came back, everyone would be behind you with questions. And even worse, there was a high probability that you would cross paths with Max during the Formula 1 break.

The following days were a storm of thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, the idea of being alone in London terrified you. With the baby on the way, you knew you would need support, and your family had always been by your side in important moments. But on the other hand, returning to Monaco meant opening a door that you had closed with so much effort.

You sat in front of the window of your small apartment one night, looking at the city lights while reflecting. You were mature enough not to worry about what people would say, but facing Max was something else. You knew each other, and you knew that his presence had an effect on you that you had never been able to fully control.

Finally, after days of thinking and rethinking, you made a decision.

You would return to Monaco.

It wouldn't be easy, but you were tired of living in fear. You didn't want your child to be born in a place where you felt isolated and vulnerable. Your family was important to you, and you knew you could trust them to support you, even if they didn't fully understand why you had made certain decisions.

The next day, you called your mother to give her the news.

"I'm going back with you," you said, your voice firm but with a touch of nervousness.

She couldn't hide her joy. He started talking about the plans for the trip, how they would organize everything so that you were comfortable. His enthusiasm made you smile, although a part of you was still restless.

The weeks passed in the blink of an eye. You packed your things, silently saying goodbye to London and the small shelter you had built there. When the day of your departure came, you looked for the last time at the streets that had become your temporary home, promising yourself that, whatever happens in Monaco, you would be strong.

The plane landed in Monaco at sunset, and the view of the city filled you with a mixture of nostalgia and nervousness. It was as if a part of you had never really left. But you knew the real test was yet to come. Max was there, somewhere, and sooner or later, you would have to face him.

It didn't take long for that, "The event" as your family used to say was something typical: a great meeting in one of the most exclusive lounges in Monaco, where the closest families could live together. Your parents had organized it as a kind of welcome to resume old connections after returning to the city. From the invitation, you knew that it would be inevitable to cross paths with people from the past, but you didn't think too much about who might be. There were so many names, so many familiar faces, that you assumed you could stay on the sidelines without drawing too much attention.

You dressed up with care that night, choosing a simple white dress that enhanced your figure. The fabric flowed gently over your growing belly, marking it delicately without being too flashy. You left your hair loose, with natural waves, and applied light makeup. You wanted to see yourself well, but without trying too hard.

When we arrived at the event, the room was already full. Laughter and conversations filled the air, and the children ran back and forth while the adults met in small groups. There was something familiar in the atmosphere, something that transported you to the years when you had also been a girl in those meetings. It was at one of these parties where you met Max.

Years ago...

You were a restless girl, full of curiosity and not afraid to talk to anyone, even if they were older than you. Max, on the other hand, was more reserved, even a little grumpy for his age. However, somehow, you found a way to break his serious facade. With your energetic personality, you managed to let my guard down. To everyone's surprise, he, who always seemed uncomfortable in these meetings, got along with you from the beginning. In those days, both became inseparable, exploring together every corner of these events while the adults chatted.

Returning to the present...

That memory made you smile a little, but it also made you feel a knot in your stomach. You tried to shake the nostalgia and focus on the night. You walked among the guests, chatting with those who approached you, most of them congratulating you on the pregnancy. Although you felt out of place, you tried to stay calm.

That's when you saw it.

Max was standing near one of the tables, dressed in a dark suit that sat him spotlessly. He was accompanied by Kelly, and her little daughter. The air seemed to disappear from your lungs instantly.

He also saw you.

For a second, your eyes met, and his expression changed. He seemed surprised, maybe even uncomfortable, but he immediately regained his composure. You, on the other hand, felt that your heart was beating so hard that it was hard for you to breathe. Instinctively, you turned on your heels, looking for a way out. You weren't ready to face him, even less with Kelly by his side.

But Max was faster.

Before you could disappear into the crowd, he and Kelly approached you. His every step made the panic inside you increase. You wanted to run, excuse yourself, anything to avoid that moment, but there was no escape.

"Hey!" Max said, with a smile that seemed contained, as if he was also dealing with something internal. His voice was warm, as if the months of silence between you had not existed. He pointed at Kelly and said—: “This is Kelly, my girlfriend.”

Kelly smiled politely and held out her hand.

"Nice to meet you," she said. Max has told me that you two have been friends since you were little.

Your mind was going a thousand per hour, but you managed to force a smile and shake his hand.

"Yes, that's right. For... many years” you replied, striving to keep your voice stable.

Max, as if he wanted to relieve the tension, added with a more relaxed smile:

"It's amazing to see you here, and congratulations again, both for you and for the baby's father.”

The words "baby's father" echoed in your mind like an echo. Kelly also congratulated you, and although there was nothing in his words that sounded malicious, you felt that your whole body tensed up.

"Thank you," you managed to say, nodding with a shy smile.

You couldn't take it anymore. You made up the first excuse you could think of.

"Excuse me, I need to go get something to drink." It has been a pleasure to see you.

Before they could say anything else, you walked away with quick steps, feeling the eyes of both of them fixed on your back. You didn't stop until you were far away, in a corner of the living room where you could catch your breath.

Your heart kept beating hard, and your hands were shaking. You had managed to get out of that conversation, but the meeting had removed all the emotions you had tried to bury. Max was there, and although you hadn't admitted it out loud, seeing him had made everything feel real again.

