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reiding-writing · 1 month ago

Note

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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kbwrites · 5 months ago

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Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four?

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead.

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life?

“It’s me, (Y/N).” he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room.

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

“And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

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iamred-iamyellow · 6 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Puppy Love

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this post

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: the golden retriever puppy you were fostering had gone missing and ran into f1 driver lando norris. lando attempted calling the number on his collar, talking to a few shelters, and making some found dog signs, but he wasn’t successful in finding you. this was until you stumbled upon an instagram post of his, allowing you to reach out and have the perfect puppy meet cute.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: @coff33andb00ks I hope you like it <3

-Monaco, F1 Summer Break-

There was no doubt that Lando was due for a much needed break from F1. He however did not imagine he'd be spending it with someone else.

He was walking around the Monegasque streets near his apartment when something blonde and fluffy ran straight into his legs, causing him to stumble backwards.

He caught his balance, looking towards the ground to find a golden retriever sitting at his feet.

He softly squealed as he knelt down to pet the puppy, checking its tag for information. "Your name is Oscar, huh?" he smiled, holding the dog's face in his hands. “That’s cute. I guess you're twinning with my teammate.”

He checked the back of the tag for a phone number to call, but received no answer after a few attempts.

He'd waited around that area of Monaco in case Oscar's owner had only been a few blocks away, but as time quickly passed, he had to accept that no one was going to show up.

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, maxfewtrell and 1,194,843 more

landonorris I found this adorable boy on my walk today in monaco. hope I can find his owner(s) soon

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charles_leclerc all my friends have dogs now 🥰

maxverstappen1 😐

charles_leclerc @/maxverstappen1 you heard me

user6 that's literally the cutest puppy I've ever seen

user8 he looks so sweet 😭

lewishamilton looks like roscoe has a lot of competition now

♡ by landonorris

user1 AWWWW

user4 🥺

-A Day Later-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Lando had mutually agreed to meet up at a dog park. The minute he spotted you oscar ran and jumped straight into your arms to lick your face.

“Hey buddy,” you laughed, cuddling up to the puppy on your arms.

You held a hand out to Lando, "It's great to meet you. Thank you so much for taking care him."

"It was no problem," he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Lando melted at the adorable interaction between you and Oscar. You were smiling and scrunching your nose, petting the soft fur on the top of the puppy's head.

"I'm gonna miss him," he said.

You smiled at Lando then back at Oscar who was still cradled in your arms. You booped his snout and shifted your gaze back to Lando.

"He is a foster... maybe you'd like to consider adopting him?"

Lando's eyes lit up, "Seriously?"

You laughed softly and nodded your head.

"Yes, absolutely. I would love to adopt him."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by landonorris, lando.jpg, maxfewtrell, and 378,583 more

yourusername a certain someone is excited to see @/landonorris again

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maxfewtrell aw is that certain someone you

yourusername …

user1 everyone back the fuck up who is she and how is she so gorgeous

landonorris I can see the ferrari logo on your top you know

yourusername it’s not like I have any other f1 merch

landonorris I guess I’ll have to give you my McLaren shirt whenever you come to a race 😉

yourusername I suppose you will

user7 guys they're flirting this isn't a drill

user2 Lando likes this on both accs he’s WHIPPED

user10 I’m still not over how fucking adorable oscar is

oscarpiastri aw thanks

user6 😭

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

Before the Netherlands Grand Prix Lando had asked you to take care of Oscar for another few days. The adoption papers had already been signed but he wanted to get to know the puppy more before ever considering bringing him along to a race.

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 428,502 more

yourusername @/landonorris oscar misses you 🥺

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user7 likely place for him to be

user7 oh you were talking about the dog

user1 HE LOOKS SO SAD :(

user3 NOOO

user8 how could you resist those eyes

landonorris I miss you both too

♡ by yourusername

maxfewtrell “both”. oh? I didn't know you two were close like that 🧐

user5 max is so me

-Azerbaijan Grand Prix-

liked by mclarenracingf1, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 582,472 more

yourusername jumping straight into his dad’s arms

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landonorris ❤️

♡ by yourusername

user7 SCREAM

user1 THE HEARTTTTTTAAHHHHH

user4 “into his DAD’S arms”

user19 guys they’re in love I’m calling it

mclarenracingf1 the cutest guest we’ve ever had 🥰

landonorris the cutest dog in the paddock

charles_leclerc you take that back

lewishamilton you take that back

pierregasly you take that back

user10 I feel like after every post they just make it seem more and more like they're a couple

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell, and 1,038,573 more

lando.jpg @/yourusername

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✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 1,582,921 more landonorris cuddles with my boy and my girl ❤️

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yourusername I love you

landonorris I love you 🫶

danielricciardo awwww

oscarpiastri mom and dad are back together

maxfewtrell I fucking knew it

user19 I CALLED IT

user1 cutest love story ever 😭

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mephisto-reporting · 3 months ago

Text

Take A Break

About: You’ve been pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion. Someone needs to step in and help you rest before it takes a serious toll on your health—or worse. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship yet but there is an implied mutual attraction.

XAVIER

You could feel exhaustion creeping into your bones, but your hands still worked, fixing up your equipment, mindlessly checking and rechecking everything.

“You should take a break.”

Xavier’s voice, calm and devoid of inflection. He was seated at the table, eyes half-lidded as if he could fall asleep at any moment. His usual expression didn’t waver, but you’d been around him long enough to recognize the care beneath it.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though the slight tremble in your hands betrayed the truth. You kept busy, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

Without saying anything, Xavier reached into his jacket and pulled out a deck of Kitty Cards, placing them on the table between you. “Play a round with me.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “Now’s really not the time for games, Xavier.”

He shrugged, his expression unchanged. “You won’t rest, and there is time until the next mission, so this is the compromise. Besides…” His eyes glimmered with the smallest trace of mischief. “I want to win this time.”

Xavier’s boyish charm peeked through his usual calm, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile. He knew exactly how to get to you, and this was one of those moments where he wasn’t above using it.

“Fine,” you said, reluctantly setting down your tools. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

His lips quirked up. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But if I win, you listen to me and get some rest., Deal?”

Knowing how he usually was in this game, you confidentally accepted his deal. There was no way you would lose. As the game commenced, Xavier’s focus was unwavering. He played his cards methodically, and before long, he had amassed a considerable lead. You frowned, desperately trying to catch up. Just as you were about to make a move, Xavier leaned back, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Xavier!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed as he dozed off, completely unaware of the game progressing without him. You couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. The sudden quiet felt oddly peaceful, allowing you to relax for just a moment. You noticed how the soft glow of the lights illuminated his serene expression.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asked, feigning innocence, though you could see the way he fought back a smile.

You shook your head, trying to focus, but fatigue was making it hard. Xavier’s hand was steady as he played his next move, drawing the game closer to an end.

He was winning. “Looks like you’re distracted,” Xavier commented, his voice still soft, though there was an edge of teasing in it. “Maybe you're too tired to concentrate?”

You glared at him playfully. “You’re just lucky today.”

Finally, with a quiet triumph in his eyes that didn’t quite reach his face, he played his last card. "I win."

You exhaled, a sense of frustration bubbling up inside. “Alright, you got me. What now? Another round?”

He shook his head, leaning forward just slightly. His gaze softened, his unreadable expression giving way to something more sincere. “No. Now you rest.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Xavier cut you off. “You’re exhausted. I can see it. If you keep pushing yourself, you won’t be able to fight the Wanderers. You won’t be able to protect yourself. this is my win. You rest.”

You blinked at him, a warmth settling in your chest at the unexpected care behind his words. Xavier, the one who barely showed emotion, was looking out for you in his own way. You couldn’t deny it any longer. You were tired, so incredibly tired.

“Alright,” you conceded, leaning back into the sofa. “I’ll rest.”

Xavier gave a slow nod, his eyes softening further. “Good.”

As you closed your eyes, you felt him reach over, the deck of cards disappearing from the table. The familiar sound of shuffling filled the air, and though he didn’t say anything more, the steady presence of Xavier nearby was all the comfort you needed.

He had won, but in that moment, so had you.

ZAYNE

The makeshift hospital buzzed with activity, filled with the low hum of hurried footsteps and murmured instructions. The air was thick with exhaustion, tension from the recent attacks on the area palpable. You’d been at it for hours, taking on shift after shift without a break, ensuring that everyone in the hospital remained safe. Your body ached, your limbs felt heavier with every passing moment, but you pressed on.

There wasn’t time to rest.

Zayne was nearby, performing triage on the injured, his face as stoic as always. Despite the weight of the situation, he remained calm, moving with precise efficiency. His hands—deft and careful as ever—made sure each patient was stabilized, patched up, and prepped for whatever came next.

You caught his gaze for a fleeting moment, and though he didn’t say anything, you could see the concern beneath his composed exterior.

“Still standing, huh?” Zayne said, his voice low as he approached you, eyes scanning over your fatigued form. His tone, as usual, carried a hint of dry amusement despite the serious situation. “Or at least trying to.”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s not like you’ve been up for nearly 24 hours or anything.” He sighed, his lips twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to smile.

You rolled your eyes, brushing off his words. “I’m not the only one working without rest.”

Zayne gave a short nod, acknowledging your point. “True. But there’s a difference between pushing yourself and running yourself into the ground.” He glanced around the ward before turning his full attention back to you. “Come with me. You’ve done enough for now. I’ve got something that might help.”

You hesitated, but Zayne’s insistence was always hard to ignore. “What, now?”

“Yes. Now,” he replied, his tone firm but not without warmth. “I’ll even make sure it doesn’t take long.”

He didn’t give you much room to argue. Without waiting for a reply, he placed a gentle but guiding hand on your arm and led you to a small side ward, one reserved for staff members to take quick breaks. You gave him a quizzical look, but he just waved off your concerns with a simple, “Trust me.”

There, on a nearby table, sat two sealed containers of food. It wasn’t anything extravagant. “Eat,” he said, his voice calm, but there was an underlying firmness that told you he wasn’t asking.

You frowned, stubbornness rising up despite the exhaustion. “I don’t have time to eat, Zayne. There are still—”

“Eat,” he repeated, cutting you off. This time, his gaze softened, a rare show of tenderness slipping through his usually stoic exterior. “You can’t protect anyone if you collapse. This isn’t a negotiation.”

With a sigh, you took the container, too tired to argue further. You sat on one of the nearby beds, picking at the food slowly. Zayne stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching you with what seemed like affection. After a few bites, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you more than ever. You leaned back, letting the exhaustion creep in despite your best efforts to resist it. The bed beneath you was far too comfortable for your sleep-deprived mind to ignore.

You didn’t even notice when Zayne quietly removed the empty container from your hands.

“You’re done,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing lightly against your shoulder. His touch was firm but soothing, and you found yourself slipping further into the comfort of the bed. “Close your eyes.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “I wasn’t planning on resting…”

“Of course not,” he said dryly, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you are now. Doctors orders.”

Before you could protest, Zayne’s hand slid from your shoulder to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin in a gesture so tender it left you speechless. “And if it gets you to rest, I’ll take a break too.”

Despite your determination, the exhaustion finally won. Zayne’s gentle touch and the warmth of his words lulled you into a peaceful surrender. You felt his presence nearby as your eyes fluttered shut, the steady rhythm of his breathing a comforting sound in the otherwise chaotic hospital. “I’ll be right here,” Zayne added softly, his voice the last thing you heard before sleep overtook you. “Get some rest.”

And with him by your side, for the first time in what felt like forever, you did.

RAFAYEL

You hadn’t seen Rafayel in days—not since your latest string of missions had taken you deep into the conflict with the Wanderers. As much as you tried to keep up with everything, exhaustion was catching up to you. Your movements felt sluggish, but you pushed on, determined not to let fatigue show. After all, you had work to do. Rafayel had a mission for you.

When you finally stepped into Rafayel’s space, his studio, he greeted you with a pout. "Well, look who finally decided to show up." His tone was bratty and haughty. "I was starting to think you forgot about me, Miss Bodyguard. "

You could hear the petulance in his voice, but you knew better. Beneath the teasing, there was always something softer with Rafayel, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He took a slow, deliberate look at you, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was annoyed by what he saw. He noticed your exhaustion.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

“I’ve been...occupied,” you replied with a tired smile. “I’m sure you’ve been managing just fine without me.”

“Hmph,” he huffed, turning his head dramatically. “As if I’d need you around to keep me entertained. But—" He paused, his voice dropping into a more playful, roguish tone, "It is terribly boring without you. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback. “So, what’s this mission you’ve dragged me here for?”

Rafayel hesitated for the briefest of moments, but then, with a casual wave of his hand, he dismissed whatever real task had brought you here. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned forward slightly. “Ah, the mission? Well, I’ve decided I need a muse for my next painting,” he said smoothly. “And you, my dear Miss Bodyguard, will do just fine.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you over to a plush chaise lounge, his touch light but insistent as he maneuvered you into place. "Lie down," he ordered in his typical, half-commanding, half-teasing way. "You’re far too stiff to inspire anything worthwhile."

“What? A painting?” you began to object, trying to sit up. "Rafayel, I don’t—"

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and gave you a lazy, charming smile, as if you were the one being unreasonable. "Don’t move. You’ll ruin the masterpiece.”

Despite the flirtatious teasing, there was a strange warmth in his tone that had your heart skipping a beat. He made it impossible to argue, his words dripping with that roguish charm of his. Before you knew it, you were sinking into the softness of the chaise lounge, your limbs too heavy to resist.

"Now stay perfectly still,” he instructed, settling down with his canvas and brushes. “I want to capture you just like this.” His voice was almost a purr, amused by your protests but not letting you get a word in edgewise.

“Rafayel, I don’t have time to—” you tried, but he waved you off with that same infuriatingly relaxed smile.

“Tsk tsk tsk. I’m the artist here, remember? You’re just the subject,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to pretend like this was all part of some grand artistic vision. “Don’t ruin the vibe.”

You couldn’t help but scoff softly at his antics, but your exhaustion was winning. Between his teasing words and the comfortable softness of the chaise, your body was betraying you. The fight to stay awake was quickly becoming a losing battle.

Rafayel's voice was a soft hum in the background as he began to paint, each word drawing you further into a haze of warmth and comfort.

"See? Isn’t this better? I’ve always preferred my muses to be calm...and peaceful.” Lies. He knew it. He glanced up, his lips quirking in a knowing smile as he saw your eyelids drooping. “Don’t worry, Miss Bodyguard. You’re perfect just like this.”

As your consciousness started to slip away, the last thing you felt was Rafayel’s hand brushing against your hair in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. His bratty, teasing nature had softened, just for a moment, as he watched you drift off to sleep.

When you were fully asleep, he set down his brush, a satisfied smirk still on his face. He pulled a soft throw blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over you, his voice low as he spoke to your resting form.

“You really shouldn’t overwork yourself like this, you know?” His tone, for once, was gentle, almost affectionate. “I might not say it, but…I miss you when you’re gone.”

SYLUS

The small town was quiet as you finally made your way back, the distant hum of your motorbike in sight. It had been a grueling week spent battling through the Metaflux high zone and clearing out the Wanderers. The mission had taken its toll—your body was heavy with exhaustion, your muscles aching, but you had pushed through. You always did.

Reaching for your comms, you were about to check the latest updates when you noticed a shadowy figure leaning casually against your bike. The unmistakable silhouette made your pulse quicken. Sylus. He was dressed as sharp and intimidating as ever, his hair tousled just enough to give him that rogue-ish charm. His signature smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was amused by your surprise, but his sharp gaze gave away nothing.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not hiding the confusion in your voice. Even though he wasexactly the type to show up unannounced without a reason. And his reasons were rarely straightforward.

“Business,” he replied vaguely, the smirk never leaving his lips. He made it sound like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Had to deal with something. But… I seem to have found something else worth my attention.”

Before you could react, his hand reached out, gently but firmly taking hold of your wrist. His touch was surprisingly warm but assertive, and with a deft flick of his thumb, he shut off your comms.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice dripping with authority, leaving no room for argument.

“Sylus, I don’t have time for—”

But before you could finish the sentence, you felt the familiar tug of his Evol—his will imposing on yours. In a swift, almost effortless move, he guided you onto your motorbike, positioning you behind him as he took control. The engine roared to life under his command.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said over his shoulder, that smug confidence radiating off him as he drove you both away.

The ride was fast and purposeful. You tried to protest, tried to convince him to stop, but he was always a step ahead. His control never faltered, and your words fell flat against the rush of the wind. Sylus didn’t let go of the reins until the bike finally came to a stop in front of a lavish hotel on the outskirts of town.

“Really? A hotel?” you muttered, incredulous.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead using his Evol once again to guide you inside and straight into a large, opulent room. Everything about the space screamed luxury—the soft lighting, the plush velvet furnishings, and the enormous bed that took center stage.

Still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, you tried to stand your ground. “Sylus, I don’t have time for this. I need to get back, there are Wanderers—”

“They’re being handled,” he interrupted smoothly, crossing the room with a lazy, confident stride. “Luke and Kieran are on patrol. You’ve been running yourself into the ground for the past week. It’s time for you to stop.” He gestured toward the bed. "Sit."

“Sylus—” you began, but before you could argue further, you felt that familiar pulse of his Evol, urging you toward the bed. His power wrapped around you, persuasive and unyielding, as if coaxing your tired body to comply with his silent command.

Your legs betrayed you, and you sank down onto the soft mattress, glaring up at him as he stood over you, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of triumph and something more difficult to place.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled.

“Me?” He raised an eyebrow, the smirk finally softening into something closer to amusement. “I’m not the one pretending to be invincible, sweetie. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and we both know it.”

You scowled, but deep down, you knew he was right. The exhaustion clung to your bones, and the idea of resting—even for a moment—was becoming more tempting by the second. Still, giving in to Sylus felt like losing a battle you hadn’t agreed to fight.

“Look,” he said, leaning down, his voice dropping to a softer, more persuasive tone. “Let’s make a deal.”

You eyed him warily. "What kind of deal?"

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a sly grin. “You rest—just for a little while. Take the next few hours off. In return…” His voice lowered, taking on that smooth, almost dangerous quality he used when he knew he had the upper hand. “I’ll let you decide what you want from me afterward. Something I can’t say no to.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the offer. Sylus never relinquished control easily, and for him to offer anything in return… well, it was enough to give you pause.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, kitten” he replied, his smirk widening just a fraction. “Think of it as a rare moment of generosity. You rest, really rest, and I’ll owe you a favor. Deal?”

You hesitated, trying to weigh your options, but the exhaustion gnawing at you was impossible to ignore. You’d been running on fumes, and Sylus—infuriatingly—was giving you a way out, even if it was wrapped up in his manipulative charm.

Finally, you sighed, giving in. “Fine. Deal.”

He smiled, that smug, triumphant smile that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he moved to the edge of the bed. “Now rest. I’ll make sure nothing happens to this town while you do.”

Before you could protest further, he covered you with a soft blanket, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. His hand brushed against your cheek for a moment, his fingers gentle—almost tender, though he’d never admit it. “You don’t have to play the hero all the time, you know,” he said quietly. “Let someone else handle things for once.”

“You... really owe me a favor?”

He chuckled softly, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “I always keep my promises... especially to you.”

Before you could say anything else, your exhaustion finally overtook you, and the last thing you felt was Sylus��s hand lingering on yours, his thumb tracing a light, almost affectionate circle against your skin. You realized—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind letting Sylus win this one.

Just this once.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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missnxthingg · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii, i saw that you wanted some requests with Lando:

Lando and Reader met through a mutual friend. They met only about 3-4 months ago and have been talking almost every day since then. Both have fallen for each other but are too scared to admit it, feeling like it would be too soon/ quick. One day or night, after another win for Lando where the reader was invited to the Grand Prix and staying at the same hotel, they spend some time alone, just talking. At some point, the conversation becomes quiet, and Lando suddenly says, "I think I'm in love with you, and that scares the shit out of me."

WE CAN'T BE (JUST) FRIENDS ✮ LN4

pairing: Lando Norris x Female!Reader (strangers to lovers) summary: After meeting each other through mutual friends, Lando Norris and Y/N L/N became strangely close in such little time words: 4.5K - warnings: lots of fluff, just a tiny bit of swearing and not proof read author's notes: I thought this one was already up for a loooong time. So that being said, I'm sorry for taking too long to get to your request. I just loved it so much, that I wanted to make sure everything was perfectly written for you. This one is to celebrate the WCC!

main masterlist | main blog | taglist

The loud music and the lights of the club were making Lando’s head spin, but he enjoyed that feeling. Every summer break, he finds some time to escape from his routine and run away with his friends to enjoy his days and nights in Ibiza. Tonight it wasn’t different; he had been having the time of his life with his friends so far and, at that moment, he was being dragged around the club by Pietra, his best friend’s girlfriend, as she looked around for one of her friends.

“I swear to you, she’s the sweetest girl in the world”, she told him earlier that day, while they were lounging by the pool and enjoying the sun in Spain. “She’s this girl I met in uni, and it’s pathetic how much you’re alike. I’ve actually been dying to introduce her to our friend group”.

“P, I know what you’re doing”, Lando chuckled. “And I’m not looking forward into being in a relationship at the moment, despite yours and Max’s attempts”.

On the past few months, his best friend and his girlfriend have made it their personal commitment to find Lando a new girl. Even though he was living a dreamy life, with success, wealth and every girl he ever wanted, they both knew it got very lonely for his friend. They wanted him to find someone who would care and love him as he deserves, and couldn’t help but try helping him in this journey. But after getting his heart broken in his last relationship, he wasn’t really interested in dating at the moment.

“Fuck, no! I don’t want you to date her. Despite her being, literally, your clone, I really want Y/N to just be part of our friend group. Because she’s a really nice person that I think we would love to be around, and she doesn’t have many friends since she moved to London recently”, Pietra explained. “And I would actually be very happy if you don’t fuck things up by trying to sleep with her”.

Lando knew that Pietra was lying; deep down, it was just another one of her schemes to try playing cupid in his life. But he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by her story. If she thought this girl was so special to the point where she didn’t want him to hit on her, then there must be something really good in her. That’s why he was now looking for Y/N around the busy and hot club in Ibiza after an entire afternoon wondering what she would be like.

“Oh, there she is!”, Pietra pointed out to a girl looking a little bit lost at the club, right close to the entrance. She smiled once she spotted her friend, relieved to finally see a familiar face after an entire day alone. “You finally made it! I’m so glad you’re here”

“I know, right? It’s good to finally escape our rainy London and get a tan”, the girl giggled and suddenly her eyes caught Lando’s at mid-sentence. He was speechless at the sight of her, forgetting how to speak, breath or move, for that matter.

Y/N was clearly one of the most attractive girls he had ever seen in his life. That night, she was wearing a strapless light green, almost white, dress that perfectly highlighted her curves. Her hair was tied in a bun, and it helped to show off her tan bikini lines. She just exhales a sweet aura, and he was instantly fascinated by her. If she was half of the things Pietra said about her, then Lando was sure she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Lando, this is Y/N, my friend from uni that I was talking about earlier”, Pietra introduced. “And Y/N, this is Lando, Max’s best friend”.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Lando. P talks very highly of you”, Y/N extended her hand and Pietra had to pinch his arm in order to get him out of his trance, taking her hand into his.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N”, he responded, opening the biggest smile. Contrary to his usual behaviour around girls, he decided to stick with his sympathetic smile, instead of his flirty one, just because something said that he should try being different with this girl. His sixth sense was right, and there was something very special about her. “And same here. She always goes on and on about how nice you are. I’m glad to finally put a face to the name”.

“Come on! We have a table near the DJ booth and everyone else is waiting for us”, Pietra entwined her arms with both of her friends, settling between them before she dragged them around the club.

Lando doesn’t remember the last time he felt butterflies in his stomach. It had been so long that he had forgotten what it was like. It hit him so hard that he had to take a few seconds before coming back to reality and used a shot of tequila to help him get his mind back together; or at least let loose for a second and forget about that feeling. While it was very good, it was still very scary to feel that way.

“Didn’t even wait for me to do shots”, Lando heard Y/N’s voice speak from behind him as he put the tiny cup back on the bar counter. She found a spot right next to him and waited for the bartender, who was now serving another group of friends right next to them.

“I didn’t know you wanted shots”, he admitted. “But I can join you, if you want”.

“I’m just joking”, she giggled. “I’m not doing shots, I’m sorry. I just wanted a drink, thought that maybe teasing would break the ice”.

“Oh, good, because I think I might puke if I down another shot of tequila”, he laughed along and gestured to the bartender to get her order. “This lady here wants a…”

“Mojito, please”, she asked and he quickly started doing her order. Lando, being the gentleman he is, kept her company while she waited for her drink. “Something refreshing, right? It’s so damn hot tonight”.

“Yeah, I’ve been here so many times and this might be my hottest summer in Ibiza”.

“Really? It's my first time in Spain, to be honest. I was very excited when Pietra invited me to join”.

“Oh, you're going to love it. If you're a party person like me, then you might've found your perfect holiday destination”.

And Y/N definitely was a party person like him. In fact, Lando was surprised to find how much alike they were. She loved golfing, since she grew on courts around the world following her dad, a professional golfer. She loved music, and especially creating music, and knew how to play various instruments and was very good at mixing songs, and gave a try at DJing a lot of times. She was also from England's countryside, and had recently just moved to London to study Public Relations. And she most definitely had the best sense of humour, with sassy comments that could make him laugh for days.

Lando was absolutely fascinated by her. And he found it very funny how easy it was to start and maintain conversation with her. It was like they had known each other for years; like they knew each other from other lives. He simply couldn’t ignore how much he felt alive again, like she had reignited the fire on his chest once again.