The night continued as a blur of superficial conversations and forced laughter. Every time Max and his little family appeared in your line of sight, you found a way to dodge them, pretending that someone else required your attention. You kept busy talking to acquaintances, checking your phone and serving yourself lemon water in an attempt to distract yourself. All in vain. His presence weighed like a cloud on you, a constant that you could not ignore even if you tried.

As soon as you finished pretending to be interested in a business conversation, you decided you needed a break. The bustle of the living room began to suffocate you, and the fresh air outside seemed like the perfect solution. You walked towards the gardens, feeling the relief of the silence as you left the music and laughter behind.

The sky of Monaco was clear, and the city lights were reflected in the nearby water. You recharged against a railing, closing your eyes and letting the breeze caress your face. For a moment, the world seemed calmer, less complicated.

Until you heard his voice behind you.

"It's not very typical of you to escape from the party."

You turned quickly, with your heart racing. Max was there, with his hands in his pockets and an expression that you didn't know how to interpret. He seemed relaxed, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel that he had come with a purpose.

"I didn't escape. I just needed a little air” you replied, trying to sound casual while your hands fiddled with the railing.

Max approached, leaving enough space between you, but enough to make his presence impossible to ignore.

"It was nice to see you today. I didn't expect to find you here," he said, his words loaded with something you couldn't define.

"I say the same," you replied, looking at the horizon instead of him.

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again.

"Your family must be excited about the baby and his father too. I'm sure they're spoiling you a lot.”

You smiled slightly, although his tone made you feel a pang in your chest. You decided it was better to be honest before he continued to assume things.

"They are happy, yes. But my baby doesn't have a father.”

Max seemed to stop in his tracks. His expression changed, and for a moment he seemed to be looking for the right words.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know."

You looked at him then, meeting his look that seemed sincerely hurt.

"Don't do it," you told him, your tone firm but without hardness. “Don't be regretted. I'm happy, Max. My family is happy. I can't ask for more. This child will be surrounded by love, and that's all that matters.”

Max nodded slowly, but his eyes continued to reflect something else, something he didn't say out loud.

"I always thought you would be an incredible mom," he said after a moment, with a small smile.

You forced yourself to smile too, although his comment stirred you inside. You wanted to change the subject, prevent the conversation from taking a more emotional turn, but Max was the one who spoke first.

"I want to be in your life again."

His words were like a direct blow to the chest. You looked at him, stunned, trying to understand exactly what he meant.

"Max..." you started, but he raised a hand, interrupting you.

"I'm not saying that I'm going to get into something that doesn't belong to me. I just... I want to be part of your life again, as we were before. I could be a good uncle for that little one," he added, with a smile that seemed sincere, although also somewhat sad.

That was too much for you. His words, his tone, the way he seemed so sure of wanting to be close but at the same time setting limits... It was a reminder of what had been and what it could not be. You felt your heart tighten, as if the air became denser.

"I would love to have you back in my life, Max. You've always been a good friend” you managed to say, although it was hard for you to keep your voice stable.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on yours for an eternal second. Then he looked towards the house, as if something was calling him back.

"I'm glad to hear it. See you inside," he said softly, before turning around and walking towards the living room.

You stayed there, watching how his figure disappeared between the lights of the party. You felt a mixture of emotions that you couldn't fully decipher. There was something reassuring in knowing that he wanted to be in your life, but also something deeply painful in hearing the words "good friend" come out of his lips.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the lump in your throat. You knew that the best thing was to return too, but before you needed a few more minutes to pull yourself together.

When the night finally came to an end, and while you were helping your mother say goodbye to the last guests, you felt the exhaustion creep into every fiber of your body. Between smiles, short conversations and the unexpected meeting with Max, everything had been a whirlwind of emotions. You went up to your room, closing the door behind you and letting out a long sigh. You had succeeded. You had survived that night without collapsing, although the cracks in your facade were deeper than you wanted to admit.

You took off your dress carefully, letting the fresh air ease your skin. You put on a comfortable nightgown and got rid of the makeup with slow movements. Every step of your nightly routine was an attempt to distract you from the only thing that really occupied your mind: Max. The conversation outside, his insistence on wanting to be back in your life, his words loaded with a meaning that you refused to interpret... Everything kept spinning in your head.

When you got into bed, you took your phone out of habit, checking notifications and messages before going to sleep. That's when you saw it. A message from Max.

Max: "Good night. I liked seeing you tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat when you read it. You didn't expect me to write to you, not after what they had talked about. You thought about ignoring him, but you knew you couldn't. Something inside you drove you to respond.

You: "Simely. It was nice to see you."

You sent the message before your mind could stop you, and just a few seconds later his answer came.

Max: "I don't know if this sounds weird, but I feel like I've missed you more than I thought."

You bit your lip, your fingers floating on the screen as you decided what to say. Finally you wrote:

You: "It doesn't sound weird. I've missed you too."

The conversation flowed with a naturalness that baffled you. Talking to him was like returning to something comfortable and familiar, as if the months of distance had not existed. They talked about trivial things at the beginning: how he was, how you were, small anecdotes of the event that had occurred while you were escaping to the garden. But then he wrote something that made you stop.

Max: "We should have a coffee or something. Really catch up."

Your first reaction was to doubt. You knew it wasn't a good idea. Seeing him was to risk letting your guard down, saying something you shouldn't have, opening doors that you had closed for a reason. But, at the same time, the idea excited you. You wanted to see it. I wanted to see it.

"I'd love to," you finally wrote, almost with fear.

Almost instantly came his answer:

Max: "Tomorrow? I have something in the afternoon, but I'm free at night."

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. You knew you shouldn't accept, but your fingers were already writing.

You: "It's okay. Tomorrow night."

They quickly confirmed it, deciding the place and time, and after a few more messages, he wrote:

Max: "Sleep well. See you tomorrow."

"You too," you replied, even though you knew that sleeping was the last thing you would do. You put the phone aside, but your mind was still at full speed.

As you settled in bed, you looked at the ceiling with a sigh. You had done something you knew you shouldn't have done, and the anxiety of what could happen consumed you. But, at the same time, a small spark of emotion lit up inside you.

The idea of seeing him, of talking to him face to face after all, made you feel like you were playing with fire. And yet, you found yourself counting the hours for the next day.

The next morning the day began in a rather routine way, although you felt a slight tingling in your stomach when you remembered your plan for later. After a light breakfast, you made sure to review your to-do list, and among them was the doctor's appointment. Although all the previous reviews had gone well, it always gave you a little anxiety to attend. You wanted to make sure that your baby was perfect, that everything went as it should.

You put on a loose and comfortable dress, choosing a pastel shade that highlighted the shine that lately your pregnancy had given to your skin. You looked in the mirror quickly before leaving, noticing your already noticeably rounded belly. You had reached that point in pregnancy where it was impossible to hide it, and although you felt proud, there were times when that reality made you think about everything that was to come.

The clinic was calm when you arrived. After signing some papers and waiting a few minutes in the room, they called you to go to the doctor. She was a kind woman, someone you fully trusted and with whom you had developed a good relationship since you arrived in Monaco.

You lay down on the stretcher while they did the routine ultrasound. The screen lit up with the image of your baby, and as always, your eyes filled with tears of pure emotion when you saw it.

"Everything looks perfect," said the doctor, smiling as she checked the measurements and heartbeat of the little one. “He is growing well and has a lot of energy, as always. Have you felt good?”

You nodded.

"Yes, although he's been a little restless today. I don't know if it's me or him.”

The doctor laughed softly.

"Probably a little bit of both. They feel our emotions, did you know? If you're anxious or nervous, he feels it too.”

You were thoughtful with that comment. It was true that you had been nervous since you woke up. The idea of seeing Max again, of sitting in front of him after so long, had you in a constant state of anticipation.

"I guess he's right. Today I have... an important day.”

You didn't go into details, but she gave you an understanding look.

"Well, try to relax." He's fine, you're fine. Enjoy your day and make sure you rest.

When you left the clinic, the mid-morning sun greeted you warmly, but you still felt some restlessness in your chest. You knew there was no reason to worry about the baby, but the conversation with the doctor left you thinking. Your little one was connected to you in a way that no one else could be, and his well-being was completely up to you.

The rest of the day was spent in a blur of domestic activities and small errands, but your mind always returned to Max. You wondered what it would be like to see him again, this time in a more intimate environment. Would he be nervous like you? Would it still be as easy to talk to him as it had been last night?

As the afternoon progressed, you noticed that your baby kept moving. Every time you tried to sit down for a moment to breathe, he kicked or settled down, as if trying to get your attention.

"What's wrong, little one?" you murmured, placing a hand on your belly. “Are you also nervous about tonight?”

The thought made you smile, although you felt a knot in your stomach. You caressed your belly with gentle movements, trying to calm it down and calm yourself down in the process.

You sighed as you looked at the clock. Every minute that passed brought you closer to the meeting, and although you were nervous, a part of you couldn't wait.

The afternoon was sliding into the night, and with each passing minute, you felt how anxiety was taking over you. You repeated to yourself over and over again that everything would be fine, that there was nothing to fear, that it was only Max. Max, your lifelong friend. Max, who was now much more complicated than you had ever imagined.

When it was time to get ready, you went into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. There was something different about you, a mixture of emotion and tension that made you feel like you were about to cross an invisible line. The dress you chose was simple but elegant, a dark blue tone that highlighted your skin and concealed your belly. You left your hair loose, falling in soft waves on your shoulders. The makeup, just enough to give a touch of color to your cheeks and highlight your eyes. You wanted to look good, but without looking like you had tried too hard.

While you were putting on the last touches, your phone vibrated on the table. You took it with slightly trembling hands and read the message.

"I'm outside. I'll wait for you."

You toom a deep breath before answering.

"Ok."

You picked up your bag, taking one last look at your reflection before leaving the room. You went down the stairs calmly, although your heart was beating hard in your chest. When he opened the front door, there he was. Max Verstappen, waiting for you next to his car with a smile that, despite all the time that had passed, was still the same you remembered.

"Hello," he said softly, his eyes running over you for a moment before returning to your face. “You look... good.”

You smiled a little shyly.

"Thank you. You too”

Max was dressed casually but flawlessly, a dark shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly. I had always had that ability to look good without much effort. He opened the car door for you and, once you were inside, he circled the car and sat behind the wheel.

The journey was comfortable, although full of silences that spoke more than words. Through the reflection in the window, you watched him sideways. His firm hands on the steering wheel, the way he concentrated on the road, everything was so familiar and at the same time so distant.

Finally, they arrived at a small secluded, discreet and cozy restaurant, a place that Max had chosen carefully to avoid curious glances. Upon entering, you were greeted by a warm atmosphere, dim lights and tables separated enough to ensure privacy.

"It's a quiet place," he said while helping you sit down. “I thought we would be more comfortable here.”

You nodded, grateful for your consideration.

"It's perfect."