Maybe that's what love at first sight feels like.

“You should come stay with us at the villa”, Lando asked, as he dropped her off at her hotel. They had taken a walk all the way back, since the club wasn't so far away from where they were staying. “There's a spare room, you know? And I don’t want you to be left out of all the fun”.

“I really don't want to bother you”, she opened a shy smile and looked away to the ocean, where the sun had started to rise.

“Please, if the people that bother me were 10% of you, my life would've been so easy”, he admitted, making her laugh. as he did all night. “You're really cool, Y/N”.

“Thanks, I think you're really cool too”, she opened a shy smile at him before pointing back to her hotel entrance. “I think I might need to get going. But I'll think about your proposal”.

“If you want to, the doors to the villa are always opened”.

After that one night in Ibiza, there was not a single day that Lando and Y/N didn’t talk to each other. It was almost funny how this friendship bloomed out of nowhere, and that's all that it was: a friendship. Before anything, Lando was really happy with what they had created, where he could live carefree. He didn’t have to be the Lando Norris, F1 driver for McLaren, that everyone had a love and hate relationship. He was just a boy that loved having time with his friends, giggling until his belly hurt and playing video games until sunrise.

For Y/N, it was good too. Ever since she moved to London, she found it difficult to create real deep connections with people. Pietra was a close case, and she absolutely loved having her as a friend; but Lando was different. He understood her in some ways no one ever did, like an instant connection written in the stars. It was like they knew each other from other lives.

"Don't become a stranger", Lando told her as they were saying their goodbyes at the end of their trip. "I know I'm not around London often, but you can always text and call me, if you want”.

He got shy with his words, afraid she would take them the wrong way. Lando looked down to the ground and played with the car keys in his hands. He only looked up when she laughed and pulled him into a hug. It caught him by surprise, but he melted into her embrace a few seconds later. That's the type of person she is – one that likes to show people how much she likes them.

"You'll be tired of seeing my face, Norris. I can assure you that".

And she kept that promise, because the months that followed that summer break completely changed their lives. It started with small things like her joining their gaming sessions when he was in Monaco, and him always taking time to see her whenever he was in England for an MTC day. They would either grab some coffee or hang out with friends. Not to forget that, when he was away racing, he made sure to maintain contact through texting and calling.

But things started to change once they got more intimate. It all started with golfing sessions with friends, and ended up with him being invited to play with her father on the countryside. Then he invited her for an early birthday celebration with his family at his parents’ house. Not to mention the countless times they spent alone at her house in London and his flat in Monaco; literally crossing the ocean just to see each other.

“Really, the benefit of having a rich F1 driver as a friend is this”, Y/N pointed to the view of his flat, where the ocean waves crashed on the rocks and the breeze brought the comforting smell of the salty water to her nose. It was sunny in Monte Carlo, and she had been wearing a pink crochet mini shorts, a bikini and one of his white tshirts, to keep her warm while they were inside.

“You can’t get this while it’s raining all the time in London, right?”, he chuckled, still sitting on his couch. She turned her head back at him and shrugged. “You stole my shirt”.

“You left it hanging around the house”, she teased. “Can we please go to the beach now?”

“What? Don’t you like spending time with me?”

“Not inside the house, when the sun is so shiny outside”.

Lando sat back in silence and admired her for a second. The sun made her skin and her hair glow, and she looked almost angelic under the light. She hadn’t done anything special or was making an effort to look good. She was simply… beautiful. And he felt his heart soften more and more while he looked at her.

“I like spending time with you anywhere”, he commented, making Y/N’s cheeks heat up. Lando got up from his seat and approached her, leaning against the railing to also look at the view. “I’m glad you came. I think I might’ve exploded if I had to leave for three weeks and not see you before I go”.

“Well, I would never deny the opportunity to come to Monaco”, she said, and after a few seconds, she completed. “Or to see you”.

Lando opened a big smile at her. At most times, she makes him feel like a teenage boy, with butterflies in his stomach and a vivid blush on his cheeks. But he didn’t mind it by now. Actually, he started to like how he feels whenever she’s around. Y/N became a reason for him to keep smiling every day.

“Come on, let’s go to the beach”, he broke the ice, getting up from his seat to finally leave the four walls of his flat.

Y/N considered that her best day in Monaco. Lando drove her to a beautiful private beach, where she got to have a few drinks, lounge by the ocean and renovate her tan. He stood right by her side, as they talked about nothing and everything. Just like the night they met, it was so easy to make conversation with her. They never die out of subjects to talk about; and if they did, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

After lunch, he surprised her with a jet ski ride through the crystal waters of Monte Carlo. He had done it many times, but it was so cool to hear her giggles in his ears, while she held onto him to keep her steady. They felt so happy to feel the warmth of each other’s skins touching as she hugged him from behind.

The day ended with them sitting at a deck restaurant, with a great view of the sundown in the ocean. They shared drinks and had a laugh while playing a card game as a duo. Y/N won twice, and was shuffling the cards to win her third round in a roll. And while she did it, Lando took it as an invitation to observe her; the few strays that weren’t tied in her bun falling over her face, the relaxed smile on her lips and the way her skin glowed with her trapless dress. She was breathtaking. And once he was gone for another triple header, he would miss her so much.

After three days of purely Y/N, he started to worry how much her absence would have an effect on him. In such short time, he got used to her humming while doing her morning eggs to go with her avocado toast, and how she was always up to joining him at his quick gym session before going out for the day. He loved the company for mundane things such as buying groceries, watching TV and driving. Then he got sad just by thinking this would be over in a day, when their weekend would’ve passed by, and he would have to fly to Austin.

“I’m gonna miss you so much when I’m gone”, he blurted out, making her look up from her cards, straight into his eyes. They softened at his words, and she stopped shuffling cards once she understood what he was saying.

“It’s not forever, you know that”, she tried comforting him. But deep down, her heart also ached just by thinking about going for three weeks without seeing him, just after having an overdose of Lando.

“Yeah, but I’ve grown so used to your company that it will be hard to go without you”.

Y/N didn’t want to agree with his words, but she understood every single one of them. Ever since they sat at that table, she was only thinking how much it would hurt once he was away, and she would have to go back to her routine.

“Let’s not think about it right now. We still have one more day to enjoy together”, she distributed the cards for one more round, and Lando thought that was her way out of the subject. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way about him leaving. Maybe he was stepping too far into this friendship.

After all, who gets this attached to a person after only four months since you met?

“And… I win again!”, she declared, putting her last cards down at the table and making Lando groan in frustration.

“If this was a racing track, I surely wouldn’t be losing”, he complained, making her roll her eyes.

“Well, I’ve never seen it in real life”, she shrugged, shuffling the cards in her hands. “What guarantees that the TV isn’t manipulating us all into thinking you’re winning races?”

“Then come and watch one with your own eyes”, he suggested, and the table turned silent.

Y/N and Lando had broken many barriers in this friendship, but she never went as far as stepping foot into his job. Of course, he invites a lot of his friends to join him on the paddock, even flying them across the world to have a crowd of his own in the garage. But so far, he had never asked her. And Y/N was burning her brain out, thinking that, if she accepted this invite, he would think she was stepping too much into his privacy.

“I don’t want to bother you”.

“That’s exactly what you said the night we met. And if you hadn’t bothered me back then, we wouldn’t be friends today”, he pointed out with a smile on his face. “Pietra and Max are coming to Abu Dhabi. Maybe my mom and dad as well, but you already know them. So, you’ll have company once I’m out on track if you want to join us”.

Lando was apprehensive with her response. His mind was telling him that she wasn’t interested in coming, but he had trapped her into this proposal. But he learned to trust Y/N over time, and the smile she gave him assured that she wasn’t lying about her response.

“I would love to join you, Lando”, she said. “And I will miss you too, muppet”.

Saying goodbye the next day was hard. He held onto her a little bit longer before letting her go at the airport, and made sure to slip one of his bracelets into her wrist, just so she could have a little piece of him while he was gone. Y/N, wanting to repeat the gesture, took off her teddy bear necklace and tied it around his neck.

“I know it’s a little bit feminine, but it’s something for you to carry with you”.

“My good luck charm”, he smiled as he held the bear between his fingers. “I love it”.

“Have a safe trip”, she kissed his cheek and hugged him again. “And remember to call me every night”.

“Always”, he winked, before waving her off to pass security on the airport. “I’ll see you soon”.

“In the blink of an eye”.

Both of them really wished it was as quick as the blink of an eye. Lando remembers having only her face on his mind on his way home, and again once he was flying to Texas. He held her teddy bear between his hands every time his chest got a little tighter and carried on with the routine of calling her every night. But it definitely wasn’t the same. Y/N was going through the same thing, except that she didn’t have racing to distract her from how much she missed him. And when it got rougher, she would turn into sports news programs just to see his face, and onto the race transmissions, to see him in action.

“Congratulations on P2”, she said when he called her later on that Sunday night, after he finished on the podium in Mexico. He was getting ready to go out for dinner, but never before hearing her voice. “You did very well today”.

“Not enough to win the championship”.

“But you did good. Don’t martyr yourself”.

“I'm not. It just…”, he sighed, not knowing how to finish the sentence. “Anyway, Carlos is dragging me to have dinner with his family, and then maybe go out partying. But I just wanted to talk to you before you pass out”.

“Look at you, keeping your promise of calling every day”, she pointed out. “I appreciate it”.

“Me too. Talking to you is always the best part of the day”, he admitted, and the air shifted between them. Y/N didn't reply, but she felt all of those words warm her chest. Even without a response, he knew she felt the same. “Just one more race and I'm home”.

“So enjoy every moment, and we'll see each other soon”.

“I miss you”, he added, making Y/N smile through the phone. It was the three words he always repeated at the end of every call.

That was everything Lando could think about lately. Why did he get so attached to a person he only knew for a couple of months? It scared him how much he likes her, because it has been a while since he last felt such strong feelings for someone. He didn’t even have the heart to tell her how he feels and potentially ruin everything. Loosing her would be an absolute nightmare scenario.

“I miss you too”, she replied. “Can’t wait to see your ugly face”.

“And I can’t wait to see your pretty one”, he flirted, which made her blush from the other side of the line. Luckily, he couldn’t see the effect he had on her. “I’ll be on my first flight home, I promise”.

“Go enjoy your night with Carlos, muppet”, she chuckled. “Good night, Lan”.

“Good night, Y/N. Sleep tight”.

Their reunion in London after the Brazilian Grand Prix was quick, but very warm. Lando turned 25 and got to spend an entire week next to the people he cherished the most, including Y/N, who prepared an entire day of pampering and golfing for the birthday boy. But he left to quick for the last triple header of the year.

While it was painful to leave again, they were both excited about the last race of the season, even without any real chances of him winning the driver's championship any more. It would be the first time she would step somewhere so important for him, and he was willing to do anything to at least finish on the podium to see her smile.

After another two weeks without each other, Lando opened the biggest smile to see her walking down the hotel lobby on Thursday before the race. He had gone through a long media day and wanted nothing more to just have dinner and relax. And he surely did relax once she pulled him into a comforting hug that made him let go of all the tension he had been carrying.

“Thank God you’re finally here”, he sighed, taking in her scent and enjoying the warmth of her body on his. It didn’t matter if it was burning hot outside, and that he was sweaty from the weather, he still wanted her as close as possible for as long as he could.

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything”, she assured. “You have a constructors' championship to celebrate, after all”.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself”, he pulled her to walk towards the lift with him, keeping her secured by his side with a hand on her waist. “I haven’t won anything yet”.

“I’m sure you’re gonna make something magical for me”.

“God, I hope so”, he chuckled. “Your first race! Better make it special”.

“You will. I trust you”.

And what he did on track was amazing. After a couple of terrible race finishes, Lando showed pure dominance at the last race of the season. Securing pole position and carrying it on until the very end, when he won the GP, and even getting the fastest lap for one last time at this round. The perfect race to bring the championship home to McLaren; and Y/N was there to witness it all.

“You stink of champagne”, she pointed out when they were back at his hotel room. Everyone had gone to get ready to party and he definitely needed a shower after getting soaked by his team’s celebration. After all, it’s not every day when you become a constructor champion in Formula 1.

“And I’m definitely a little bit drunk from the podium”, he giggled as he threw his tired body on bed. Lando didn’t care if he was dirty; he just needed a little bit of rest before going back to the outside world. Right at that moment, he was happy to be in the quiet and safeness of his room, in Y/N’s presence.

“But it’s all worthy, isn’t it?”, she asked, getting herself a tiny spot in bed right next to him. She couldn’t help but notice the content smile on his lips, the ‘mission accomplished’ aura. It was like this win had lifted an enormous weight from his shoulders.

“Yeah, it is”, he agreed. “All worth it to make you impressed”.

“I’m always impressed by you”, she shyly replied, keeping her voice low as she got herself distracted with the sequins of her bag, using her fingers to roll them around.

“I’m glad this is the one you saw live”, he started playing with the sequins as well, but his green eyes quickly found hers as they played together. She could feel the flames on her chest and the heat on her cheeks as he looked into her eyes. It was like he could see past her soul. “Thank you for being here”.

“Thank you for asking me to come”, she shot back. They couldn’t tear their eyes away from each other, and the more they stared, the more confused about their feelings they got. It was already a big incognita in their heads, and surely this rush of emotions weren’t helping them at all. “Won’t you go get ready to celebrate?”

“I just need a minute of quietness”, he explained, now closing his eyes and breaking the contact with Y/N’s for once. She silently sighed in relief and went back to playing with her purse. “The calm after the storm”.

“And before”, she chuckled, making him agree with a grin. “It gets too loud sometimes, right? The media, the fans, the adrenaline…”

“Louder than I'd like to admit”, he chuckled, his eyes flickering towards her once again. “God knows how much they tried painting me as the villain this year. It pisses me off, but… the people that know me will always have my back. And it's good to share moments like this. It's what keeps me grounded. And in the end, it’s all about the people who are there for you when it’s quiet. Like you, right now”.

“You know I'll always have your back. If you ever need someone to hold your hand, I'll be right here”, Y/N stopped playing with her purse and rested her hand on top of his.

A small moment of silence lingered in the air, but it wasn't awkward at all; it was comfortable. After a while, they learned how to appreciate each other's presence solely and enjoy the quiet. It was in moments like this they truly know what they got by their side.

“You know you're not at all what I thought you would be”, Y/N admitted. “When Pietra said you're an F1 driver, I thought you'd be more… full of yourself. A little bit arrogant. And from the first moment we met, you were humble and you were kind. Not to mention that the past few months have been nothing more than a Lando 101, learning how much of a good person you are. I'm glad I can be vulnerable with you”.

“I'm glad I didn’t meet your first expectations”, they chuckled together. “Honestly, not a lot of people see what you're saying. To everyone, I'm the bad driver that says a lot of shit to the media. But you've seen past all of that”.

A brief silence falls between them both. The atmosphere shifts slightly, the comfortable chatter fading away once again. Y/N zones out for a while, but when she comes back to her senses, Lando is looking at her. His lips are slightly parted, as if he was trying to come up with words to say. But his face is glowing a little bit more than before. The realization had just dawned on him, and after months of being insecure about his own feelings, he simply decided to be honest with her.

Lando swallowed the lump on his throat and his tone got more serious. He looked down to his hands, taking the courage to speak, before looking her in the eyes again.

“I think I’m in love with you. And that scares the shit out of me”.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it was like the world outside had gone quiet. Lando paid close attention to her reaction, and all Y/N got to do was gasp and slightly widen her eyes. She didn’t know how to react to this; and most definitely didn't know how to reply to such a confession.

“I know it's mental. I don’t like feeling like I'm rushing in and fucking things up. But it's just… it's just that I've never felt like this before. Like, the past year, I thought I could just have fun, enjoy my youth, focus on my career and so on. But then you came along, and... it’s different with you. You make everything feel… right. And it scares me. I’m not good with this stuff. Not with real feelings”.

Lando was nervous with her response, but the way she squeezed his hands while staying in silence assured him that he didn't fuck everything up.

“Lan, I don't know what to say”, she smiled nervously, flickering her fingers between his and trying to control her breath.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to say it. I don’t think I could keep on pretending like it's nothing. Like being in love with you isn't consuming me”, he admitted. “Every time I leave you, my heart breaks a little bit more. And every time I don’t get to call you mine, it pains me. And I'm scared of how much I love you. Scared I'm not good enough for you. Scared this is rushed in”.

“You don’t have to be scared. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. But I’m here. I’m listening”, she assured him, hands still firmly holding onto his.

“You're not freaking out?”, he frowned, making her laugh at his reaction before shaking her head no.

“Lando, sometimes I think you think too much into things. You worry too much about what people think of you, and that includes me”, she analyzed. “You think I'm freaking out because I still haven't come up with the right words to say I'm in love with you too”.

He opened that boyish and genuine smile once again, and tried biting it away when he got shy. It was nice to know she felt the same. And it was even nicer to know he found someone to be truly vulnerable with.

“I've never been good at letting someone in, and I most definitely have some problems with self doubt. But you, Y/N, somehow made it easier. You understand me. And I'm happy to have found someone that sees right through me. I hope I can be at least 10% of that for you someday”.

Y/N didn’t even notice that she was leaning into him, or that she was now playing with the collar of his shirt. Lando was so close, to the point that she could smell the champagne on his breath, and it was intoxicating. It felt amazing to be seen by him.

“Lan, you understand me more than you think. And you have more impact on me than you can imagine”, she chuckled shyly. “We don't need to have it all figured out right away. I just want to be here. With you”.

Her eyes flickered up to his once again, then rolled back to his lips, only to come up again. His gaze softened as he observed her from up close, and automatically, his hand moved up to brush over her cheek. Than, almost in a whisper, he said:

“You’re incredible, you know that? I’ve been waiting for the right moment to say this, but… I don’t want to wait anymore”.

And without another word, Lando leaned forward, his lips gently brushing against hers. He started as a soft kiss, testing the waters and making sure she's comfortable with it. But when Y/N didn’t pull away, he brought her closer and deepened the kiss. His movements became more certain, more desperate. The world around them disappeared, and the only thing that truly mattered was each other. A moment they have been waiting for so long, finally happening.

When he pulled away, Y/N chased his lips, making him smirk now knowing the control he has over her body. Then, as a reward, he pressed a few more pecks before completely stopping to admire her face. His thumbs rubbed circles on her cheek and he looked between her eyes with a huge smile on face.

“I should've done this sooner”, he admitted. “Would've been amazing to have kissed you all those months ago back in Ibiza”.

“To be totally honest, I was kind of disappointed you didn't kiss me that night”, she revealed, making him arch his brows. “I thought you were the cutest boy from the very beginning”.

“Everything happens for a reason, Y/N. If I had kissed you on that trip, maybe we wouldn't be here today”.

“I guess you're right”, she sighed and he gently kissed her again.

“I love you”, he mumbled against her lips.

“I love you too”, she says back, pulling him for another kiss. “But you still stink of champagne. I think you need a shower so we can properly celebrate your win tonight”.

“Alright, bossy”, he joked before pressing a kiss on top of her head.

And just before he closed the bathroom door, he leaned back and smiled again. Lando didn’t say anything, but just admired her one more time before going into the shower. Sometimes his life feels surreal; and tonight, having the girl of his dreams all to himself, it felt more like something designed straight out of his dream.

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pitchsidestories · 2 months ago

Text

under pressure II Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

masterlist | word count: 1829

summary: reader takes it too far in training and must live with the consequences. But no one sees the pressure which is weighing down heavy on her young shoulders.

author's note: dear readers, the oneshot was inspired by this request here, enjoy. In this story Lucy Bronze didn't leave Barcelona. <3

Training had started two minutes ago.

You rushed onto the training pitch, throwing your school stuff down into the grass and quickly slipped into your football boots. You were silently praying to whoever would listen that you would get away with being late.

Right as you stood up and wanted to join the rest of the team, you heard your coachs’ voice from across the field: “That’s strike one, it better not get to strike three.“

You frowned at him. “I’m only two minutes late!”, you protested, frustrated because you had done everything possible to make it to FC Barcelonas trainings grounds in time.

“And she had school.“, Ona added quickly. She had stopped her warm-up to help you out.

You shot her a quick grateful look.

“She knows when training starts.“, Pere replied unusually cold.

You swallowed everything you wanted to say. That it wasn’t your fault. That your Spanish teacher hadn’t let you go at the ring of the bell and that you tried to make up for it by running all the way from the metro station.

You nodded slowly: “We can start now…“

“Good.“, Pere said, turning back towards the rest of the group.

You joined your teammates on the pitch, deliberately ignoring the quick look Ona and Lucy exchanged when they thought you didn’t see them.

You flinched when someones arm suddenly brushed against yours.

“You’re good? No trouble in school?”, Aitana asked you with concern in her voice.

“No, Tana, it’s fine…“, you replied, jogging beside her.

“I’m just asking. You know I can help.“

A small smile tugged on the corners of your mouth. Aitana was always the first to offer her help with school stuff and while you didn’t need it at the moment, her asking meant a lot to you.

“Girls!“, Peres voice called them to the centre of the pitch where he explained your first exercise.

Twenty minutes later, you had your first drinking break. While you sipped on your water, you sneaked a quick look at your phone and quickly replied to a message.

Just your luck, you were caught breaking the team rules once again.

“Y/n!”

You looked up into Peres disappointed face and sighed: “Sorry, it was important!”

“No phones on the training pitch, you know that. That’s strike two.“

“But…“

You had no chance to explain yourself.

“You know that.“, he repeated.

Your frustration reached a new height. In your opinion, you hadn’t done anything wrong. They were small trivial things that didn’t interrupt training, there was no reason to make such a big deal out of it. Especially not after the day you just had.

“Oh, for fucks sake! I know but I also told you that the message was important!”, you exploded.

You and Pere seemed both surprised by the words that had just come out of your mouth.

“Cursing too?”, he asked with a sigh.

You only blinked at him in shock.

“That was very Lucia of her. You can tell she’s living at her place!”, Mapi burst out laughing next to you. You had no idea what was happening around you.

The confusion you felt was reflected in Lucy’s face who turned around to look at the defender from Zaragoza. “Excuse me what?”

“She’s got a point. It sounds like you.”, Ingrid agreed smiling.

“True. They even share a similar glare.”, Keira of all people added in a teasing tone. The English midfielder lived with Lucy and you when you rose from La Masia to Barcelona’s A team. Then they broke up and found new partners, yet you could still sense the mutual respect between them, and both loved you fiercely like you were their younger sister.

“I don’t care where she has it from, you know we’re not cursing on the pitch.”, your coach intervened growling.

“Sorry, I didn’t..”, you apologized trying your hardest not to cry in front of the team. No one should see the invisible pressure which was weighing down heavy on your young shoulders.

“That’s your third strike. Pack your stuff and leave my training.”, Pere demanded, his voice dripping with disappointment.

“Shit.”, you thought to yourself. This day really couldn't have gone any worse. The pitiful glances of your teammates made it even more terrible.

“Now.”, your coach waved impatiently.

“We’ll talk at home, kid, okay?”, Lucy gave you an encouraging pad on the shoulder.

“’ ‘Kay.”, you muttered under your breath.

After you left the training pitch, there was a silence hanging over the team which Ona broke first. “She seemed under pressure, so be nice to her later, Luce.”

“What do you think I’m going to do? Yell at her?”, her girlfriend snorted in disbelief.

“No, we can do that together.”, the younger defender offered kindly.

“Don’t worry, Ona. I know what I’m doing.”, Lucy assured her partner.

“Could the couples get back to training again?”, Pere requested grudgingly.

“Sure.”, the English player nodded.

“He’s in a bad mood today, huh?”, Mapi asked her while they were doing an exercise together.

“Weirdly, he’s.”, Lucy responded but her thoughts circling more around you than your coach. She had to find out what exactly was bothering you so much that you were acting out in training which you never did before.

Once you arrived at home you laid down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, unmoving, Narla, the dog snuggling on top of you, an hour had passed when you heard the turn of the keys, realizing absentmindedly.

“Oh, hi, Luce.”

The West Highland Terrier immediately jumped off to greet the English woman. You could hear her and Ona talking in the hallway, the Spaniard apparently went to the kitchen to cook coffee for the three of you.

“Hey, kiddo. How are you?”, Lucy asked concerned as you made space on the sofa for her, so she could sit on it too.

“Was he still angry at me when you girls left?”, you returned the question. With a weak smile on your lips, you corrected the older player. “Also, Oni said you should stop calling me like that I’m going to be eighteen soon.”

“I don’t care what Ona says, I’ll stop calling you that when you’re taller than me.”, she shrugged.

You couldn’t help yourself, you snorted at her comment.

“Rude! I’m the same height since forever.“

Lucy grinned: “Bad luck, kiddo.“

Laughing, you pushed her with your shoulder: “You’re so annoying.“

“Now tell me what’s going on with you today.“

Lucys question wiped the smile off of your face, the heaviness returned to your chest in an instant.

There was nothing for a moment, just the ticking of the clock in the background.

“The teachers said I’m good enough for university…“, you finally heard yourself say.

“What?”, Lucy asked, mirroring your exact response when you were told earlier that day. Your brain had screamed at you to be happy about it, that your hard work had payed off and you might be able fulfil your wish of studying. But at the same time, you were filled with dread and worry about the future. There were so many thoughts at once, they were impossible to disentangle.

“But no one in my family studied before…“, you voiced one of your biggest concerns.

You were surprised to see Lucy looking back at you with a relaxed expression.

“Stop overthinking it. This is amazing and you will do great!”

“What? You think so?”

Lucy gave a single, impatient nod: “Yeah of course I think that. If I could do it, you can do it too.“

You let the warmth of Lucys words wash over you.

“Do you think they would be proud of me? My parents?”, you whispered into the silence.

Navigating life was hard enough and it had only gotten harder when you had lost your parents a few years ago. Graduating and going to university might be two other milestones in your life that you wouldn’t be able to share with them.

“I’m sure. At least we’re all proud of you.“, Lucy replied unusually soft.

Ona joined the two of you on the sofa and pulled you in for a hug: “That’s true. God, you’re so smart. Smarter than me at your age.“

“But you’re smart too, Oni.“, you smiled into the crook of her neck.

“Yes, but not book-smart like you.“

“Still.“

Once Ona let go of you, you could breathe a little easier.

“So tomorrow we’ll explain everything to Pere. But for now, Lucy, would you…?”, Ona said.

“Would I what?”

You blinked at her innocently, completing Onas question: “Start cooking?”

Laughing, Lucy ruffled your hair: “Yes, I’ll make your favourite food.“

“Thank you.“, you smiled.

“You’re welcome.“

A year has passed since you had the meaningful conversation with Lucy and Ona. Through the help of your teammates you did succeed, even graduating with honours. This would open many doors for you which you were incredibly grateful for, you certainly didn't take higher education for granted.

To celebrate your big achievement the team prepared a little party in the cafeteria.

“Congrats.”, Pere gave you a warm handshake.

“Thank you.”, you smiled happily.

“You did it.”, Ingrid beamed at you.

“We’re so proud of you.”, Fridolina added in awe.

“Proud indeed. Well done, y/n.”, Alexia congratulated, pulling you into a hug so you couldn’t see her teary eyes. But you noticed them even though she tried to hide her emotional state from you.

“She’s all grown up now.”, Mapi commented delighted before she hugged the two of you who were still standing in the middle of the room. Once you released each other you could feel the heat in your cheeks from all the attention you received.

“She’s still a kiddo to me.”, Lucy threw in with a very pleased smirk on her face.

“Hey, you heard Mapi though.”, you protested.

“Pretty sure you’re still not taller than me, kiddo.”, she countered laughing.

“Does that mean you’re a kid too because you’re smaller than Irene and Alexia?”, you asked her in a teasing tone.

“That’s not what I said.”, the English defender replied.

“I’m just following your logic here.”, you told her. Apparently, Lucy didn’t find an adequate answer to your observation as she swept you off your feed and carried you on her shoulder.

“Shut up.”, she chuckled amused.

“Let me down!”, you urged the older woman giggling.

“Forget it, kiddo.”, she shook her head.

“Ugh. Girls help me!”, you groaned.

“Lucia, put her down. No injuries today please.”, Pere ordered.

“You heard him.”, you whispered.

“Lucky for you.”, Lucy responded while your feet touched the ground again.

“Time to celebrate.”, Ona smiled.

“It’s so sweet of you guys to have a party for me. I wouldn’t have done it without all of you.”, you noted deeply moved by the effort your teammates had put into it.

“You deserve it, enjoy.”, Alexia hummed.

“Thank you.”

You knew you could always count on them, and they could no matter what count on you.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

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ortegahaze · 4 months ago

Text

anyone but you

[part one] | part two | part three | part four |

pairing: Tara Carpenter x gn!reader

synopsis: Tara and you, despite having mutual friends, have never met—until a Blackmore University fraternity party brings your paths together. The night is amazing, but the next morning is a disaster, and both of you hope never to see each other again. What you didn’t anticipate is that your best friends are getting married, and now you'll be forced to spend time together at their destination wedding.

warnings: no ghostface au, mentions of alcohol, fluff in the beginning, angst, bad writing, language, slight change in characters' age, mentions of a dead parent, “enemies” to lovers!

a/n: yes yes, totally inspired by the movie anyone but you, if you haven’t watched it, there will be spoilers. not sure if i liked this first chapter that much, next ones will be better, i promise🤞🏼

word count: 5,8k

—

Tara Carpenter loved to party, but mostly because she would always attend the fraternity houses’ parties with her friends who also attended Blackmore University. Unfortunately for her, it seemed that all her usual companions decided to skip the party tonight without bothering to tell her until the last minute.

There she was, dressed up as a pirate, frowning at her phone where her friends’ messages popped up, saying they wouldn’t be going. That was it—the start of a terrible Friday night. She considered going back home, feeling like a sad loser. But she knew exactly what awaited her there: Sam and Danny probably making out on the couch—or worse. Huffing, she shoved her phone into her back pocket, mustering the courage to enter the Omega Kappa Beta party by herself.

The music was loud, but good. Everyone was enjoying it with red cups held high. She made her way to the trashed kitchen, searching for something strong to help her loosen up and forget that her best friends had abandoned her for the night.

After three cups, she was already stumbling. The loud bass thumped through her chest, her head spinning just enough to make her a bit queasy. Needing a break, she headed for the pool area, which seemed quieter and less chaotic.

She slumped down onto one of the chairs, letting the cool night air hit her face. Maybe this night wasn’t a total disaster, but it sure wasn’t the wild, fun night she had imagined. She closed her eyes, the alcohol swirling in her system, trying to relax.

“Tara?” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Opening her eyes and looking up, she saw a guy standing beside her. He had a kind of frat-boy look—probably one of the OKB members. Despite being a sophomore law student, Tara had never bothered to learn the names of these guys.

“Yeah?” she mumbled, squinting against the pool lights.

“You good?” the guy asked, concern creasing his forehead.

“Yeah, just… letting the alcohol wear off.” She slurred slightly, trying to sound more sober than she felt. The guy didn’t seem convinced but smiled anyway, offering his hand.

“I’m Frankie,” he said.

She hesitated before shaking his hand, her mind sluggish but wary. “Tara,” she replied.

He motioned toward the house. “You want some water? I can grab some for you in the kitchen.”

She nodded, standing up to follow him. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” she mumbled. Something felt off, but she pushed the thought away, blaming the alcohol for making her overly cautious.

As they walked back toward the house, she noticed fewer people by the pool. It was quieter, the conversations distant. That’s when Frankie spoke up again. “You know what? I have a minibar in my room. We can grab water there, and you can use the bathroom too if you need it.”

Tara’s stomach dropped. The convenient offer set off alarm bells in her head, her instincts kicking in despite the fog of alcohol. Why was he suddenly suggesting his room?

Before she could respond, someone stepped up next to Frankie, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, babe. I was looking for you! I finished my set for the night. We can go home now,” the stranger said smoothly.

She blinked, processing the situation. What?

Frankie glanced at the newcomer’s hand, visibly confused. “Uh…”

“I can see you’ve already met my girlfriend, Frankie,” the stranger continued with a casual smile. “That’s great, but we’ve gotta go now. She’s been having trouble sleeping lately, so I think it’s time we head out. Thanks for taking care of her while I was working tonight.”

Tara felt the stranger’s arm slip around her shoulder. The warmth and casualness of the embrace was oddly comforting, even though she had no idea who this person was. Still, she went along with the act, instincts telling her to trust this stranger over Frankie.

“Yeah, thanks, Frankie,” Tara echoed awkwardly. “We… uh… have to get going.”

Intertwining her fingers with the stranger’s, Tara took the first step, guiding them away from Frankie. Her heart raced—not from fear, but from the strangeness of the whole situation. She wasn’t used to needing to be rescued, especially not by someone who appeared out of nowhere.

When they were far enough from Frankie and back in the kitchen, Tara dropped the stranger’s hand. “Thank you… That was really nice of you.”

“Happy to help,” you replied, rummaging through the fridge. “Frankie’s not the type to handle rejection well, if you know what I mean… and by the look on your face, you were about to reject him.”

Tara flushed, embarrassment creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to being seen as vulnerable. She hated feeling like she couldn’t handle herself. “Yeah, I was,” she admitted, brushing off her embarrassment with a small smile. “Thanks again.”

The stranger turned around, holding a bottle of water. “No problem. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You extended a hand.

She shook it, noticing how your grip was firm yet gentle. “I’m Tara,” she replied, her voice a little quieter this time. She found herself holding onto your hand for a bit too long before quickly letting go, feeling the touch linger longer than it should have. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “Uh, is there a bathroom around here?”

You pointed down the hallway. “Yeah, just down there.”

“Thanks,” Tara muttered, handing over the water and heading to the bathroom. Leaving you confused as you stand there with her water. Waiting.

She shut the door behind her and sat on the toilet seat, immediately pulling out her phone while peeing. Her fingers trembled slightly, the adrenaline of the night still buzzing through her as she quickly dialed Mindy. When Mindy picked up, Tara didn’t even wait for a greeting.

“Mindy, I just met this person, and I don’t know… It was something. They saved me from what could’ve been a really messy situation. But like… now what? I don’t even know them, but there was this… connection? Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it.” Tara paused, shaking her head at her own words. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back.”

Tara finished washing her hands and looked at herself in the mirror, her brown eyes staring back. She took a deep breath, brushing her fingers lightly over her fringe, as if steadying herself. "Okay," she whispered, gathering her resolve.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she navigated back toward the kitchen, dodging a couple passionately making out near the door, grimacing slightly as she passed them. Her eyes scanned the room until they locked onto yours, and she couldn’t help but smile awkwardly when you handed her the bottle of water.

“Your water,” you said, grinning.

“Thanks.” She took it, and for a moment, the two of you held each other’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. You started to say something, but she beat you to it, breaking the silence with a small, resigned smile.

“Well, I think I should call it a night,” she said with a soft sigh. “I’ve had my share of excitement.”

Your smile faltered just a bit, but you quickly recovered, masking any disappointment. As she moved to leave, you hesitated, your mind racing. You turned, watching her head toward the entrance, and something compelled you to act.

“Hey…” you called, stepping quickly after her. She paused, turning with a curious look.

“So, are you gonna ask me out now?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she interrupted whatever you’d been about to say. Her comment took you by surprise, but you broke into a smile, catching onto the playful challenge in her tone.

“Yeah,” you replied, mirroring her smile. “Yeah, I am.” You both shared a quick laugh, then walked toward the door together, side by side.

As you walked out into the night, Tara looked up at you, her curiosity piqued. “You know… I go to a lot of these parties. How come I’ve never seen you around?”

Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you chuckled. “I’m not a student anymore. Graduated last year, but a friend of mine who still goes here got me to DJ tonight.” You let out a wry laugh. “Of course, he didn’t even bother showing up.”

She smirked. “Oh, sounds familiar. My friends did the same to me tonight.”

The streets were mostly empty, with the city’s usual hum softened at this late hour. Streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked, and a few blocks away from the chaos of the party, Tara seemed more grounded, though her steps were still a bit unsteady from the alcohol.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence as you walked alongside her. “What about you? What do you study?”

Tara hugged herself, more from a sense of vulnerability than the chill in the air. She glanced over at you, her expression guarded but curious. “I study law.” she replied, then added reluctantly. Her voice had an almost clipped quality, and you noticed the way she quickly redirected the conversation. “And you? What’s your story?”

Noticing her attempt to shift the topic, you chuckled. “I started out in computer science. That’s what my parents wanted, and it sounded like a solid career, so I went with it for a while. Did a couple of semesters.”

“Computer science?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Didn’t peg you for the type to spend your days coding.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, giving her a wry smile. “Eventually, I couldn’t stand it. I switched over to music production—that’s what I’d always wanted to do anyway.”

She nodded, seemingly intrigued despite herself. “I bet your parents weren’t thrilled with the change, huh?”

You shrugged, eyes on the sidewalk ahead. “Not at first. But eventually, they came around. And if worse comes to worst, I can always fall back on tech if I need to.”

Tara’s interest was clearly piqued as she glanced at you thoughtfully. “So, you just sit in a studio with those fancy soundboards?”

You laughed. “Something like that. Mostly, though, it’s me with my laptop, some recording equipment, and way too much caffeine. But I love it—taking random sounds and turning them into something people can connect to.”

She seemed to admire your passion, though she tried to keep her expression casual. “Sounds like you actually went after what you wanted,” she mused, almost to herself.

You smiled at her comment, feeling the quiet camaraderie that had formed between you. “So… you want to keep hanging out for a bit? My place isn’t far from here. I’d offer coffee, but it’s a bit late for that. I make a killer grilled cheese, though.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, both surprised and amused. “Inviting a girl you just met over for grilled cheese? That’s bold.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, grinning. “I like to think so. But no pressure. If you’d rather call it a night, I get it.”

She paused, considering the offer. The sincerity in your expression was unmistakable, and after the strange night she’d had, she found herself craving something simple, something real. With a nod, she finally agreed, letting a genuine smile slip through.

“Alright,” she replied, matching your smile with a smirk. “Let’s see if you’ve got any real culinary skills.”

The two of you continued down the quiet streets, the city’s glow casting a soft light as you walked together. The conversation flowed easily, shifting from one topic to the next as you shared bits and pieces of yourselves.

The conversation moved from childhood stories to other random facts—Tara mentioned she used to collect keychains, and you told her about the time you accidentally broke into the wrong apartment while trying to help a neighbor. The night air carried your laughter, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant hum of traffic.

—

The two of you stood near the kitchen counter, your movements methodical as you crafted the grilled cheese the way you always did—spreading butter on the bread and layering two slices of cheese. After adding butter to the skillet, you waited for it to melt before placing the sandwich on it, flipping it with the spatula as it browned.

Tara’s eyes wandered around your warehouse-turned-apartment, taking in the cozy but modest space. Music equipment cluttered one corner, while old vinyl records filled the shelves along the walls. She leaned against the counter, her gaze shifting between you and the space, but lingering mostly on you.

“So,” she asked with a playful smirk, “do you invite strangers over for late-night sandwiches often?”

Without looking up from the stove, you chuckled. “Only the ones who look like they’d appreciate my culinary skills. You seemed like the type.”

She rolled her eyes, but a cute smile played on her lips, you could even see her dimples clearly.

As you flipped the sandwich again, the smell filled the small kitchen, and Tara found herself relaxing, slowly letting her guard down in this oddly comforting moment. It had been a long time since she’d experienced a night that felt spontaneous, even a little reckless.

When the sandwich was done, you cut it in half and handed it to her on a plate. “Wait to cool down—” Almost immediately, she bit into it, only to wince and fan her mouth.

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot!” she exclaimed, laughing through the pain between painful chews.

You stifled a laugh. “I literally just took it off the stove. What did you expect?”

“Oh, my God.”

“If you’re gonna be a lawyer, you gotta understand negligence and breach and…” She furrowed her eyebrows and turned her head to look up at you. “McDonald’s versus that lady’s…” You locked eyes with her, noticing her judgmental look. “Habeas corpus.”

Tara chuckled, swallowing carefully. “You absolutely just butchered those terms,” she said, narrowing her eyes and shooting you a mock glare. “Maybe I should represent you in a case against yourself.”

You were both facing each other, holding eye contact as you playfully teased her. “How do you know? You’re not a lawyer yet.” She gave you a disbelieving look. “It’s not too late to choose a more noble profession!”

“Oh, like you?” She nodded toward the computer desk you’d left on from working earlier. You took a bite of the sandwich and followed her gaze.

“You know what? You’re right. Stick with it. I’m gonna need a lawyer to read my contracts at some point.” She chuckled softly. Looking back at her, you smiled.

The two of you stood there, the playful banter bringing warmth to the room that neither of you had expected. She chewed more carefully now, and as she finished the bite, her gaze softened.

“I don’t even know if I want to be a lawyer,” Tara blurted, almost as if she hadn't meant to. She stared at the half-eaten sandwich in her hands, looking embarrassed. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

You paused, unsure how to respond, but instead of words, you gently reached out and wiped a bit of cheese from the corner of her mouth with your thumb. The gesture was intimate, more so than you’d intended, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow quieter.

She sighed, her voice dropping. “My mom’s a lawyer. I thought maybe if I followed in her footsteps, things would make sense. But… I feel like it isn’t really me.”

There was a small silence, but instead of pressing, you just gave her a supportive nod. “You don’t have to figure it all out now.”

She smiled gratefully and took another bite, the tension lifting again as you both relaxed into the conversation. The two of you laughed, easing the awkwardness. You took another bite, an unconscious smile lingering on your face. With Tara around, you almost felt like a different person. She brushed the back of her hand where yours had touched, glancing back at you.

“I’m sorry… My life is a disaster right now.”

“Might be turning a corner,” you shrugged, showing compassion for her struggle, making eye contact again. “You just met me!”

Tara grinned. “Yeah, or I could end up in a suitcase.” You chuckled. “I mean… you’ve got some, uh, serial killer vibes going on here. Why do you have a giant wrench?” She pointed to the large wrench sitting on the vinyl rack. You looked at it and smiled.

“Okay, harsh,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “It wouldn’t be a suitcase. It would be a carry-on, thank you very much. You’re about zero feet tall,” you teased, referencing her small stature. She shot you a light glare, making you smile. You glanced back at the wrench. “And my mom gave me that.” At this, Tara raised her eyebrows, paying closer attention. “It’s a reminder that no matter how broken something is, there’s always a way to fix it.”

She nodded at your words, pressing her lips together and closing her eyes briefly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m talking to you about my mom right now.” You squinted and shook your head, letting out a small chuckle.

Vulnerability hit you for a moment. You weren’t one to share much about your late mother with friends, let alone 'strangers' like Tara, but something about her made you feel at ease—like you could talk about the topic that usually tightened your chest.

Tara’s gaze softened. “No worries. That’s actually kind of sweet,” she smiled gently. “Now, tell me about that!” She pointed to an ATM machine in the corner, raising an eyebrow.

You smiled and nodded at the machine, which was in perfect condition, the screen still on. “That… is a long story!” You put your sandwich back on the plate and noticed her frowning at you. “Everybody survived!”

“Great!” She laughed, and you followed, the sound echoing through the small apartment. As the laughter died down, Tara took a deep breath, savoring the moment. She felt unexpectedly comfortable there—with you, in your quirky apartment, and with the smell of burnt cheese still lingering in the air.

In your mind, maybe that was the moment you started to hear romantic background music. You bickered and laughed together, even sharing a few silly dance moves in the kitchen after getting some water.

Tara eventually curled up on the sofa as you cleaned up the counter, chatting and laughing loudly from across the room. She teased you about your random quirks, and you responded with good-natured jabs, both of you secretly enjoying the strange, comforting ease. It didn’t take long for you to join her on the couch.

Letting the night unfold, an unexpected bond formed over random topics. Tara eventually settled on your lap, your hands resting on the skin of her waist beneath her silky shirt, facing you. The laughter slowly faded into quieter moments, one of you wrapped around the other. Lingering glances and more meaningful conversations pulled you closer until you both drifted off as dawn approached, feeling more at home than you had in a long time.

Soft morning light filtered through the large living room windows, casting a warm glow across the loft. Tara stirred and blinked awake, feeling a warm weight around her shoulders and waist. She found herself nestled against you, your arm draped over her, your breathing steady and calm.

But the quiet, comfortable intimacy triggered a rush of anxiety in her. Nudging her to move before things got too complicated. She knew she should say something, but no words came, and a sense of urgency pushed her to leave before things got more tangled.

Carefully, she slipped out from under your arm, holding her breath to keep from waking you. With deliberate silence, she stood up to put her shoes on, but one slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, betraying her. She winced and glanced back quickly, not seeing you stir from where she stood.

Your eyes blinked open as you took in the empty space beside you. You craned your neck toward the noise that had woken you, and your expression shifted from confusion to quiet disappointment as you watched her getting ready to leave without so much as a backward glance or goodbye. You held back the urge to say something, but the silence in the room felt suddenly heavy, filled with words left unsaid.

She walked down the stairs to the door, and as it clicked shut behind her, Tara hesitated for the briefest second, almost turning back. But then the weight of the moment became too much to bear. Meanwhile, you leaned back on the couch, staring at the empty space for a long moment, letting the silence settle over you like a heavy blanket.

Eventually, you got up, grabbing fresh clothes to wear before heading back to the living room. You tried to shake Tara from your mind, still feeling the ache of her sudden departure. But as you looked at the wrench, you almost stopped in your tracks. You walked over to it, picking it up in your hands and recalling how you had shared a part of your story that only your close friends knew. You thought Tara would stick around, at least for a while.

You didn’t have much more quiet time for introspection before you heard the door open. You turned your head so fast at the sound that you felt a slight disappointment upon realizing it was only your best friend.

His voice echoed up the stairs. “Yo, let's go, Y/N/N! Come on, cupcake! We’re gonna be late!”

“S'up, C?” You sat down in your computer desk chair, still not fully giving him your attention.

Chad stepped inside with his usual boisterous energy, walking around and dropping his bike helmet on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the skillet on the stove, noticing the remnants of last night's grilled cheese.

“Whoa. Did you cook? Wait… did you bring home a girl to stay over?” you didn’t respond, your eyes fixed on the large wrench in your hands, turning it over absentmindedly. Chad moved closer, munching on a leftover piece of grilled cheese as he gave you a puzzled look.

“Dude, what are you doing with that? Why do you have the giant wrench?” He took it from your hands, examining it. After a few seconds, he pieced it together. “Wait—You told her about your mom, bro? You never talk about your mom with anyone.” His tone softened.

You looked toward the door that he left open, a pained smile crossing your face as you didn’t disagree with his assumptions. “Yeah, I did. Not sure what I was thinking.”

Chad let out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “Fuck. You’ve got it bad, don’t you? You’re in love!” He put the tool back in its place and turned back to you. “About freaking time, too. You’re totally in love!” He squealed the last part, unable to contain his excitement.

Trying to brush it off, you shook your head, a hint of bitterness coloring your tone. “Fuck that. Not that it matters. I couldn’t get her out of here fast enough.” You looked at him with a straight face, attempting to mask the sting of your words. “This girl’s a disaster… she’s a nothing.”

—

Minutes before slipping out of the house, Tara walked along the quiet sidewalk, pulling her phone from her pocket as she dialed Mindy. The line barely rang before Mindy picked up, her voice tinged with early morning sleepiness.

“Tara? What’s going on?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Sorry to wake you. I just… I don’t know. Remember the person I met last night? They’re… so fucking great, Mindy. We kind of walked around the city, talked, and, I don’t know, we spent the night together and fell asleep talking. It felt… different. Like I didn’t have to keep my guard up.”

“Oh, it was like that, huh?” Mindy’s voice perked up, her interest piqued. “So, what happened after all that?”

A silence stretched between them as Tara paused on the sidewalk. She hesitated, her expression clouded with uncertainty. “I… I left before they woke up.”

Mindy groaned on the other end of the line. “What??? You’re kidding. Why would you just bail? If they’re as great as you’re saying…”

“I don’t know why! Why did I?” Tara blurted, stopping mid-step and glancing back in the direction she’d come from. “What the fuck am I doing? Should I go back?”

“Seems like you already know the answer,” Mindy said gently. “Just go! Find out what this is.”

“Okay, I love you. Bye!” Tara managed a small smile. “I'm so sorry I woke you up. This whole thing is so new to me. Bye!” Her footsteps quickened as she retraced her steps to the building.

“I love you, T. You’ve got this.” Mindy smiled before hanging up, hurrying her steps.

As Tara approached the door, she noticed it was open. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stopped in her tracks when she heard Chad’s familiar voice from inside. His back was facing her, so she didn’t know who the guy was. She certainly wasn’t prepared to hear your sharper tone following in disagreement about you being in love.

“I couldn’t get her out of here fast enough.” “This girl’s a disaster… She’s a nothing.”

The words landed with a crushing weight, stealing her breath and pinning her to the spot. She felt her chest tighten, a surge of hurt and anger rising within her as she turned on her heel and walked away, quickening her pace as if the farther she got, the less it would hurt. She’d let herself be vulnerable, just for a moment, and this was what it had gotten her.

She didn’t stop until she rounded the corner, the city coming to life around her—a stark reminder of the distance she intended to keep. She had allowed herself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe things could be different. But she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

—

Six months had passed since that fateful night, and neither you nor Tara had crossed each other’s paths again. The silence between you both was deafening, leaving nothing but the bitter ache of unfinished business. You had carried on, pretending that the encounter hadn’t left a mark, but you couldn’t shake the lingering memory of Tara slipping away without a word. Each time you tried to forget, the night resurfaced—like a song stuck on repeat. Every quiet moment felt like a reminder that you’d let something slip through your fingers, even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.

Tara, on the other hand, had moved on—at least, that’s what she told herself. She had rekindled her relationship with Wes, her first love, and now she was engaged to him once again. There was comfort in the familiar, in the steady future she thought they were meant to have. Yet, sometimes, late at night, when she was alone, Tara’s mind wandered back to that night with you. She hated herself for it. She’d tell herself it had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, but that didn’t stop the quiet tug in her chest—a reminder of vulnerability, of something she couldn’t fully ignore. And so, she buried it deeper, clinging to Wes and the life they were building.

Still, neither of you had expected to meet again—until tonight.

The bar was alive with energy, the thrum of chatter and laughter filling the space. Mindy and Anika had orchestrated the night, inviting everyone out for a casual reunion. You and Chad arrived a little late, fresh from a lively Korean dinner, your usual laid-back attitude masking the subtle undercurrent of tension that had become all too familiar since that night. As you made your way through the bar, exchanging handshakes and hugs, your attention briefly flitted to the crowd. Anika grinned, subtly pointing out a group of attractive girls seated near the bar.

You raised an eyebrow and nudged Chad. “Looks like there’s potential,” you joked, but the moment was fleeting.

Across the room, Tara had just stepped through the door, her heart skipping a beat when she spotted her best friend waving her over. She smiled, though it faltered when her eyes scanned the faces in the crowd. Something about tonight felt off—familiar in a way she couldn’t quite place.