You both asked for dinner, and for a few minutes, the sound of the cutlery and the soft background music filled the space. But soon, the conversation began to flow.

"So..." you said, breaking the ice. “How is everything? Life, the team, your relationship?”

Max took a sip from his glass before answering.

"Life... is fine. Busy, as always. The team is doing well, although this year has been more complicated than I expected. And Kelly...” he paused briefly. “We're fine. Things are stable, which is good for me, for P.”

He mentioned his girlfriend and stepdaughter naturally, but you couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest. You forced yoursellsel on your smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. You know I've always wanted you to be happy.”

Max looked at you with an expression that seemed to contain more than he was willing to say.

"And you?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. “Why did you disappear like that? One day you were here, and the next, you were gone. Without a word.”

You tensed up a little in your chair, fiddling with the edge of your glass. You had known that question would come, but you were not completely prepared to answer it.

"It was something... I needed to do," you finally said, choosing your words carefully. “London was an opportunity to start again. And... I didn't want to complicate anyone's life.”

Max frowned slightly, his eyes looking for yours.

"Complicate life for whom? To me?”

The air seemed to become denser between you. You avoided his gaze, concentrating on the napkin that you now held between your fingers.

"You already had many things in your life. You didn't need... more complications.”

Max was silent for a moment, but his eyes didn't turn away from you.

"We were always friends, remember? No matter what happened... that doesn't change.”

The sincerity in his voice disarmed you, and for a moment, you felt that the weight of the last few months was about to collapse on you. But you stood firm, smiling softly.

"I know. And I'm glad we can talk like this, like before.”

The conversation continued, returning to lighter topics: childhood memories, career anecdotes, moments they shared before everything got complicated. But, deep down, they both knew that there were things that remained unsaid.

When dinner ended, they both left the restaurant, the night in Monaco unfolded calm and cool, with a gentle breeze that caressed your skin. You felt strangely light, despite everything that dinner had moved in you. You thought the night had come to an end, but Max, standing next to you in front of the car, seemed to hesitate before saying goodbye.

"Are you tired?" he asked, with a look that contained more than what his words said. “Because... if you're not, we could go for a walk.”

You were surprised by the invitation, but a part of you, the one that was still looking for any excuse to prolong the moment, did not hesitate to answer.

"No, I'm not tired. I would love to walk a little.”

Max smiled, a soft smile that lit up his face for a moment. He walked by your side, and soon they both left the restaurant behind and went into the quietest streets of the city. The night in Monaco was a spectacle in itself, with the lights reflected in the sea, the distant sound of laughter and music, and the constant murmur of the nightlife that unfolded around it. But at that moment, nothing seemed to matter more than the presence of the other.

The silence between you was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it felt almost like a conversation in itself, a pause that allowed both of them to think about everything that had been left unsaid for so long. They walked at the same pace, their steps synchronized, and from time to time your fingers brushed his, which caused a small chill that ran through your body.

Finally, it was Max who broke the silence. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he feared to alter the stillness of the night.

"I like walking with you at night," he said, with a sincerity that took you by surprise. His eyes looked at you sideways, looking for your reaction.

Your heart turned upside down, and you bit your lip before answering, allowing a soft smile to form on your lips.

"I like it too. I enjoy it.”

And you meant it. There was something intimate at that moment, a connection that didn't need words. The world seemed to have reduced to you two, walking together under the dim lights of Monaco. The breeze was fiddling with your hair, and Max noticed it, because his eyes stopped a second longer on you, before looking away.

Both continued walking in silence for a few more minutes, until both of you reached a small viewpoint that overlooked the port. The lights of the yachts and the soft waves of the water created an almost magical atmosphere. You leaned on the railing, contemplating the landscape, but aware that Max had come closer, until he was a few centimeters from you.

"It's beautiful," you commented, trying to stay calm, although your heart was beating hard.

"It is..." he replied, but when you looked up, you realized that he was not looking at the landscape. He was looking at you.

The atmosphere became denser, loaded with electricity that seemed to envelop them. You felt trapped between the desire to maintain that closeness and the need to step back, to protect yourself from what that moment could mean. But you didn't move.

Max leaned slightly forward, resting his arms on the railing next to yours. His fingers brushed yours, and this time he didn't move away. Neither do you.

"I missed this," he murmured, with a voice so low that you barely heard him. “I missed being with you.”

His words disarmed you. You felt a lump in your throat, but you tried to stay calm.

"Me too..." you admitted, almost in a whisper. I missed this, you.

Both stayed like this, in silence, letting the moment last, feeling the closeness of the other. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had saved for months, but you held in. You didn't want to ruin it. Not yet.

Max turned his face towards you, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. His blue eyes, intense and full of contained emotions, met yours. The world around him disappeared, and all that existed was that look, that instant in which the past, the present and the future seemed to collide.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, with a softness that almost made you lose your balance.

Your breathing quickened slightly, and without looking away, you replied:

"To me too."

The silence that followed was different. It wasn't uncomfortable or empty.

But before either of them could do or say anything else, Max took a step back, breaking the spell.

"We should go back," he said, his voice a little more controlled. “I don't want you to get too tired.”

You nodded, grateful and at the same time disappointed. Both began to walk back, this time more slowly, as if prolonging that walk could change something.

When both got to the car, Max stopped before opening the door for you. For a moment, he seemed to doubt, as if he was about to say something important. But instead, he just smiled.

"Thank you for tonight. I needed.”

"Yeah. Me too..." you murmured. “Thank u.”