Mindy greeted her enthusiastically. “Tara! Get over here!” she called. Tara made her way over, her steps slowing slightly as her gaze settled on Chad… and then it clicked. You were there. Her pulse quickened.

Chad wrapped her in a hug before Mindy nudged him aside, beaming as she gestured between you and Tara. “Y/N, come say hi!” she called, oblivious to the growing tension. “Tara, meet one of my dearest childhood friends,” Anika added with a smile, making it clear that you and she shared a long history.

The second your eyes met Tara’s, the world seemed to stop. For a fleeting moment, neither of you moved, both taken aback by the unexpected confrontation. Tara’s chest tightened. How had you ended up here? She didn’t need this. Not tonight.

Your face hardened, instinctively putting up a wall. “Hey,” you said, your voice flat.

She crossed her arms, her tone equally sharp. “Yeah.”

Mindy’s brows shot up. “Wait, do you two… know each other?”

You answered too quickly. “We’ve met.”

“Barely.” Tara’s reply came just as fast. Her eyes narrowed, the distance between you two palpable.

Anika blinked in surprise. “That’s so random.”

Tara, visibly uncomfortable, nodded toward the bar. “I’m going to get a drink,” she muttered, ready to escape.

You couldn’t resist the smirk forming on your lips. “If you’re looking to sneak out, the exit’s that way. I know that’s kinda your thing.”

The law student spun back to face you, her smile cold. “Well, I am a disaster, right?” Her words were laced with venom, a bitter jab that struck deeper than either of you cared to admit.

The group fell into an uneasy silence, but it didn’t last long. Chad, Anika, and Mindy exchanged wary glances before Mindy spoke up, attempting to diffuse the situation. “Okay! Let’s… let’s move on from this.”

Anika quickly chimed in, “Yeah, let’s head back to the table,” motioning for Chad to follow, though their eyes never left the tension between you and Tara.

You faced each other, the weight of everything left unsaid hanging in the air. The banter between you both was sharp, but beneath it, something more vulnerable flickered. There had once been something here, something deeper than either of you wanted to admit, and even now, in the harshness of your words, that connection lingered—bitter but undeniable.

You leaned in, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So, you a lawyer yet?”

Tara’s arms crossed defensively, her eyes narrowing, trying to shield herself from whatever it was you made her feel. “Why? Do you need a defense attorney?”

“I’m just curious how you passed that class on ethics,” you shot back, your tone cutting but with a hint of something softer beneath the surface. “You know, with all the bailing you do on people.”

Her jaw tightened, but something in her eyes flickered—something that said she understood exactly what you meant. It stung, more than either of you would let on.

Meanwhile, at the table, Chad plopped down, looking confused as ever. Mindy snorted, leaning back in her seat, her eyes darting between you and Tara. “I think that’s the alleged jerk who T got with when she was on her break from Wes.”

Anika’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked together. “No way. So T’s the party girl who ghosted them?”

Chad, still lost in thought, nodded slowly. “I thought she looked familiar when I saw her that day… but, you know, I don’t really see faces. I just see souls.”

Anika chuckled softly, shaking her head. “At least they made her realize Wes was the one, right?”

Back at the war field where you and Tara stood, the tension reached a boiling point. Tara’s jaw clenched as she held her left hand up, displaying the ring—a symbol of the life she was trying so hard to convince herself she wanted. “I’m engaged now,” she said sharply, the words coming out more like a challenge than a statement.

Your expression barely flickered, but deep down, something twisted inside—a pang of something you refused to name. “Good for you,” you replied, forcing a dry smile. “Where are you registered? I’ll buy you a broomstick.”

She scoffed, but her smile was tight, forced. “I’ll send you an invite. You still live at 28 Fuckboy Lane?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head. “You do remember. See, it did mean something to you.”

For a moment, something dark and raw flickered in Tara’s eyes, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper filled with venom and regret. “You’ll always be my rock bottom. The night I spent with a bitch.”

Across the bar, Chad squinted, trying to make sense of the distant conversation. “Did she just call Y/N a bitch?”

Anika leaned closer to Mindy, whispering, “Do you think they’re going to physically fight?”

Mindy smirked, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Or fuck. That’s a fine line.”

Back at the standoff, Tara’s words softened, though the bitterness still lingered. “Let’s just get through tonight for them, okay?”

You gave her a slow nod, your face unreadable but your heart tight. “Fine. I’m getting a drink, and I’ll toast to never seeing you again.” Your words were sharp, but the way you leaned closer, the tension buzzing between you, said otherwise.

Tara met your eyes, her lips curling into a slight, almost playful smile. “Cheers to that, bro.”

You were nearly nose-to-nose, the heat of your proximity almost suffocating when Mindy, Anika, and Chad appeared at your sides, gently pulling you both out of the intensity of the moment.

Mindy spoke first, her voice cutting through the tension with excitement. “Hey, guys, listen up. We actually have some big news.”

Anika’s eyes sparkled as she squeezed Mindy’s hand. “Hey, so the reason we brought you all together—we’re getting married. In Australia. And you’re all coming with us!” The couple squealed frantically.

Both you and Tara blinked in shock, the animosity between you momentarily forgotten, replaced by a different kind of weight. Australia. A wedding. A trip where you would all be together—where you would have to see each other, to deal with everything that still lay between you. There was no running from it now. You were bound by your friends, by the promises of a wedding that would force you both to face what had been left unresolved.

The room seemed to close in, and though the words hung unsaid, you both knew that this was only the beginning of a confrontation you couldn’t escape. For better or worse, you were going to have to deal with each other—whether you liked it or not.

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #scream v #scream 5 #liwriting

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mv1simp · 5 months ago

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Just Hold On, We’re Going Home ♥️

Max Verstappen x Fiancé! Reader

I got my eye on you, you’re everything that I see (I want your hot love and emotion, endlessly)

After a particularly bad argument with his father, Max is mentally checked out and needs to be pulled out of the dark place his mind has gone too. As his fiancé, you know just what to say to make him feel your love and bring him safely home.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, orgasm denial, I know I said I would never write subby max and that was apparently a LIE, but he’s more of a soft pure loverboy who needs you ok, you both have daddy issues, mild angst and childhood trauma, 3.1k WC

You can tell your fiancé’s mind is somewhere else right now, instead of at the intimate dinner you’re sharing at a cosy restaurant. You know this because you know Max well, having been friends before you two started dating, meeting as mutuals within the same extended group, and then online where you would both take a break from your demanding careers to enjoy a friendly grand theft auto competition.

Your friendship had gotten closer when you’d proved to be someone he could trust and always rely on. Especially when it came to talking about his father - a very multi layered relationship given that Max owed a large part of his F1 success to Jos’s discipline and the fact that, well, said discipline had involved emotional abuse on a good day and physical abuse on a bad one. It was a complex dynamic to unpack, and one that he didn’t really do with anyone - because he couldn’t trust anyone outside his family to not leak it to the media somehow. And within his family, the only one who came close to understanding was his little sister Victoria - who wanted to talk about it just as little as Max did.

However, you knew a thing or two about complex relationships with parents, growing up in a household with a luxury property developer tyrant of a father, and a homemaker mother who would never dare come between her husband and his demands for absolute perfection from his children, especially from you - the eldest. Similarly to Max, you owed a large part of your highly successful investment company and Oxford financial degree to your father’s attitude, which had been so sweet on days you performed, and then like a dark thunderstorm on the days you didn’t.

So you’d been the only one to see the look in Max’s eye one night when he’d had one too many to drink at a house party, and had wandered out into the garden by himself. You’d spotted him leaving, already having a growing soft spot for your friend at that stage, and had followed him out. It had taken you a while to find him amongst the dark sprawling bushes, but when you did, you promptly sat down next to the much taller Dutchman and didn’t ask him anything. Instead, you told him about the time you’d scored 99.9 on a notoriously difficult advanced calculus exam, and you’d proudly told your father about the result of your months of study, top in your class - and he’d responded by coldly demanding why you didn’t get the 100. What’d you say to him? Max slurred, morbidly intrigued by the story.

Nothing, I was way too upset I'd disappointed him. But I did go fight the Mathematics head professor about giving me the extra 0.1. You shrugged, telling him you probably should’ve just gone to frickin family therapy instead and saved yourself arguing for 45 minutes only to find out 99.9 was the highest possible mark anyways.

Max looked at you, blue eyes intense in the moonlight. You in turn looked back at him with nervous doe eyes, and when he didn’t say anything, anxiously started apologising. Perhaps you’d read his emotions wrong, you didn’t mean to overstep and relate to his own relationship with his father-

Max cuts you off to explain what had been on his mind. I’m sorry, you - you argued for 45 minutes with the department head for an extra 0.1? On top of 99.9? This time, when your gazes meet, you both burst into drunk giggles at the sheer absurdity of a five foot nothing, 15 year old schoolgirl going toe to toe with a grumpy old professor for such a thing.

He’d started opening up to you after that, bit by bit peeling back the onion layers, because you always met his confessions with no judgement because this was his narrative, and helped him reflect on his emotions and understand why, 20 years on, he still couldn't accept a compliment but easily responded to insults. And when you two finally became a couple after a very convoluted weekend in Ibiza - involving multiple schemes from both parties, various slutty outfit choices from Max that showed off his abs, and your use of one (1) Charles Leclerc to make his Dutch childhood karting rival jealous (a story for another time) - you’d heard the full tale of what Max’s upbringing had been like.

And now, 5 years on from the infamous Ibiza weekend, and sitting across from him at dinner as his fiancée, you know instantly from the look in his eyes what's troubling him. You touch his large hand gently to draw him back in, and with a startle he comes back to you, apologising. It’s been a shit last few races, yeah? You start, going straight to the source of his worries. And now a big one this weekend, Zandvoort, your home race.

Max sighs, nodding, grateful for your ability to pick up on what's on his mind without him needing to say it. On your drive home he rants passionately about all the bullshit decisions his team has been making and the problems with the car he's asked to get fix for months. You soothe him reassuringly, rubbing his hand where it rests firmly on your thigh as his other drives, chiming in to agree with his critiques and make him laugh with jokes to diffuse his tension.

And that night he shows you just how thankful he is for all your understanding, picking you up in a display of strength that always has you needy and dripping for him. He smirks as you beg him to take you to bed and fuck me, please Maxie, after he has you breathlessly stretched out on his large, thick fingers. Like the good fiance he is he gives you what you want, all his stress melting away with each strong thrust into your small frame underneath him, your tiny hands clinging desperately to his broad shoulders.

You're furious the next morning when you wake up to multiple calls that there'd been a massive PR scandal within one of your principal investing companies, sending your high profile clients into panic - including your father, who demanded you fly out to London right now to sort this out. You'd been ready to send your executive manager out instead, not wanting to miss this important race for Max - but he'd chuckled and reassured you he was sure he could handle it - having done some odd 200 races or another. So after giving him a guilty kiss, you two fly off in opposite directions. You'd meant to have arrived to the paddock by Saturday noon at the latest, in time for qualifying at least, but London takes longer than expected. You don't come until halfway through the race on Sunday, and see him take P2 after multiple mistakes on the track - both from him and his team. Despite the objectively good result, you know Max would not be pleased. Seeing the stormy expression on his face on the podium after he'd tersely greeted you post-race, you give him his space to cool off, knowing it's not personal. Instead you catch up with the other WAGs and laugh at Charles who still faintly blushes at the sight of you, thinking about Ibiza. But later, when you head to the Redbull garage, you hear raised voices arguing in Dutch - before Jos emerges from Max's room and storms away. You pause before deciding to go in, gently asking how he's doing.

Max, as you expected, scoffs and sarcastically asks how do you think he's doing. You continue reassuring him, being used to seeing him like this after a bad race, and place a soft hand on his shoulder to soothe him - only for him to rip it off you almost violently, making you flinch in surprise. He yells at you to stop pretending like you understood a damn thing, as if you'd have any idea what kind of high pressure he has to deal with compared to your comfortable office job.

You manage to hold it together as you tell him you're going to leave, you'll be flying back to Monaco and will talk to him there once he's calmed down. He rolls his eyes, telling you to get out, then and you make sure you're well away from the paddock and in the privacy of a car before you left yourself cry. Max had definitely been angry around you before, even enraged - but you'd never felt the full brunt of it come out and attack you so directly. Taking a deep breath, you focus on calming yourself down, as the argument brings up your anxieties from your own father - who had no problem raising his voice when he was angry. By the time you land in Monaco, you're ready to head back to the office, where you end up accidentally sleeping on your couch after tidying up the rest of your PR scandal.

The next day as you're coming home from work, unlocking the door to your shared apartment with Max, you stumble forward when the door is yanked open. On the other side is your rather panicked looking fiancee, who says that he'd thought that you- he swallows, looking like he was about to be sick -that you'd left. Forever. Perplexed, you tell him that you’d never do that, not without talking to him, and he launches into a frantic apology, saying that he regretted his words so much, that you didn't deserve to have him take his anger out onto you. Grateful for the sincere apology, you let him know with a genuine smile, saying that you're completely okay now, you had understood he’d been frustrated in the heat of the moment.

But Max's worried looks at you don't stop as you wander off to take a shower and then continue over your favourite dinner that he'd cooked, uncomfortable with the compliments you gave him about it - as per usual, still struggling to accept a kind word about anything he did. When you feel his upset gaze on you again when you're cuddled against his shirtless chest, watching a movie, you decide enough is enough and pressed pause to gently ask him what was on his mind.

That I just let all my anger out onto you like that without any hesitation. And the things I said about your job not being important - God, it’s something my dad would have said. His guilt at having hurt you with his cruel words make his blue eyes bright with the threat of tears. He says he couldn't just accept that you'd let it go because you thought it was fine, because it wasn't, not really, don't ever let me speak to you like that again, schat.

Bringing yourself up to straddle your fiance's wide lap, you settle in comfortably and closely examine the helpless look in his pretty eyes. It's rare for Max to get so worked about something like this, being the rather laid back guy he is off the track. But when he does get like this, all pent up from stress, his father’s expectations heavy on one shoulder and the fear of turning out like him on the other, there’s very few ways to pull him out of his head. Gun to your head, you’ll admit, you had your own personal favourite method for helping Max unwind. Because on nights like these, it's the the only time he'll hand the control over to you in the bedroom and the only place where he'll accept your compliments. With a teasing smile, you pepper him with gentle kisses, erasing away every tense line on his face.

Sure, Max you whisper breathily into his ear, biting the edge of it, I guess I did forgive you too easily. Maybe I should make you work for it, hmm? A delicious pink flush spreads across Max's cheeks, making you grin wickedly and press deep kisses into his soft mouth. He breathlessly whines when you pull away to tease your hand down his muscles chest, stopping just above his low waisted sweats. You can already feel how hard he is underneath you with the impressive semi he’s sporting. Choosing to ignore it, you climb off him and pull him along with you too. He follows you like a lost dog to where you walk over to the kitchen, dropping your hoodie as you went, to reveal a cute La Perla pink set underneath that he'd given you for an anniversary.

When you stop to lean against the counter, eyeing him coyly, he tilts his head down curiously - only to have you tangle your small hands through his messy, long locks and guide him all the way down, until he's on his knees below you. He looks positively delicious, all soft and flushed, as you coo that he needs to prove just how sorry he is, by putting that mean mouth of his to work and eating you out, yeah?

He nods eagerly, burying his large nose right into your core and breathing in, licking furiously through your thin panties and when he tries to yank the lacy garment out of the way, you swat his hand back, telling him no, not yet, he didn’t deserve it.

He whines openly then, teary and breathless against you as he kisses along your thighs, the swell of your ass, and then to your delicate ankle as you teasingly stop him coming any closer with a foot to his toned chest, your gold anklet dangling. Running a hand through his hair again, you tug on it firmly so you can smirk down at him when he begs you please, schat, I promise I’ll be s'good for you-

Your resolve is crumbling at seeing your normally in control fiancé reduced to putty in your small hands. Trying to maintain your willpower, you teasingly pull your pink bralette off first, enjoying the way Max's breath hitches, eyes wide with pure need, as he follows your hands ever so slowly slide your panties down your legs. But he still doesn't move, fists clenched into his thighs, desperate blue eyes looking up at you, waiting for your approval to touch you. You throw him a bone and slide one soft thigh over his broad shoulder, your other leg still leaning against the counter, giving him irresistible access to your dripping pussy. Go on then, baby, you tease, here's your reward.

He buries his tongue into you in half a millisecond, eating you out like he's kneeling at your altar and worshipping your thighs. His large hands squeeze your curvy ass, pulling you even closer onto his tongue as he hungrily eats you out like a starved man. You're moaning sweetly, telling him he's doing so good for you, it feels amazing, that you wonder how the world would react if they knew their favourite F1 champion was as good at eating pussy as he was at driving racecars.

Your praise has him keening, now desperately kissing and sucking your core, and somehow both your thighs have ended up draped across his strong shoulders, his large palms still squeezing your ass. This angle lets him slide in deeper than you’ve ever felt his mouth reach, face completely buried between your thick thighs, and with a few more talented flicks you’re lean back against the counter and squirting right onto his waiting tongue.

Dazed from the intensity of your orgasm, it takes you a few minutes to come down from your high, and Max slowly licks your clit in the meantime, toeing the line to overstimulation. Standing back up shakily from potentially the most mind blowing oral you've ever had in your life, you tilt his chin up to look at you with a gentle hand, giving him a kiss because he was such a good boy, all for me, yeah baby?

He nods furiously, almost looking like a cute Labrador with his blonde hair and blue eyes and you giggle at the mental image, telling him he’s earned his next treat. Max practically stumbles after you as you gently tug him up by his jaw and back over to the comfortable sofa, where he sits down after you playfully shove his chest. His muscular thighs spread wide to make a perfect throne for you to climb onto. He's still in his boxers, his bulge straining against the damp material, and you tease him with a smug smirk, asking if he'd already cum in his pants just from eating you out, like a dirty little perv?

He desperately moans out his No, no, promise I didn’t, held it all back to fill inside you, please- He becomes breathless from your mean hands that tease his cock further through his boxers. When he tried to redirect you, guiding your hand under his boxers to where he really needs it, you shove him away and tell him to keep his hands to himself. You demand to know why he thinks he deserves to put his gross, sticky cum anywhere near your sweet, precious hole, is he at least going to use some manners and ask politely?

Max pants, face flushed and blonde strands attractively stuck to his forehead as he feverishly begs you, please, schat, he needed to be inside of you so bad, he couldn't take it, hadn't he been so good for you already? You can tell your fiance is close to his tipping point, and you almost send him over the edge with a smooth motion as you slip his fully erect, huge cock out of his boxers and start lazily jerking him off. Sliding your fingers into his mouth for him to lick, you smirk as he does exactly that. Using his spit on your hands to give him a couple good pumps - making his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back his orgasm - you guide his throbbing length to your dripping pussy, which is so ready for a second round.

Max screws his eyes shut, head thrown back, as you wickedly torment him some more, dragging his tip teasingly along your puffy lips, drenching him with your slick. His hands dig into the sofa, desperately trying to resist the urge to touch you like you'd ordered him to earlier. And when you finally sink down on him, all the way to his base, he's moaning and begging again, tears in the corner of his eyes as you slowly ride him - edging his poor cock with the relief of your tight, warm cunny but not giving it quite enough pressure. And when your thighs are starting to get tired from the effort, and Max has ripped holes on your sofa while gripping the fabric, you know it's time to let him take control again.

Guiding his hands gently to your waist, you lean forward into his firm chest to whisper Maxie, baby, it's too much for you, can he please help you out and make you cum again-

His eyes snap open, wide blue eyes coming to stare into your pleading doe ones as you hand the power over to him, all dished up on a silver platter with a pretty please. He brings his forehead forward to lean against yours, your ragged breaths meeting as you feel shivers run up your spine in anticipation of what’s coming. Then, with an all too familiar smirk returning to his face, he tightens his hands into a bruising grip on your waist and easily begins bouncing you up and down on his fat cock. His wide thighs, which had been straining in an effort to hold back, now flex as he thrusts deeply into you from below, making you wail at the furious change in pace and you're screaming his name, proving once again just how good he makes you feel. You two barely last another few seconds before you're cumming, your name on his lips as he pumps an obscenely thick creampie into you.

You stay like that for a while, sweaty and tangled in each others arms, exchanging gentle kisses and loving affirmations with him still deep inside you, until sleep starts to take over. Later, after you'd showered because wow, that had been a particularly filthy session, you find yourself stroking his damp hair as he lies against your chest, the rest of his body on the bed to keep the weight off you. Thank you, liefje, he murmurs sleepily against you. At your inquisitive hmm? he presses a loving kiss to your skin, telling you his thanks was for always knowing how to calm me down. For always bringing me back home. I love you.

You smile in the dark, warmth blooming across your chest as you press a kiss to his head. Always, Max, just like you do for me. I love you too.

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A/N: SOO i never thought i'd write this but after zandervoot im manifesting the return of max supremacy with this. had to rewrite a bunch of times cause genuinly couldn’t picture max as sub instead of dom so lmk what u guys think!! Also… should i do a part 2 where its the reader with daddy issues instead hehehe 😼😼😮‍💨

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x oc #18+ mdni #formula 1 #f1 x reader

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goldenroutledge · 7 days ago

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we were liars

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 8.4k

summary: inspired by taylor swift’s cruel summer.

warning(s): angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, baku ‘24 crash, mutual pining, two stubborn idiots in love basically.

a/n: this has been a long time coming! longest thing i’ve written in years and i loved every minute of it! enjoy <3

They say there’s no place like home. Whether that’s a person or a feeling, it’s hard to tell. Every summer allows you to figure that out, but at what point do you lose hope in trying? At what point do you resign to the feeling of wanting someone so badly, knowing they’re impossible to have? At what point do you stop torturing yourself into facing that fact?

Seeing as it was impossible to decline Carlos’ invitation to join his summer vacation, finding answers would be a hopeless pursuit. Not that you were paying close attention or anything, but plans were always tentative around this time of year. Knowing that whenever he calls, you’ll answer. It’s always around mid-late July, many nights during the race weekends that have you awake in the middle of the night, on the receiving end of his late night thoughts. It’s by that point in the season that Carlos begins to feel restless, carrying more doubts in his ability than he’d care to admit.

But he’s only human. He needs a break. He needs to retreat back to the solace that calms the soul, an unfamiliar peace that he doesn’t stop craving until he sees you again. For most months out of the year, Carlos settles on the sight of you running through his imagination until he musters the courage to give you a call. He settles once again when he wishes you sweet dreams to mask the three words and eight letters that rest on the tip of his tongue. Just friends or not, Carlos settles for having you in his life any way he can. You’ve already attended the many races he’s asked you to come to, sometimes with less than a day’s notice. Summer break is the reunion you both can count on, always overdue no matter how much time you’d spent apart.

The journey to the house has your mind buzzing with possibilities, or theories, as to how your dynamic with Carlos will be. Will you pick up like you never left off? Will you keep pretending that nothing’s changed between you two? For now, you’d have to put that on hold. Given that Lando had been accepted as an honorary member of the Sainz family, it was no surprise to see him, tan as ever, answering the door at Carlos' vacation home. “Y/n! Long time no see!” He greets you with a bright smile and a hug, offering to help you with some of your bags.

“No kidding, it’s nice to see you too!” You smile warmly, eyes instinctively drifting past him in search of his best friend and former teammate. “How’s your break so far?”

“Much needed.” He sighs, gathering your bags in an attempt to take them all in one trip. Lando starts rambling about his triumphs and defeats so far this season at McLaren, feeling comfortable enough to divulge his true thoughts in your company, sans the media training.

Any remarks you had in response suddenly leave you, heart melting under the gaze of those gorgeous brown eyes you know so well. Carlos’ lips turn up into a smile at the sight of you, eagerly opening his arms to meet you in a crushing embrace. “Look who made it to Mallorca!”

Your smile spreads so wide that your cheeks begin to hurt, not that you care. “I wouldn’t miss it. You know I’m not one to pass on a free vacation.”

“Ah, come on.” He grumbles at your teasing words. “Tell me you didn’t miss me, too.” You both relax in each other’s arms, never pulling too far away. To see him like this, up close and personal, feels like a dream. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while and you admire how handsome the length looks on him.

“Maybe a little bit. But it’s not like we haven’t been on the phone nonstop. We always keep in touch.”

“That’s true, but those phone calls don’t beat the real thing. They’re not even close.” Carlos runs a finger underneath your chin, so quickly that if he didn’t have your full attention, you would’ve missed it. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Who would’ve thought you would be so happy to see little old me when you’re rubbing elbows with the rich and famous every weekend. You have it all.”

He smiles, but shakes his head in playful disagreement. “Not everything.”

“Ahem.” Lando clears his throat, still visibly struggling with your luggage at the front door. “Hate to burst your little love bubble but would anyone care to help me carry this?”

His interruption startles you and Carlos, causing you both to retract from the other’s hold and stand at a very platonic and appropriate distance away from each other. Not that you were just caught in anything unusual, but it sure felt like your parents just saw your prom date kissing you goodnight on the front porch.

“Jesus Y/n, is your suitcase full of bricks or something?”

“Just bikinis.” You laugh, not missing the way Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at you before going to help poor Lando carry your bags upstairs. “Gotta get my money’s worth out of them. Not all of us get paid millions to drive in circles, you know.”

Lando scoffs. “We’re only here for a week. How many of them could you possibly need?”

“She needs options, cabrón.”

“See, Carlos gets it. What’s wrong with you?”

“Sure. Defend her.” Lando snides at the Spaniard. “I’ll remember that.”

—

The summer holiday not only gave you an opportunity to restore your serotonin levels and forget that the outside world existed, but it was also a chance to reconnect with the people you hold dear. (Sometimes) Lando, Carlos, and of course his sister Ana. Being close with Carlos’ family was a packaged deal with anyone he was also close to himself. The four of you together made for unforgettable memories. The day had been spent on the water, with Carlos showing off his ability to pilot something other than a Formula 1 car.

“Enough of the boring conversation please!” Ana interjects Lando & Carlos’ chatter about their latest golf game, wanting to revert the conversation back to something interesting at dinner. “I have a burning question I need to ask Y/n. And I know that somebody here would love to know the answer. So, who are you dating?”

Her question changes the mood suddenly, a mix of interest and curiosity filling the atmosphere. It takes you by surprise even though you don’t have to pause to think about it because the answer is simple. It’s not complicated, even if your feelings for the man sitting across from you are anything but.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

This draws a dramatic gasp from your friend beside you, one that conceals a subconscious sigh of relief from Carlos.

“What do you mean? How is that even possible?”

You chuckle at Ana’s amazement, feeling unexpectedly shy with your love life being the topic of conversation. “It just is. I’m not really interested in dating anybody right now.” As if Carlos wasn’t listening closely before, he sure is now. The inquisitive looks you receive from each of your friends prompts you to explain yourself further. “I mean what’s the point, you know? If I don’t see a future with someone, why would I put myself through that? Knowing it’s gonna end in disappointment.”

“I’m just saying, you’re way too hot to be single. Isn’t that right, Carlos?” Ana defends, smirking at the harmless embarrassment she’s pushing on her brother. He shoots her a sharp look and draws a pained gasp from her when he (harmlessly) kicks her shin under the table. Carlos clears his throat to hide it, but their interaction is evident, and ever true to their sibling dynamic.

“She’s right. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

The tips of your ears burn at his compliment, but you know he’s only saving himself. He’s the gentleman everyone knows him to be and adores him for by giving you a line that’s been written into romantic comedies since they came to be. “Thanks, Carlos.”

His heart clenches at your words, unable to tell if you really believe it or not. He knows that his statement was vague and it toes the line of friendship more than he would like, but he’s also at a loss. How could he even begin to describe the ways he loves you, or notices everything about you, big and small? How he lied when he said anyone would be lucky to have you, knowing that most people wouldn’t even come close to deserving the love you have to offer. He knows that he’s not supposed to feel this way, let alone tell you and destroy the friendship you have. Locking eyes with you across the table, he wishes you could read his mind. Instead, he settles for a polite smile.

—

Once the boat is docked, it doesn’t feel right to abandon the sunset and head back to the house. The air on the beach is crisp, smelling of the clear waters and reflecting the pink and golden hues of the setting sun. Lando and Carlos are the last to leave the boat, carrying a beer cooler to where you and Ana sit down in the sand.

Carlos hands you a drink before taking a comfortable seat next to you. The silence is tranquil as you rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the gifts that Mother Nature has to offer. A warm feeling envelopes Carlos as he peers down at you, one that he can’t pass off as just the alcohol starting to move through his system. He wants to commit this moment to memory. If he’s settling for this, then he isn’t settling at all.

“We should play Truth or Dare.” Lando suggests, growing bored of the silence, though it was nice while it lasted. His expression turns puzzled at the looks he receives from the rest of you. “What? It’s fun.”

“If you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, you would’ve made one hell of a frat boy.” You tease, Ana and Carlos agreeing with you.

Lando sighs. “I know. What a waste right?”

“But then we would’ve never become teammates.”

“You’re right.” Lando chuckles, toasting his drink with Carlos’ at the realization.

“I’ll go first.” Ana speaks up, interrupting the boys before they could get too deep into their side chatter. Judging by the closeness she’s seen from you and her brother, what’s the harm in trying to help things along? “Carlos, truth or dare?”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink before throwing his head back dramatically. By his sister’s not so subtle hints throughout the night, and really every time you are in each other’s presence, he can feel where this is going. Yet a part of him isn’t mad at it.

“Truth.”

“Boooor-ing.” Lando sneers and you can’t help but giggle. Ana gives him a look as if to say, not so fast.

“Are you in love?”

Lando regrets ever saying anything in protest, as he nearly chokes on his beer once Ana finishes her sentence. Given what he knows, it’s impossible for him to not die of laughter at the scenario. Watching Carlos fight for his life on this question tops any interview moment they’ve had inside a Formula 1 paddock. Carlos pauses, which luckily for him can be passed off as pure concern for his best friend that’s currently gasping for air.

Your chest feels tight at the question, not expecting Ana to go there. You know Carlos’ life being on the road as a very rich and attractive athlete probably isn’t one of abstinence, but you can’t deny that it doesn’t crush you to imagine someone else having the key to his heart. You take a few gulps from your drink and it makes you worry that if this keeps up all night, there won’t be any alcohol left for you to drown your feelings in. They’ll just stay trapped inside of you with nowhere to go.

“Yes. I’m in love… with life.” Carlos professes, looking around with gratitude, raising his arms up as if to give thanks to the beautiful scenery around you.

Ana scoffs. “That’s not my question! I asked are you in love. As in, with someone. Perhaps even someone next to you.” She speaks the last part quickly, feigning innocence as she looks between you.

“Please, Carlos and I are just friends.” You brush off her words, knowing how she can be sometimes when she believes in something. Relentless; just like Carlos is. A trait you can’t help but admire in them both. Lando laughs in disbelief, making kissing sounds to contradict you. Carlos’ smile falters, eyebrows scrunching together ever so slightly. It’s impossible to tell if he’s hurt at your dismissal of only seeing him as a friend, or just annoyed at the antics that are a nuisance to what was supposed to be a peaceful evening.

“We talk all the time, Anita. I think you already know the answer.”

Ana shrugs. “It’s the rules, Carlos. You picked truth, so you have to answer.”

“Yeah! Spill the beans, Carlos.” Lando encourages. “And don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

“Easy, cabrón.” He warns, glancing between his best friend and his impatient sister as they wait for him to answer. Finally, his gaze lands on you, quietly sitting beside him through all of their quips. He’d be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt to know you don’t hold him in a higher regard than friendship entails. Yet the weight pulling at his heartstrings isn’t one he feels the need to bear anymore. You may never know the full truth, but that’s just another thing Carlos feels the need to let go of. “The answer is yes. I am in love.”

While the summer weather is nothing but serene, the storm inside of you is the complete opposite. You feel like throwing up. Leave it to Lando to suggest a fun, light-hearted game to stir things up. You paste on a smile, trying with everything you have to hold Carlos’ gaze and make your ‘just friends’ statement feel like reality. The emotion glossing over your eyes betrays you. “That’s great, Carlos. I’m happy for you.”

He can’t shake the unsettling feeling that’s consuming him. Whether it’s the guilt of omitting a very important detail to that answer or the fact that you don’t seem disturbed at the thought of him with someone else. Ana and Lando share an incredulous look, unable to understand how two people can be so oblivious to one another while also being unable to look away from them. “So that’s it?” Lando mumbles, but his quiet tone isn’t much competition for the silence that’s fallen over the group.

Carlos pretends that he can’t feel the disappointment in the air, turning his attention to his friend and choosing to carry on with the game. “Lando, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Lando says cooly like it’s obvious.

“Okay.” Carlos ponders, thinking carefully as to how he’s gonna get his payback. The awkward tension between you could’ve been avoided entirely had Lando not mentioned this stupid game at all. “I dare you to… jump into the water with all your clothes on.”

“So the opposite of skinny dipping? But we have no towels!”

“Exactly.” Carlos raises his eyebrows pointedly. He can’t think of a better punishment than to make Lando sit here shivering until he can find comfort under a scalding hot shower. “Unless you are too scared…”

“Never too scared.” Lando argues, already making a mold in the sand for his drink to sit while he’s gone. “I’ll do it, on one condition. Y/n comes with me.”

“No.” Carlos answers for you, almost immediately. “That’s not in the rules, remember?”

“Come on, live a little.” Lando looks between the two of you, hoping he can make a convincing argument. If he doesn’t liven up the mood now, he’ll consider this game a wash. “How about this, if you join me, you don’t have to answer any questions or do any dares. You’ll have immunity.”

You raise your eyebrows at his idea, intrigued. You’d do almost anything to distract yourself from what just happened with Carlos. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t.”

“You can.” Carlos objects, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. “And you will. Come on Y/n, you could get sick. It’s getting chilly out.”

Lando scoffs at his hypocrisy. “Oh, so now you’re concerned? Because who cares if I get sick, right?”

You look between the two men, and then to Ana, who shrugs undecidedly as if to say it’s up to you. Carlos’ eyes are pleading, hoping to get through to you before you do something you might regret. Then again, these are the same eyes that looked into yours minutes ago and told you he’s in love with someone else. You don’t need to listen to his concerns, you don’t owe that to him. Drinking what’s left in your bottle, you accept Lando’s hand to help you up before making a run for it towards the water.

The two of you disappear under what’s now the nighttime sky, the moonlight shining bright enough to lead the way. It isn’t until you’re just about there, that one wrong step onto a bottle hiding in the sand halts your movements, causing a sharp cry to escape your throat as a sharper cut of glass slices into your foot. Lando barely makes it to the water when he realizes you’re no longer beside him, instantly turning around to see that you’re bleeding. “Oh fuck, are you alright?” He places a hand on your shoulder, trying to examine the injury but comfort you the best way he can.

A string of curses fall from your lips, language more characteristic of a sailor than your normal self. “What does it look like? Holy shit, it hurts!”

“Carlos!” Lando calls out, unable to peel his eyes away from your foot.

Both Carlos and Ana were already watching the scene unfold, and Carlos wasted no time in rushing to your side within seconds, Ana following closely behind from down the beach. “Y/n? What happened?”

“I stepped on this– fuck– that bottle.” You nod over to the bottle, a couple feet away from you. Carlos’ heartbeat quickens at the sight of you, clearly distressed and in pain, but knows he can’t afford a freezing moment of panic. He removes the thin linen shirt he’s wearing to wrap around your foot and compress it, in hopes the bleeding will stop.

Lando takes a step back when you remove your hands from where they clutched your injury, trying to catch his breath as he feels lightheaded at the sight, glass piercing your skin deeply. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Carlos and Ana pay him no mind, as Ana rests a hand on your knee soothingly while Carlos goes to wrap up your foot with his shirt. But you are just as quick to stop him. “It hurts, Carlos.”

“I know, I know, but we have to stop the bleeding. This cut is deep.”

“Removing the glass will only make it worse.” Ana falters, knowingly it’s not what you want to hear. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You’re probably right, I think I need stitches.”

“We will get you there.” Carlos assures. “Just breathe with me, can you do that?”

You nod, fighting the pull of unconsciousness as your eyelids flutter shut. Clearly Lando has to do the same, feeling dizzy at the sight. He wanders over to where the bottle lay broken in the sand, a wave of guilt washing over him when he realizes the label reads Estrella Galicia. Carlos’ favorite beer, the same one they happened to have an abundance of in the cooler today. A bottle they must’ve dropped by accident when making their way up the beach.

Ana tells you that she’s going up to the house to find Carlos’ keys to drive you all to the emergency room. Lando finishes picking up the pieces of the broken bottle, heading inside to dispose of them. It’s just you and Carlos now. Not that you bothered to care who you were alone with at this moment, but you feel safe.

You notice your heavy breathing has slowed down in tune with his as he gently secures the fabric around your foot. “You will be okay Y/n, I promise.” Considering how out of it you are, you nearly miss the feeling of his lips kissing your forehead chastely. Before you can wonder how the hell you would be walking up the beach, Carlos is effortlessly lifting you off the ground and carrying you in his arms. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

—

“Don’t do that.” Ana nudges her brother’s shoulder, trying to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Get in your head like you do. She’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right.” Lando chimes in. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s your fault.” Carlos snaps back at him.

“What did I do?”

“I told you not to take her with you. It wasn’t a good idea and clearly I was right.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “She wanted to. And if you wanna talk about fault, it was an Estrella Galicia she stepped on. That bottle fell out of our cooler.”

Carlos felt that tightening feeling in his chest again, a mix of guilt and shame brewing into something far more intoxicating than what he’s had to drink tonight. “I would never be so careless.”

“None of us would be. It was an accident, that’s the point. It’s not like she blames any of us for what happened.”

“She might.”

“Carlos, stop it.” Ana interjects, watching him with concern as he leans forward, hands clasped together while his mind is in deep thought. “She would probably slap both of you if she heard what you’re saying right now.” Ana proceeds to retrieve some money from the bag she hurriedly grabbed before leaving for the hospital, asking Carlos to get some chips from the vending machine. There wasn’t much she could do about the bickering between him and Lando except try to diffuse it by separating them. She knows how stubborn her brother can be and knows that his attitude won’t go anywhere until he sees you.

Carlos certainly doesn’t feel like himself, sluggishly moving down the hall, unable to break his train of thought. The fact that you got hurt on his watch, still unaware of how he feels about you has his heartstrings tangled in knots. The most unbelievable part being that despite the intensity of his Formula 1 career, he’s never felt as on edge as he does right now. It’s both exciting and scary that you’ve seemed to wedge yourself a little closer to his heart than the sport that’s defined his life.

When he sees you with Ana or Lando, he envies them. He envies the authenticity that defines your friendships with them, the feeling of being able to say what’s on your mind without a care, knowing they’ll never lose you. He wonders what that’s like, he craves to have that with you. He struggles to remember when his feelings began to get in the way of that. Now he has no choice but to face it, feeling further away from you than he ever has. The longer this goes on, that distance will only worsen until you don’t know each other at all. A part of him wants to do everything in his power to stop that; another part tells him that he’s powerless when it comes to you.

His head hangs low, finding it easy to get lost in the glow of the vending machine. Behind him in line, the sound of a kid deliberately tapping his foot snaps him out of his trance, prompting him to hurry up with the chips. Heading back towards the waiting room, he notices Ana and Lando speaking to a doctor. By the looks of it, they’re hanging on her every word, urging him to pick up his pace so he doesn’t miss any updates on you.

—

The hospital room is cold and uninviting. Quite the opposite of an ideal place to spend your summer vacation. You lay there alone for what feels like hours, wishing nothing more than to have Carlos at your bedside. You know he’s here, and so are your friends, but it’s not the same. The heart monitor beeps routinely every couple seconds, and your blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm every fifteen minutes, making it impossible to doze off even if you wanted to. The pain in your foot is better, though not gone completely, after having the glass removed by a doctor and your wound properly stitched up. Given how late it was, they’d keep you until the morning, needing to monitor the wound for a possible infection.

When you ask for your friends in the waiting room, your nurse looks like she’s seen a ghost at the mention of Carlos Sainz. Once you had reassured her that you had no head injury whatsoever, she reluctantly left to go find your description of him. ‘Tall, dark and handsome. You’ll see him.’

And so taking a deep breath, Carlos is standing in front of your room, tapping his knuckles gently to the wooden door. “Knock, knock.”

You smile instinctively at the sound of his voice, eager to see someone familiar in what has been a lonely couple of hours. “Come in.”

He opens the door immediately before laying eyes on you sitting up in the hospital bed, hurt and exhausted from the day’s events. He swallows down the guilt that creeps up his throat, hoping that it doesn’t show. He doesn’t deserve to throw a pity party right now when you're the one that’s in pain. His words don’t get that memo as he laments. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, feeling helpless. “Maybe if I went too, it would’ve been me instead.”

You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, patting the foot of your bed so he will sit down. “I won’t let you think about the what if’s, Carlos, you need your feet to drive remember? Though knowing your resilience, you’d probably come back and win, glass in your foot be damned. They don’t call you the Smooth Operator for nothing.”

His heart warms at how you know just what to say to lift his spirits. “I could win only if you’re there to cheer me on.”

“Just say the word and I will be. I wouldn’t fly around the world on a moment’s notice for just anyone, you know.”

“I don’t want ‘just anyone’. Just you.” Your smile beams, and all of a sudden you feel the need to be close to him, holding a hand out to him that he instantly takes in his own. “Can I say something? And can you promise you won’t get mad at me for it?”

“Tonight can’t get much worse, can it?”

He faintly smiles at your quip, but it also worries him that your relationship may always be limited to just that, laughter and clever jokes. He needs you to know that he’s serious. And it wouldn’t be so bad to hear that in return from you either, just this once. “I love you.”

You freeze, probably looking like a deer in headlights. There must be some truth to the theory that people tend to be more honest at night. The exhaustion from the day wears on the brain while the world falls asleep, leaving the two of you to face the lingering vulnerability intertwining itself deeper into your friendship. You’d been denying it for as long as you can remember. A part of you wonders if he’s just tired of fighting it, if he’s just giving in to what everyone expects to happen between you. Even though Carlos is a terrible liar, you can’t shake the doubt that tells you his admission isn’t what it seems.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to say that just because you feel bad. I understand.”

“It’s not about that, Y/n. I’m telling you how I feel– no, how I’ve felt– for a long time now, and I refuse to hide it from you anymore.”

“And how can you say that when a few hours ago you said you were in love with somebody else? Does that ring a bell to you?”

The realization hits Carlos, now he can understand why you’re so skeptical. “I never said I was in love with somebody else, it’s you! I was talking about you. When I said that I am in love, I meant to say that I was in love with you.” He sighs, finally feeling the weight being lifted off his chest.

The feeling that comes over you is paralyzing, unable to breathe a word in his direction. Those damn eyes that he’s giving you only complicate things. As badly as you want to express your love for him in return, you can’t. Not when the past several months, if not years, of your life have revolved around falling in love with Carlos and not being able to stop. Not being able to save yourself from the inevitable rejection that would break your foolish heart in two. Each day, the feeling buries itself deeper but comes alive in bursts. If your body didn’t remind you of it with a quickened heartbeat and a fuzzy feeling when he’s near, you wouldn’t know the difference between your ‘best friend’ Carlos and the confused one sitting at the foot of your hospital bed.

“Y/n, please. Say something. Tell me to get out or tell me you love me too.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. I know there’s something behind your eyes. There’s something you’re hiding from me, I can feel it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Y/n, you forget that I know you.” He states obviously. “We’ve been best friends for years now, so the question is how could I not?”

“Is that not enough for you?”

“Having you is more than enough. But you have to understand that I can’t go on like this. I want to love you and never hide it. For as long as you let me.” His eyes bare into yours, nearly feeling claustrophobic as he takes both of your hands in his. “Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t know, Carlos. I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out as a mumble instead of the vibrato you wished to have right about now. Tears gloss over your eyes, but you don’t welcome them. The downturn of his frown and the emptiness that’s seeping into his expression claws at your chest. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” He opens his mouth to say something, be it out of apology or anger, you’ll never know.

Three resounding knocks to your hospital room door cut through the tension like a knife. “Come in!”

It’s Lando and Ana, the soft smiles on their faces falling as they look between you and Carlos, sensing that something isn’t right. “Are we interrupting? We thought we’d check on you before they kick us out for the night.”

“Not at all.” You put on a smile for them in reassurance, yet fooling no one. The suspense in the air is palpable enough to leave all of you feeling awkward to say the least. It’s enough to make Carlos split the distance between his best friend and sister, leaving the room without a word.

Carlos walks as fast as his feet will take him, eventually landing on the familiar chair in the waiting room he sat in when he arrived. For the first time tonight, his mind isn’t racing and anxiety isn’t coursing through his veins. He is defeated, worse than he’s ever been before. Be it a race-ending issue with the car or losing out on his Ferrari seat, those are losses that he can at least come back from. This one’s a dead end.

“Want some? You look like you could use a snack.”

His attention swivels to a boy in the seat nearby, who he now recognizes from the vending machine earlier, snacking away on his bag of Ruffles. Carlos shakes his head, but still smiles softly at the consideration. “No thank you, not hungry.”

“Do you like chips?”

“I prefer cookies.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“And why’s that?”

“I dunno, you’re Carlos Sainz. Chili. I thought you’d go for anything salty or spicy. I guess you really do learn something new everyday.”

Carlos sighs, remembering his current troubles. His eyes flicker over to the hallway containing your room, expecting to see a familiar face at some point. “Tell me about it.”

The boy, whose backpack is embroidered with the name ‘Samuel’, gives Carlos a puzzled look. “What did you learn today?”

The question leaves him clueless as to how he can answer, without trauma dumping onto Samuel who is none the wiser to the conundrum he’s in. He clears his throat before answering, eyeing the vending machine as an analogy comes to his mind. “I love chocolate chip cookies, but they don’t love me back. My job doesn’t allow me to have them because they are too sweet for me. I try to stay away from the cookies, but I can’t. I wish I could be selfish and have them all to myself, but it’s just impossible. I can’t win.”

“Maybe try a different kind? Something healthier for you then.”

“Good idea, but that would never work. I’ll always love the chocolate chip cookie. Nothing else compares to her.”

“Are you talking about a girl?”

“No, no.” Carlos tries to cover, heat rising to his cheeks. “Still talking about the cookies.”

“You could always try baking your own.” He suggests. “When my mamá bakes cookies, they’re better than anything else because she makes them with love.”

Carlos nods along, and thanks Samuel for his words of advice. He’s off in his own world right now, desperate enough for guidance that he’s willing to imagine the ridiculous analogy between chocolate chip cookies and his relationship with you.

Minutes turn into hours, and Carlos finds himself in your room once again, sitting in a chair near your bedside. He reassured Ana and Lando earlier to go home as he insisted on staying with you overnight. Visiting hours were far from over, but a small bribe for your nurse was all it took for an exception to be made for Carlos Sainz.

The sun is up before you know it, but that’s not what shocks you. It’s the man slumped over in the chair overcome with fatigue. You wish it was all a dream. That stupid game of truth or dare, stepping on the glass bottle, pushing Carlos away when in hindsight, you should’ve surrendered too. You should’ve given in the same way he did, it surely would’ve made for a less awkward ride home. It’s not his words from last night that cloud the space in your mind, it’s your own. Seeing him now, he looks tranquil. Like the weight of the world can’t touch him when he’s already said his peace. You’ll continue longing to feel the same, knowing that your chance might’ve just come and gone.

—

AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX 2024

“Care to tell me why you’re really here?”

A puzzled raise of your eyebrows tells Lando everything he needs to know before you can even say it. “I’m sorry, I can’t support McLaren now? One of my best friends happens to drive for them.”

“Another happens to drive for their rival, too.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing personal. Orange looks better on me.”

“Carlos would beg to differ.”

“Will you stop that? It isn’t about him.”

“Fine. But it’s not not about him, admit that.” He gives you a knowing look, one that’s skeptical of how much you’ve been avoiding Carlos lately, ever since the vacation you all took together. What was once a lively group chat between you three now consists of the occasional meme or reaction photo. “Come on, something happened between you two. Admit it.”

You sigh, eyes tearing away from him as you feel pressure under his interrogation. “Nothing happened. It’s probably more about what didn’t happen.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Like your bestie hasn’t already filled you in.”

Lando shrugs, never giving away too much. “There’s two sides to every story.”

“He just misspoke. He told me he loved me after I injured my foot over the summer. I brushed him off, and we’re pretending like it never happened.” Lando’s eyes are wide and he doesn’t realize his jaw is hanging open until you press two fingers under his chin. “And that includes you. Deal? Not a word about this to anyone.”

“Damn, that’s even worse than I thought! You’re avoiding him because he loves you?”

“He doesn’t love me, doofus. He felt guilty because I stepped on a bottle that one of you probably dropped.” Three sharp pokes to the Brit’s chest emphasize your point, the narrative you’ve spent months now convincing yourself is true. “It’s just been a little tense, we haven’t really been the same since then. He thinks I’m being cold about the whole thing.”

“Are you?”

“No! I just know him better than he knows himself and he refuses to admit it. He’s stubborn, as you know, and he won’t let me forget it. He’s probably messing with my head until I cave in.”

“Cave in to what? Admitting you love him too?”

You gulp, brain scattering while you feel for some reason, like you’re being found out. “Where would you get that idea?”

“You haven’t denied it. Isn’t that all he wants anyway? I’m sure if you told him you didn’t feel the same way, this would all be over. Which won’t happen because you do, in fact, love Carlos Sainz.”

You resist the urge to give Lando a good whack to any tender part of his body, by the way a McLaren team member accidentally eavesdrops on your conversation in passing, obviously trying to look away before you notice. “Don’t use his full name.” You warn in a hushed whisper. “Word travels fast around here, you know.”

“Please don’t injure me before the race. I’m just saying, would it hurt to speak to him for more than five minutes at a time?”

“He’ll get over it. Hell, he might already be over it. I just think a little more space wouldn’t hurt either of us right now.”

“Well, you know what they say about space.” Lando gives you a knowing look, before dramatically breaking out into his best Nick Jonas impersonation. “Space is just a word made up by someone who’s afraid to get close.”

“Very nice, Lando.”

“Just don’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything for him. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

“It’s better for our friendship this way, okay? Imagine had I said it back, what kind of damage that would do to all of us when it goes to shit. It would never work between us, and I refuse to set us up for failure. I’d rather keep things the same. And he would too, he just doesn’t know it yet. This year hasn’t been the easiest for him, you know? He’s just trying to cling on to what’s familiar. He might think that he loves me, but it’s a phase. In a year from now, he’ll be in a new team, a new era of his life and career, and we won’t even remember this.”

“Really? Because I think, if he had it his way, he’d be with you forever.”

“And I feel terrible about pushing him away, but it’s for the best, okay? You’ll see.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Lando nods slowly but unconvincingly, taking some steps backwards and away from you, leaving to do the pre-race preparations he should probably be focused on instead.

—

“For the best?!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes wide and hinting a mix of disappointment, hurt, and frustration at the turn your friendship has taken.

“I know, I had the same look. It doesn’t even sound like her.”