He leaned slightly, as if he was going to say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, but he stopped halfway. Instead, his fingers gently brushed your hand before opening the door. You got into the car, still feeling the warmth of his touch, and when he left you at home, they both said goodbye with a smile that said more than words could express.

That night, while you were lying in your bed, with the breeze of Monaco coming in through the window, you thought about every detail of that walk. In his gaze, in his words, in the touch of his fingers. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to dream about what could have been... and what it could still be.

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❜❜

𝓐bout ; falling in love with your best friend’s older brother is a humbling experience, you’d know. from the first moment you laid eyes on quinn hughes you were utterly infatuated with him. too bad even fifteen years later, he still sees you as just his kid brother’s best friend.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ; luke’s!bsf!reader x quinn hughes 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 ; fluff. angst. unreciprocated feelings (or at least the illusion of it). pining. age gap (four years). nsfw content. 𝔁𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓲 ; something that’s been on my mind a long time and also my first little experiment with the new way I wanna do au’s. I adore these two so much , and I hope you do as well . . .

ᡴꪫ ⋆ BASICS

( i ) . sweet as sugar [ reader profile ]

( ii ) . us against the world [ platonic relationships ]

( iii ) . i’d give up everything [ relationship dynamics ]

ᡴꪫ ⋆ WRITTEN

angels and bicycles : falling off your bike is a major part of every kid’s childhood , and when you and luke accidentally run each other over, both your lives change forever. ( wc:

unexpected and unwelcome :

prom police :

midnight snack :

age is just a number :

ᡴꪫ ⋆ VISUALS

ᡴꪫ ⋆ ASKS

𝔁𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓲 , this is an interactive au which means it runs off feedback, reader’s thoughts and ideas! so feel free to drop by the inbox any time and share your thoughts with me. <33

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

mackie stop scoring beautiful goals challenge (impossible)

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

just friends?- m. tkachuk

Matthew Tkachuk x f!Reader

summary~ Matthew is your best friend, but you both want to be more. 

warnings~ friends to lovers, swearing, alcohol consumption, fight, implied sex 

genre~ friends to lovers, fluff with some angst 

word count~ 3.3K 

masterlist

Growing up next in the house next to the Tkacuk’s meant there were never any dull moments. You have been playing with Matthew, Brady, and Taryn since you could talk. Matthew was the one who taught you how to ice skate, Brady taught you how to understand American football, and you ended up teaching Taryn how to put on makeup.

Matthew was even there when your first date had stood you up. When he came you were so embarrassed about being stood up and wanted to leave, but he made you stay and ‘fixed’ your date. Really he just bought you some dinner, and then you guys went back to his house and watched a movie with his siblings. At night when you started overthinking about why your date had stood you up; he held you in his arms, and let you cry on his shoulder. Matthew made sure you knew it wasn’t because you were ugly, which you insisted that it was, by telling you how beautiful you looked. You wrote him off, because that’s what your best friend is supposed to say.

When Matthew was drafted, he insisted that you applied to colleges in Calgary. Just to ease his mind you applied to all different colleges around Calgary, and even got in. Matthew offered to share his apartment, but you decided to live in the dorms. You both knew that wasn’t really going to happen, and were right. You spent more time in his apartment than in your dorm. Your toothbrush was in his bathroom and your shampoo and conditioner were in his shower. You slept in the guest room, and whenever his family came to Canada you slept in his bed, with him. His parents would take the guest room.

Keep reading

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

Moment of Regret | Matthew Tkachuk

summary: you and Matthew have been in a situationship for far too long and when he gets injured things come out of his mouth that he so badly regrets.

song: The Way I Loved You - Taylor Swift

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, asshole Matthew.

word count: 2.17k

authors note: first time getting to write for the man with an irritating mouth guard biting habit, but I have to say that I enjoyed writing this! Was meant to be up yesterday but I fell asleep… if you want to see more from the celly you can find the playlist here!

Your relationship took everyone by surprise.

Matthew started off as Brady’s brother and you as one of Emma friends. But one night at a party that you’d both been invited to and when there was too much liquor in both of your systems the only logical next move that could be found was to get into bed together.

It continued on for a year, you were like a girlfriend without the title but with all the love. Matthew was never shy to pull you onto his lap and mutter sweet things into your ear, or wrap his arm around your waist as you spoke to one of the panthers wags.

That was the real beauty of the relationship, you lived in Florida only two apartments down from him meaning that you were always at his games.

Because even if you had plans Matthew knew you were too far wrapped around his finger to care about them, quickly making sure that they were all canceled.

You should have wanted more from the relationship with how much you cared for the blonde boy but you knew he wasn’t interested in it and thus you chose to not be either.

The one night you had to miss the game, Matthew got injured. You had watched the game on your phone as work was slow. When Matthew got hit your whole body went into shock as you watched the boy skate off, you knew something was wrong. You could feel it in your gut as the camera panned away from him.

Like clock work the second you got out of the office you didn’t go back home, instead you drove to his place.

A place you shouldn’t have been, Brady had sent you messages warning you that Matthew had been in a mood but as the message remained vague in the hopes of not letting you panic. It only caused your curiosity to grow adding fuel to your reasoning for driving over the speed limit.

Matthew opened the door to see you stood there, but before he could say anything your arms were already wrapped around him as you pulled him into a hug. Relief seemed to ooze out of you as he wasn’t in the hospital “y/n,” Matthew croaked out as he tapped your back signalling for you to let go of him “your hurt,” you noted as you looked up at him with a face full of worry as you began to scan his body.