“Each excuse I hear from her is more ridiculous than the last. I miss when I could just talk to her, you know? Without thinking about how she’s gonna push me away this time.”

“You should just tell her to stop inventing.” Lando giggles, biting his lip to keep from breaking out into full hysterical laughter in the middle of the driver’s parade.

Carlos shoots a warning glare to his friend. “It’s one thing if she didn’t feel anything for me, but she’s been avoiding me as if we haven’t been best friends for years now. I can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe she’s scared to lose you, have you ever thought of that? What would happen in case it doesn’t work out? I think she’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been, though. She knows me. I thought I knew her, too.”

“You do. I, for one, think you’re perfect for each other.” Lando tries to offer some consolation, but he knows that Carlos can’t and won’t settle for the silver lining in all of this.

“I used to think so too. But hey, she might be onto something. Maybe it is for the best.”

—

The race doesn’t disappoint, keeping in line with the chaotic patterns the 2024 season has had to offer. Nearing the end of the race, the pit wall, mechanics, and spectators alike can breathe a sigh of relief that the position of their driver won’t be threatened. Oscar leads by 10 seconds, making it a great weekend to be a guest of McLaren for the weekend. The garage bustles with excitement as the cars begin the last lap.

It was looking like a fight to the checkered flag between Checo and Carlos, closely rounding Turn 2 just behind Charles, racing wheel to wheel down the straight before the two cars clash, the Red Bull of Checo sending the Ferrari of Carlos into the concrete barrier at 300 kilometers per hour.

A wave of adrenaline strikes you instantly, audible gasps sounding through the garage at the brutal and unexpected impact. The same sight of the crash had to be on every monitor throughout the entire paddock, leaving everyone on the edge of their seat. Carlos being a beloved member in the McLaren family certainly intensified things, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the screen. A flash of heat burns through you as you see Checo seemingly confront Carlos and walk off, but your worries don’t dissipate until you see the man in red get out of his car, slowly but steadily.

—

It’s almost night by the time you arrive back at your hotel, Lando having stayed back in the paddock for team photos and celebrations of Oscar’s win. It’s a short walk back to the nearby hotel, and you could use the fresh air to help clear your mind anyway. Mindlessly, you open your messages with Carlos. Typing, then erasing, then typing again.

‘Glad you’re okay.’ No, too short.

‘Are you okay? Sorry about your race.’ No, too impersonal.

‘I love you too. I should’ve said it sooner.’ No, too risky. Too permanent. You’re not ready for what comes next. Who knows if he even wants to talk to you, especially about this. Don’t be selfish.

Your earlier conversation with Lando creeps up on you, giving you more to worry about than you had previously considered. Could it be guilt or pure heartache, you’re not sure. All that is certain is you can’t carry on with your relationship like this either. It only took you a few months and a crash to fuel you with the same passion he felt for you over the summer, when he confessed. Facing the truth is scary, but you won’t be able to forgive yourself if you let him go. You can’t live with knowing that he might go so far that he never comes back.

The elevator door is open, your thoughts so entrancing that you don’t bother to look up. Until that signature red polo catches your eye, and they trail upwards to meet the brown ones you remember so well, the same ones you’ve been waiting to see again.

“Hi.” He breathes, almost in disbelief. From the mental and physical wear of today, Carlos can’t be more relieved to see your face, no matter what has gone on between you. Pure surprise sets in when you, after taking a few pauses to get a good look at him, engulf him into your arms with a passion. He winces slightly at the soreness that’s sinking into his muscles, but ultimately relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, trying to untangle yourself from his hold, to which he only pulls you closer.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“It’s not just about that, Carlos. I haven’t been a good friend to you lately and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“No.”

“I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?”

“I pushed you away when I told you how I feel. But you need to know that I’m not sorry I said it. I’m not taking it back.”

“Why not?”

He scoffs. “This again? Why won’t I take it back? Because it’s the truth! I love you! I wish you could see it. I wish you could feel how badly I’ve been wanting to say it and hear it back from you. I’m man enough to understand if you don’t feel the same way, but you won’t even give me a conversation. You refuse to talk to me and I don’t know whether to take that as rejection or an admission. Because if you really didn’t believe a thing I said that night, we wouldn’t be here. Things would’ve stayed the same.” You stay silent, trying to process each of his words and their meanings, a mistake you’ve made one too many times. “Just talk to me, please.” His voice cracks slightly in his last word, and his plea brings tears to your eyes. “Not what you think I need to hear. Tell me what you’ve been holding inside.”

This is exactly what scares you about Carlos. His ability to understand your innermost thoughts without a word. His skepticism is more than enough to rattle you. Having him as a best friend is one thing, but leaving your heart to be broken in his hands is another. “I just don’t want things to change, Carlos. At the end of the day, we still have our own lives, our own goals and ambitions. It doesn’t matter how I feel when there’s plenty standing in the way of it.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter. I’ve spent every waking moment wondering how all of those things could be ours, together. I fell in love with you and you’re punishing me for it, I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Does it scare you? Is that why you want to sabotage our relationship before it has a chance? You need to understand that I didn’t tell you because I felt guilty you got hurt. I told you because I refuse to look you in the eyes and lie anymore than I already have.”

“I know.” You sigh, a tear slipping away from you. “I know that.”

“Then why are you only admitting this to me now? We’ve been wasting time dancing around this long enough.”

“I know how you feel because I feel it, too. Watching your car slam into the wall like that… I didn’t want another second to go by without you knowing the truth. I don’t want to feel guilty anymore about avoiding you, about lying to you, about any of it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I love you too, Carlos. It should’ve been the first thing out of my mouth when you told me but I just panicked. All I could picture was how this ends a million different ways and each of them were more heartbreaking than the last. But the longer I waited, I just thought it would be too late.”

“It’s never too late, Y/n.” Carlos whispers, brown eyes glossing over as they admire yours. Honestly, unabashedly, and lovingly, for the first time in a while. “I’m still here, aren’t I? After all this time.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, remember? Some things are worth waiting for.” He holds your face in his hands, brushing his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your fallen tear. “You are worth every second.”

You don’t hold back any longer, closing the gap and kissing him with all that you have. All of the emotions that for too long, had nowhere to go, have now found their home. Your hands tangle in his hair, and the hum of approval he gives you is delicious. If it were at all possible, you feel as close to him as you’ve ever felt, and him to you. Kissing him, feeling your love be reciprocated calms your head and sends your heart ablaze. You’d reckon the wall that stood between you, was always ready to be knocked over with the slightest gust of wind, had you not spent so much time trying to hold it up. Letting go was your best decision to date, the feeling of his lips on yours just confirms that.

It isn’t until the sound of the elevator dings that you pull away, realizing neither of you had pressed a single button upon entry. To your surprise it’s Lando, his grin smug like he’d just pulled off some kind of heist. You and Carlos instinctively try to put an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you, only this time, nobody would believe there’s anything platonic about you two. By the looks of Carlos’ tousled hair and the smudges of your once perfect lip gloss, Lando needs no explanation from either of you.

“Don’t worry, you can carry on.” Lando laughs, reaching inside and pressing the ‘Close Doors’ button. “I’ll take the stairs.”

💌: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

257 notes · View notes

landitolover · 1 year ago

Text

𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒓, in which, if charles didn’t care for you, maybe a specific red bull driver he doesn’t really like, will.. part one here! ౨ৎ max verstappen x famous!reader

INSTAGRAM DMS

maxverstappen1 replied to your story

maxverstappen1

hey, i’m sorry about the break up

charles never deserved you though

yourusername

haha it’s okay

he didn’t do anything wrong though 😊

it was a mutual break up

maxverstappen1

ohhh, alright

that’s nice to know 😃

TWITTER

IMESSAGE , MAX & LANDO January 4th, 2024

max

Lando

lando

Max 🤔

Rare text, what do you need mate?

max

by any chance do you have yns number

lando

oh my god do you

finally have the balls to (attempt) to pull her

max

i’ve always had the balls :/

charles just beat me to it

lando

he was quite charming

max

he’s a cheater, he isn’t very charming

lando

thats why i said ‘was’

max

ok but do u have her number

lando

duh? we’re like this🤞🏼

it’s xxx-xxx-xxx

max

okk thank you very much

lando

of course mate

goodluck you’ll need it

also u will be talked (possibly made fun of)

about in the gc. so be careful..

max

uhm ok mate

bye….. 😃

INSTAGRAM

yourprivate

Liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, landonorris, and 122 others

yourprivate new year, new me 💆‍♀️

fuck🖕🏼men 🤮

January 14th, 2024

View all 14 comments

alex_albon yk damn well ur the biggest lover girl

→ yourprivate uhmm wdym? i’m not

landonorris i know something u dont 🤫

lilymhe its okay baby 😔

→ yourprivate 😔😔💖💖 ily

georgerussell63 wake up

→ yourprivate get out my private bitch 🤮

→ georgerussell63 cunt

→ yourprivate something u never serve..

danielricciardo wow this post ate 🎀

danielricciardo it would eat even more if u reactivated the main

→ yourprivate i’ll be back in like 9 months

→ landonorris HOLY SHIT ARE U PREGNANT

→ yourprivate NO??? WHAT??? WHY WOULD U THINK THAT???

→ landonorris coz u said 9 months and thats like how long it takes to give birth Idk

→ yourprivate u are so slow gn

IMESSAGE , MAX & YOU January 14th, 2024

xxx-xxx-xx

are you a rose?

cause i think you’re a catch 😉

oh my god 😂 that was such a sucky

pick up line.. who is this? 😭

xxx-xxx-xxx

your future boyfriend, hopefully

how’d u get my number though

i rlly hope you aren’t a stalker 😭

or i’m gonna contact the police

xxx-xxx-xxx

WAIT NO 😭

it’s max

i’m sorry lol

oh my god 😭

i didn’t see u as the corny pick up line type

you changed this contact to ‘max’

max

what can i say?

also sorry for freaking you out

i asked lando for your number, i hope you don’t mind

nah its fine 😭

max

are you okay though?

you deactivated, saw it all over twitter

yeah no, i’m ok

well not rlly but I don’t wanna like .. talk about it

max

that’s totally fine

but if you ever need someone to talk to

i’m always free

and i have cats so.. free therapy

thats how u get the girl !

max

charlie should have taken some notes

unsent message

haha i guess i know how to get you now ?

you’re a flirt aren’t you

max

only for you

😭😭

i’ll be back in a minute someone messaged me

max

alright

IMESSAGE , CHARLES & YOU January 14th, 2024

don’t respond

hi angel, can i come over?

i miss your kisses, cherie

can’t we get back together

no we can’t

charles stop it. i don’t want you

you’re the one who cheated on me

if you were going to miss my kisses so bad, why’d you cheat?

don’t respond

it’s a new year though, new us.

no charles

you need to get over it

i mean, i did

don’t respond

get over it? you deactivated on everything

that isn’t getting over it. you’re avoiding your problems

yeah I’m avoiding you, you’re my biggest one

get a new girlfriend

it obviously isn’t that hard for you..

Delivered

INSTAGRAM

yourprivate

Liked by landonorris, alex_albon, lilymhe, and 102 others

yourprivate men suck….. (i think he’s cute)

January 17th, 2024

View all comments

lilymhe u better not be talking about ch*rles

→ yourprivate no

landonorris is it ***

→ yourprivate 🤔🤔🤔???

alex_albon i thought u weren’t a lover girl

→ yourprivate i’m not

→ alex_albon caption says otherwise

georgerussell63 yw for the cake

→ yourprivate thanks georgie 😊

INSTAGRAM

charles_leclerc

Liked by carlossainz55, pierrepasly, arthur_leclerc, and 1,309,192 others

charles_leclerc overrated

January 23rd, 2024

View all 1,099 comments

user ohh ik yn is laughing at his silly ass

user he’s going dark 🖤⛓️

user he wanna be aesthetic so fuckin bad

user this is not it ‼️ archive this post ‼️

user yeah, ur overrated

→ user we luv a self aware king

user not everyone dragging him in the comments 😭

→ user cause we all love yn 💆‍♀️

lewishamilton be so fr you have no sense of fashion, m8 😂

carlossainz55 🖤

landonorris yeah this post is not ittttt

alex_albon alright mate….

danielricciardo who did not cheer! 😂😭

pierregasly 🔥

TWITTER

IMESSAGE, MAX & YOU February 14th, 2024

max <3

hey :)

happy valentines 🤍

hii maxie

happy valentines! 💌

max <3

i bought you a little something

since you love snoopy

and me 😉

you got one thing right

max <3

wowww

nevermind then

kidding 🙄��

max <3

i’m picking you up

is an hour enough time

yess

see you sooon 😊🤍

max <3

🤍

IMESSAGE, “YN FANCLUB 😊” February 15th, 2024

landoooo

how much r we betting that he did it

alexito

£100 he didn’t

lil 🎀

£100 he did

landoooo

i’m team he did it

georgie

he aint do shit 😂🔥

i’m team he didn’t do it

lil 🎀

is alex holding u gunpoint ???

landoooo

facts

max isn’t a pussy he def said something at least

hi guyyyyssss

what are you guys talking about

georgie

we’re betting on ur little bf

did he ask you out

lil 🎀

ok wow 😭 straight to the point

he did 😊😊😊

lil 🎀

HOLY SHIT

HAHAHAA

ALEX, GEORGE,

landoooo

PAYYY UPPP!!!! 💰

alexito

GTFOOO

georgie

🔥🔥 my ass is not paying

u better pay them

also £100 is crazy???

look at what he got me 🥹 and he’s such a cutie

lil 🎀

SNOOPY 😭 I WISSHH

so down bad

🥹🥹 the cutest

i cried 😔 he’s adorable

alexito

u guys are so cute

i hope it lasts!!

landoooo

daniel asked if u bringing back the main

cause like ur happy now

2025 my year

plus u guys are in my priv why does it matter

georgie

right lmfao 😭

congrats on the bf though 🥳

hopefully he doesn’t turn out like our

good ol’ friend charlie!!!!

alexito

mate sthu

respectfully

georgie

wow that makes it a whole lot better, thanks m8

lil 🎀

how about u both sthu

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, redbullracing, and 1,220,218 others

maxverstappen1 and here’s to my baby :)

June 3rd, 2024

View all 1,101 comments

user didn’t expect a soft launch from max fuckin verstappen 😨

user HELLO???

user this girl has style.. dressing him up? 😍😍

→ user I noticed the style change, didn’t expect all this tho

user i just know shes hot

user stop soft launching i need to know who it is

danielricciardo lucky man

→ maxverstappen1 i am very lucky

landonorris cutie

→ maxverstappen1 😘

→ alex_albon it’s official: lando is the one getting soft launched

→ landonorris shhh people aren’t supposed to know

lilymhe she’s the loml

georgerussell63 🤮🤮🤮

→ maxverstappen1 get out - the girl

→ georgerussell63 🤓🤓☝️☝️

IMESSAGE, MAX & YOU June 13th, 2024

max <3

the sunset is in two hours

i’m picking you up

and we’re going to the beach to watch it

😭😭 okay max

max

see you soon :))

yeah, i love you 🤍

max <3

say that again in person

not over text 🙄

okay max 😭😭

max <3

i love you though

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1

Liked by lilymhe, landonorris, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 103,021 others

maxverstappen1 starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights.

June 13th, 2024

View all 1,001 comments

user AAUGGHH IM GOING CRAZY

user why are the captions so romantic… secret artist ? 😨

→ user lol she’s probably writing them for him

user charles gtfo 😭😭

user i love them (idk who she is)

landonorris 4 months tmr cutie 😍

→ maxverstappen1 i love you baby 🥰

→ user 4???? WHAATTT

alex_albon tell her to stop talkin abt u bro 🤦

→ maxverstappen1 no can do buckaroo

redbullracing our driver sure has some pretty good captions

lilymhe my gf 💖💖

IMESSAGE, CHARLES & YOU August 5th, 2024

don’t respond

you aren’t smart

huh

don’t respond

you’re dating max?

is this just some petty thing ? cause i don’t like him?

uhm no lmfao 😭

yeah i’m dating him though

don’t respond

is he better than me?

yeah lol

100%

don’t respond

you know, he isn’t really the type to commit

noted ? pretty sure he would’ve left by now

if that were the case lol

don’t respond

ok.

lmfao.

You have blocked this person

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

🎶 let the light in : lana del rey (feat. father john misty)

Liked by landonorris, redbullracing, alex_albon, and 2,871,292 others

yourusername 🎀

October 1st, 2024

View all 3,202 comments

user OH MY GOD

user the man..

user i fell to my knees

user who is that

user my girl came back better than ever

user FINALLY ????

user she came back and started to soft launch a man gn

lilymhe wowwww 😍😍 i missed ur main acc posts

danielricciardo SERVED CUNT 💋

→ yourusername mwa 😚

danielricciardo i prayed for times like these

maxverstappen1 last slide kinda kinky

→ yourusername u wish, never horny on the main

→ user LMFAOO

landonorris ooooo let the light innnn

georgerussell63 odd post for ur first one back

→ yourusername sthu

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

Liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 1,200 others

yourusername redbull is my fav btw

October 8th, 2024

View all 2,292 comments

user her smile ☹️🤍

user THAT DRINK IS SO YUM

user my aesthetic queen 🐳

user mystery man u are lucky

user she’s so captivating

user UGHHH 😔😔☹️☹️

charles_leclerc drink company’s don’t suit u

→ maxverstappen1 lol

→ user LMFAOO

→ user embarrassing urself...

redbullracing 💙💙💙

→ yourusername 🩵

landonorris papaya better actually ☝️🤓

→ yourusername errmm 🤓

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, landonorris, lilymhe, and 3,110,210 others

yourusername i want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck.

October 10th, 2024

View all 1,209 comments

user m.. suspicious

user is that not max’s new cat

user shes so cutesy

user IS THE CAPTION A LYRIC HELLOOO

user white men always win her over

landonorris mmmmmmmmmm 3️⃣🏆

→ yourusername sthu😭😭😭

→ user bro tryna give us easter eggs

lilymhe that bagel looks rlly fucking good

→ yourusername IT WAASSS

danielricciardo my bf guys

→ yourusername 😍 -m

redbullracing 🐐🐐🐐

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, landonorris, redbullracing and 3,101,119 others

yourusername new ep soon. 6 songs. ‘solo, tiwwchnt, ciwyw, dbm, sdg, and getaway car.” i hope u enjoy it.. out the 12th ! <3

November, 4th 2024

View all 5,110 comments

user i’m in a getaway car too queen

user “and here’s to my real friends” 2019 rookies & lily 🥲

→ yourusername my babies 4eva

user DONT BLAAAMEEE MEEE, LOVE MADE ME CRAZY 😩

user who cried and screamed listening to this album

user i brought a 🔪 to a 🔫 fight

user AHHHHHHHH

user thank u for yn’s not so mystery man but thank u for this ep ☝️☝️

landonorris used to being the GOAT

→ yourusername 🐐

danielricciardo getaway car on LOOP 🔂

maxverstappen1 but would u run away with me ?

→ yourusername yes!

→ user WHAATT

→ user this confirms everything basically

lilymhe so proud of u wifey 🤍🤍

→ yourusername mwaaa 💋

georgerussell63 i support this

→ yourusername thanks pretty princess

→ georgerussell63 nevermind

alex_albon lily and i will be listening on repeat

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, lilymhe, and 3,440,292 others

maxverstappen1 you said you love me, i say something back.

November 14th

View all 3,101 comments

user THE CHARLES SHADDEEE

user oh my hod. i adore them.

user ugh they’re the most bf gf couple ever

user charles could never LOOL

user these pictures im on the floor

user they’re my endgame

lilymhe she’s so cute in these pics

→ maxverstappen1 she’s always cute

danielricciardo FAVS

landonorris when they solo >

→ maxverstappen1 you’re the reason why i’m with her, thank you 😄

→ landonorris of course mate

christianhorner congratulations! happy for the both of you 🍾

georgerussell63 this is so goat coded

→ maxverstappen1 wow thanks

yourusername happy 9 months baby 💋

→ maxverstappen1 ik houd van je 🤍

→ user NINE. MONTHS.

→ user STOP NINEE…😭😭😭

yourusername wow we’re so adorable

arthur_leclerc thank you for making yn happier than my brother ever did 🙏🏼

→ maxverstappen ofc m8

→ user LMFAO EVEN HE’S TIRED OF CHARLES

౨ৎ finally… i posted… so SO so sorry for not posting in awhile, this took so long to post but 😭😭 here u gooo…. also thank u guys so much for 400 !!! i love u all <333 💋

taglist: @landovilla @moneygramhaas @ch3rryknots @amoosarte @1655clean @dark-night-sky-99 @kortneej81 @he6rtshaker ౨ৎ

2K notes · View notes

sunsetchicane · 6 months ago

Text

i love you, i'm sorry [QH43]

quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: two years after breaking things off with Quinn, you find yourself going to Game 1 of Round 2 of the Playoffs, completely unprepared to see the man you still harbour feelings for.

based off of: this is loosely based off of I Love You, I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams

warnings: aggressive amounts of pining (like, probably annoying), two swear words, a few kisses, mentions of a breakup (so like, kinda angst? idk man), copious amounts of cheesiness, probably extremely inaccurate descriptions of the game, not great writing lol. let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: okay, i haven't written anything on here yet due to a horrendous case of writer's block and many hours of working. so, this is definitely not my best work, but it was a fun way to try move past my writing slump. i really do hope that anyone who reads this does enjoy! love, addi <3

Vancouver’s streets preserve memories well. You found that out when, even two years after things had fallen to pieces, you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the two of you holding hands, sharing quiet laughs, and stealing kisses. You’d thought that after two years you would’ve been able to shake those memories off when they plagued your mind; but it was hard when he was plastered across banners and fans sported his jersey for half the year.

He was making his name known throughout the NHL, and you couldn’t ignore the buzz around Quinn Hughes when the Canucks made it to the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

After you and Quinn had broken things off, you had to find separate friend groups to belong in. The two of you had shared too many mutual friends. The group of ladies you did manage to find yourself among knew nothing about your past relationship with the captain of the Canucks. When the city was gearing up for the first round of the playoffs, even your friends couldn’t stop talking about the sport.

You were standing outside, leaning against the railing on a BC ferry, returning from visiting family on the Island, when you received a call from your friend Lydia. You picked up without hesitation.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked.

She immediately giggled, which honestly had you a little scared. “I have a surprise,” she said excitedly, the last word dragged out.

You snorted. “Am I allowed to ask what it is?”

“It’s a really big surprise, and you have to promise not to scream when I tell you,” she laughed, acting like a teenage girl again. It was one of the things you really did love about her – her ability to bring childlike joy with her wherever she went.

“I promise not to scream, Lyd,” you assured her, hoping she was satisfied.

She paused for dramatic effect, and you let her. You knew she was having fun with it.

“We’re going to the first game of round 2 of the playoffs!” she squealed.

Your phone nearly slipped through your fingers, almost lost to the sea. You stepped away from the railing, suddenly very glad there was no one on the deck with you. Your heart clenched in your chest. The last time you had been to a game was when you and Quinn had still been together. He wouldn’t even know you were in the crowd, but you would be painfully aware of him in the centre of the arena.

“Okay, you’re even quieter than I thought you’d be,” Lydia commented, reminding you that there was someone on the other end of the line.

You debated for a moment what to say. Would it best to just blurt out that you had dated Quinn Hughes and you were not exactly ready to go watch him play again? Definitely not.

“Uh, yeah, I’m just surprised!” That wasn’t a lie. “How’d you get the tickets?”

“My dad,” she said simply. “When I told him I wanted to go see the Canucks, he was suddenly the proudest parent in the world. You know how he is – once he gets an idea in his head, whether it’s planted there by me or not, he has to do it.”

“Wow, that’s–that’s crazy!” you said stiffly, still unsure of how to act.

“Yeah, and it gets better! We’re sitting right behind the Canucks’ bench!”

You nearly choked on nothing. “What?”

“I know, right? I don’t know how my dad managed it, but he did,” she told you, completely unaware of your stuttering heart. “Who knows, maybe we’ll catch some players’ eyes,” she joked, and you tried to force a laugh out with her.

“Yeah, maybe.” What you didn’t add out loud was your brain screaming please no.

After a few more minutes of chatting and you pretending to be completely sound of mind, Lydia said goodbye, telling you she would send the details soon.

You pocketed your phone and leaned against the railing once more. You watched as the sun brushed the horizon, casting a beautiful pink against the clouds. Vancouver was getting close, and for obvious reasons, you were suddenly dreading it. You wanted to sit on the ferry until it returned to Vancouver Island.

You sighed and rested your chin on your folded arms. You heard a faint buzzing sound above you, and lifted your eyes to the sky. A plane was coming to land at the Vancouver Airport. As it approached, you let yourself imagine it was Quinn flying back from Nashville, and you felt your heart tighten in your chest once more, because you were terrified to see him again, but also because you still missed him. Maybe you were scared to see him because you missed him.

You dropped your forehead to your arms once more and groaned loudly, the ocean and the brightening city lights your only listening companions.

When the morning of May 8th arrived, you found yourself unable to shake the anxiety that had made a home in your chest over the last few days. There was a tenseness in your shoulders that never left, and a squeezing at your heart that seemed relentless.

The group chat you shared with your friends had been buzzing incessantly, the girls incredibly excited. Every now and then you made your fingers put a message out there that hopefully hid your anxieties from them.

After much procrastination, you eventually made your way to your closet. After tugging on a simple pair of blue jeans, you reached towards the back of your closet. Your fingers closed around the unmistakable, thick material of the jersey. Taking a deep breath, you pulled it out. Your only Canucks jersey of course, had to be Quinn’s home jersey from two seasons ago. No one would know it was the jersey that he had pulled over his head before every home game. However, you knew. There was no C on the left side of the chest, and your mind was pulled back to the relationship you had shared.

You often questioned why you and Quinn had even ended things. You missed him so much still, and you were plagued by the way you knew it had been the wrong choice. You had been growing apart as he was dealing with growing attention and expectations within his career, and a promotion at your own job had stolen your energy and attention. You had both been tired and short with one another, and eventually the tension built and had blown up in a terrible way.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force both the guilt and continued yearning out of your busy mind.

When Lydia texted that she and the girls were on the way to your apartment, you reluctantly pulled the jersey over your head. The sleeves covered most of your hands, and the fabric fell past your hips and part way down your thighs. You pulled on a pair of shoes and left the safe space that was your apartment, locking the door behind you.

Rogers Arena was packed and the energy in the building made you feel like you could start vibrating. You and your friends held hands so as not to get separated. You were glad when your friends made no comment on how tightly you squeezed their hands, or how sweaty your palms might have been.

You were made significantly more nervous when you realised that Lydia had not been exaggerating about your seats. You were sitting right behind the bench.

The arena was filling up steadily, and you sat there in between your friends, not speaking a single word. It had been a couple years since you had been here, and while you were very nervous, the familiarity came rushing back to you and it helped to slow your fast beating heart.

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine Quinn smiling at you from the other side of the glass, and laughing when you blew him a kiss.

You wrapped your arms gently around yourself, the once very stiff material of the jersey now very easily shifted and manipulated. You knew it didn’t smell like him anymore, but when you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his old jersey, it was like he was right there. You were wrapped in him still, and you doubted it would ever go away.

You were shocked out of your own thoughts when your friends, along with the rest of the fans around you, started cheering. The Canucks and the Oilers were on the ice, starting to warm up. Your eyes searched the ice quickly, and gliding easily across the ice on the opposite side of rink, was the captain, the number 43 embroidered on his jersey, just like the one you adorned.

Your own cheeks heated up when it really hit you that you were wearing his old jersey. You weren’t together anymore; what were you thinking? He could see you– what would he think when he saw you right behind his bench, wearing the jersey he had gifted you?

You suddenly wanted to throw up more than ever. He exchanged a few words with Elias, and laughed at something his buddy had said. Your heart ached in longing once more. You had missed his laugh so much.

Quinn now had facial hair, something he hadn’t had when he was with you. His hair was longer, peeking out from beneath his helmet. He already seemed much more grown up. He looked like a captain, something who had become used to leading his team. Quinn had always been somewhat confident in his abilities as a hockey player, but it was easy to tell that he had really gotten used to his role on the team and had come into his own over the past two years.

The girls grabbed your hands and walked into the aisle, just to get right up to the glass. Your face burned and you tried to hide behind some of your friends. You kept your heads down and your arms folded.

Your friends held up hats and other paraphernalia that they desperately wanted signed by players.

“Y/N!” One of your friends practically shouted. You suddenly noticed that they had all stopped cheering. You looked up to see them parted in front of you.

Quinn was on the other side of the glass, looking right at you.

Your friends shoved you up the glass, giggling and squealing. You nearly ran into the glass from the force of their shoves. Quinn laughed at you, his smile exactly how you remembered it.

He pointed at the white Canucks towel in your hands and shouted, “toss it over!” The arena was so loud you were glad he had mouthed it clearly. You hesitated but threw the towel over. With one glove off and in the other hand, he caught it. He gestured to one of your friends to throw over the Sharpie she was holding. She did gladly, happy to be included. He caught it easily and started to write quickly on the white fabric. Your heart did flips while watching him, and your hands shook with nothing to hold onto.

He finally capped the pen and threw both the towel and marker over the glass. You struggled to catch it, but thankfully, you managed to hold onto it. You held it flat before you.

Meet me by my car after. Usual spot. Your breath stopped slightly when you saw a rushed heart drawn next to the words. You looked back up to see him putting his glove back on. He gave you a warm smile that set you on a fire from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You took a deep breath and nodded to him. His smile widened slightly. Before he turned to skate away, you saw him mouth the words, “nice jersey.” You stuttered for a second, and he simply winked and turned.

Your friends all screamed and crowded you, looking at the towel.

“Usual spot? What the fuck is going on?” Lydia yelled over the noise, cackling.

You just blushed and shook your head, returning to your seat with the towel gripped tightly in your hands.

As the teams continued to warm up, you explained as quickly as you could that you and Quinn had once been together. Your friends, of course, were shocked but also very excited for you at the prospect of reuniting with him. You simply waved your hands in protest.

“I don’t even know if he wants to get back together with me! He might just want to catch up or something… we’re cool now and I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“Girl, please!” one of your friends shouted. “He drew a motherfucking heart and winked at you! Of course he wants you back.”

You all laughed and you embraced the next blush that warmed your cheeks.

The players left the ice, and minutes later, the lights went dark. The deafening sound of nearly 19,000 people screaming almost broke your eardrums. Blue light filled the room, and you looked up to see what was playing on the large screens above you.

You watched the intro video and let a nostalgic, giddy feeling overtake you. You couldn’t help but smile.

The arena fell back into nearly full darkness. You heard the beginning of a familiar sound of twinkly guitar that dragged you right back to 2011. Goosebumps rose up along your skin all over your body. That was the last time the Canucks had made it to the Playoff finals, and you hoped dearly that they could get there again. The playing of Where The Streets Have No Name from their intro from 2011 made hope take hold of you.

You couldn’t help but raise your particularly special white rally towel in the air to wave alongside all of the other Canucks fans in the building.

It had been surprisingly easy to get into the players’ parking garage. Despite it being two years since you had been in the building, you were recognized by several people, who let you walk wherever you wanted.

Your friends had practically shoved you to go after the game, screaming after you to call them later. You had laughed and walked away, your steps lighter than they had been in a long while.

You later found yourself standing by Quinn’s car. It was the same one he’d had when you had been together. Your hand brushed the shining hood of the car, and you could see yourself in the passenger seat, laughing at something he’d said as the two of you drove around downtown Vancouver.

“Thank God you actually showed up.”

You whipped around, seeing a freshly showered Quinn in sweatpants and a hoodie making his way towards you.

You tugged on the hem of the jersey, your heart beating quicker and quicker with every step he took.

He stopped in front of you, and when you looked up, you both spoke.

“I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “You-what?”

He bit his bottom lip before repeating himself. “I love you. I know it’s been two years, but-”

“I love you, too,” you said quickly, blood roaring in your ears. “And I am so, so sorry. I never should’ve-”

It was his turn to cut you off. “Don’t apologise, please. It’s not your fault.”

“Can you… can you please accept my apology, at least?”

He smiled softly. “I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.”

“I forgive you, too,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling with affection as you looked at him. You felt an intense relief flood your body. Your shoulders finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. He reached out and wrapped you in a warm hug. You melted into it, returning the gesture.

“I missed you. So much,” you mumbled into his hoodie.

One of hands gently scratched the back of your neck like he used to do. “I missed you, too.” He pulled away just enough to lean down and kiss your lips softly. Nothing had ever felt so natural. His playoff beard scratched your face and you laughed at the sensation, pulling away.

“Not used to the beard,” you admitted, smiling widely.

He smiled, too. “Yeah, what do you think? Should I keep it around?”

You shrugged, leaning back into him. “Well, you’re very handsome either way.”

“You think?”

“Mhm. Your hair also looks very good. I like it longer like this,” you told him, ruffling his brown hair. He swatted your hand away and kissed your cheek.

“Noted.” He looked down at me again. “Should probably get you a new jersey.”

“Hm, you think I need the big ole C on here, Captain?”

He shook his head, blushing. “Don’t call me that.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him, bringing his head down for you to kiss. “Couldn’t help myself.” You grabbed his hands. “Congratulations on the big win, by the way.”

“I can’t believe you came. I thought I was hallucinating or something when I saw you,” he told you honestly.

“Well, I’m glad I came,” you admitted, running a hand through his hair.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he said, smiling wider than you had seen all night.

You laughed, feeling pure joy in your heart. “I think I might have an idea.”

732 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 9 months ago

Text

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k words

summary: in which it’s hard to see eddie with anyone who isn't you

warnings: friends to lovers to friends again (kinda), explicit language, alcohol consumption, very brief mention of weed, pining, angst

author’s note: this is fully inspired by the song "new love" by girl in red. enjoy<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“She’s right over there. Should I do it?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

Eddie nodded at your words and then he was standing up from the long patio chair that you, him, and Robin had been occupying for the past thirty minutes, and heading over to where his newest crush stood with a few of her friends.

Robin let out a laugh. “I don’t get it.”

You turned your head to look at her. “What?”

“How you guys can still be friends right now. You only broke up like two months ago.”

Making the promise to stay friends post-breakup was the only thing that made the breakup feel a thousand times less terrible. And it sounded easy enough— you and Eddie were simply just going to go back to how things were before you started dating.

“We’re better off as friends,” He had said to you that random Wednesday night back in January and you nodded understandingly. It was amicable and mutual, and eventually— maybe, hopefully— the barely five-month relationship would be a funny little story to reminisce about with each other years down the line.

You took a long sip from the red cup in your hand and then shrugged at Robin’s words. “I don’t know. This just works somehow. It’s better.”

You had been telling yourself that lie a lot lately— maybe almost too much. But, it was easier to pretend that that lie was the truth and that everything was fine, instead of thinking that maybe you made a mistake that night when you found yourself agreeing with Eddie and let things end between the two of you.

“No offense, but so weird,” Robin said with a shake of her head. “So, who’s this new girl he’s into anyway?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Eddie had told you a lot about her— how she saw one of his band’s shows recently with a few friends and how she kinda ran in the same-ish circles— but most of what he said about her went in one ear and out the other. Hearing him ramble on and on about a new crush hurt more than you thought it would. Even more than when you two were actually just friends and you were harboring what felt like a hopeless crush on him for years before finally admitting it.

Breaking up was supposed to save you both from more heartbreak in the long run, but most of the time it felt like it was only making things worse. Sometimes you wondered if Eddie felt the same way— if he regretted it as much as you did.

It was almost too obvious that he didn’t, though, because he didn’t waste a second moving on.

New girl, new crush, new love. All of which wasn’t you anymore.

You looked away from where he stood next to the girl— you were only fifty percent sure her name was Ally. She was happily laughing at whatever Eddie had just said to her, and he was smiling widely.

“I’m gonna go inside and attempt to find the bathroom,” You told Robin before downing the rest of what was in your cup and placing it on the ground, and then standing up.

She looked up at you. “Want some help?”

“No, it’s okay,” You shook your head. “I’ll be right back.”

You kept your eyes down and away from Eddie as you walked into the house, a place that was way too small to have this many people in it. The inside was packed to the brim with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, and that was the main reason why you, Robin, and Eddie immediately retreated to the backyard once the three of you showed up. The only reason you all knew about the party was because of a friend of a friend of someone that Eddie met at The Hideout a few weeks ago.

You maneuvered through the throngs of dancing people and groups of friends talking loudly over the blasting music and headed up the stairs, hoping that it would be a bit more calm.

The universe must have been somewhat on your side because you found the bathroom on your first try. You didn’t even need to use it, you just wanted a moment of quiet. And even though you could hear the muffled sounds of the song playing downstairs through the shut door, it was still good enough.

You leaned back against the sink and let out a long breath.

It was hard not to think about Eddie with Ally and how happy they looked, even though it was only one of their first few conversations. All you wanted to do was take her place. All you wanted was for him to want you like that again.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, this complicated. Being just friends again was supposed to be the best thing to do, and you now wanted to bitterly laugh at yourself for stupidly believing that thought two months ago. Most of the time, that night played back on what felt like a continuous loop in your head. You kept wondering if you should’ve done things differently; if you should’ve, maybe, fought harder to keep what you two had.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

You had immediately laughed at Eddie’s soft-spoken words, thinking that he was joking, but when he didn’t join in, you were furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“This just doesn’t make sense, y’know? We’re graduating soon, and then we’re gonna be going in completely different directions. You’re leaving Hawkins, and I already know that I’m gonna be stuck here.”

You were quiet because you had no idea how to respond to that. Maybe it was only half-right— yes, you were going to be headed to a college that was not in Indiana at the end of the summer, but you truly couldn’t imagine Eddie being “stuck” anywhere.

“We’re better off as friends,” He continued. “Neither of us can get hurt that way.”

It was all so surprising and felt entirely out of nowhere, but you could tell by how he said the words that he had been thinking about this for a while. There was a part of you that could understand what he meant, the sad why behind it all, so you decided to lean into that. Because, in a way, he was kind of right— the deeper you fell for each other, the more painful the heartbreak would be in the end, and the harder it would be to leave in August.

But, shit, you were already in way too deep.

You still felt yourself nodding in agreement with him anyway, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. “Okay.”

“So… just friends again?”

You simply nodded again and gave him a small smile. “Yeah, of course. Just friends.”

Now you felt so dumb for saying that, for agreeing to the idea. You couldn’t be “just friends” with Eddie Munson anymore.

There was a loud knock on the door that abruptly pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, one sec,” You yelled out to the person on the other side.

You let out another breath and didn’t bother looking in the mirror to see if the sadness you were feeling was written so clearly across your face. Mainly because you knew that it definitely was and it would be too hard to replace it with a fake smile, anyway.

A random girl was rushing in before you were even fully out of the door, and you hoped that she was doing better than you were at that moment, but it didn’t entirely seem like it.

You decided that you wanted to go back outside and settle yourself back in your spot on the patio chair next to Robin, and you also really wanted another drink. The idea of blurring your thoughts for the rest of the night didn’t sound like the worst idea ever.

You made your way to the stairs and before you even started heading down, you spotted Eddie walking up. He easily noticed you too and he smiled before meeting you at the top of the stairs after a second. He looked at you for a moment and then his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, reaching out to place a hand on your upper arm. It was such a subtle and simple action, but it still made you feel way too many things at once. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” You answered, giving him a weak smile, and then immediately changed the subject so that he wouldn’t question you further right then. “How’d it go with Ally? That’s her name, right?”

“Yeah, it is. But, that ask-out completely crashed and failed because she said that she just started dating someone.”

“Oh, sorry,” You told him, not because you actually felt it, but because it simply felt like the right thing to say at that moment.

“It’s fine,” Eddie shrugged. “What’s the dumb saying? There’s other fish in the sea or whatever.”

You let out a forced kind of laugh. “Yup, right.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

For a second, you considered lying again; it would’ve been the best and simplest thing to do. You could’ve said that you weren’t feeling well and you needed to just head back outside and get some air— you should’ve just said that. But then, suddenly, all you could think was fuck it.

“I can’t do this.”

He looked at you, confused. “Do what?”

“Be friends with you. I can’t go back to how things were with us before we dated. And I know that I have been doing it for the past two months, but I can’t anymore.”

“But, we decided—”

“I know,” You interrupted him. “I know what we decided, but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy to do this. To just turn off my feelings and pretend that I’m not still in love with you.”

Surprisingly, it actually felt good to finally be honest about everything that you had forced yourself to bury over the past few months. It felt as if a weight was being lifted off of your shoulders.

“It’s not easy for me either.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at Eddie’s words. “Yeah, because talking to Ally out there looked really painful and hard for you.”

“That doesn’t…” He trailed off as he shook his head. “That doesn’t mean anything. I promise. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you, or us.”

“Then why are we even doing this right now? What’s the point?”

You two had somehow moved away from the stairs and instead were standing further down the hallway, closer to the bathroom that you had left barely two minutes ago.

“I just,” Eddie began and then sighed. “I know it’s gonna hurt like hell letting you go in a few months, and maybe doing it this way is easier. It’s not at all easy, but maybe it’s better? I don’t know. Most of the time it feels so fucking stupid, and I feel like an idiot for what I did that night… But, maybe it was the right thing to do.”

You considered his words for a moment. Just like that night two months ago, a part of you could recognize that he was at least a little right. But, this time you decided against leaning into the small part of you that wanted to simply agree with him because it made things seem “easy.”

“You know me,” You ultimately said, stepping a little closer and finding his hand. “I overthink everything. I think about every possible outcome for any and every situation. But, this is the one thing that I don’t want to think that far ahead about. And maybe that’s stupid. And maybe we will end up feeling terribly heartbroken at the end of the summer, and we’ll regret not just leaving things like they are right now. But, I’d rather that, than to keep pretending that everything is fine and normal. Somehow that feels so much worse. Why can’t we just enjoy this, us, for what it is before we have to give it up?”

Eddie didn’t say anything at first and that worried you. You braced yourself for the inevitable rejection, and you were already telling yourself that you would be okay with it because at least you tried this time around— you had finally said the words that you wished you’d said that night.

But then he was kissing you. It was abrupt and sudden and you hadn’t seen it coming, even though it was exactly what you wanted to happen. He was pulling his hand away from yours and immediately reaching up to cup your face in both of his hands. They were cold, but you still felt as if you were on fire.

It was probably only him that could affect you this much and this easily. You didn’t realize how much you missed the feel of his mouth on yours and how much you missed having him close to you in this way until it was finally, finally happening again.

Your mind briefly traveled back to the last time this happened. It was the night before the breakup and the two of you were smoking weed in your backyard, sandwiched together in one patio chair instead of sitting in separate ones because it just felt right to do, and the close proximity allowed your lips to easily find his.

“I love you,” Eddie mumbled against your mouth now, which also reminded you of that last time. “I’m sorry I made us lose the past two months.”

Your hands were fisting themselves into his black t-shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “It’s okay. Doesn’t matter.”

And technically, it really didn’t, at least not in your head. You were just glad to be here in this moment with him. It wasn’t too late. You two still had time.

“It’ll be okay,” You told him in between kisses. Maybe you two should have found a bedroom or simply moved anywhere that was out of the dark hallway and away from potential prying eyes, but that didn’t feel like the most important thing to do right then. “Whatever happens in the end. It’ll be okay.”

Eddie was nodding as he pressed you back against the wall and his hands dropped to your waist. “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut

601 notes · View notes

amuyyi · 8 months ago

Text

warm enough .

synopsis; recovering from an expected breakup, you find yourself drunk at a nearby bar, encountering an unfamiliar girl who happens to know your ex.

trope; non idol!ningning x fem!reader, uni au, fluff, a little angst, a little suggestive, strangers to lovers, feat. kep1er members :3

wc; 4.8k

cw; a little suggestive but not really

a/n; fun fact this happened to me irl ! figured i could use my experiences for stories ! everything from the breakup to the bar kiss is based on my personal experience so lol have fun. also its kinda poorly written because i wrote some of it while on the plane + in china while being very tired and i dont feel like proofreading so im sorry ^^'

The breakup was supposed to be a mutual thing. A smooth and easy agreement between you and Jimin. You guys met in a cafe when your soon-to-be-ex girlfriend finally dropped the bomb on you.

“I still care a lot about you, y/n. But I want to focus on myself and my future… I think you should too.”

You wanted to speak up, say that you didn’t want to let go yet. Just… hold on for a little longer. Maybe it’d get better if you guys just kept it going for another week. Another month. Another day?

“What I’m trying to say is…”

You always hated this part.

“I think we should break up.”

Despite the older girl being the one to initiate the ending of the relationship, you always knew it was coming. Jimin was sweet, and you definitely did enjoy the little dates you guys had been on through the past year, but there was something missing. Every time she looked at you, it seemed like she was looking through your eyes into her own. Her mind was always elsewhere whenever you two were together, like she was searching for something you couldn’t provide. She never seemed to smile around you, never laughed loudly or hugged you with warmth.

You really tried to be the person for her, you really did; but it was apparent that she was trying to convince herself you were the one as well.

It was shown in the way she bought you endless gifts with things you said you wanted, but never kissed you, In the way she would allow you to hold her hand, but never reached out herself, how she couldn’t bring herself to say “I love you” out loud. Jimin was cold.

You agreed that this was the best path to take, how you felt the exact same way and that it would be good for the both of you, but the tears that nonconsensually left your eyes said otherwise. You still remember the last words you told her before you got up to leave.

“I really hoped it was you.”

There's a saying or the other. “Your body will know if someone is right for you.” You came across it while aimlessly scrolling on social media once, and you thought it was an interesting but ridiculous concept. Countless people would share stories about how their hair would fall out or how they would break out into horrible acne when they were with their past partners, only being relieved from this when single or with their “match.”

It was funny, and you didn’t believe one bit of it until it actually happened. The tightness in your chest that followed you every time you two went out together, the stress of wondering if she actually enjoyed her company, the way you couldn’t truly relax in her presence– it all went away. It all left when she walked out of your life, and you’ve never felt more at peace with a decision. At least, for a little bit.

The breakup was the easy part. It was the recovery that ruined you.

You were the one to establish a rule of no contact, even after you both expressed wanting to stay in touch. It was your only way to hold on to the last sliver of pride you had left after spending a year chasing after Yu Jimin. The rule was established to allow you some time to heal, and you hoped to return to the girl as friends once you felt ready.

With this in mind, you then proceeded to spend a month barely eating, barely sleeping, and not leaving your apartment unless you needed to for classes. It was difficult to be on your own after dedicating so much time to her, falling behind, hoping that she would see you the way you saw her; but after about a month, you slowly felt yourself regaining your footing.

You started going out again, talking with your roommate, taking time to actually care for yourself. It was nice. Perhaps your progress would have left you comfortable enough to move on if you didn’t decide to go out that day.

There she was. Yu Jimin. After an exact 31 days of no contact with her, you finally cross paths. Quite literally, at that– but she wasn’t alone. There was a girl on her arm. She was pretty. Blonde with bobbed hair and a soft smile that made it impossible to hate her. Jimin was smiling too. This is the first time you’ve seen her smile like that, smiling as if she found what she was looking for after all of this time. She doesn't look past her. She sees her.

Jimin holds the other girl by the small of her waist the way she used to do with you, and she kisses her. She kissed her. Just like how she used to kiss you, but not exactly. There's love in her eyes. A warmth you’ve never seen before. In her eyes, there is certainty.

And that was the day your world came crashing down on top of you.

You tried to act normal as you walked past. You really did. Your eyes remain glued to your phone as your knuckles turn white. Her eyes didn’t even meet yours as you walked by. Why wouldn't she look at you? Maybe she's wondering why you won't look at her. That must be it. You hold your breath. As soon as she passed by, you couldn’t help yourself. You made the mistake of looking back.

…Nothing.

As soon as Jimin was out of sight, you cried. You ran home, scaring half the life out of your poor roommate, Xiaoting, as you collapsed in your bed. Everything hurts. Why did it hurt? You wanted this. You felt better without her— the tightness in your chest was gone.

Instead, it was replaced by an indescribably painful ache. One that felt so deep within your soul it would never heal. Quietly entering your room, Xiaoting says nothing as she sits next to your limp body on the bed, rubbing your back comfortingly. The gesture only makes you sob even harder.

She's been with you through it all. From the beginning of your relationship with Jimin till the end, she was there. Xiaoting really was a good friend.

From then on, Xiaoting’s one goal was simple: cheer you up. She would cook at least once for you every day despite not being the best chef, and she would allow you to rant about the same things over and over no matter how overbearing it got. Honestly, you started to feel a little bad. She shouldn’t have to bend over backwards for you just because you’re a little sad.

So when Xiaoting announces that you will be joining her at the bar with her friends tonight, you couldn't say no. Both because she stated it, not asked you, and that it simply was the least you could do for her. Especially after everything she’s done for you. Before you knew it, you were dressed up in your best (slutty) corset top and cargo pants with some hoops and over exaggerated makeup to accent the look. Xiaoting, as your best roommate and friend, matches with you, and you two make a big scene out of getting ready together; blasting music, doing each other's hair, borrowing each other's clothes, and more.

Xiaoting’s girlfriend Yujin had made herself at home for the pregame, and your mutual friend Hikaru soon followed. With Xiaoting as designated bartender, the four of you mingle, laughing and cracking jokes as the warmth of the alcohol and one another’s presence left you with a warming buzz. Xiaoting was an excellent mixer, and in combination with the chasers Hikaru bought and the drinking games Yujin proposed, you were all ready to go.

Xiaoting and Yujin led the way, hand in hand as you and Hikaru trailed behind, drunkenly singing into the cold night air as you trek to the nearest bar.

Being a Friday night, the establishment had been as packed as expected, and you all squeezed your way past other visitors as you’re guided to a nearby table. Xiaoting starts off strong, ordering shots for the entire group before utilizing her combined charm alongside her girlfriend’s looks to convince guys to purchase drinks for everyone as well. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way the duo would bat their eyelashes innocently at lone men for drinks– but at least it worked.

Lazily, your eyes wander through the crowd, the alcohol in your system making it a struggle to see straight. Despite your inability to see properly, you still manage to catch a glimpse of your friends from the corner of your eye, and easily spot Yujin attempting to very publicly make out with Xiaoting as Hikaru struggles to pull her away. You stifle a laugh at the sight, and decide to leave the three to their antics whilst you look for someone to talk to.

It's been a while since you last struck up a conversation with a stranger. The last time you had put yourself out there was before you met…

You shake your head. No. You are not letting your stupid ex ruin your night. Knitting your brows in concentration, you scan the bar. There were plenty of pretty girls to talk to, but you were feeling a little intimidated. Almost all of them came with at least one other person, and you didn’t want to intrude on anything…

Your eyes landed on a lone blonde at the end of the table, scrolling through her phone with alcohol flushed cheeks. She seemed approachable. Worst case scenario, she simply shoos you off. Taking a deep breath, you approach the blonde, deciding to pull out your best conversation starter.

“Are you chinese? You look chinese!!” You exclaim, suddenly switching to mandarin in the middle of your sentence as you ask the question. Smooth.