It threw the boy off how much you seemed to care “just my chest,” he mumbled as he let you in.

Brady let out a sigh as he got up “he broke his sternum,” he announced causing his brother to scoff.

The panthers player sent the older boy a glare “dude!” He yelled as he wished Brady kept his mouth shut.

But unfortunately for him Brady just continued “don’t let him trick you in to thinking that he is okay.” He added as he gave you a hug before he left the apartment wanting to get back to his hotel room.

You stared up at the boy “what do you need?” You asked putting your bag on the ground as you pulled your sweater over you shoulders making your own pile of stuff.

Matthew didn’t have a lot to say “just want to be alone,” he announced as he sat on the couch and began scrolled through the tv.

It had been days since Matthew got injured and now game four was meant to roll around yet you hadn’t left his side “why are you still here?” He asked as he cocked his head watching you prepare things for a smoothie.

You placed the knife on the cutting board as you looked up at him “someone’s got to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” You teased as you tapped your fingernails on the counter.

The hockey player sighed “just go home y/n,” his voice was almost desperate, “I don’t want you here.” You weren’t going to lie that it hurt to be told that but Brady had warned you about how Matthew would talk to you so you knew it was coming.

But as the apartment remained empty besides for the kitchen where you two were you knew you couldn’t let him win “unfortunately that isn’t up to you,” you shot back as you crossed your arms.

He hated how much he had seen you, you hadn’t left his side in days “stop trying to act like you’re meant to be my girlfriend or something,” the words that left his mouth were all as foreign as he felt “all you are is my quick fuck.” A sentence so short had so much power to hurt you as it was laced with venom.

A scoff left your lips as tears began to well in your eyes “look around Matthew everyone has been pushed away by you and you can’t even fucking dress yourself.” You pointed out as you had helped him do all of the basic tasks of life today.

Despite the fact that tears were forming in your eyes his words didn’t let up “at least I’d get some peace and quiet if you left.” The boy spat sending you a harsh glare “wouldn’t need to hear you all the time.” He added as you continuously spoke to him about things as you tried to keep his mind off of hockey.

A single tear ran down your cheek “well you’ve just gotten your wish,” you pushed your lips into a fine line as you got up and made your way out of the apartment without a single word of apprehension from Matthew on your trip out.

You had never left a place quicker in your entire life.

Brady and Emma’s wedding finally rolled around and it was going to be the first time you were set to see Matthew since his apartment.

Sure it had been weird driving past his apartment without having the chance to turn in and see him. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t plaguing your mind. Everywhere you looked his face seemed to follow, the billboards, the ads, even in your apartment. The memories of him laying on your couch as he pulled you into a hug not wanting you to leave, to the moments when you’d wake up and see him looking right back at you as he’d been watching you sleep.

You never never expected to fall for Matthew, it wasn’t what you were looking for when you started sleeping with him. Nobody plans for that when they start that kind of relationship.

So as you stood in the bathroom fluffing out the creases in your dress you thanked the universe that you hadn’t seen Matthew yet, well you had seen him but it didn’t seem like he had seen you.

His comments still replayed in your mind as wondered why he hadn’t said it before, you two had been sleeping together for over a year but here he was saying that you only had one job to him.

Someone came into the bathroom pulling you away from your thoughts “beautiful dress,” the girl complimented you as she sent you a smile “got a lucky man out there,” she added as she had seen someone waiting for you.

It caused you to furrow your eyebrows “I didn’t come with anyone,” you shook your head causing the older girl to grow surprised.

She placed a hand on your shoulder “go let him know that then,” she pointed out before she went to one of the stalls.

You stood there for a moment as you thought to yourself but curiosity quickly got the best of you as you walked out of the bathroom “Matthew,” you gasped as you almost knocked yourself off of your feet.

The boy wrapped his hands around your arms to stop you “we should talk,” he announced once you were back on two feet.

It felt awkward “gonna tell me how I’m only good in bed again?” You didn’t meant to let your voice get laced in venom but this was your time to say how you felt.

Matthew knew that he deserved it as he pushed his lips into a thin line “I’m sorry,” he blurted out as he didn’t know what else to say.

Sure he had racked his brain to see what he should have said but nothing ever seemed worthy enough of being heard by your ears.

Your eyes just danced around his face as you were desperate to ear something more from his lips, a please, a descriptive apology was all you truly craved.

To hear that he didn’t mean what he said, that he actually did want you but his pain was what stopped him from being honest.

But when the world around you remained to be the only thing actually talking, it was the tough truth of reality “I’m getting a drink,” you announced as you wriggled out of his grasp.

Matthew was quick to reach out though as he stopped you “I miss you,” he confessed causing you to let out a dry laugh “now you decide to miss me?” You scoffed as you crossed your arms.

It should have been a crime to look at you the way he did “you were a dick to me those few days, I would have left anyone else way earlier for saying less.” You pointed out as you pushed your finger into his shoulder not wanting to push it into his chest in case it was still soar.

The hockey player remained quiet as he figured it was best to have you say your little speech in peace “but I stayed because I fucking love you,” tears welled in your eyes as your lower lip began to quiver.

Your hair was messy as you pulled your fingers through your curls “it makes my stomach churn but my mind somehow feels at ease when I think about you,” your ramble was starting to turn into a love confession.

Yet he didn’t really seem to care “you are a cruel man for making me feel like this.” You sucked at your teeth when you finally locked eyes with him “it sucks knowing that all I’m going to be is some girl that was in your bed.” Your voice was soft as you placed your hand on his shoulder letting it squeeze the piece of fabric from his suit before you turned around to walk back to your seat.

You let your nails dig into your palm in an attempt to stop the tears from falling “wait!” Matthew called out as he pushed off of the wall realising that you were actually leaving.

The call was meant to fall on deaf ears but you couldn’t help but stop at the sound of desperation in his voice “you didn’t give me a chance to say my part.” He pointed out as he walked around to the other side of you.

An unimpressed glare was all he needed to see to start talking “I was an ass and had been one all week,” he began caused you to crack a smile “just an ass?

It spread to his lips too “just want you to know that you were more than just some girl in my bed.” His voice was sweet as he was trying to how you had he took back what he had said all those weeks ago.

Although it didn’t seem you were too impressed “why’d you say it?” The words seemed foreign as they left your lips.

The boy didn’t know the answer to your questions “I didn’t want you to know how weak I was.” With that injury Matthew couldn’t even undress himself.

You could have reached up to hit him “it’s me! I’ve seen you at your worsts and your bests!” You pointed out causing the boy to wrap his arm around your waist “that’s exactly it,”

Matthew had always been tough to crack “I’ve loved you since that night in the rain in Canada.” That was a moment you two knew of. You had been on a run when the clouds began to let the rain pour. Matthew went on a drive to find you and when he did it caused an argument that you eventually won after saying that rain had three main beautiful components.

The noise,

The smell after it cleared,

And the ability make a kiss like a thousand times better.

That last one was a new one you added to the list because Matthews lips looked really kissable.

Boy were you right.

Matthew looked down to your lips as he smiled “Should we test out our old theory?” He asked as he let his fingers brush up your side.

You looked out to the clear blue skies “might be a little dry for that,” you pointed out with a soft laugh as the boy sent you an unamused look.

“I’m kidding, kiss me.”

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

Do you take requests for your writing? If you do can you write something about Matt Tkachuk falling for his childhood best friend after their families trying to get them together for years

at the beginning I was a little hesitant about what I was even writing but I love how it turned out <3 hope you will too!

PS: If you have any requests, please send them! In my pinned posts is my masterlist and there is also a link to the list of the players I will gladly write about

word count: 1975 words

TW: swearing

For as long as you could remember, you and Matt have always been best friends. You had each other's backs and there were no secrets between you two - except for the one little fact that you've been in love with him for what felt like forever.

You couldn't remember when it started but you realized that you fell for him many years ago when Brady made fun of you and Matthew liking each other and your face was all red and your hands felt so clammy and your heart was beating so fast you thought everyone in the room heard it.

But there was no way that you'd risk loosing him. Matt was your everything and losing everything you had wasn't worth not having to keep secrets from him.

Since you and Matthew met each other - when neither of you could even walk - your parents and his fell in love with the idea that you'd be perfect for each other. Even as you grew older, they still gave you the looks that said it all - that they never changed their minds. Your families got closer as you and Matt got closer and to separate the two of you was something that would never happen, not on your parents' watch.

When you were sixteen, you told Matthew you loved him. You were so nervous, thinking about all the things you said wrong, all the things that you could still say wrong; but Matt only grinned, threw an arm over your shoulders and said "love you too, Y/N/N." He didn't even think it was something you said out of love.

And you took it. You acted like it didn't hurt when he declared his love to you only in a friendly manner or when he asked you for your friend's phone number. Your heart broke a little every time you saw Matt with another girl but you had to act like it was nothing.

When Matthew got drafted to Calgary, he asked you to go with him - to leave your home, your friends and everything you knew - and as the fool you were, you said yes.

His career looked so promising and you were happy for him. But there were moments when you hated him and hated yourself; often when Matty threw a party in your shared apartment and kissed anyone he liked and then took them to his bedroom. And you sat on the couch and watched as he didn't even look at you, giving all his attention to some beautiful girl he just met. So you got drunk everytime it happened, solving your problems with a bottle of alcohol. And it kind of worked - you didn't forget your broken heart but the pain that you felt there dissolved for a few hours. Matthew deserved better than those one night stands but you deserved even more.

Sometimes you regretted moving to Calgary with him. But in the moments when Matthew made you laugh and treated you like you were special, you fell for him even more - like when he always took you as his plus one and didn't even bother to ask anyone else or when everyone in the room looked at you as you two laughed at the inside jokes no one else understood. On one lonely night when he lost a game and only you were there to comfort him, you and him drank a few bottles and then went out, finding the first tattoo salon you saw and getting matching tattoos. His name brightly contrasted with your skin, the words written in a font that imitated the one on Matthew's team's logo. It somehow felt good to see your name permanently written on his shoulder - it meant that at least he still was your best friend, if not more than that.

"You're ruining me, Matt," you whispered after you stumbled back into your apartment. "You're ruining me and it makes me sick to think that I'll always forgive you for it."

But Matthew didn't listen; he watched your lips as they moved but the words didn't make sense to him. And so you let it be that way.

...

On Monday, everything Matthew thought he knew changed. You sat with his whole family, laughing at something his mom said, the jersey he gave you earlier that day too big on you. He liked the way it looked on you - he liked the way all of his clothes look on you.

"It's nice to see that you are as much in love with her as she is with you." Brady skated over to him, the both of them warming up before the game started.

"So it's not only our parents, but now also you?" Brady gave Matt a cheeky grin in answer and shook his head with raised eyebrows.