The blonde girl looks as if she would’ve been extremely offended at the comment if you didn't just speak to her in her native tongue halfway through your sentence, and she quirks a brow at you, an amused smirk on her lips as she leans against the bar.

“Yeah, I am! What's a cutie like you doing in a place like this alone??”

You feel your heart begin to race. So far so good. “I'm not alone!!! My friends are just busy making out with each other and the other is trying to stop them!!” You also lean on the bar, though not as alluring as the blonde before you. More like you partially collapsed and partially slid on it.

She chortles at your response, “well that's not fair to you, leaving you here all alone.”

The sweet and somewhat sultry tone of the blonde makes (non alcohol induced) blush appear on your face as you laugh, “it really isn't! But whatever! My name is y/n by the way!! What's yours??” You scream over the music, sticking your hand out. It was an unexpectedly polite gesture considering your circumstances, and perhaps it may have seemed a bit comical as well with how drunk you were.

She giggles at the response, grabbing your hand then pulling you in, her lips dangerously close to your ear as she yells over the music, “Ning Yizhuo. But call me Ningning! It's cuter!”

You grin. Ningning was a cute nickname. You decided at this very moment you could trust this cute stranger with your life story and personal information she didn’t ask for, and begin to slur out.

“My friends dragged me out here because I was sad over my ex who moved on from me a month after the breakup even though we dated for a year and she's a big jerk for that even though I wish only the best for her but also I hope she dies!!!”

None of the words you spoke just now came out clear, and they seemed to trip over one another when leaving your mouth, but it was enough for the other girl to go from extremely relaxed to suddenly very heated. She stands up straight as her eyebrows knit together.

“To be honest I don’t think she ever really liked me in the first place! I don’t know!! Whatever it doesn’t matter!!!” You continue on, sounding absolutely pathetic as you let yourself feel through the anger you didn’t even know you were repressing, “I was stupid to stay with someone who couldn’t even look me in the eye when saying she loved me!! She was stupid to do the same!! Whatever!! I don’t know!!”

Ningning cuts you off with a raised hand before you can continue, “what the hell?! I hate people like that!! You're wayyyy too hot to be treated that way! Who is she? What's her name?? I might know her!!”

Against your better drunken judgment, you decide to name drop your ex within a university bar. Because that is always a good idea. “Yu Jimin!! She's a engineering major !!!”

Ningning’s jaw drops as she stares at you, almost as if she were trying to find the correct words for what she has to say next.

“Girl, I know her !!!” She screams out after a brief moment of silence, “we shared a class together once!! Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't know she was like that!! You deserve BETTER!”

Before you could even think of what to say in reaction to that heavy load of information, Ningning grabs your face, pulling you into a kiss. It was a very messy one, her lips almost missing your own during the exchange. Seems like she's not entirely sober either.

Still, even in your drunken state you knew what to do. Your hands immediately find Ningnings hair as you pull her in closer, and you can feel her smiling as she grazes her tongue over the bottom of your lip.

You open your mouth to let her in and the only thing that you can think of or even feel for that matter is Ningning and her tongue. She… was really good at this. Jimin never kissed you like this before. Her hands trail down your back to your ass before she squeezes it, smirking when you squirm against her touch.

She breaks the kiss, her face inches away from yours as she breathes out, “you deserve so much better…” Ningning gives you a quick peck on the lips before stepping back, taking in her work with a devilish glint in her eyes. You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment before whipping out your phone, fully talking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were a wreck. How did all of that happen just now?

“Done by yours truly~” Ningning winks at you, quickly slipping your phone out of your hand and typing something in.

“Wh— Wait what are you doing?”

“Giving you my number, obviously. My girls are gonna wonder where I went.” She hands back your phone and looks at you with soft eyes through her drunken daze.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” Ningning kisses you one last time, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go. She disappears into the crowd of partygoers, a sly fox-like grin on her face.

“There you are!”

You feel an arm land on your shoulder as you jump, twirling around and looking down to see a drunk Hikaru with a slightly less drunk Xiaoting and an absolutely hammered Yujin on her side.

“We should probably head back home!” Xiaoting screams into your ear, “Hikaru’s gonna knock out on the couch and Yujin will be with me!”

Her words barely make it through to you, the music and the alcohol and the adrenaline within your system muffling out every word spoken. Regardless, you still nod and trail behind your friends as you leave, not all too sure what just happened.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You lay in bed, eyes practically burning holes into the new contact in your phone. “宁宁<3” is what it said.

So last night wasn’t just a dream. You really did just get a girl's number by doing nothing but spilling your secrets to a stranger. On top of all of that, your head was absolutely killing you, you swore you could feel your heartbeat within your brain. Still, that wasn’t important. Biting your lip, your fingers hover over the contact name. Should you message her?

y/n [10:59] — hey !! its y/n, the girl from the bar

y/n [10:59] — thanks for keeping me company last night :)

ningning [11:06] — i was wondering if u were gonna text me back

ningning [11:06] — and of course <3 jimin doesn’t know what she lost

y/n [11:08] — haha im flattered

y/n [11:08] — but u barely know me??

ningning [11:11] — that can change xx

Your eyes widen as you reread the text over and over again. Is she implying what you think she's implying? What if she's just being friendly? Can you even platonically make out with someone at the bar?

y/n [11:16] — are u asking me out on a date ning yizhuo ?

You wait.

Oh god. What if she was just being friendly?

ningning [11:18] — only if youll have me

You feel yourself blush at her message, burying your face into your pillow as you squeal like a high school teenager in love. It was embarrassing in hindsight, but.. it felt nice to be wanted.

y/n [11:19] — of course

ningning [11:19] — perfect <3

ningning [11:20] — dinner at my place tonight then?

ningning [11:20] — If youre not too hungover..

ningning [11:20] — i got the best hangover cures ;)

you can't help but arch your eyebrow at the winky face she added at the end but brushed it off, more focused on the fact that your drunk hatred towards your ex landed you a date.

You scramble to your feet and (metaphorically) kick down Xiaoting’s door, abruptly waking the girl from her nap as she screams out, “WO CAO!” She places a hand over her heart as she bolts up within her bed, immediately letting out a sigh of relief when she realizes it was just you.

“Girl what the HELL is wrong with you?!” She hisses, laying back down and throwing the blanket over her head.

You, being the ever loving and best roommate ever, respond to this by jumping into bed with (on top of) the redhead and squeezing her as tight as you can while screaming “I HAVE A DATE!!!”

Xiaoting shoots back up, your arms still latched onto her torso as she looks down at you, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?”

You hear a low groan and a hand slapping your arm as you roll your eyes, slapping the arm back as the voice of Yujin grumbles out and shuffles deeper within the sheets.

Both you and Xiaoting look at one another and giggle before she quietly slips out of bed, quickly placing a kiss on Yujins head before grabbing your arm and leading you out of her room. Once outside, she firmly grasps your shoulders.

“Okay, now tell me everything.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You nervously stand outside of Ningnings apartment, bag clutched in hand as you look back behind you. Xiaoting sat within her car on the side of the road, keeping an eye on you to make sure this girl wasn’t going to kidnap you or the other.

The two of you (and soon enough Yujin and Hikaru) had spent the day giving you pointers on how to go about the date. They had thrown an ungodly amount of clothes your way as well as telling you endless conversation starters and compliments to give another person. By the end of it all your head was overflowing with information that you were going to forget as soon as you head out the door, and all of your closet was sprawled on your bedroom floor and in the living room. Still, the girls seemed quite proud of their work.

All of you had consecutively agreed on an outfit that was nice, but not too nice. You wore a plaid skirt paired with a simple tank top and an off the shoulder cardigan.

Holding your breath, you ring the doorbell. You really hoped this wasn’t a mistake. When was the last time you were actually on a date with someone? You couldn't remember. After a few moments of silence, you hear shuffling followed by the door unlocking and Ningning poking her head out shyly. Her eyes light up at the sight of you before opening the door completely, revealing her outfit.

She wore an oversized plaid button up, unintentionally matching with your skirt alongside baggy jeans and some bunny slippers you thought were incredibly cute. Her hair was tied up in a messy but charming bun, held up by a hair stick with small gemstones dangling from the end.

This Ningning was completely different from the one you had met at the bar last night. Though, you suppose you were a different person now as well.

“You're here! Come in come in!” She grabs your hand and guides you inside. Flustered, you spare a quick glance behind you, and you can spot the silhouette of Xiaoting throwing a thumbs up from her car before Ningning closes the door behind you.

“You look gorgeous today, by the way,” Ningning compliments, her thumb rubbing over your fingers as she walks you through her apartment. The gesture makes your cheeks warm, and you find yourself easing into her touch like putty. It was a touch that was loving. Kind. Intentional.

Her home was cozy, with white walls paired alongside warm lighting and paintings and other wall art lining the interior. There was an appetizing aroma that wafted through the air, and you had remembered that Ningning had offered to cook for you.

“What have you prepared for us tonight, chef Ningning?” You ask, squeezing her hand as she grins, “Well it's not much, I'm not a really good cook but I decided to make us some dumplings! A little basic, but it's the only dish I feel like I’ve actually perfected.”

“I hope this is the hangover cure you mentioned” you comment lightheartedly, and you sense a playful energy in the way she looks back at you.

“You'll find out soon enough.”

You once again find yourself quirking a brow at her vague answers, but she simply smiles at you innocently and you find yourself smiling back. It was hard to not be amused by her.

Ningning guides you to the kitchen, which was cleaned perfectly for your arrival. On the center of the table were multiple bamboo steamer baskets, as well as a large tea pot and a simple glass bottle with various native wildflowers as a centerpiece.

The other girl pulls out a chair for you, and you teasing grin at the polite gesture, “how romantic, Ninging~”

She rolls her eyes and giggles before settling down herself, instantaneously pouring you a cup of tea as she gestures at the baskets, “go on, dig in. I’ll be personally offended if you don’t.”

Chuckling, you open up the baskets, releasing clouds of steam before revealing multiple handmade dumplings with various fillings and differing folding styles. Your eyes widen, and you simply comment, “wow,” before taking the first bite of the food.

To say that it tasted amazing was an understatement– you practically felt like you were thrown back to the motherland with a single bite, and it wasn’t long before you were filling your plate with more.

The two of you had spent the rest of the evening getting to know one another more. You had learned she was a computer science major and going onto her third year of uni, as well as the fact she was from Harbing whilst you shared that you were from Shanghai.

“Big city girl, huh?” Ningning amusedly comments, sipping on her tea as you roll your eyes, “yeah… But I'm not rich or anything before you ask.”

The blonde feigns rejection as she snaps her fingers, “damn. I was gonna ask you to buy drinks next time we head to the bars, I think you owe me. ” She smiles at you, and it's warm.

You liked this. You liked how easy it was to talk to her. It was never this easy before.

Soon enough you had ended up on Ningning’s couch, browsing through movies aimlessly as the hefty meal threatened to send you into a food coma. The blonde lay comfortably in your arms underneath a blanket, her eyes occasionally fluttering shut as you continued to search for something to watch.

“Hmm, what about… Velocipastor?” The name completely throws you off guard, prompting you to click on it, skimming over the description as you feel the vibration of Ninging lazily humming beneath you.

“Oh that movie is really good, trust me.”

“... Really? Are you sure, Ning?”

“Yeah yeah…” Her eyes were already shut as she spoke, nuzzling in closer to you as you chuckle, putting on the movie as you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

Honestly, the movie seemed to be an excuse for the girl to be physically close to you– maybe get a nap in? You weren’t even sure if she was watching the movie at this point. Still, maybe it was for the best. Velocipastor was definitely not well funded within its production, that much could be seen. Plus, you couldn't complain about having a cute girl in your arms.

“Does your head still hurt?”

Ningning’s soft voice rings out, startling you. Honestly, you were getting pretty invested in the film, you had thought she already fell asleep.

“Mmm, a little. I don’t think your hangover cure worked.”

“Oh, the dumplings weren’t the cure.”

Your head cocks to the side as you tear your gaze away from the tv screen, looking down at the girl nestled on your chest as she looks back up at you. There was that all too familiar glint in her eyes again.

“Then what is?”

A mischievous grin curls on her lips before she leans in, connecting her lips with yours. Still a bit sluggish from the night before alongside a hefty meal, her kissing was a bit sloppy, but it was soft. Much softer than before.

You feel yourself almost immediately sigh into the kiss, and you would have found it embarrassing if she didnt guide her hand up your chest, to your neck, and into your hair, soon deepening the kiss.

Not expecting things to escalate so soon, you couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as your hands landed on her hips, nails digging into her sides desperately as she laughs against your lips, pulling back.

“You’re really cute, y’know?” She purrs, using her hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and you can see the hint of pink spread across her lips as she smiles, drinking in the sight of you.

Before you even have a chance to respond, Ningning tackles your jawline, trailing kisses down your face and onto your neck. You try to respond, but when she starts to nip the side of your neck, the words you wanted to say somehow managed to melt into complete mush.

“Mmhmmhgh…”

The sound that escapes your lips allows you the chance to actually feel embarrassed, and you slam a hand over your lips, looking away from Ninging. Your response elicits another laugh from the blonde, and you swear you could listen to the sound forever.

Her symphony soon quiets though, and Ningning looks you straight in the eye, her gaze softening as she opens her mouth, struggling to find the right words to say.

“Look, I know we just met…” she trails off for a moment, almost a bit shy to continue, “but if you want to give me a chance and see where this goes, I promise I’ll treat you so well.”

Her eyes are filled with genuine desire for you, and you couldn’t help but feel… Isolated? Targetted? For the first time you feel like you’re seen, and you don’t know what to do about it.

She presses on, “I’d really like to see you again, and I know you’re going through a lot right now but I want to be there with you every step of the way. I want to see where this takes us.”

“I want you, y/n.”

Your face heats up instantaneously, and you swear your eyes were threatening to bulge out of your skull right then and there. You look at her in silence as you struggle to find your words, and after a few seconds you finally croak out,

“I… I want to see where this takes us too, Ningning.”

Her eyes brighten at your response, and she beams, pulling you into a tight hug on the couch before interlocking her lips with yours once again. You giggle into the kiss, and throw the blanket over the two of you as the movie on the tv buzzed on. For the first time, you found someone warm enough for you.

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deliciousangelfestival · 11 days ago

Text

Change of Heart - 2 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. He knew there was no point in pushing further. Grace was like a fortress, guarding whatever secrets you had entrusted her with. Talking to her felt futile, like arguing with a wall that refused to crack.

“I won’t press you for more answers,” he said, his voice softening, though the tension lingered in his tone. “At least tell me this—is she in trouble? Is someone trying to hurt her or threaten her?” His jaw tightened as he spoke, his concern leaking through despite his best effort to remain composed.

Grace hesitated before answering. “No,” she replied firmly, her gaze unwavering.

A part of Bucky felt a wave of relief at her reassurance. If Grace said you weren’t in danger, then maybe you were safe. But another part of him sank deeper into confusion and sadness. For two years, you had been his constant, his safe harbor.

You weren’t just his wife on paper; you had been someone he could rely on, someone who listened to him without judgment. Now, the thought that you might be facing something he had overlooked made him feel hollow.

Had he missed something? Overlooked a sign? The thought gnawed at him as he stood there in silence. You had always been a good listener, absorbing his worries and frustrations like a sponge. Better than any therapist he’d ever paid for. In fact, since marrying you, he had stopped going to therapy altogether.

But then it hit him. You’d rarely opened up about your own life. He couldn’t even recall the last time you shared anything personal. Was that his failure? Not listening to you when you needed him most? His chest tightened with guilt as he realized that the contract, which was supposed to ensure mutual understanding, might have become a barrier instead of a bridge.

Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He glanced at the screen and saw the agency’s number.

“Mr. Barnes, it’s about the arrangement,” the voice on the other end said.

“What is it?” His tone was curt, impatient.

“Your wife has decided not to renew the contract.”

He gritted his teeth. “I know that already.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice continued, cautiously. “But she also returned the money you gave her.”

Bucky froze, his grip on the phone tightening. “What?”

“She left it with us. I’m sorry for the way this unfolded, Mr. Barnes. If you have time, we’d like to meet and discuss this in person.”

He clenched his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“Understood. One more thing—Miss L/N left a message. She wanted you to know that she’s sorry.”

Bucky ended the call without a word. His mind was racing, a cacophony of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t untangle.

As he turned to leave, Grace finally broke her silence. “She told me to tell you not to look for her,” she said, her voice low but resolute.

Her words landed like a punch to his gut. He turned back to face her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t look for her,” Grace repeated, softer this time, as if trying to ease the blow.

Bucky’s lips parted, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, his throat tight. Without another word, he turned and walked away, her parting message crushing him with every step.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The matchmaking agency didn’t have an official name. To the outside world, it appeared to be an upscale wedding organizer. But beneath the surface, it operated a discreet business, catering to an elite clientele. The agency specialized in PR, celebrity pairings, and finding partners for those seeking unconventional marriages.

To join this matchmaking service, clients paid exorbitant fees, a cost justified by the agency’s ironclad guarantee of success and confidentiality. This exclusivity made it accessible only to the wealthiest 1%. For most clients, love wasn’t a priority. Many were too jaded, too broken, or simply unwilling to risk their hearts again, yet they craved the semblance of companionship.

Companionship didn’t necessarily mean intimacy. Some sought emotional connections without physical ties, while others wanted a blend of friendship and trust. In essence, the agency sold what its clients desired most: a reliable partner tailored to their needs.

That’s where Bucky came in. He wasn’t looking for love. He needed someone he could trust, someone who fit seamlessly into his life. You had checked every box. You charmed his parents and, more importantly, his grandfather—a critical seal of approval.

Now, Bucky sat in the CEO’s office of the agency, his jaw set and his posture rigid. The room was sleek and modern, dominated by a white sofa where both of them sat. He accepted the black tea she offered but barely touched it.

The CEO, a sharp-eyed woman in her late forties, sat across from him, her demeanor professional but empathetic. She had started this agency after her own marriage fell apart. Betrayed by her husband’s infidelity and weary of meaningless dates, she realized she wasn’t alone. Many shared her frustration with traditional relationships. That realization had birthed her unique matchmaking business.

She leaned forward slightly, her expression neutral but observant. “Thank you for making time to meet with me, Mr. Barnes,” she began.

Bucky’s voice was clipped. “Do you know what she did?”

“Yes,” the CEO replied calmly. “She came here yesterday and asked me to give you these.” She placed two envelopes on the table between them.

“This one contains the check for the money she received. She’s returning it to you. The other is a letter she wanted you to have.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to the envelopes. They were unassuming, just thin paper, yet they felt heavier than the multimillion-dollar contracts he signed daily. He hesitated, his fingers brushing over the edges. Despite his composed exterior, uncertainty gnawed at him.

“Would you like me to open them for you?” the CEO asked gently.

“No, thank you.” His voice was firm, though his hand trembled slightly as he picked up the envelopes.

Slowly, he opened the first one. Inside was a check for the exact amount you’d received when signing the contract—$2 million for two years.

His chest tightened. So that damn $1 was enough to make you leave? Why?

Didn’t you say the money was meant to help you break free from your parents’ control? You wanted to save it to open a café, to buy a boat, to carve out a life of your own.

With a deep breath, he opened the second envelope. This was the one you had specifically instructed to be given to him. He unfolded the paper, hoping for answers, for clarity.

Instead, there was only one sentence:

“It’s not you. It’s me.”

Bucky scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. His grip on the paper tightened as his jaw clenched. What kind of joke is this? Of all people, he never thought he’d be the one on the receiving end of such a cliché. And didn’t everyone know? The person who said those words was usually the one placing blame.

So it is me. I’m the reason you left.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as the weight of realization settled over him. He thought back to the countless times you’d listened to him, your quiet understanding, your patience. Had he ever done the same for you? Had he missed the signs that you were unhappy?

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Did you see her face yesterday?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

“Yes,” the CEO replied, her expression unreadable.

“What did you see? Was she sad? Angry? Happy?”

The CEO took a moment before answering. “I sensed relief when she handed me the check.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed, his chest constricting at her words. Relief? Was that all you felt after two years together?

“But,” she continued, her voice softening, “when she gave me the letter for you, I saw regret in her eyes.”

Bucky froze, those five words—I saw regret in her eyes—hitting him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the letter still clutched in his hand.

If you regretted it, why did you leave? Why didn’t you say anything? Was it really so unbearable to stay?

His thoughts spiraled as he sat there, motionless, staring at the remnants of what he thought was a stable arrangement. The unanswered questions twisted in his mind, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.

“Forgive my frankness, Mr. Barnes,” the CEO began, her tone professional yet slightly playful. “Since you’re officially single now, would you like me to add you back to the list?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened as he leveled a cold glare at her. “Marriage is the last thing on my mind.”

The CEO nodded, her smile faint and understanding. “Of course. I apologize for asking.”

Bucky stood, adjusting his suit jacket with deliberate movements, signaling the end of the conversation. He turned to leave, but the CEO rose to her feet and extended her hand toward him.

“It’s been a privilege having you as our client, Mr. Barnes,” she said with a polite smile. “I hope our paths cross again.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded her. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and shook her hand, his grip firm but curt. “This is the last time I’ll be here.”

Her smile didn’t falter, remaining calm and composed. “Safe travels, Mr. Barnes. And thank you for using our services.”

Bucky released her hand without another word, his expression unreadable as he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. His footsteps echoed in the quiet, elegant office, a stark reminder that this chapter of his life was closing for good.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky slid into the backseat of his car, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, hesitant but professional. “Where to, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat. “To Grandpa’s house.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the car wove through the streets, Bucky stared out the window, lost in thought. His mind wandered to his grandfather, Paul—stubborn, sharp-tongued, and annoyingly perceptive. He wondered if the old man already knew you had left or if he was still blissfully unaware.

Ever since you met his family, you’d formed an immediate bond with Paul. The connection between you two had been almost effortless. You once told Bucky that, having never known your own grandparents, you’d always yearned for an elder figure in your life.

For Paul, who often clashed with Bucky during their 20-minute tolerance window, you were a revelation. You brought out a side of him Bucky rarely saw—a livelier, softer version of the strict, commanding patriarch. Paul saw in you the granddaughter he’d always wished for: someone who called him, visited him, and actually listened to his long-winded stories.

Yet even that bond hadn’t been enough to make you stay.

When the car pulled up to the grand estate, Bucky stepped out and made his way inside, his movements tense and deliberate. He headed toward Paul’s study, where the old man often spent his afternoons.

Pushing open the door, he paused. Paul sat in his wheelchair by the fireplace, glasses perched on his nose, reading a letter. The firelight cast warm hues across the room, highlighting the lined face of a man who had lived through decades of triumphs and disappointments.

Before Bucky could announce his presence, Paul’s voice broke the silence.

“She left, didn’t she?” The elder’s tone was heavy, filled with resignation. He crumpled the letter in his hands and tossed it into the flames, watching as it curled into ash.

Bucky froze, guilt knotting in his chest. “She… she said goodbye to you?”

Paul didn’t look up. “And about the agency.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. Did Grandpa know everything?

“Grandpa, I can explain—”

“Shut up, you stupid boy!” Paul snapped, his voice rising with a force that belied his age. His hand moved to his chest as if to steady himself. “You fooled me twice, Bucky. Twice! First, you made me believe your marriage was real. Then, you made me believe I finally had a granddaughter.”

Bucky instinctively stepped closer, his hand resting gently on Paul’s shoulder, his other moving to massage the elder’s chest. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I—”

Paul shook him off, his eyes blazing with disappointment. “And don’t get me started on that ridiculous matchmaking agency. It’s absurd! What happened to normal relationships? Real love?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Paul’s voice cracked, the anger giving way to heartbreak. “You broke this old man’s heart, Bucky. I thought… I thought I could finally go in peace, knowing you had a wife. A good girl by your side. But now…”

He saw it with his own eyes—that Bucky and you were a perfect match. Turns out, it was all a lie. It broke him.

“Tell me,” Paul said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “does she mean anything to you? Or was it just a contract?”

Bucky hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

Paul’s eyes narrowed, his disappointment deepening. “You know what? She was right to leave you for a single dollar.”

The words hit Bucky like a slap. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. Everyone seemed to blame him for your departure—Grace, the agency, and now his own grandfather. What did I do that was so wrong?

He finally snapped. “If she didn’t mean anything to me, would I have walked out of a $100 billion meeting to go ask where she is?”

It hurt even more because he had lost his best friend. A wife was just a word to him, but a best friend? Yes. Yes, you were. You meant a lot to him, and to his grandfather as well. And you just left without a proper goodbye, as if he didn’t deserve one. He needed answers.

He even skipped a meeting worth billions of dollars. For him to miss it means you are worth more than billions to him.

Paul’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from anger to realization.

“Then what are you doing here?” Paul barked, his voice regaining its edge. “Go find her!”

Bucky stood, stunned into silence.

“Don’t come back until you’ve found her!” Paul continued, pointing toward the door. “And forget about the company. It can survive without you. She’s the one you need to fix this with.”

Bucky nodded stiffly, his expression a mix of determination and frustration. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the study, leaving Paul alone by the fire.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As Bucky stepped out of his grandfather’s house, the weight of the conversation still hanging over him, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before answering.

"Sir," came the voice of his head of security.

Bucky sighed, exhaustion creeping into his bones. "Tell me at least some good news," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"We found her."

The words hit him like a jolt of electricity. His pulse quickened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of hope lit in his chest.

Bucky straightened up, his posture shifting from defeat to determination. "Where is she?" His voice was sharper now, his body leaning forward, eager for any hint of where you might be.

This was the news he’d been waiting for, the answer he desperately needed.

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