"Y/N is a fool for loving you for so long without you returning her feelings. And you're a fool for knowing so and doing nothing about it. And, hey, don't be so sad of loosing this game, she might lick your wounds afterwards." That cocky bastard. Before Matt could really understand what was his brother saying, his coach called him to the bench.

And so he waited. For the start of the game, for the right time and place; and as Brady smiled at him once again, Metthew threw off his gloves and punched him in the face.

...

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked Matthew after you two said your goodbyes to his family and left for your car. When he hugged you tightly after the game, his mom and Taryn gave you "the look", showed you thumbs up and even as you tried to hide it with an eye roll, you started blushing.

Flames lost against Senators and Matt played like shit the whole game, not even to mention the fight between the two brothers.

"No." he answered harshly but then stopped in his tracks, softening up and realizing he was walking too fast for you to keep up with him. He took your hand in his and started walking again, this time slower.

Your body tensed at his touch and you had to really try to silence the butterflies in your stomach before asking: "What did Brady say?"

"Nothing important," Matt said. You watched him carefully, the way his grip on your hand tightened and how his face looked sour after saying these words. As if they tasted wrong on his tongue.

"Okay," you breathed out, in no mood to argue with him. "Okay."

It certainly was not okay.

...

Matt knew he was fucked the moment he smelled your hair when he hugged you after the game and when he had to find new excuses to touch you.

Yes, he's noticed the way his feelings changed a few months ago and yes, he did nothing about it, just tried to stop thinking about you in other ways than friendly ones. But no girl could ever replace you in any way and he knew it. And now, Brady knew that, too.

Matthew knew about your feelings, that's true. And he was an idiot for hurting you by avoiding them, by acting like nothing changed.

But everything changed a long time ago and there was no reason to keep that a secret; he was no longer scared of loosing you because he knew that no matter what, you two were meant to be together.

...

Something changed. The parties continued but... Matthew was no longer interested in the girls there, or it at least looked that way. He never said what happened and you somehow started thinking that it all started because of that game where Brady said something to him and he punched him in return.

There has never before been much of awkward silence between you two. You could literally count awkward moments of your friendship on your hands. But since that incident - it didn't matter if it was while watching TV or in a complete silence - everything got weird. Even leaning into his touch when lying on the couch felt different.

It was one of those moments again and you were starting to feel helpless. Was it something you said? Or something you did? You were overthinking every single one of your decisions when suddenly Matthew broke the silence:

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately."

You said nothing in answer but the butterflies in your stomach fluttered wildly.

"About us." he added hesitantly. Us, you thought to yourself. Us like what? Friends? Lovers?

"And?" you asked all nervous. Was this the moment you've been waiting for for years? You turned your head to look Matthew in the face and with some satisfaction, you realized he was nervous, too.

"You and me - us together - would that be so weird?"

A smile slowly grew on your face and you felt the tears welling in your eyes.

"No," you whispered, his face so close to yours "Not at all."

This was the kiss you had imagined for years. This was the kiss you've been waiting for for years.

And then you kissed his tattoo, your name inked into his skin forever, and you knew that for as long as the tattoo will last, so will the bond between you two.

...

Hardly anything changed. You've been surprised b ythat but Matt jokingly said that you've been halfway through a relationship even as just friends - but it was true.

"We might as well have been dating the whole time," you laughed lightheartedly.

"A lot of people thought so." Matt smiled at you, giving you a light kiss on the tip of your nose.

Matthew parked the car in front of your parents' house and before you knew it, he was already opening your door and helping you out. You've been invited to this family meeting where would be both of your families and since they all wanted you and Matt to be a pair since you were babies, it will get wild when you go inside hand in hand and tell everyone the news.

"You already met my family so this saves you a traumatizing experience," you muttered, smiling as your boyfriend snorted with laughter.

"Likewise." Matthew pressed a last kiss in your hair and knocked on the door.

"Well, if it isn't Y/N and Matthew! Come inside!" It was Matt's mom and she hugged you so tightly you thought she crushed some of your bones. A strangled laugh escaped your lips and Matt, fully entertained, helped you out of his mother's grip. His hand automatically found yours, fingers intertwining and you blushed slightly, still not used to how affectionate he is in public.

"So, we've been waiting-" You looked over at Matt's mom, at how wide her eyes were and when you realized that she was staring at your connected hands, you smiled a little.

"Surprise," Matthew laughed awkwardly.

"Oh. My. God. It's happening!" Taryn screamed across the whole house before jumping on you two, trying to conceal her happiness. "Brady, you owe me fifty!"

Brady ran in through the kitchen dooor, looking at you and his sister, clearly annoyed.

"Shit, I thought it would take them less time to express their silly feelings."

"Did you really bet on us?" you asked, faking the surprise. Of course they did.

"Are you two really together? I didn't think this would actually happen-" Your mom embraced you and you answered by nodding.

"I didn't think so, too." you added, looking straight into your boyfriend's beautiful eyes. You felt the happiest you've ever been in your whole life, with all of your dreams suddenly becoming reality.

Throughout the evening you never stopped smiling, all the time hoding onto Matt's arm. And when you were left alone for a moment, you whispered into his ear:

"It's no longer you and me. It's us now."

"'us' - I like the sound of that." And so did you.

[just-a-fun-loving-girl]

⋆ 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 & 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 ⋆

⋆ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧…

𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳?…

𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘸 + 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱

⋆ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬…

⋆ 𝐢����𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬…

⋆ 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 + 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬…