#BUT I BELIEVED YOU WERE MY SAVIOUR

[ishouldsleepbut]

the sailor song trend in edits right now is actually going to destroy me

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)

[jtownraindancer]

Random Dan Rydell Gifsets #7/?

Sports Night: Season 2 Episode 22- Quo Vadimus

@divine-victory beloved ♡

[brick-van-dyke]

Literally the opposite of what actually happens but ok sure, let's assume all pro Palestinians (including Jewish Palestinians and antizionist Jews) have said what you just put in their mouth. Lets also assume that any and all Palestinians (again, including Jewish Palestinians) who hate Israeli Jews for the treatment of them are wrong while Jews who hate Germans for their cruelty are right. Let's assume we support, unconditionally, all Zionists in the past and present since apparently you see Zionism as Representing Jewish safety.

This implies we should go support the people who have historically supported the Nazi party in Germany (Zionist Federation of Germany with the The Haavara Agreement, as well as their collaboration and in killing Jews in Nazi Germany, remembering also their deal to deport Jews to Palestine), or the famously totally not antisemitic far right neo nazis (Donald Trump, Proud Boys, etc) currently supporting Israel and saying it "should" be the only place for Jews. If these groups, who have been notorious for desecrating Jewish graves and synagogues long before oct 7, spraying graffiti of swastikas, and harassing Jews, are now pro Israel (evidently again as said groups have vouched support for Israel and attacked activists for ceasefire continually over the past years, should we, as people who do not want to accept any intolerance from either anti Jewish OR anti Palestinian sentiment, just ignore all of this?

If supporting Israel means standing side by side with people raising their hand in a seig hail and saying "death to Jews" and "death to Arabs"? Yeah, no, I don't think the enemy here is a race or even the trauma from years of occupation that shows as defensiveness and hatred, but as always, the western Nazis who pit and have always pitted racial groups against each other. And I think I'd rather die both pro Palestinian and pro Jewish rather than live as a nazi. And evidently it is established Neo Nazi organisations supporting Israel and I will not stand besides those antisemitic, racists motherfuckers and no amount of "some of the nazis might be Jewish and hate Jews" will make me rethink that. There were gay Nazis, but they still killed us for being queer. Likewise, I don't stand with any other group who bootlick to their oppressors and side with those oppressors.

Like, there is just nothing that can be said to convince people to join the same side that are reusing nazi slogans, signal and symbols, I'm sorry but no. Many many Jews, queers and people who have any trauma around nazis fucking up their lives don't want that and calling them "the wrong kind of Jew" or "self hating" is just wrong. Jews can hate nazis, and if a nazi says "you should support Israel" damn right I'll question that.

I also want to add a bit extra in relation to people who try to use this movement for antisemitism, and those who do actually have trauma from Israeli occupation. The former are kicked out, ostracized and shunned. They are not part of this movement and, more often than not, hate Palestinians and Arabs as well. Using this movement is a convenient way for them to encite hatred towards both Arabs and Jews, they are racists fuckwits and we, those who want freedom and equality for both Jews and Palestinians, do not recognise these fuckers as much as they hold hatred and clash with our own groups.

The latter are those who, much like many people have been led to believe thanks to propaganda, that Jewishness and Zionism are one and the same when they're very different. Zionism, while originating from Jewish groups intertwining into the French academic community, it is a political movement built out of western socialism and feudalist nationalism. The genuine hope of return is a separate Jewish concept that, while has been misused to justify Political Zionism, is its own concept that has existed long before the influence of French militarism and western colonialist ideologies. Said people see the indiscriminate slaughter in Palestine and even towards other Jews and then blame Jews, thanks to that conflation. The defending of that lie only further endangers Jewish communities and risks the rise of antisemitism. Israel has, despite being warned of this, capitalised further on this and incited violence against Jews.

Despite all of this, all evidence, and all logic, even if we assume that all Jewish and Arab Palestinians somehow are to be blamed more than any far right Nazi standing by your side for 1939, it cannot be denied that the obsession of race being the determining factor of ones morality is a dangerous standpoint to base your stance on. If this really is an argument of "pro Arab or pro Jew" with no allowance to accept all races as equal, then there is no argument to be had; if you think anyone born as any one race or ethnicity is to blame then your own identity cannot claim innocence over the inherent racism of that stance, both towards Arabs and the racist assumption of othering Jews, even and especially as a Jew.

starting to realize that when antizionists say “israel shouldn’t be the only safe place for jews” they don’t mean “so we should make other places safe for jews,” they mean “there should be no safe place for jews”

[in-zwielicht]

twitter algorithm thought i wanted to see shit about ed(s) day ruined faith in humanity lost forever

[multific]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Hannibal Lecter x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Cannibalism, Smut, Murder +18!!!

Summary: You two were so different, yet still the same. 

"Mrs Lecter?" 

You turned and smiled at the woman. "Yes?" you asked with a soft tone when in reality you were fuming.

How dare she just come up to you out of the blue?!

How dare she interrupt your perfect evening?!

"Hi, My name is Lucy, and I'm a huge fan of your books." of course she was, your books are brilliant. "I truly believe you are a pioneer in the genre of horror-romance."

"Thank you very much." Of course you were, no one was as good as you.

"I was wondering if you could sign my book please?"

"No problem at all." you smiled so sweetly. Why would she even have the book with her?! You are in a restaurant! You quickly signed her book and she thanked you, with your smile still present you turned back and lifted your glass to your lips.

"No need to be angry, Darling." your husband chuckled as you looked into his eyes.

Reading the other as if you were open books was something that came to both of you naturally. 

"I'm here to celebrate our anniversary. Not at a meet and greet."

"Of course, but you have to indulge them a little. Make them think they are important so they keep coming back. You mastered that one, My Love."

"I believe it was you rubbing off on me. After all, it is 30 years we have known one another."

"And I knew you were trouble from the second I saw you. Cunning, manipulative, narcissistic, egoistic, psychotic. And yet you are stunning and mine." Hannibal lifted his glass as you clicked yours against his.

"Only yours." you smiled at him, this one, was not fake but a genuine one for your husband.

On your way home from the restaurant, it began to rain, you let out a long sigh as Hannibal was driving.

"Rain always makes me nostalgic," you said as he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. He stopped at a red light and you looked at him. "When you killed my stepfather... for me. It was also raining."

"He had it coming, he abused you and murdered your mother. I gave him a merciful end. One he didn't deserve."

"He deserved to suffer like I did, but it was not what I meant, Hannibal."

"Please, elaborate then."

"You killed him because he was about to kill me, you became my saviour, but it is not only that. I remember you tore him apart, you kept on cutting and breaking his bones. I should have been disgusted, yet all I could think about was the way your muscles tensed and the grunts you let out."

"So, I turned you on." he spoke as he turned a corner. "I figured, from the way you acted after."

"I never got naked so fast in my life. We made love in that pool of blood in front of the fireplace. I remember we were young and unsure. It was so hot, I could taste blood on your lips." you could recall the way he moved his hips, so amazing, he reached such depths inside you that you weren't even sure existed. 

But he could also recall the way you completely submit to him. You only ever done that to him, no one else gets to have control over you, but him.

"Why are you bringing this up now? It has been a very long time ago."

"Because I want you to do the same tonight. As my gift for our wedding anniversary, I wish to watch you hunt, break and cut and then, I want you to fuck me in the blood."

"We are very similar, My Love." he stopped the car, your eyes never leaving him. "I was thinking almost the same." he smiled as the window behind you rolled down.

"Hi there, I like a three-way, 500 for an hour." the woman behind you talked and you finally turned to look at her.

Prostitutes disgusted you, the way they looked at your husband made your blood boil, but you smiled at her. 

"How about a thousand and I get to watch?" Hannibal replied and you smirked.

The woman agreed and got into the backseat, having no idea what she was in for.

"Happy anniversary."

"I love you." you said as he began to drive again.

---

The next morning you wake up in your bed, under the warm sheets with the smell of food filling the air.

You slowly woke up as the blanket fell down your naked body.

You rolled out of bed, and got dressed in one of Hannibal's shirts before heading to the kitchen.

"Good morning." you said as he had his back turned towards you. You rounded the kitchen island and hugged him.

"Morning. I made your favourite for breakfast. Bacon with eggs."

You looked at the meat sizzling in the pan before looking up at Hannibal as he leaned down to kiss you.

"She truly was a pig." 

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[oct0bra1ns]

Pairing: Yandere Mummy! Pharaoh x time traveler!reader Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others , yanderes, notes:bro im so indecisive, i legit cannot decide on my banner also did you know i was obsessed with ancient egypt as a kid reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Yandere Pharaoh! who almost ended you right then and there for awakening him from his slumber until he laid his eyes upon you. He never believed in prophecies' in his rule but when he saw you he was reminded how someone once prophesied that his reign would return upon being awakened by a saviour.

Yandere Pharaoh who immediately asks you for your hand in marriage and he wouldn't take no for an answer. He doesn't care if you brought him back just so you could find out about his past, you brought him back, you brought his reign back and for that he would spoil you.

Yandere Pharaoh who wastes no time in going to confront the current pharaoh, they were unfit to rule and they deserved no throne.

Yandere Pharaoh who immediately brings you to court and declares that he was to wed you. He takes no time in getting rid of anyone who tries to convince him to get a better spouse or wed someone who actually had influence.

Yandere Pharaoh who dismisses all the concubines because he wants no one else but you.

Yandere Pharaoh who never removes his wrappings in the court but stares at you lovingly as you rewrap them at night.

Yandere Pharaoh who gives you the finest of all materials.

Yandere Pharaoh whos' well aware you're not from his time but seeing as you give him good input to rule his kingdom, he doesn't mind. He won't hesitate to punish anyone who dare says anything against you for aiding him in his rule.

[soelstress]

Silent In the Library

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: While on a mission with Bucky, both of you get creative to avoid detection.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , explicit sex/smut, fingering , p in v sex , unprotected sex , sex in a library , some language

A/N 1 - This is my second submission for @mercurial-chuckles Smutty September Fest. Thank you for doing this challenge, it's been fun playing around with the prompts.

A/N 2 - Prompts - Asked a friend to pick up to five prompts for me... of course I was given five so two stories it is 🙈 7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 14) Library sex for those dark academia vibes

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - I think the photo was from the 'Fresh' Flaunt photoshoot but I saved it from Google

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

Your limited sight in the dark night only heightened your other senses. Branches of the hedge dug into the skin of your back, scraping the exposed flesh. Warm pants tickled your ear. The smell of fresh greenery swirled with cologne, but the hand around your throat prevented you from inhaling. Your heart pounded and breaths became shorter, you couldn’t take much more.

“Come with me”.

You froze when he suddenly crumpled to the ground without a noise. Not daring to even breathe, your eyes darted around. A shift in the shadows caught your attention, moonlight softly reflecting off black and gold Vibranium to reveal the presence of your saviour. You took a deep breath in relief, the sudden rush of air triggering a coughing fit. “What took you so long?” 

A scoff reached you long before the outline of your mission partner, barely visible in his dark attire. “Despite what Sam believes, I do not have ‘cyborg x-ray vision’. Took me awhile to dodge security AND find you. In a maze. That’s out of bounds. Couldn’t have made it any easier for me, could you?” He stopped near you, pausing as your coughing fit didn’t seem to be easing. “You ok?”

You raised your arms in an attempt to ease your spluttering. After a few moments, it slowed. “Unfortunately for you, yes”. You took a few slow breaths before turning to him. “Sorry for any extra paperwork, I’m sure you’d prefer that to having to deal with me”.

“I can handle paperwork. What I can’t handle is Sam complaining if something happens to you. I wanted to throw him off the plane because he grilled me for a bruise that you got. After our last mission. Tripping over thin air”. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the weight of his trademark scowl. Hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks from his words which unfortunately were true. “So can we please try to keep you in one piece to complete the mission and the journey home?”

Right. The mission. The one requiring you to break into the mansion of a former Hydra informant to retrieve a drive that contained information on old Hydra bases and activities. The one that Sam swore would be best to infiltrate on the night of a big party to avoid rousing suspicion. The one he insisted on pairing you and Bucky together. James Bucky Barnes - tonight’s savour, the reason you had previously tripped over thin air, and ultimately your unrequited crush. Part of you wanted to kill Sam who teased you mercilessly for your crush but the other part relished the chance to work closely with the sinfully sexy Super Soldier.

The pair of you had decided to attend the party separately, providing two opportunities to grab the drive, but also separate alibis if required. On arrival, you had started by trying to sneak upstairs to the library. But one lone security guard had thwarted your effort and then proceeded to follow you. In a desperate attempt you tried to escape him in the maze but he had cornered you. He had toyed with you, threatening to take you to the host when Bucky had stepped in. 

A soft grunt interrupted your musings. Bucky had picked up the security guard and removed his phone. Walking a few strides to where two hedges met to form a corner, Bucky carefully launched the guard to land on top of the eight foot hedges so he was out of sight from anyone walking by. You couldn’t help chuckling at the sight. Together you both started to follow the path of the maze in a companionable silence. A few turns had been made and in the distance you could see pinpricks of light from the mansion. Bucky’s warm hand grabbed your wrist. “Someone’s coming” he murmured. You knew he’d be thinking about how to fight his way out as quietly as possible. But with one guard down already, you couldn’t risk attracting further attention.  And only one of you had Super Soldier speed. An idea burst into your mind as you glanced around, seeing a small path in the hedge that led to a dead end after a few paces. 

 You turned and yanked him toward you. “What -“ his question was cut off when you pulled him into a fierce kiss. Bucky froze. You were certain he’d shorted circuited and that you would end up having to fight your way through. Pulling away, you made to turn and face the approaching threat but Bucky guided you backwards towards the small path. His left arm cushioned your back from the hedge, hand cupping the back of your head. His nose and lips drifted along your neck and collarbone, growling when your hands gripped the lapels of his jacket in an effort to pull him closer. Lost in a fog of desire, you felt your body trying to meld to his. His right hand gripped your waist, your leg starting to lift up to his waist in response when he froze again. “They’re gone”. Reality washed over you like a cold tidal wave, the heat of embarrassment soon fighting with the chill you’d felt a moment ago. Though you craved so badly to stay pressed to him, you knew that he didn’t feel the same as you. Besides which and most importantly, you had a job to do. Unclenching your fingers from his jacket, you tried to lower your leg discreetly and checked your appearance as a cover. Bucky unwound his arms from around you but didn’t step back. “What was that?”

Face burning, you sidestepped him with a shrug. “All your training and you don’t know how hard it is to run in heels, let alone fight”. As you walked, you could feel heat in your belly and slick pooling in your panties. Unbelievable. You’d acted like a horny teenager - sharing one kiss and then pressing against him as he held you. How the hell had you lost control like that? There were a few moments of your footsteps before you heard Bucky’s tread catch up. Tension was thick as you silently headed towards the mansion. Leaving the maze, you saw people making their way indoors. 

You avoided looking at Bucky. “I’ll mingle”.

“I’ll hit the bar”. 

Both of you separated at the bottom of the stairs, joining the crowds to drift inside. You began to work your way around the room, spending a few minutes in various conversations and contributing noises of agreement or amusement. It would be enough for the fellow guests to notice you in the moment but difficult to remember later while also giving you a good cover in case security was watching. After thirty minutes, you walked down the hallway that led to the ladies room on the next floor but also the main stairs that led to the library on the top floor. 

“Sam’s gonna kill me, your back looks like you got in a fight with an alley cat”. The rough timbre rumbled in your ear. 

Shrugging, you cautiously began to climb the stairs. “Some guys these days can’t manhandle a woman properly. It’s not the first time I’ve been roughed up”. Bucky fell silent as you moved towards the landing of the next floor. You hadn’t noticed the scratches on your back, Bucky must have effectively shielded your back when he pushed you into the hedge. You bit your lip to hold in a soft moan at the thought. From the way the way he’d handled you and the security guard in the maze, you knew that his version of roughing up would be very different.

“Hold up, doll. Security’s sweeping the stairs. Just lean over and wave like you’ve seen someone”. Doing as instructed, you leaned against the railing. Somehow your gaze landed on Bucky at the bar. A choked gasp escaped your mouth at the first clear sight of him. You knew he wore black from his camouflage trick in the maze. But this was something else. Dressed in a form fitting black suit with tousled hair and stubble dusting his cheeks, he had your heart and mind racing. “See something you like, toots?” Caught in a blue gaze, you blinked before waving. Bucky raised a crystal glass of amber liquid, the black jacket looking snug against his beefy arms and broad chest. 

Taking that as a signal to start moving again, you quietly hurried back along the corridor. “Almost didn’t recognise you without that scowl Barnes. You actually look decent”. 

A soft chuckle sounded through the comm, sounds of movement following. You figured Bucky had left the bar. “Well you clean up nicely too. Almost mistook you for a dame in that dress” he teased. As you crept up the final stairway, a mirror was placed opposite the steps and you took a moment to admire the dress you wore. A black velvet maxi dress that was strapless and had a slit up the left side hugged your body. Blushing slightly, you couldn’t help feeling pleased that he had noticed. Reaching the top of the stairs, you moved towards the correct door. 

You glanced behind you before carefully opening the door to the library, slipping inside before you closed it and looked around. Two walls were lined with books, every floor to ceiling shelf filled carefully and pristinely kept. The door you had just walked through was also framed with shelves of books. A giant rustic stone fireplace dominated the fourth wall to your left, a roaring fire illuminating an abstract painting mounted above it. Chesterfield seats were scattered through out the room. A pleasant smell of old books and leather soothed your nerves and you found yourself relaxing. Approaching the fireplace to examine the painting closely, you were suddenly yanked backwards into the left corner of the room near the door. As you wriggled, you managed to elbow your assailant before being restrained. “Calm down toots! It’s me” Bucky grunted in your ear before letting you go. 

“I thought men from the forties were gentlemen?” Grumbling, you turned and straightened your dress before looking at him to see him rubbing where you’d jabbed him. “Gotta say Barnes, grabbing a lady like that tarnishes your reputation as a charmer”. 

Bucky smirked, his face half hidden in darkness. “Depends on your definition of lady, doll. Besides you’re the one who said about being poorly handled in the maze”. You flushed, earlier thoughts of him handling you resurfacing. “Anyway, come look at this”. He pointed towards the left side of the fireplace. On closer inspection you noticed that the fireplace was not built flush into the wall but instead the stone sides jutted a few feet into the room. Before you could ask if the old man needed his eyes checked, he gently took your elbow and led to you the right side of the fireplace. A little corner nook was formed where the fireplace wall met the bookshelf of the adjoining wall. Near the corner a bookshelf slightly wider than Bucky was built in. “There’s an electronic book safe a few shelves up”.

Glancing around, you saw a rolling ladder on a track. You made to move when Bucky beat you to wheeling it as close as possible, but there was a small gap between the shelf and the ladder. Frowning, you glanced at Bucky who nodded and moved to hold the ladder on one side. As you climbed carefully up the rungs, you heard him move to hold both sides to stop the ladder from rolling. Carefully opening the safe cover, you saw the electronic key pad with the spaces for a five digit number flashing. Looking at the buttons, you could see five buttons had been pressed more frequently than others. As the possibilities for the code ran through your head and you eliminated any as a birthday or memorable date, you thought about how the owner of this mansion had become involved, anything you could remember about his background - of course. You scoffed softly and entered the code. 4-9-3-7-2. The lock clicking open echoed in the quiet room. Shaking your head, you reached into the safe and pulled out a small drive the size of a quarter before sealing the safe and replacing the book cover. You began to descend the ladder, carefully feeling for each step before moving. 

Reaching the last rung, you felt Bucky behind you. Inhaling deeply you slowly turned, using the rungs for support until you found yourself eye to eye with him. Without a word he took the drive from you and slipped it in his breast pocket. His flesh hand cupped your cheek. Blazing blue eyes searched your soul before his lips brushed over yours. Warmth rushed through every fibre of your body. As he pulled back slightly, you ached with want, with need. Lifting your right hand from the rung you caught his stubbled chin and pressed a kissed to the dimple before ghosting a kiss at each corner of his mouth. With a sharp inhale Bucky kissed you softly, almost reverently. He deliberately took his time, a sharp contrast to the fierce kiss in the maze. This was so much better than you had ever imagined, his lips firm and soft though roughened by the stubble peppering his face. You gasped when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking access to your mouth. Once granted his tongue carefully tasted and teased, licking along your teeth and sending shivers down your spine. His tongue brushed yours and you could taste the whiskey he had been nursing earlier. Your thighs pressed together at his luscious licks, imagining that wicked tongue somewhere else. The hand holding his chin moved to drift through his hair while the other arm wrapped around his thick frame. Chests pressed together your leg slowly slid up and wrapped around his waist, grinding against him as you captured and sensually suckled his tongue. With a groan Bucky lifted you off the ladder and held you close. Your other leg wrapped around him as you continue to rub against him. 

Bucky’s lips moved to leave  a wet trail on your face, neck and chest. His right hand moved down your dress and snuck in along the slit. Cerulean eyes widened when he found how wet you were for him.

“The maze” you whisper, answering his unasked question.  

Nuzzling your neck, his fingers slid under the material and glided through your soaking folds. You bit back a moan when he brushed over your clit. One thick finger pushed  inside you, causing you to arch into him. “Fuck… so tight, baby”. As he moaned in your ear, another finger entered you. His thumb brushed your clit as his fingers curled upward. “Squeezing me so tight… God you feel so good”. The only sound that you could hear was your panting and the sound of his fingers fucking you. A burning pressure began to build.

“Barnes” you whimpered, humping his hand frantically. 

“That’s it sweet girl, cum for me”. Bucky’s smile widened as you clamped down on his fingers, his mouth swooping down over yours to catch any noise. 

Using his Vibranium arm to lift you higher, Bucky’s flesh hand fumbled to undo the waistband of his trousers. The sound of a zipper opening reached your ears. Searching blindly your fingers grasped his hot velvet flesh and gently squeezed the tip.

“Been hard since I first saw you in this dress earlier today”. Your eyes widened at the understanding Bucky had wanted you before leaving for the mission. “I wanted to break the fingers of that asshole who dared to touch you”. 

Longing flooded you at the dark threat. “Want you so much. Bucky… Please” you whimpered.

As he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds and over your clit his gaze burned into you, marking you. Lowering you slowly onto his cock, both of you groaned as the thick flesh stretched you deliciously. Once his groin met yours, you let out a small whine at being filled so deeply. 

Before he could move the door to the room opened, chatter and light filling the quiet space. Bucky quietly pushed the ladder back toward its original position before pressing you against the fireplace wall, only the length of the fireplace wall and shadows caused by the fire hiding your presence from the newcomers. Bucky’s eyes never left yours but you could tell his attention was elsewhere. Annoyance swept through you at the second interruption of the night chased by desire. Right now, you didn’t care that your mission was to infiltrate the home of a Hydra agent to steal essential intelligence. Right now, all that mattered was that Bucky - the man who you’d wanted for so long -  was here with you, inside you. These people could notice you at any moment, could catch Bucky balls deep inside you… 

At the thought, your core clenched around him which caused Bucky to let out a muffled curse. His dark brow raised in silent query. You’d never felt so exposed, so reckless and you wanted him in it with you. Rocking your hips, you tried to start moving against him. Bucky’s hold on you tightened as he shifted. A whimper escaped you as he nudged your clit with his movements. His flesh hand covered your mouth, both of you straining to hear any hints that you had been detected. But the chatter carried on, ignorant to the raw exhibition only a few feet away. 

Bucky placed a single finger against your lips in warning. You gently licked his finger before nipping the tip and sucking it into your mouth. Jaw dropping, he inhaled slowly before he began to move. Tongue swirling around the digit, your sucking matched the pace of his slow and steady thrusts. As his body temperature began to rise you were caught in a delightful concoction of senses - Bucky’s scent of sandalwood mixed with the smell of the library, drowning in the depths of his loving and lustful gaze, tasting the slight tang of your arousal on his finger and the feel of his body caging you as you clung tightly to Bucky, trying to pull him even closer. Cautiously he positioned you against the shelf, leaving you immobilised and unable to do anything except continue to take his measured movements. He began to roll his hips and pulled back before repeating the motion. As a wave of heat began to build, you could swear you felt his cock harden further. “Cum” he breathed in your ear. The dam broke and the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you. Feeling a cry rise in your throat you kissed Bucky desperately. With a gasp he twitched inside you, filling you as he rolled his hips to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

Distantly, you heard the door open and close. Only the gentle crackling of the fire and soft panting filled the room now. Bucky lowered you till you stood on slightly wobbly legs and slowly pulled out of you. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully wiped between your legs before doing the same to himself. Eyes locked with yours, he tugged your underwear and dress back into place before tucking himself back into his pants, placing the folded handkerchief into his pants pocket. Leaning forward he caught your mouth in a soft tender kiss. “That should’ve been our first kiss” he murmured. 

“So what happens now?” You hated to think that this had only happened because of the mission, that nothing had changed. When his fingers entwined with yours, you were surprised to see him smiling softly.

“Long term? I want to court you baby, for you to be my girl and me to be your guy. But now? We leave, head home and handover the drive”. A twinkle danced in his eye as his smile changed to a smirk. “And then I want to hear you all night. No interruptions. No being quiet.” His brow puckered in confusion when you giggled. “What?”

“Looks like we’ll both be giving Sam something to complain about”.

[shomixremix]

AT MERCY OF THE SAVIOURS

this is basically just gangfucking my team in genshin. but i do have one hot team, at least!

and thank you all sm for 100 followers!! this is like a little special for that occasion hehe

tags: zhongli, itto, alhaitham, wriothesley, female! reader, smut, gangbanging, blowjob, rough sex, creampie

-> listen. i do not know how or why the ex-geo archon turned businessman, a feral demon from inazuma who says fuck you to the authorities, a badass scholar from sumeru who's done with everyone and the count of criminals from fontaine would ever be in a same place let alone doing the same thing, yet here they are, gang-fucking the reader.

(can you imagine how much smuttier this will get once i pull for neuvillette)

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

"mhh, fuck, so good, doll.." wriothesley grunted as he fucked you from the back, pounding into you with a steady pace. his thick fingers squeezed your meaty hips, sternly holding you in place. his thick cock was entering, no, abusing your greedy hole, each time making sure you could feel every single one of his inches dragging harshly against your plushy walls.

you tried to moan, scream, make any sound from how good he felt - but you couldn't, not with zhongli's dick so deep in your throat.

"yes..." the ex-archon sighed, a couple of beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. "you feel otherworldly, my dear. keep on sucking like that for me, hm?"

his words thick with praise made your pussy throb and clench around the man dicking you down, your legs and arms quivering. propped up only on your hands and knees, ass met with wriothesley's balls every time he thrusted in and mouth wrapped entirely on zhongli's shaft, you weren't sure if you even had the strength to hold yourself up any more.

you were cockdrunk from the way you could feel zhongli's tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, your numerous moans sending vibrations through his length so deliciously. even though your mouth was entirely filled with him, you still managed to whine and whimper, a little bit of drool dripping from your mouth.

"mmpphh, zhongli! z-zhongli!!"

in the process of focusing on giving the dragon adeptus the best head of his entire immortal life, you didn't realize you were neglecting your other lover, the one who was bullying your gummy g-spot with every trust and making you cream around him for the nth time. and the duke of criminals was having none of that.

"i'm glad you think at least one of us is doing a good job at satisfying you, slut" he almost growled out a sarcastic comment, rubbing the soft cheeks of your milky ass. suddenly, he slapped it hard, bottoming out in you with a loud smack! and picking up his pace.

"hey, don't- ahh, fuck, don't talk to her like that! she's s' pretty, yeah, such a pretty girl... needs that perfect ass grabbed and fucked full, not hurt, yeah? you understand what i'm sayin', right, bro?" a familiar voice joined in on the conversation, his loud voice coming out in breathless pants as he warned wriothesley. even though you couldn't see him, you knew that the oni was watching you get fucked by these two men, roughly jerking his monster cock.

"shut it, itto" another voice chimed in, scolding the large demon. "she can take it. she's tougher than she looks; don't let those puppy-like eyes deceive you. it wouldn't even surprise me if this was what she wanted all along: to be spanked and punished as she begs for more. not to even mention the way there's four of us here and she's only paying her sweet attention to just one... i believe that behavior is suitable for a good punishment."

ahh, the all too familiar voice of the fourth man sitting beside the oni, a long cock in the scholar's hand as he slowly stroked himself to the sight of you being fucked out by the others. you whined around zhongli from how rough they were treating you, feeling a little bit guilty for neglecting wrio and putting all of your attention on the geo archon.

"they might be right, love" zhongli hums as he fucks your mouth, immensely enjoying how you take all of him in your throat so eagerly.

"you have been beyond good for me, darling, but i think it's time we let someone else take their turn, hm? i have already had my fun with you, i believe it is time i let our friend, mister wriothesley, gain your full attention... what do you think, dear?"

all you could do was let out a whine around his tip, displeased that you'll have to say goodbye to his warmth and his rock-hard cock that so nicely filled your mouth... on the other hand, you felt guilty and ashamed for neglecting wriothesley, who jealously and feverishly thrusted into you, staying quiet.

"oh, don't be like that, love... one more, and you're all mister wriothesley's. do you understand?" even though his tone made your head fuzzy, you knew damn well that was an order, a warning of some sort. you nod eagerly, sucking at his sensitive veins as you feel how the fontainian man fucks you eagerly.

"she's close, shit!" wrio hums to the rest of them, talking about you as if you weren't even there. "just finish on her face and mouth already so i can give her what she needs."

something about the thought of another spilling all of himself over your pretty face and in your plump mouth made itto's cock twitch in his hands. archons, how that thought brought feelings of jealousy mixed with excitement…

"very well" regarded zhongli, holding the back of your head as he thrusted hard in your mouth. you gave it your best to give him pleasure, gently swirling your tounge around all his most sensitive spots and relaxing the tense muscles of your throat. as soon as you relaxed and let him thrust a little deeper, zhongli groaned out your name and released his hot pleasure in your mouth. you couldn't help but eagerly gulp down everything he gave you, a little bit of it spilling from the corners of your plump lips.

you released him from your mouth with a pop! and he petted you hair, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his tourmaline eyes.

"there. so well-behaved for me." zhongli praised through a hum, soothing your cheek gently with his thumb. his head slightly raised, now turned to the man still balls-deep inside your cushy cunt.

"she's all yours, mister wriothesley." the dark-haired man hums in acknowledgement, quickly changing your position and tossing you on your back. your hands fly to his head, gently holding him between your palms.

"mmphh, wrio.." you moan softly, your fingers gently dancing through his thick, black strands.

"oh, so now you know how to moan my name, doll?"

your hips buck up to his eagerly, begging for more movement. you were just on the very brink of your peak, sososo unbelievably close-

"need something?" he asks, completely still inside you. you nod feverishly, blabbing and moaning as you look up at his pretty, simply hypnotic eyes.

"mhm!! need to come, please wrio, need to come so bad-!"

he smirks and it's mischievous yet alluring, and it stirs something deep within you - almost a fear that he will not give you what you oh so desperately want.

"work for it, then." he simply says, in one swift motion turning you around so that you were on top, seated snuggly on his painfully hard dick.

your eyes widen as he manhandles you into a cowgirl position, his hands still bruising your hips.

"noooo" you whine, unhappy that you'll have to do all the work as he simply gets to lay back and enjoy!

"please! i can't, i don't want to, i want- mph, i just want- ohh!" you whined and begged but to no avail. his rough palms once again met your ass, giving it a spank. it hurt, but the sting of it felt so good.

"the only way you're getting anything is to do as i say, doll. now, why don't you move those pretty hips if you wanna come so badly?"

another spank, making you hiss out in pain. the demon sitting across from the both of you immediately reacted, unsure whether he could take any more of looking at you being hurt for wrio’s and alhaitham's selfish pleasure.

"hey, hey, dude! don't be sucha' asshole! i told ya', she needs to be loved on more, yeah? yeahhh, look at that pretty, fucked out face! like yeah, sure, she's bein' just a tiny bit bratty, but c'mon, other ways to solve that exist, bro! i mean, how can you deny when a woman as gorgeous and sexy as her begs you to make her cum?! simple answer - ya’ don’t! you do as she says! every idiot knows that!"

you blush at the oni's words, a warmth wrapping around you. he was so sweet, and the sight of his big palm roughly squeezing his impossibly large dick was even sweeter.

"let him do what he wishes, itto" alhaitham snarls, gently stroking himself, in contrast with his demon friend whose hand was moving up and down his shaft fast. "I understand that she’s your girlfriend, but she's on his lap, after all"

the oni grunted in defeated, mumbling something about how "it wasn't fair that it wasn't his turn yet" and "girls like you can't be treated so harshly" as he sat back down. with zhongli leaving for the baths to properly clean his skin of mixed slick, there were only three of them fucking you now. which meant itto could get his hands on you all the faster.

meanwhile, you start grinding yourself on wrio's lap, desperately trying to bounce on his cock but you can't. you're so close to your high that your pussy is greedily squeezing wrio in, and his impossible girth mixed with your neediness isn't letting you move at all. in attempt to get any pleasure, you start moving in circles, clamping down on him with every move.

"holy fuck..." wriothesley sighs, throwing his head back. the way your cunt spasmed around him made him just a little closer to his release, and his hips started bucking into yours. archons, he needed to finish so badly...

three more bucks into you and he came, shutting his eyes tight and letting all of his cum release into your more than willing womb. that put you over the edge, falling on him from exhaustion.

you couldn't even rest for a second more, a pair of arms not belonging to the duke of criminals pulling you off his body.

"that's enough" the scribe announced as he pulled your still-sensitive body in his hold, "it's my turn with her".

"fuck off!" wrio cussed at his friend, grabbing a hold of you. "who said i was done?"

"when did i ask if you were done?" alhaitham commented, snatching you away from the fontainian's arms. itto tried to resolve things:

"hey, hey, dudes, let's not fight, yeah? no need to! we'll just let her decide, alright?" the two men fighting over you grumbled to themselves in a displeased manner, but ultimately agreed that it was fair and right for you to decide.

"so, whaddya' say, baby? who do you want in between those pretty, sexy legs?"

you thought for a moment, looking between the three men, all impossibly hard and longing for you.

"it's 'haitham's turn..." you say quietly, earning a big smirk from the sumeru man. he pulls you to him, rather excited that he was the one you chose.

"but" you announce as you're pulled in alhaithams arms, "it's not fair to the rest of you guys..." itto's patience ran thin as he sat back down, angrily fucking his fist in quick, desperate motions. why’d he ever have to allow his friends to fuck you like this?

"fuck, love bug, fine... 'ts okay, i'll..." he had to gulp down his spit to be able to say this, unsure if he was even correctly hearing the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"i'll let them do ya', sweets. a deal’s a deal"

when itto made that stupid bet with his more-than-willing friends and put a night with you on the line, he certainly didn’t expect that he’d be the one sitting it out. he was your boyfriend, for Inazuma’s sake, he should be the one buried in you, not the one jerking off the entire night because he can’t get to you!

even though it was ripping his heart apart, itto thought it was right to ignore his selfish needs and let the two of them go first. you were their prize, after all, and arataki itto was nothing if not an honest man who kept his word. that was one of the qualities he had promised grandma oni to keep, and he certainly wasn’t letting up now.

"but itto... that's so unfair to you.. i can see that you're hurting pretty bad..."

his dick was weeping for your attention. somehow, no matter how hard he tried, jerking off didn't go anywhere, always leading him to a place of very precum-sticky hands and no orgasms.

still, he brushed it off, waving his hand in a shoo-ing manner.

"no sweat, baby. i can wait a lil' longer, yeah? you just say there and be good for my pals, hm? hey, i tried to stop 'em, but if you go overboard they are really gonna punish you, baby, and they won't be as nice as me!"

oh, nobody was as nice as him. his words laced with adoration for your body, desperation for your warmth and thirst for your touch drove you insane. no matter how much you'd like having two gorgeous men as alhaitham and wrio fucking you, your mind still couldn't get over the fact that this sweet demon just went against all of his primal urges, just so you'd be able to be with who you want for the night and so his friends get completely satisfied.

"and what if she can't go on after this, itto? i stopped counting her orgasms after six, and she has come quite a few times since then..." alhaitham asked, worried for his demon friend and the fact that he might be left with blue balls and an excruciatingly painful dick.

itto growled low, shutting his eyes. fuck, this whole situation was unfair and it hurt. both physically and emotionally. itto was the one who wanted you the most, who loved you the most, why'd he have to suffer with not getting you at all?!

"if her pretty pussy really can't take any more after us, she'll be good and help arataki at least with some nice head, yeah?" you nodd feverishly at wrio’s question. you'd do anything to help your generous and selfless boyfriend feel good.

thirty minutes later, your legs were far apart, making enough space for the two men to both fuck your greedy whole.

"shit! so tight, fuck!" the scribe's and wrio's moans about how good you felt certainly felt like salt in the wound for arataki. he sat a little from you with a pout on his face, his slowly-softening dick laid in his palm as he watched you take the two of them, at the same time.

"hah-ah! mphhr.. itto..? why don't you- ah! mmm, wrio! tham! why don't you help yourself, at least a little bit? ooh~" you asked through a wrecked moan, feeling immensely guilty for leaving your love hanging.

"i'm good, baby" he muttered, a displeased look on his face, "can't come if it's not in you, anyway"

those words shoot you right through the heart, melting your insides completely and you come hard, milking the two men inside you. they both quickly follow your lead, spurting ropes of white inside you and stuffing you fully.

the two of them removed themselves from your body, leaving you shivering and full, spread out on the bed. Itto noticed your fucked-out expression, chuckling to himself.

“hah, feels good, doesn’t it, sweets? did ya’ say thanks to my pals for fillin’ you up, hm?”

you turn your head over to where alhaitham and wriothesley rested, giving them a soft smile. you mouth a meek “thank you”, too tired to even speak.

“let’s get ya’ all cleaned up-” your boyfriend starts to get up to go to the bathroom, yet your words make him stop instantly.

“itto” you moan, as if there was nothing else for you in this world but him, “i-itto”

he turns around to look at you, an amused and a little shocked smile on his face. “that’s me, love bug, the one and oni! whatdya need?”

you look at him through your thick eyelashes, a gleam of lust in your eyes. 

“need you” you whimper, “really really really need you”

with those words, he’s immediately on you, nestling himself between your plushy thighs.

“awwww, there’s my pretty girl!” he exclaims excitedly, his palms on each side of your head as he presses kisses all over you. “i’m here, baby, i’m here. i gotcha.”

oh, no matter how good any of his friends felt, itto will forever be your favorite. not only because intercourse with him is pure love-making, filled with adoration and love you have for each other, but also because itto fucked like the big, beefy demon he is - rough and fast.

“ohhh… itto-oh..” you moaned as he slowly eased his tip inside your gaping hole, trying not to be overly rough right out of the gate - but he can’t, there’s no way after he’s been edging himself for hours. his hips snap into yours and he bottoms out in you, making you scream out in ecstasy.

you were amused by it all, really. just ten minutes ago you were taking two above-average cocks inside and doing just fine, and now you’re struggling to take your boyfriend’s cock? itto laughed at how you struggled, soothing your sides gently.

“aww, sweets, still so tight? three dicks haven’t loosened you f’ me, baby?” you whine in embarrassment, arms locking around your boyfriend’s large neck. your pussy pulsated and spasmed around him, sore muscles trying to accommodate his enormous size.

he started moving slightly, rocking into you with gentleness and warmth. itto pressed loving, eager kisses trailing all the way from your eyelids to your collarbone, trying to get you to rest and enjoy after hours worth of rough sex. 

three minutes of him moving and you were already seeing stars. Itto was so big, so thick and deliciously long, that just his shallow thrusts could hit all the right spots in you. he hissed as you clamped down on him again:

“shit, love bug, easy there, baby! already milking me, fuck! don’t ya’ do that, sweets, or i won’t be able to control myself, ‘kay?”

he groaned into your ear, warming you with the weight of his large, warm body on top of yours. even though he warned you not to, you couldn’t help but tighten on him and whimper for more. his thrusts changed their pace from slow and loving to erratic and careless, fucking into you like all he wanted was to breed you full.

“ahhh… mhh.. none of them could fill ya’ like i can, baby… yeah? and none of them could make you feel good, hm? this pretty little cunt needs me to fill her up, yeah? breed her nice and good, like no one ever before, right? mphh.. like no one ever will.. mine, sweets, all of this is just f’ me..” he groaned into your ear as he fucked you, his big palms sliding down to your ass and giving you a light squeeze.

suddenly, you clamp down on him hard, making him lose his composure. his hips stutter and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he finally reaches his high after a whole evening of torture, burying himself as far deep as possible and draining those pretty balls inside you. it felt so good - and you knew it did, by the small tears of pleasure in the corners of his eyes.

he stuffed you so full that you were sure it would make your stomach bulge, it had to! your boyfriend fell on you once he came, nuzzling his face in your skin. after a few minutes of deep breaths and cuddling, itto sat up:

“wanna go get cleaned, love bug? I dunno about you, but I wouldn’t wanna sleep bein’ this sticky!”

you smirk mischievously, putting a gentle hand on his meaty, exposed tigh. instead of getting up like he had asked, you slide down to your knees, in between his legs.

“what… what are you doing, baby?”

you paw at his cock once again, beginning to harden in your hand once again.

“mh… wanna say sorry for makin’ you wait, itto… wanna be good…”

and good you were, giving him all the attention he missed earlier that evening.

[scealaiscoite]

‧₊˚ 🎧 ✩ a hundred dialogue prompts

(but it’s one lyric each from my wrapped playlist)

¹⁾ “you say you want me, but you know i’m not what you need.”

²⁾ “all i ever needed is here, in my arms.”

³⁾ “call the police, there’s a madman around!”

⁴⁾ “i miss the man i was the moment we left off.”

⁵⁾ “you’d be surprised the places i find jesus.”

⁶⁾ “just trust me; you’ll be fine.”

⁷⁾ “i hope he never lets me down again.”

⁸⁾ “tonight you’ll have the answer.”

⁹⁾ “not what you want- i’m what you need.”

¹⁰⁾ “didn’t call when i got your number but i liked you a lot.”

¹¹⁾ “i take my whiskey neat.”

¹²⁾ “and i’m not here to be the saviour you long for.”

¹³⁾ “are you ready to swear, right here, right now?”

¹⁴⁾ “baby, take my hand!”

¹⁵⁾ “this could all be yours.”

¹⁶⁾ “i’m granting you more than the debt that i owe.”

¹⁷⁾ “am i worth saving?”

¹⁸⁾ “it’s made you colder.”

¹⁹⁾ “can you figure me out?”

²⁰⁾ “come on- take a ride with me.”

²¹⁾ “it’s too late for me now.”

²²⁾ “mama always said i was born on the wild side.”

²³⁾ “i’d sell my soul for you, babe.”

²⁴⁾ “i’ll do whatever it takes. i’ll go to my grave protecting me and mine.”

²⁵⁾ “i’m proud of all my scars.”

²⁶⁾ “i’m not the girl i set out to be.”

²⁷⁾ “lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails- “

²⁸⁾ “i’ll be gone by the morning light.”

²⁹⁾ “summer is slipping through my fingers.”

³⁰⁾ “man, i hate this part of texas.”

³¹⁾ “if you want a cowboy on a white horse… hold on tight, because i’m not there yet.”

³²⁾ “no rest for the wicked.”

³³⁾ “things we buried low are coming to the surface now, my love.”

³⁴⁾ “they say i’m trouble and i don’t give a damn.”

³⁶⁾ “i got a taste for men who’re older.”

³⁷⁾ “it’s my feeling we’ll win in the end.”

³⁸⁾ “i need you to see me for what i have become.”

³⁹⁾ “baby bunny, come clean.”

⁴⁰⁾ “can you taste it?”

⁴¹⁾ “i grew up with a gun in my hand.”

⁴²⁾ “call me when you get the chance.”

⁴³⁾ “they said this day wouldn’t come.”

⁴⁴⁾ “this is an omen. a warning.”

⁴⁵⁾ “that’s how you know that i’m coming for you.”

⁴⁶⁾ “anything to get me to sleep.”

⁴⁷⁾ “five in the morning ain’t no time to say goodbye.”

⁴⁸⁾ “you can’t be my saviour- i can’t be your sinner.”

⁴⁹⁾ “he’s sitting in the corner with a six pack of corona.”

⁵⁰⁾ “take everything.”

⁵¹⁾ “we can be like they are.”

⁵²⁾ “what do you want from me?”

⁵³⁾ “this summer i might’ve drowned.”

⁵⁴⁾ “we were tangled up like branches in a flood.”

⁵⁵⁾ “i ain’t proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown.”

⁵⁶⁾ “pick yourself up, get back on again.”

⁵⁷⁾ “i need some room to breathe.”

⁵⁸⁾ “did you not say we were made for each other?”

⁵⁹⁾ “well, i grew up in the fallout from the riots in the nineties.”

⁶⁰⁾ “i’m missing you still.”

⁶¹⁾ “i can never take back the pain i’ve caused.”

⁶²⁾ “now i’ve said too much.”

⁶³⁾ “won’t you do this for me, son, if you can?”

⁶⁴⁾ “the damage is already done.”

⁶⁵⁾ “i’m scared of nothing and i’m scared to death.”

⁶⁶⁾ “you can hold me like he held her.”

⁶⁷⁾ “it wakes me in the middle of the night.”

⁶⁸⁾ “wash away the blood on my hands.”

⁶⁹⁾ “the dreams in which i’m dying are the best i’ve ever had.”

⁷⁰⁾ “i won’t back down.”

⁷¹⁾ “leave me alone in the dark.”

⁷²⁾ “i’ve been waiting for her, oh, so long.”

⁷³⁾ “help me to decide.”

⁷⁴⁾ “the money’s all gone.”

⁷⁵⁾ “hell, i ain’t the devil.”

⁷⁶⁾ “would we grow old together?”

⁷⁷⁾ “i’m a few years older than you.”

⁷⁸⁾ “so don’t say you love me- ‘cause you’ll never love me.”

⁷⁹⁾ “i’ve seen it all a million times.”

⁸⁰⁾ “you can always reach me.”

⁸¹⁾ “i don’t know who you think i am.”

⁸²⁾ “my darling believe me, i was born to be with you.”

⁸³⁾ “between the pain, and the way you look- “

⁸⁴⁾ “you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.”

⁸⁵⁾ “oh, i’m gonna lose control.”

⁸⁶⁾ “how d’you live like this?!”

⁸⁷⁾ “do you like that?”

⁸⁸⁾ “would you push me away again?”

⁸⁹⁾ “she’s a bad girlfriend.”

⁹⁰⁾ “today’s music ain’t got the same soul.”

⁹¹⁾ “i’m afraid they’re gonna find you.”

⁹²⁾ “i was far too scared to hit him, but i would hit him in a heartbeat now.”

⁹³⁾ “what am i to do?”

⁹⁴⁾ “come see what i mean.”

⁹⁵⁾ “i’ll never let you go.”

⁹⁶⁾ “getting drunk’s fine, it’s the getting by that’ll get a soul down.”

⁹⁷⁾ “come out from all your hidin’ out.”

⁹⁸⁾ “i ain’t perfect but i’m learning how to be the best i can.”

⁹⁹⁾ “i don’t ever wanna feel like i did that day.”

¹⁰⁰⁾ “and it was my mistake, ‘cause she never said a thing about jesus.”

[slut-for-evans-stan]

Mission Accomplished

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Summary: Ben and you can't stay in the same room without wanting to rip each other's hearts out. The Boys, tired of dealing with you, decide to take matters into their own hands by tricking you two into completing your most crucial mission yet— resolving your problems. One thing leads to another and you discover that there was an easier, much more enjoyable method to resolve everything between you all along. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (18+), Enemies to Lovers, Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy, Dirty talk, oral (m+f rec), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), hate fucking!? (kind of), rough sex, swearing, choking, squirting, creampie.

a/n: this is my very first time writing smut. Not proofread, please pardon me for errors if any! I tried my best :')

I'd really appreciate if you could like, comment and/or reblog, it'll make me really happy <3

Being a Supe with extraordinary powers didn't mean you were ready to exploit people for clout, with how things were at Vought. So when Starlight and Hughie learnt that you declined Ashley's offer to have you join the Seven, they convinced you to join hands with The Boys to ensure that the arrogant liars claiming to be "Saviours of the World" got what they deserved. Despite feeling a bit unwelcome at first due to Butcher's distant behaviour, you quickly settled in and felt accepted, and connected to everyone in the team, everyone except the newest member to join forces with you all to help in taking down Homelander and others; Soldier Boy.

In the dimly lit room, stood Soldier Boy in his silk robe, a cigarette in one hand, one leg on the bed, the other supporting his weight on the floor; his back facing the door. Upon hearing a soft knock, he turned around with a smug grin on his face. He began,

"Well, hello there gorgeous! You've sure kept me waiting long enough for someone who made eager promises to choke on my dick."

Unamused, and somewhat disgusted by his comment, you shot him a stern look,

"I'm not here for your entertainment, I need to run a few tests on you. So it'll be nice if you'll please spare a few minutes before you run off to get your dick wet. We need to be sure that you're not going to explode and kill us all."

Soldier Boy's smirk echoed through his room as he eyed you with an amazed expression. Undeterred, he sauntered over to you, leaning in and mistaking your seriousness for a mere challenge.

"Sure. Whatever it is, let's get it over with. Maybe after this, you and I could-"

You cut him off with an icy glare

"Save the charm for someone who cares. I don't have time for this bullshit, we've a mission coming up."

From your very first meeting that started with a misunderstanding, it would've been an understatement to say that Soldier Boy annoyed every living cell in your body. You were both constantly arguing and bickering about something or the other, always at each other's throats.

Soldier Boy's deep, intimidating voice echoed through the room, your comment having hit a nerve.

"You know what, you're insufferable."

"At least I'm not stuck up." he shot back.

What should've been a meeting to discuss the upcoming mission, turned into yet another baseless argument between the two of you. Making your teammates uncomfortable with every passing moment. Hughie, Frankie, Kimiko and others exchanged uneasy glances as the tension thickened. You continued,

"I can't believe I've to be stuck with an unbearable asshole as you. Butcher I think I'm gonna skip this mission. Don't want us to end up in another mess like the last time."

At this point, it seemed like you were both minutes away from strangling each other. Soldier boy chuckled,

"Why, you're so intimidated by a real hero you want to hide away like a pussy?"

Eyebrows raised, you retorted, "Real hero!? More like a reckless liability. I've seen toddlers with better impulse control."

Sensing a storm brewing, Hughie spoke with a shaky voice, attempting to intervene and diffuse the situation. "Can we focus, guys? We have a mission-"

Your gaze never wavered from the supe. "I'll focus when he stops acting like he's better than everyone else. He is not the only one with superpowers here, he might be strong but he doesn't scare or intimidate me in the slightest."

Rolling his eyes, Soldier Boy muttered, "I wouldn't need to if you could follow a plan for once in your life."

Butcher commented shutting you all up "Oi. Enough! No one is backing out. You two should go fuck it out or something, whatever issues you stupid cunts have with each other. Don't need any fuck ups in the mission."

The tension spilled into the supposed battlefield, your bickering a dangerous undertone to the chaos around you. Clashing on missions, your mutual disdain fielding your actions, each vying to outdo the other. Yet beneath the surface, a spark lingered, an undeniable attraction that you both, despised and desired, but neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

On a particularly precarious mission, your incessant bickering almost jeopardized the entire operation.

Amidst the mayhem, you found yourself pinned down by one of the opponents, wounded and unable to use your powers, and Soldier boy reluctantly came to your rescue.

You grunted, "I didn't need your help."

He shot back, "Don't get used to it. I'm saving the mission, not your sorry ass."

Watching the scene unfold from a distance, your teammates exchanged knowing looks. After the mission, they decided they'd have enough, and decided to take matters into their own hands, realising that the unresolved tension between you two threatened not just personal dynamics but the success of missions itself.

On Butcher's suggestion, the team tricked the two of you into thinking there was another mission but instead locking you up in a safe house together,

"Sort this out, or we'll all end up as collateral damage."

warned Hughie before haphazardly shutting the door and leaving, forcing you to confront your issues, facing a choice: either talk and resolve the conflict or risk tearing each other apart. Silence filled the room. However, it was short lived.

Taking a deep breath, you plopped on the sofa across from where he sat and spoke as calmly as you could.

"Great, those little shits tricked us."

Soldier Boy scowled, "This is ridiculous. I don't need couple's therapy, I need a way out of here. I'm gonna beat the shit out of these fucknuts."

This made you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Maybe if you weren't so intolerable, we wouldn't be stuck in this situation in the first place."

As another argument filled the space, the air in the small living room of the safe house shifted. Soldier Boy's tone somewhat softened, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"You think I enjoy being like this? Constantly on edge, wondering if I'll turn into a goddamn weapon."

You sighed, your defenses momentarily crumbling.

"I didn't sign up for this either, you know. Being a supe's babysitter wasn't in my job description."

As you bickered, underlying desire simmered beneath the surface. Soldier Boy's gaze lingered a moment too long, making a very visible flush rise in your cheeks.

A smug grin playing on his lips, as he said,

"You can't resist me, can you? Admit it, there's something between us, more serious than all this bickering. You know, I think you want me-"

You cut him off, but your voice wavered. "Keep dreaming, I still can't stand you." This remark gave rise to another banter.

"Don't get over yourself. I was only pulling your leg. You're insufferable."

Accusations started flying like daggers, each word cutting deeper than the last. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, making your way back into the living room, catching him intently staring at you. Frustration morphed into a heated exchange of longing glances.

Tension crackled in the air, and just when it seemed the room might implode, his expression shifted.

He got up from the sofa, walking over to you, cornering you till your back hit the wall. He leaned in, his eyes darkening with a growing desire, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"You know what? Maybe you're right. I can't stand you, because everytime I look at you, this is all I want to do."

You arched an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Wait, what?" But before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss, making the beer bottle fall from your hands, effectively silencing any protests. You caught hold of the shirt he was wearing, kissing him back with equal fervour, savoring the moment as if it was a dream that would end all too soon. All your pent up anger and frustration showed up as the two of you desperately tore at each other clothes, never once breaking the kiss. A battle of tongues. He only pulled back for a second, with a sly grin on his face, his eyes dark, pupils dilated with glimmers of lust.

"There, no need to argue when we can do this instead. We should've figured this out sooner." Rubbing you over your panties with two of his fingers, he groaned.

"You're such a slut. So wet already and I haven't even touched you. You want to get railed till you can't walk, don't you?"

Before you had a chance to say anything, he reclaimed your lips in a hunger fuelled kiss. The room once filled with tension, now crackled with a different kind of energy. Pieces of both your clothings flew across the room. Soldier boy lifted you up and carried you to the small table in the kitchen and set you down hurriedly. The two of you continued to kiss while he rid you both of the remaining pieces of clothing. He kissed you like a mad man, biting and marking every inch of your skin he could in his desperate need to be close to you. Starting from your neck, moving to your tits, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting it while palming and squeezing the other roughly, then switching and doing the same to the other one. He moved back up to place another rough kiss to your lips, both of you moaning and biting each other's tongues and lips, intoxicated with the feeling of being so close. With an animalistic growl he parted, giving you a look so intense, it could scare the bravest of people.

"When you feel the need to scream, moan my name. Scream it as loud as you can."

With that he roughly nudged your legs apart as wide as they could go and dived right in, eating you out like man starved, licking and sucking your most sensitive parts like it was his last meal. You pulled his hair, legs shaking and trembling with pleasure. His gruff beard giving you a delicious burn, that would heal in no time. He started flicking your clit with his tongue and entered two of his fingers inside you, moving them in and out rapidly. When he added two more fingers, you lost it. Screaming his name and cumming all over his face, your legs wrapped around his head, making it impossible for him to move away.

"Fuck. Ben. I can't-"

you tried pulling away but he didn't stop even then, holding you down with his arms, making you cum two more times before finally deciding to let go. You were dazed in pleasure, but still wanted more. Jumping down the table, and on your knees, you made eye contact with him as you slowly took his long, thick and veiny cock in your hand, stroking him and giving a few kitten licks from the base to the tip and sucking off the beads of precum, moaning at the salty taste, making him groan. You then looked up at him, taking him as far as you could before pulling back again and asking him to fuck your face. He hesitated for a second but his resolve crumbled as soon as you opened your mouth, showing him you were waiting for him. He grabbed your head with both his hands and pushed himself into your mouth, roughly thrusting in and out again and again, moaning your name, cussing like a maniac. You could tell he was close, and then he held your head as close as possible, making you gag a little, his eyes closing, his head thrown back, as ropes of his cum shot down your throat.

In ragged breaths, he said "Be a good little slut and swallow it all."

As you did, you opened your mouth with your tongue out, showing no remnants of his release. He chuckled, pulling you up by your arms, surprising you with a softness in his gaze as he asked

"You sure you want to go further? If you don't, we'll stop right here and pretend this never happened-" you cut him off with an aggressive kiss "Fuck me as hard as you can. I won't break. Take all your frustrations out on me."

With that he smirked and rapidly turned you around, bending your back and shoving your face on the table with his hand, setting it for support right by your head. He entered you with one brutal thrust, making the both of you moan and groan loudly, not giving you a second to adjust as he started ramming his cock into you, hard and deep, his hips moving at an inhuman speed.

"That's it. This is what you wanted right? Now take it. I don't think I'm ever going to let you go after this. You feel so good. Gonna make you my personal little fuck toy. Such a perfect fit."

Hearing all the filth leave his mouth made you clench around him, making him throw his head back in pleasure, never once letting his pace falter.

"Ah you love this. I can tell by the way your tight pussy's choking my dick."

At this point, all rational thoughts had left your brain and all you could do was moan and revel in the pleasure he was giving you. One thing you knew for sure was that he had ruined everyone else for you. After a few moments he moved the hand on your back between your legs to rub your clit and you started screaming in pleasure, feeling yourself flying close to the edge. As soon as Ben realised how close you were, he pulled out and turned you around, lifting you on the table and onto your back, swiftly entering you again.

"I know you're close. I wanna see your face when you cum all over me."

He moved his hand back between your legs to rub your clit in circles, while his other hand moved to your neck, choking you, as he went back to thrusting at his original, rough pace. This new angle somehow making him go deeper than before, hitting that one spot that made you see stars.

"Fuck. I don't think I can last long either."

To that, you finally managed to say

"Cum with me."

which sounded more like a moan than a sentence. You both looked into each other's eyes, moaning, grabbing each other, raking your nails all over his gorgeous, broad shoulders, not breaking the eye contact once. After a particularly hard thrust, you felt a funny sensation, one that you have rarely ever felt, only while pleasing yourself and before you knew, you screamed and started squirting your release, coming undone while Ben kept thrusting into you.

"Oh yes. Fuck. That's so hot baby. Cum all over me. I don't think I'll ever get enough of the look on your face right now. I think I've finally managed to shut you up, fucked your brains out. Fuck I'm cumming."

His thrusts grew frantic, and much harder than before, kissing you roughly, your teeth clashing, and he finally slammed his hips into yours one last time, holding your hips so tight, you were sure you would bruise for atleast a few hours, despite your super healing abilities. Groaning and grunting in his deep voice as thick ropes of his cum filled you to the brim, triggering yet another release out of you, making you squirt even more. He collapsed on top of you, careful that he wasn't crushing you with his weight.

The two of you stayed like that, entangled with each other for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, before he slowly pulled out of you, making you both wince at the sudden loss. As he walked to the living room, "That was it" you thought, a one time rendezvous with Soldier Boy that might have either helped you two or made things worse. He sauntered back in with a towel in hand, towards the sink to wet it, also filling up a glass of water and quietly walking to you, cleaning you up without a word, handing the glass for you to drink. Taking it from him, you looked at him mumbled a soft "thank you", getting down the table, you nudged him to walk out with you, sitting down on the couch and covering yourself with a blanket, while he picked up his surprisingly untorn boxers, putting them on and sitting next to you, making you turn to face him. You both understood you needed to talk about what had just happened.

The shared realisation that the animosity between you two that had led to this impulsively passionate encounter, had somewhere blurred the lines between desire and hate.

Ben began to say "Look, about earlier... I didn't mean half the things I said."

You replied "What? You didn't mean it when you said you want to kiss me and do other filthy things to me everytime you see me?"

Taken aback, with a raised eyebrow and confused express Ben said, "Oh no, no lies there. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."

You cut him off saying "I know, I was just pulling your leg. I've felt the same way about you. Your reputation preceded you and it made me crazy knowing I still wanted you."

He replied, "I think we let our tempers get the best of us." sighing, he continued "I care about you more than I let on."

Which made you sigh in response. "Then why do you never act like it? Making me think of you as a douche who loves berating me?"

Ben ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess I feel scared. Scared of how much of a hold you have had on me from the very beginning. It made me feel like a fool at times, I thought the only way I could supress these feelings were by acting like an asshole towards you. I'm really sorry."

Your gaze softened, "I'm really sorry too, my behaviour towards you hasn't been any better either." You continued, "I thought we were destined to be enemies. I don't hate you, I never did. I just wanted you to see the person I am beyond the righteous supe everyone else sees."

Ben slowly took your hands in his, making you look into his eyes. "Now I see you more than I ever thought I would. Maybe.. maybe there's something more here."

You replied, "Maybe there is. What happens now?"

To which he said "We talk. Like normal people. No more running away or avoiding things and arguing for no reason. We figure out where we stand, one step at a time, together."

You smiled, nodding your head. "Agreed. No more hiding how we feel. Besides, I guess I like this way of solving our issues much more." Which made him chuckle and pull you into his arms, staring at you intently, pressing his lips to yours.

Back at the Flatiron building, Hughie sat at his table across from Frenchie, fidgeting with his cup. "I'm worried. What do you think? Will they make up or kill each other?"

Butcher entered the room, a smirk plastered over his face "I'm pretty sure they are fucking like rabbits back there." And boy, was he right.

The two of you went multiple rounds, thanks to your super stamina, christening every possible surface of the safe house. From the couch, to the bedroom and the floor, and the shower too. You had both awoken a hunger, only the other could satiate.

"Now that we're not at each other's throats for the wrong reasons, I think maybe, we'd make a good team after all."

Said Ben, holding you close, running smooth circles on along your arms, with the two of you lying on the bed, tired and basking in the afterglow. You smiled, turning to face him. "We'll have to see about that, you might just be right. For now, I can't believe I'm saying this but I need sleep, we both do. You've worn me out completely."

He chuckled, tightening his arms around you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead and lips, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, feeling content in each other's embrace.

It was a start of a connection and understanding that arose from the most unexpected places, even amidst the chaos of a world filled with superhumans and the fight for good. Fiery exchanges and whispered confessions bringing in an unexpected depth to your dynamic, proving that there can be a fragile, pure connection between two polar opposites. Serendipity, often painted as an unusual force, interweaves with fate, guiding people towards love where they're least expecting to find it.

Your story a testament to the unpredicted twists of the heart, proving that even the fiercest adversaries can find redemption in each other's arms.

a/n: Finished watching Season 3 of 'The Boys' just a few days ago and let me just put this out here, Jensen as Soldier Boy is one of the best things to ever happen to this world. Oh! the things I'd let this man do to me-

Been planning this fic for a week now, I really hope y'all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this.

I'd really appreciate if you'd comment any thoughts, improvements, suggestions or requests that you have! Thank you ^_^

Credits: Banner by @mykento

post divider by @saradika

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Sukuna "asshole to the world, sweetheart to his girl" Ryomen

🎀minors and ageless blogs will be blocked 🎀

Pairing: Yakuza!Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

Genre: Smut, dark hero.

Word Count: 1450

Warnings: first off, fucking sukuna himself is a warning on his own so let's just start there. Possessive Sukuna, dark sukuna, yakuza sukuna, shitty boss, mean fucking asshole boss, violence, against boss, dacryphillia, p in v sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, read at your own discretion.

Summary: Sukunas heard you cry because of your boss one too many times. He takes matters into his own hands

A/N: This absolutely SPECTACULAR ART is by @innaillus and you can find the original here.

I want to thank her, not only for allowing me to use this as a banner but also for making such amazing art and sharing it with us. ♥️

This is a purely self indulgent fic. If you don't like it, please don't read it. I had a shitty week and needed a place to cool off.

Sukuna Ryomen glared down at your boss. He’d come in to pick you up and heard the creature screaming at you for something he already knew wasn’t your fault. You’d told him about the trouble you were having with your co-workers who slacked off and your shitty fucker of a boss who for some reason didn’t tell them off, but instead unloaded his anger on you. This would be the last time this pathetic vermin made you cry, he vowed.

He pushed open the door to your small office and stalked in. You stood in the corner trying to make yourself as small as possible, silent tears streaming down your face as your boss kept berating you – not even noticing his presence. One of the other workers tried to step in his way but he shoved them aside like they were nothing more than window curtains. He placed himself in between you and the balding middle aged man who dared to call himself your boss. “Hey nimrod, she doesn’t work for you anymore. Don’t fucking yell at her.”

The man cowered. Sukuna was taller than him and his crossed arms made his thick muscles ripple under his skin.

“Ryo…” you whispered

“Wh-who let th-this man in here? Sir, th-this is an office space. You n-need to leave.” your boss sneered at your saviour.

Sukuna merely smirked at you and pulled you into his side placing his lips on the top of your head in a chaste kiss. “Yeah, don't worry, I’ll be going pretty soon. Breathing the same air as you is making me feel nauseated. Can't believe the patience my baby girl had with your shit-ass, fucker” his first met the man's stomach with a sickening squelching crunch, and your now ex-boss, crumpled onto the floor in a heap.

“I'm gon-gonna call the cops on you asshole’ he croaked out.

Sukuna just laughed. “Have at it, ya great ballsack.”

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

When Sukuna came to pick you up from work that day he had planned the night down to a T. He’d wanted to take you to a new movie that you'd been itching to see but hadn't had the time. He would follow that with a fancy sushi dinner at the city's best restaurant and then take you to the outskirts where there was a nice little viewpoint he had discovered where he planned on showing you the stars – in more than one way…

But when you didn't come out at your specified time, nor answer the cute message he’d sent you – Where you at, kitty-kat? – Sukuna decided to investigate and came across your asshole of a boss yelling at you. He’d had enough. You’d been coming home and complaining about him and even once returned in tears. It took everything he had to not rip the bastard’s throat out. But he was done with you being abused. You deserved better. Which is exactly what he told you now as you lay with him on the hood of his car.

The plans had been altered slightly, you would be watching the movie with him the next day. He’d skipped the fancy sushi and instead opted for your favourite comfort food – Chinese cuisine. Slurping down saucy noodles, and munching on crispy gyoza always made you feel better he knew and he found himself smiling at your joy. He’d then driven you to his secret viewpoint. You sat there on the hood of his car with him beside you. In the distance, the pretty lights of Tokyo lit up the horizon and reflected off your lover's red eyes. Above you, the stars twinkled in their own magic…

Something about you had him wrapped around your finger. One of the most feared yakuza, putty in your hands. Of course, no one knew the connection. It was all kept hushed for your convenience.

“Kitty-kat?” Sukuna called to you and you looked up at your man. “You know— you know I’m rich enough to support both of us easily right?”

You hummed. “Yes, but I don’t wanna be some dainty housewife, sitting and waiting for my husband to come home and serve him dinner Ryo! I have a whole ass degree that a lot of money was spent on, I’d like to use it babe!”

“Husband?”

“What?”

“You said, husband. Not boyfriend. Or SO. Or partner. You said husband.”

“Yeah… I said husband…”

“You wanna marry me?”

“I mean, yeah, eventually right?”

Sukuna crashed his lips into yours in a heated kiss; all teeth and tongue. He pulled your body close, pressing against you. “I want you so bad right now, future wife. I want you so fucking badly.” He half growled in your ear.

“You have me Ryo. I’m right here.” you replied. You tugged at Sukunas pants and he unbuckled his belt. Sukuna grinded against your thigh while kissing you. His hands tugged at the buttons on your blouse, undoing them as he went. You could feel the bulge growing in his jeans. He kissed down from your lips, to your jaw, to your neck down to the valley of your breasts.

“I wanna fuck you.” He looked at you with a lidded gaze “May I? I won’t be able to stop if we go further than this kitty-kat.”

You lifted your leg to rub against his clothed cock. “I’d leave you right now if you didn’t, Sukuna Ryomen. So fuck me already.” Sukuna flashed you a fanged smile and dipped his head pulling down your bra and freeing your breasts. He bit and licked and sucked, actions that were sure to leave marks on you. Further south his fingers pushed aside your panties and found entrance. He slowly worked his way into you, rubbing gentle circles in your skin. You allowed yourself to let go and dirty moans slipped out from your lips. Your fingers tangled in his pink hair – so soft, so smooth.

Once he had you dripping, he lay back down and ordered, “Sit on my face, and suck my cock while you’re at it.”

You followed, undoing his zipper and pulling his boxers and jeans off his semi-hard cock. You tentatively licked his head as you positioned your pussy right about his face. Sukuna pushed your skirt up and ripped your panties with a practised ease, pulling your hips down to his face. He loved having you like that. Every time he flicked his tongue against your clit your pussy would visibly tighten. You’d drool down the length of his cock hypnotised. Tongue flat against it as you struggled to maintain composure. It wouldn’t take long for him to make you cum all over his face for the first time. Legs quivering and hips shaking he brought you down again, laying you on the hood for him.

He lined up his cock – now rock hard from your mouth – with your entrance and sank into you. Slowly pushing his bulbous head, followed by his girthy length. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Sukuna thrust up into you. Your lips were hot and burning. You felt a wave of emotion come through and tears welled up in your eyes.

“Fuck Ryo— feels s’good!”

Sukuna snarled and increased his pace. His eyes glinted dangerously. “Feels good, huh kitty-kat! Gonna make you mine. No man’s gonna dare fuck with you again.” His movements were rough and jagged but drew out the pleasure in your core. The tightly wound knot in your abdomen built up with each movement, each drawn out pull, each hard thrust. You arched your back desperate to have him more, more, more!

Your second climax hit just as Sukuna grabbed a fistful of your hair. Your cunt spasmed, clasping around him and you cried out his name in a debauched prayer.

Sukuna looked more composed than he felt. His cock throbbed inside you, attuned to the flutters of your pussy. Just because you’d come didn’t mean he would stop. He chased his own release inside of you pulling your hair back, devouring your lips. His cock bullied you to the point of overstimulation. Tears ran down your cheeks again but this time they were those of pleasure.

He came, towering over you, eyes squeezed shut, head buried in the crook of your neck. His giant frame collapsed onto you and he carefully rolled off to the side so he wouldn't crush you.

“So, about that husband thing…”

You turned to look at him, blushing. “Ryo…”

He held up a ring; the ring his father left him. Gold work, carved into a dragon that held a shiny black pearl in its claws.

“I’ll get you a prettier one later, I promise but for now…” he took a deep breath. “Marry me, kitty-kat?”

A/N: please note this was a very hurried creation and edit, if you do find any errors or typos feel free to point them out KINDLY. Thank you for reading.

As always likes and reblogs are much appreciated and comments will earn you kissies!

[numberonesnarkfan]

can I just autism at y'all incoherently for a bit. Aite.

I think Harley becomes a bit easier to understand as a character when viewed as a story of generational trauma. When analysing a monster, one has to ask "what could have prevented this?" In Harley's case, it was just... if he had not been so steadily drawn to one conclusion: that there was something fundamental that separated him from humanity.

What are people to someone who was never a person to anyone? He was kept half-alive only to use him, and even before he had done anything wrong, he was never a person to anyone - he existed in others' minds only as what he could supply to them.

The ARG note, "HE TOOK EVERYTHING. I THOUGHT YOU CARED." combined with his boss fight dialogue, "It was supposed to be mine! My recognition!" draws the connection that after sending a young Harley Sawyer away, Elliott took the research Harley had done with him and claimed credit for his discoveries.

Imagine for a moment that you have never been loved. Not by parents or peers or superiors. That they all showered you in praise of your objective talents, but wanted nothing to do with you in any other respect. At every turn, they attempted to find a way to divert your abilities toward their own goals. Others have always blabbered on about connection and harmony - concepts that simply do not exist to you, for you have never experienced them.

You thought you had experienced them. Once. You almost thought you'd found a father. Before he sent you away penniless and took all of your work as his own. Now you know it for certain: connection really isn't real, and everyone else is lying or faking. The only people who have ever pretended to care about you were lying. You may as well be the only person in the world, because you are completely alone on Earth.

Imagine that you believe that love and happiness are truly false lights. Pipe dreams. Would you be able to empathise, see yourself in your fellow man, see your fellow man as a person?

You don't know what it's like to be thought of as a person. So you haven't the slightest idea how one would go about thinking of others as people.

I still will not budge on the fact that Harley genuinely thought he was doing the right thing. But again, if morals are alien to you because you have never been exposed to them, then your 'right thing' looks deeply different to others'.

There are certain lessons that cannot be learned through just the acquisition of information. Harley was never taught any lessons that were not objective - empathy, morals, emotional control. As much as he could be familiar with ethics, he could not understand anything that can't be understood with logic.

All monsters grow from children.

He saw himself as their father. Their mentor. Their saviour. He made them just like him - the only human in the world.

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Saviour

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay. PT 4 - Finale

Song: Pyramids - Frank Ocean

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. I hope you got your popcorn ready for this finale! I made this the best ending I ever could. I've loved writing this series and hoped you loved it too. Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Taglist: @ahhhhhm, @daniskywalkersolo, @friendshipis-magic, @tellybearryyyy, @lanadelray1989, @owl778, @almostuniversallyface, @maluzets55, @dying-inside-but-its-classy, @noooway555, @unknownmystery22, @forensicheart, @a-beaverhausen, @moonstruck-poet, @mendes-bae, @czennieszn, @widow-cevans.

Word count: 27.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The news hit you like a rogue wave, leaving you gasping for air. "My mom and sister are coming over in two days," Max had said, his voice casual as he stirred the pasta sauce.

He hadn’t looked at you, too focused on the simmering pot, and for a moment, the kitchen seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. Two days.

That wasn’t enough time, not nearly enough time. You stared at the chipped tile of the kitchen floor, the image of Max’s father’s clenched fist flashing behind your eyelids. The last time you saw it, he had been so angry, his face contorted with a rage you still didn't quite comprehend.

Now his mother and sister were coming to this house. The house you’d built together, brick by brick, or rather, box by unpacked box. The house you had slowly and tentatively been turning into a home. The thought of them seeing you, of them judging you, sent a shiver of dread down your spine.

You didn't answer Max, and he finally turned from the stove, a questioning look on his face. "Hey," he said, gently, reaching out to touch your arm.

His touch, usually a source of comfort, felt like a brand, reminding you of how utterly vulnerable you’d felt that day, and how hard he’d fought to protect you. “You okay?”

You managed a weak smile. "Yeah, just...two days. It's fast."

He moved closer, his brow furrowed with concern. "Is it too fast? I can push it back if you want."

You shook your head, the lie forming on your lips. You couldn't ask him to push it back. It would be rude. It would be cowardly.

“No, no, it’s okay. I just want everything to be perfect.” You hated how your voice trembled almost imperceptibly.

“Perfect?” He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. “It doesn’t need to be perfect. They’re just my mom and sister. They’re… I mean, they’re good people. You’ll like them.”

You tried to believe him, tried to summon up some of the excitement he clearly felt, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach refused to loosen.

“What if they don’t like me? What if…what if they’re like your dad?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and laced with the fear that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

Max’s face darkened. His hand dropped away, and he took a step back, his eyes clouding. "They're not like my dad," he said, his voice low and firm. "They're not even remotely like him. You know that.”

But you didn't know. All you knew was the lingering memory of his father's face, the vitriol in his voice, the power in his fist. You felt so ashamed of yourself.

You didn’t want to bring this baggage to his family, and you had just done that. "I just...I'm still a little shaken up about what happened with him," you confessed in a small voice.

He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Look at me," he said, his gaze direct and unwavering. "My mom is… she's kind. She's funny, she's warm. And my sister, Victoria, she's... she's a bit of a free spirit. You'll get along with her, I promise. And neither of them will ever be like my father."

He squeezed your hand, his grip strong and reassuring. “I won’t let them be, not ever.”

You wanted to believe him, to let his words wash over you and erase the fear. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability, the knowledge that you’d seen a side of Max's family, a dark and ugly side, that you couldn't unsee.

“What about him?” you asked, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Will he be here?”

Max’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing dangerously for a moment. “He is never welcome in our house, ever. My mom and sister despise him, you don’t have to worry about that.” He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“I know you’re scared. But you don’t have to be. They’re coming here to meet you. They’re excited to meet the person I’m dating, the person I…care about very much.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his shirt, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and his own unique, comforting smell. "It's just...I don't want to mess things up for you," you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest. "I don't want them to think I'm not...good enough."

He pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eye. "You're more than good enough. You're amazing. And anyone who doesn't see that isn't worth your time. Including my family. But trust me, they will.”

He smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile. “And if they don't? Then I'll deal with it. Okay?”

You nodded, a small, hesitant nod, but it was a start. He had the power to ground you, to calm the storm within you. You wished you had that power yourself.

"Okay," you said, your voice a little steadier now. "Okay, I can try."

He kissed you then, a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of hope and reassurance. "That's all I ask," he murmured against your lips. "Just try."

The next two days were a flurry of activity. You cleaned the house until it shone, you planned a menu that you thought would please his family, and you even ventured into the field closeby to pick some wildflowers to put in a vase. Max helped, of course, but mostly he seemed focused on keeping you calm, his eyes constantly searching yours for any sign of distress. The morning they were due to arrive, you felt your stomach drop into your boots. You stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your outfit, second-guessing every decision you’d made.

You changed your top three times before Max came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, kissing the back of your neck. “They’re going to love you.”

You turned in his arms, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one about to be interrogated.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “They’re not going to interrogate you. They’re just going to try and steal you from me.”

You smiled, finally feeling a small flicker of genuine excitement. “Don’t let them,” you teased, a bit of your old confidence returning. "You're the one who said I'm your favorite person."

"Definitely my favorite person," he agreed, giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

The doorbell rang, shattering the comfortable bubble of the moment. You took a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies in your stomach.

“Showtime,” you said, a mix of excitement and trepidation in your voice. Max squeezed your hand, giving you a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

He opened the door to reveal Sophie, her warm smile radiating familiarity, and Victoria, who had inherited her brother's playful charm. Both women stepped inside, their eyes wide, taking in the space you’d so carefully curated.

“It’s beautiful!” Sophie exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “You’ve done an incredible job.”

Victoria echoed her mother's sentiments, adding, “It’s just as Max described, only even better in person.”

She looked at you, her expression softening. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you. Max has been…rather vocal about how wonderful you are.”

You laughed, the tension easing a little at their warmth. “It’s wonderful to meet you both too. Come in, come in. Let me show you around.”

The next hour passed by in a flurry of introductions, compliments and laughter. You guided them through the house, pointing out the features you were most proud of – the carefully chosen artwork, the cozy reading nook, the spacious guest room you’d set up.

At one point, while you were showing Victoria the herb garden on the back patio, Sophie cornered Max, her voice a low murmur.

You watched, a fond smile playing on your lips as you tried not to eavesdrop, though you did catch the tail end of her words in Dutch. “… so happy for you, Max. She’s wonderful.”

Lunch was a relaxed affair, you’d prepared a simple pasta dish, one you’d perfected over time. The conversation flowed easily, shifting between Formula 1, your respective families, and shared travel experiences.

Victoria, who was close to your age, was particularly interested in your life as a driver, asking pointed questions about the pressure, the challenges, and of course, the exhilaration.

You found yourself opening up, sharing anecdotes about grueling training sessions and the unwavering support you'd received from your team, and, of course, Max.

You even recounted a particularly comical pit stop mishap, earning a burst of laughter from everyone at the table.

“She handles herself so well under pressure,” Max said, a note of pride in his voice, as he looked at you across the table. “It’s one of the many things I admire about her.”

Sophie beamed, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “We do, too, Max. She’s incredibly impressive.”

Later, after lunch, as the afternoon light began to mellow, you found yourself alone with Sophie in the living room. Victoria and Max had retreated to the back patio, their laughter drifting in through the open windows.

Sophie turned to you, her expression serious, but kind. “You’ve made our Max very happy,” she said simply. “It’s a good thing. He deserves to be happy.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. “He’s made me incredibly happy too, Sophie. More than I ever thought possible.”

She nodded then turned serious, bowing her head low. "I heard what their father had done to you. I'm extremely ashamed of his actions," she said, her voice now soft.

A shiver ran down your spine, as if the chill of the day you had tried so hard to forget had returned. You hadn’t wanted to burden Max’s family with the memory, especially today.

You had hoped, perhaps naively, that it wouldn’t come up. You shifted uncomfortably.

“Sophie, it’s okay, really,” you responded, trying to keep your voice even. “It was just… a moment. It’s in the past.”

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with concern. “No, it isn’t okay. It’s never okay to lay hands on another person, especially not in anger. What Jos did was inexcusable.” Her voice held a steel edge, a stark contrast to her usual warmth.

You looked down at your lap, tracing the pattern of the rug with your finger. The memory surged back with a visceral clarity. The heated argument, Jos’s face contorted in fury, the sudden, sharp pain in your ribs as his fist connected.

The way your breath had been knocked out of you. The memory was still vivid.

“He was mad,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was trying to find Max but I found him instead. I tried to leave him but he just had to say something bad to me, we argued and then he...”

“He hit you,” Sophie finished for you, her gaze unwavering. “He heard something he didn't want to hear. You are brave for speaking your mind to him." Her voice was almost a sigh as she admitted this.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t blame her for being angry, and you certainly couldn’t justify Jos’s actions. You knew, deep down, that you would never fully forget the moment, that it would always be a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind. Jos would never admit he was wrong either, and that was what hurt the most.

“Max knows?” Sophie asked, her voice gentle.

You nodded. “Yes, he stopped Jos. He was really… upset,” you said, choosing your words carefully. "And still is" you added under your breath.

Sophie reached out and took your hand, her touch surprisingly strong. “He’s angry for you. He loves you, you know that?”

“I do,” you replied, a genuine smile finally reaching your lips. “And I love him.”

She squeezed your hand. “Good. Because he needs you. And you deserve to be treated with respect, always. No one has the right to hurt you, ever.”

Your eyes welled up, not from sadness, but from an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You had never expected to find such an ally in Max’s mother, and her unwavering support meant more than you could ever say.

“Dank je wel, Sophie. Dat betekent veel voor mij.,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. Thank you, Sophie. That means a lot to me.

Before she could even react from your sudden Dutch, the back door slid open, and Max walked in, a perplexed look on his face. “Everything okay in here? You both look a bit serious?”

Sophie released your hand and smiled at her son. “Everything is perfect, darling. Just making sure that she knows how lucky you are.” She winked.

Max looked at you, his brow furrowed with concern. “Is everything alright?”

You smiled reassuringly. “Everything’s fine. We were just… talking.”

He still looked unsure, but he didn’t press the issue. He knew when to back off, when you needed space. He stood beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You leaned into the embrace, feeling his warmth seep into your soul. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

"Max, you didn't tell me that Y/N speaks Dutch?" Sophie said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Max grinned proudly, which made your heart do a funny little flip. “I did mention it a while back, Mom, when we first started dating. You must have forgotten. She’s been practicing a bit.”

You hadn’t been practicing a bit. You’d been learning the language voraciously for months, a secret project born out of your love for Max and his heritage.

It was the same with Sophie, the occasional Dutch idioms she would use, her native language was like a piece of her. And you wanted that connection, a shared language with them both.

"It's still a work in progress, though," you admitted, a little bashfully. "But I’m trying."

"Well, I'm impressed," Sophie said, clapping her hands together. "I knew there was a reason I liked you so much. You're full of wonderful surprises. You should speak Dutch more often, it sounds charming on you.”

Max kissed your temple again. “I agree. It suits you.”

Later that evening, after Sophie and Victoria had left, you and Max were curled up on the sofa, the house quiet and calm. “What did you and my mother talk about?” he asked, his voice low.

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. “She asked about… your father.”

Max stiffened beside you. “And?”

“She was angry. She said what he did was inexcusable,” you told him.

He was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched. “He doesn’t understand,” he said finally. “He never will.”

You turned to face him, your hand cupping his cheek. “It’s okay, Max. I understand.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with so much love and tenderness that your heart ached. “I wish he hadn’t hurt you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“It doesn't matter, it was a long time ago, I’m fine," you assured him.

“It does matter. You deserve better. I deserve better. I will never allow anyone to treat you that way again,” he said, his voice fierce. You knew he meant it.

You leaned in and kissed him, pouring all your love and gratitude into the embrace, making up for the words you couldn't find. His arms tightened around you, his lips moving against yours with desperate hunger.

You had each other. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The hum of Max's private jet was a low, comforting thrum against the anticipation buzzing through you. In a few days, the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix would be upon you, the last race of the season, and the pressure was palpable, even at 30,000 feet.

You were nestled between Max, who was engrossed in reviewing some documents on his tablet, and Charles, who was idly scrolling through his phone, a small smile playing on his lips. Lando, of course, was the catalyst of the chaos, sprawled out on the opposite couch, a mischievous glint in his eye.

A staff member, a young woman named Maya, approached you all and asked if she could take a quick picture for social media. You always needed to keep the public engaged, and a photo of the three drivers plus you, the public's new and exciting addition, was definitely good content.

Max briefly looked up, gave a small nod, and then returned to his screen. Charles straightened up, and Lando struck a dramatic pose, leaning back into the cushions and throwing up a peace sign with a goofy grin. You felt a little awkward, but you did your best to smile naturally as Maya snapped a few shots.

"Okay, perfect!" she chirped, showing you the picture on her phone. You all looked pretty relaxed, albeit slightly posed. "Thanks everyone! Enjoy the rest of the flight."

As soon as Maya was out of earshot, Lando, of course, had to open his mouth. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and gave you a very knowing look. “So,” he drawled, his voice full of amusement, “How’s the couple doing?”

Your cheeks warmed immediately. Max finally looked up, a slight frown creasing his brow as he glanced from Lando to you, his hand instinctively reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “What are you on about, Lando?” he said, his tone a low rumble.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Lando said, his eyes widening innocently, “Just observing the… lovebirds. You know, the picture just screamed ‘power couple’ to me. You guys are practically glowing.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Charles chuckled, burying his face in his hands, but you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. You shot a glare at Lando, who only grinned even wider, and then looked over at Max who was watching you closely, a gentle smile softening the sharp lines of his face.

“We’re doing fine, thank you,” you said, trying to keep your voice even, although you felt like your heart was doing a little tap dance. Dating Max was still new, a thrilling, somewhat surreal experience.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Max echoed, his hand now resting on your knee. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, you know,” Lando said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's been all the gossip, hasn't it? Max Verstappen finally settling down. The world is in shock."

He pretended to faint dramatically against the seat cushions, earning a louder laugh from Charles.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” Charles said, shaking his head. “You’re just jealous because you’re still playing the field.”

“Hey!” Lando exclaimed, feigning offense. “I’m… strategically assessing the options!”

"Strategic, huh?" you said, finally finding your voice amidst the gentle teasing. "Or is it just that you can't commit?"

He gasped dramatically. "How dare you! I'd have you know I'm just waiting for the perfect woman..." He paused, looking at me with a theatrical expression. "...or man. Whatever."

You all burst into laughter, the tension from the earlier conversation dissipating. Even Max cracked a small smile, shaking his head at Lando's antics.

“So, onto more important things,” Charles said, clapping his hands together. “Anyone want to discuss sector times?”

You four spent the next hour dissecting the data from the last practice runs, the atmosphere shifting from playful banter to serious strategy. Even Lando fell silent, his usual boisterous energy replaced with a focused intensity as they discussed the intricacies of the track.

As the flight wore on, the conversation drifted again. You talked about moving in together, the places you had visited over the short holiday, and the pressures of life under the spotlight.

You found yourself more and more comfortable with Max, your connection growing stronger with every shared laugh and gentle touch.

Later, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cabin, Lando and Charles were sleeping peacefully with the exception of occasional snores from Lando.

You felt Max’s hand gently tracing patterns on your arm. It was a simple gesture, a touch that sent a jolt of warmth through you, a silent acknowledgment of the secret bond you shared.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, the rumble of it vibrating through your body.

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder, the scent of his cologne filling your senses. “Just thinking about… everything.”

He moved his head slightly, his cheek brushing against your hair. “Everything?” he repeated, his hand continuing its soothing pattern on your skin.

You nodded into his shoulder. “Everything. This race. The pressure. Us.” The confession was out, a soft exhale, the truth you had been holding onto now released into the space between you.

He went still for a moment, his hand stopping its gentle tracing. Then, he turned his head to look at you, his gaze soft, reassuring. “Us?” he echoed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “What about us?”

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes, the vulnerability in your chest exposed. "It's all so… precarious, isn't it? One wrong move, one slip up, and everything could come crashing down. The media, the scrutiny, our careers… I just… I don't want to lose us, Max."

His expression softened even more, his thumb now tracing your cheekbone. "Lose us?" he repeated, the words a soft question. “That’s the furthest thing from my mind.”

He paused, then added, his voice even quieter, “You think I would intentionally do anything to lose you?”

You shook your head. "No, but…" you trailed off, unsure how to articulate the fear that gnawed at your insides. "The pressure can get to anyone. And we both know how unpredictable this world can be.”

He took your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm not anyone," he said firmly, his voice laced with a confidence that seemed to seep into you. "And you're not just anyone either. You're the most incredible, amazing woman I know, and you think that because of the craziness of this world I would let anything ever happen to us?”

He paused and then looked directly into your eyes, the honesty in his gaze almost overwhelming, “I won’t let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

You stared right back at him for a moment, feeling your heart bloom – it always did every time you were with him, every time he looked at you with such raw affection. “You say the right things, you know that?” A smile now bloomed on your lips.

He leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “I only mean the right things when it comes to you.”

You could feel your cheeks flush, your breath catching in your throat. “You’re going to make me cry.”

He chuckled, the sound a warm rumble that vibrated against your ear. “I’m not going to make you cry. I’m just stating the truth. You worry too much,” he squeezed your hand slightly, “I know that, and I hate that because you never need to with me.”

Your fingers tightened around his. “It’s hard not to when everything is so… big. This race… this season… all of it.”

“I know,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “But try to focus on me. Focus on us. Just for a little while. Let all the other big things be big later.”

A small smile played on your lips. “Easy for you to say, Mr. 3x Formula One Champion.”

He grinned, a flash of mischief in his eyes. “I am pretty good at what I do.”

You laughed softly, the sound genuine and free, a stark contrast to the anxiety that had been swirling within you just moments before. “You are. Okay. I’ll try. But only because you asked so nicely.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear again. “I have other ways of convincing you, you know.”

You shivered at his words, a thrill running through your veins. "Oh, really?" You whispered, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze.

His eyes darkened, a promise smouldering within them. "Oh, really."

The roar of the jet engines finally subsided, replaced by the gentle hum of the cabin’s ventilation system. Outside, the sun beat down on the tarmac of Abu Dhabi International Airport, a stark contrast to the cool, manufactured air surrounding you.

You stretched in your plush leather seat, feeling the residual stiffness of the long flight slowly begin to fade.

You glanced in front of you, where Lando was curled into a seemingly impossible ball, his head lolling precariously close to the aisle. On your right, Charles was a picture of elegant slumber, his dark hair perfectly tousled across his forehead.

A small smile played on your lips.

A sudden, sharp shove sent Lando tumbling forward, his muffled yelp echoing through the cabin. Max, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes, was grinning down at him.

"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead!" he said, his Dutch accent thick with playful teasing.

You gently reached out, shaking Charles’ arm. "Charles, we’re here," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

He blinked sleepily, his hazel eyes focusing on you with a disoriented charm.

“Already?” he mumbled, stretching his arms above his head. “It felt like I just closed my eyes.”

"Time flies when you're sleeping," you quipped, earning a tired chuckle from him.

You watched as Lando rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his usual lively energy quickly returning. “Not cool, Max,” he grumbled, though there was no real heat in his tone. “Almost made me faceplant into the floor.”

Max just laughed, a low, rumbling sound that resonated through you.

"Come on," Max said, clapping his hands together, "let's ditch this flying sofa and get to the hotel."

As you moved to gather your things, your fingers brushed against Max’s. A spark, small but undeniable, ignited between you.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat as his blue eyes met yours. He gave you a subtle, almost imperceptible wink, and a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks.

A small army of hotel staff swarmed the plane, efficiently unloading luggage and ushering you towards a fleet of waiting cars. It was a familiar scene, the controlled chaos that preceded every race weekend, a strange comfort after the long hours spent suspended in the artificial stillness of Max’s private jet.

You followed Max, Lando and Charles into the hotel, the lobby a dizzying spectacle of polished marble, towering floral arrangements, and the hushed murmurs of staff. The receptionist, a woman with a warm smile and efficient hands, greeted Max by name.

You shifted your weight, feeling the fatigue of travel settling deep into your bones. You were so used to this pre-race routine that you could perform it on autopilot.

The adrenaline of the upcoming race, the pressure of qualifying, it was all still to come, and for now, a quiet hotel room and a long nap seemed like a distant paradise.

“Mr. Verstappen, Ms. L/N, here are your keys,” the receptionist said, sliding the cards across the polished counter.

You thanked her with a polite nod, your eyes already searching for the elevator. Lando and Charles, keys in hand, had already disappeared into the throng of people. You and Max made your way towards the elevators, the chatter of the lobby dimming to a background hum. Max, his usual energy subdued by travel fatigue, muttered, “Room 312,” as you both stepped into the elevator.

You leaned against the mirrored wall, your eyes closed, letting the subtle hum of the elevator carry you upwards. You couldn’t even be bothered to check your key card.

All you wanted was to crash on the bed. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and you followed Max down the hallway, the carpet thick and plush beneath your feet.

Finally, you stood before room 312. Max stopped, his hand already on his key card. He turned to you, a brow raised. "Which room are you in?" he asked, his voice quiet, a touch of the Dutch accent coloring his words.

You finally looked down at your key card. Your eyes widened in disbelief. "It's… 312," you said, your voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "How is it 312?"

Max’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Well, that's a surprise.” he chuckled. He held up his own key card, and as he flipped it you could make out the number, it was indeed 312 too.

A laugh escaped you. “What are the chances of that happening.”

“Guess they really wanted us together” Max said, looking at you with his intense blue eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

“Guess so,” you murmured, your gaze lingering on his face. You felt a familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

"Well, are we going in or are we going to stand here all night?" Max asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shook your head, a smile playing at your lips. He had a way of bringing you back down to earth, always. You swiped your key card, the light flashed green, and the door clicked open.

You stepped inside, the room instantly enveloping you in its cool, quiet embrace. It was a spacious suite, tastefully decorated in neutral tones with dark wood accents. A king-sized bed dominated one side of the room, and a seating area with a plush couch and a small coffee table occupied the other. A balcony overlooked the glittering cityscape, providing a mesmerizing view of the sprawling metropolis.

Then he spoke, his usual calm demeanor settling in. "You're taking the bed," he said, already moving towards the sofa.

Your heart sank, a sharp pang of disappointment echoing in your chest. Two weeks. Two weeks of dating Max, and in those two weeks, despite living in the same house, you never once shared a bed. He had always opted for the couch or the guest room - never yours. The pattern was starting to feel deliberate, and a nagging insecurity began to take root.

Did he not want you? Was this a sign? Was all this too fast for him?

The questions, like tiny needles, pricked at your confidence. You knew he wasn't the most emotionally expressive person, but this felt… more than that. It felt like a polite, yet firm, rejection. You weren't going to let the uncertainty fester any longer.

You moved quickly, cutting him off before he could fully settle on the couch, your body a tangible barrier in his path. He stopped, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Max,” you said, your voice even, trying to project an authority you weren't quite feeling.

He blinked slowly, his gaze studying you, those intense blue eyes searching yours with an intensity that always made your pulse quicken, even now, amidst your anxiety. "Yes?"

You took a deep breath. "Why?"

He frowned, a crease appearing between his brows. "Why what?"

“Why are you taking the couch?" You knew you sounded more demanding than you intended, but you were done tip-toeing around this.

He looked down at the couch, then back at you, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. "Because… you’re taking the bed."

"Yes, I know. But why aren’t you?"

His jaw tightened slightly. "I just... I'm more comfortable on the couch."

The answer, so simple, so easily spoken, only served to infuriate you further. "Comfortable? Really, Max? Or is it something else?"

He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting towards the balcony, a nervous tick you had noticed when he was uncomfortable. "It's just… I sleep better on the couch. It’s… smaller.”

“Smaller? What does that even mean?” You crossed your arms, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into your voice. “We’re dating, Max. Don't you... want to be closer to me."

You tried to keep the hurt from showing on your face. "This isn't about sleep, is it? Is this about… me?"

He finally met your eyes, a flicker of something unreadable in their depth. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, forcing the words past the lump forming in your throat. “Usually couples sleep in each other's arms, and well, I don't get that. It's okay if you don't like that or feel uncomfortable about it, just tell me now because I feel like you don't want me,"

The vulnerability was raw, exposed, but you had reached a point where you needed the truth, whatever it may be. You had held back for so long in fear of rejection, but you realized it was time to stop.

Max waited patiently for you to finish speaking. When you did, you stared at the floor, the floral pattern of the rug suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. Other than your ex, you didn't have much knowledge in relationships, so you didn't even know if sleeping on the couch was a normal thing.

You wondered if you were reading too much into it, but your past experiences had taught you to trust the nagging feeling in your gut.

Max sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of unsaid things, before he crossed the room and pulled you in for a hug. His arms wrapped around you, warm and solid, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“It's not that,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper, thick with something you couldn't quite name. “It's… I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You blinked, surprised. The statement was so unexpected it almost knocked you off balance. You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, his face a mask of concern.

"Uncomfortable? Max, you're my boyfriend. How could you sleeping in the same bed as me make me uncomfortable?" You were completely baffled.

You wanted him there, close to you, not across the room. You saw his face turn a shade of red, his cheeks flushing a vibrant hue. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you were beginning to recognize.

"People say that I'm really clingy when I'm asleep or hardly conscious," he muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable in the night so I decided to keep myself away. I do want to be closer to you and I do want you," he rushed the words out, as if finally admitting something he’d been trying hard to suppress.

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Clingy? Was that the reason? He thought he was protecting you by sleeping on the couch when all you wanted was to be wrapped in his arms?

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth wash over you. He wasn’t pulling away, he was trying to be considerate.

It was a level of care and thoughtfulness you hadn’t expected, especially so early in the relationship.

"Max," you said softly, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. His skin was soft beneath your touch, and his gaze met yours, vulnerable and filled with an earnestness that made your heart ache.

"I'm not going to be uncomfortable. In fact, I'd probably be more uncomfortable sleeping alone after having you just a few meters away. We're dating. This is what couples do, right? We’re trying new things and we’re not alone in this experience, if you're clingy in your sleep, I can just… push you off with my mighty strength and you’ll learn eventually!”

You couldn’t help but smile at how adorably insecure he was. All this time, you had thought he wasn't interested in you physically, but it turned out he was just worried about being too much.

A small smile touched his lips, and for a moment, the tension seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet understanding. “So… you’re okay with… the clingy thing?” he asked, a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

You chuckled, “I’m more than okay. I actually find it pretty endearing. But you’re going to have to show me how clingy you really are.” 

He nodded, a blush still coloring his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, a flicker of uncertainty still lingering in his eyes.

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "I'm sure. And maybe, just maybe, we can figure out this whole sleeping-together thing, together." You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. 

The hot water pounded against your skin, a welcome assault after the long, cramped flight. You let out a sigh, the steam swirling around you like a comforting embrace. Your muscles finally began to unwind, releasing the tension that had been coiled tight like a spring.

here you are, clean and fresh, ready to begin this new chapter. Well, almost ready. You couldn’t help but replay the image of Max from earlier.

Just before you'd stepped into the bathroom, you'd seen him fidgeting by the bed, his usually confident posture replaced with a nervous energy. He’d been running a hand through his already tousled dirty blond hair, his eyes darting towards the closed bathroom door.

You’d even caught him taking a deep, shaky breath before you had shimmied into the shower.

A soft smile curved your lips. It was endearing, this vulnerability he was showing. You knew he was excited, just shy. You found him utterly adorable.

You turned off the water, the sudden quiet amplifying the gentle sounds filtering in from the rest of the apartment. A shuffle of feet, the quiet clinking of glass – probably him getting a drink of water – and then, silence again.

You wrapped a towel around yourself, taking a moment to smooth it over your skin before stepping out of the shower stall and catching sight of your reflection. Your hair was damp and slightly wild, your cheeks flushed from the heat.

You took another moment to run your fingers through the tangles, trying to give it some resemblance of order. You had a feeling Max wouldn’t mind the little disarray.

He seemed like the 'messy hair is sexy' type.

You opened the bathroom door, your eyes immediately finding Max at the foot of the bed. He was perched on the edge, his back to you, but you were sure that he had been looking at the door.

His shoulders straightened with a slight jolt as he heard the door click open. He turned around, and that familiar, slightly nervous smile returned to his face.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little lower and huskier than usual.

"Hey," you responded, your own voice a gentle purr. You moved towards him, the towel making a soft rustling sound as you walked.

You could feel your own heart thumping with anticipation. You noticed there were two mugs on the bedside table, warm drinks likely made while you were in the shower, which warmed your heart.

He stood up as you approached, closing the distance between you. You were finally close enough to feel the low thrum of heat radiating from him, his eyes looking directly into yours.

You took it as an invitation, reaching out to gently cup his cheek with your hand. The stubble on his chin scratched at your palm, and you couldn't help but give a soft sigh.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your thumb gently caressing his skin.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Yeah, just… yeah.” He chuckled, the sound a little nervous, but no less endearing.

You smiled, your own nervousness melting away under the warmth of his gaze. “You seem a little tense,” you teased, your voice laced with affection.

He ran a hand through his hair again, the gesture making you giggle. “I’m just… excited,” he admitted. “And maybe a little… overwhelmed. This is… nice.” He gestured between you with his hand, his eyes softening on you.

“Nice?” you asked, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

He nodded, a soft blush creeping up his neck. “More than nice,” he corrected, his voice barely above a whisper, “Amazing. Terrifying. But like, in a good way?” He could finally meet your gaze head-on, a genuine warmth replacing his earlier trepidation.

You laughed, the sound echoing softly in the room. "I know exactly what you mean.” You took a step closer, your body almost touching his, and looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Terrifying in a good way too, huh?”

He mirrored your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out and took your hands in his. His fingers were a little rough against yours, a comforting contrast to your soft skin.

“Absolutely," he said, and he finally dared a small tug, bringing your body closer. You were finally close enough, your legs finally tangling together, your breaths finally in sync.

“So, uh,” he continued, his voice a little rougher now, “Now what?”

"Now," you purred against his lips, your eyes sparkling with adoration, "you take a shower, you stink," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

His eyes widened, a confused look replacing the earlier nervous warmth. "I do?" he said, sniffing at his own arm. You couldn’t help but laugh, a bright, melodic sound that seemed to erase all the awkwardness of the past few minutes.

“I’m kidding, silly.” You reached up and gently pushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “You smell like planes and nervous energy, but you don’t stink, not really.”

He relaxed slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Oh. Right." He chuckled quietly. "I was about to say, I showered this morning."

“I know, I know,” you said, your tone softer now. “But seriously, the shower is nice. You’ll feel even better.” You tugged his hand gently, leading him towards the bathroom. “And besides, you’ve been doing absolutely all the work setting up the hotel room and everything while I've been showering, the shower is the least I can get you to do."

He let you guide him, his earlier nervous energy replaced with a playful smirk. "Wow, such a hard worker. You wound me, truly."

"I know, I'm terrible," you said, giving him a mock pout. "You're just lucky you're cute."

He chuckled, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching you. “And you’re… well, you’re something else.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your look. “Oh? Something else, huh? Is that good or bad?"

He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist, pulling you gently into his embrace. “Definitely good,” he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Very, very good.”

“Good to know,” you whispered back, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer still. "Now, go take that shower. I can already tell you smell like lavender, you really went overboard with the perfume."

He groaned playfully, pulling back slightly. "You're right, I got carried away." He stepped into the bathroom, throwing a roguish grin over his shoulder. "Just wait for me.”

“I will,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, watching him in the reflection in the mirror, a soft smile gracing your face. You listened to the sound of the water starting again, a calming rhythm that seemed to echo the contentment settling in your heart.

Leaning back against the wall, your thoughts swirled. It was funny, how just a few weeks ago, Max was a friend and a teammate. Now, he was this endearing, slightly awkward man, who got flustered at the idea of cuddling.

It felt so natural, you knew that this was something special, this connection you had with him. You wanted to know everything about him. Every bad movie he liked, every quirky habit, every childhood fear. You wanted to be there through every high and low.

The rhythmic drumming of water against the shower tile was starting to feel less like a comforting lullaby and more like a countdown.

You shifted on the edge of your bed, the soft cotton sheet beneath your fingers feeling like a life raft in a sea of butterflies. You’d picked out the softest pajamas, a pale lavender set you’d bought specifically for this occasion, thinking they were a subtle nod to the romantic, blushing anticipation you were feeling.

Max had been adorable, a bundle of barely-contained nerves, when he'd packed his suitcase, a shy smile playing on his lips as he’d pulled out a grey hoodie, claiming it was his "coziest."

The water sounds had been going on for what felt like an eternity. You bounced your leg, a nervous tick you’d been trying to control. You picked up your phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, barely registering the pretty faces and perfectly curated lives.

You put it down again. This was ridiculous, you thought. Why were you so worked up? It was just cuddling. Just holding someone close while you slept.

Except, it wasn't just cuddling. It was Max cuddling, and that was a whole different ball game.

You started to imagine it. His arm around your waist, the warmth of his body pressed against yours... your breath hitched. A shiver, not entirely from cold, ran down your spine.

You got up and walked over to your dresser. You opened the top drawer and stared down at your perfume bottles. Should you put some on? Something light and floral? Or something warmer and more seductive?

You hesitated, pulled back your hand. It was just cuddling. Don't be ridiculous.

The water stopped. The silence that had followed felt amplified, like a sudden, pregnant pause in a conversation. Your heart hammered against your ribs, each beat echoing in your ears.

You heard the gentle squeak of the shower door opening, then the soft thud of bare footprints against the bathroom tiles. You quickly sat back on the edge of the bed, trying to school your expression into something resembling casual composure.

He emerged, a towel wrapped low around his waist, water still beading in his dark hair. He looked good. Ridiculously good. He caught your eye and a soft, hesitant smile spread across his face.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little husky. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Hey," you replied, trying to sound calm and collected. Instead, your voice came out a little breathier than you intended. You cleared your throat. "Took you long enough to get clean." You teased.

He let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, sorry. I uh... I might have been... procrastinating a little."

You couldn't help but smile. "Procrastinating?" You raised an eyebrow playfully. "What could you possibly be procrastinating?"

He walked towards the bed, his eyes on the floor. He reached for his bag on the floor, avoiding eye contact. "Nothing," he mumbled. "Just, you know... towels are interesting."

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Interesting, huh? What are they saying these days?"

He looked up, a sheepish grin forming. "They're... telling me to put on clothes." He grabbed his grey hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

"Good idea," you agreed, your gaze lingering on his bare chest for just a moment too long. You turned your head away to not make it awkward.

You could tell this was a big deal for him despite it seeming so casual to the rest of the world.

He finally settled onto the edge of the bed, a noticeable space separating him from you. You could feel the tension radiating off of him; his leg was bouncing in a silent rhythm against the mattress.

He was practically vibrating, a human tuning fork about to go off-key. Your heart did a little flip, it was actually kind of cute seeing him like this.

"So, are you ready?" you asked, a playful lilt to your voice, trying to ease the tension.

"I, uh..." He hesitated, his eyes darting to yours and then away again, focusing intently on some abstract point in the far corner of the room. "I've never... really, you know... done this before."

A small laugh bubbled up, completely involuntarily. You reached out and gently touched his arm, the warmth of your hand contrasting against the coolness of his hoodie. “Max,” you said softly, your voice a soothing balm, “it’s just cuddling. It’s not that big of a deal, is it?”

He turned to face you, his eyes wide and a little panicked. "No, I mean... yes? I don't know! I just... I really like you, okay? And I don't want to... mess things up."

The honesty in his voice melted your heart. You'd only been dating for two weeks, but in that short time, you'd come to truly appreciate Max’s genuine nature, his shy smile, and the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You understood his hesitation, the fear of doing something wrong, especially with someone he cared about.

"Hey," you started, squeezing his arm gently, "you’re not going to mess anything up. Just relax. This is supposed to be fun." You patted the space beside you invitingly, “Come here.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he shuffled closer until you were side by side. It was a bit awkward at first, this careful dance between two people still getting to know each other's rhythm.

You decided to take the lead, your earlier confidence resurfacing. You maneuvered so your head was nestled comfortably on his shoulder, one arm lazily wrapping around his torso, and then you casually swung a leg over his.

You felt his body tense, then slowly relax.

The silence that fell wasn't uncomfortable, but rather a comfortable lull, the quiet hum of two people finding their space together. You knew Max was still a little on edge, you could feel the slight tremor in his chest beneath your cheek.

"Should I sing that Dutch song to calm you down?" you muttered, your voice muffled by his hoodie.

He laughed, the sound rumbling against your cheek. “Please,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You started, your voice soft and low, the words of the silly little Dutch song rolling off your tongue with practiced ease, a tune you'd picked up during your semester abroad and used ever since to calm your nerves.

“Kleine bloempjes, gele blaadjes, dansen in de wind…” you sang, the melody lilting and playful. You felt him relax ever so slightly beneath you, his breathing becoming a bit more even.

You continued, your hand tracing gentle patterns on his arm. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling, his heart was as loud as a drumbeat in your ear.

When the song was over, the silence that followed was different. It was a comfortable silence, a shared space of warmth and quiet affection.

“Better?” you whispered, your breath tickling his ear.

“Much,” he admitted, his voice still a little hushed. He turned his head, his eyes meeting yours, and you got lost in the deep blue of them all over again.

"I think I'm starting to like everything you do," he admitted, his voice low and a little husky. He shifted slightly and rested his hand on your back, a light, tentative touch.

"Well, I am pretty amazing," you teased, enjoying the way he blushed. Then, you grew serious. "But seriously, you don't have to be nervous, Max. I'm not some fragile flower that will break if you touch me the wrong way."

"It's not that," he rushed to explain, "it's just that... well, you're… you. And I want to make sure I'm doing things right."

You lifted your head a bit, looking directly into his eyes. “Doing what right, Max? You know how to cuddle me, right now.”

He swallowed, his eyes dancing with an unspoken depth. “I guess I was more nervous about what happens after cuddles.”

You laughed again, this time a genuine, heart felt laugh that warmed you. “What could possibly happen after cuddles?” you mocked. “The snuggle monsters will come and steal our socks?”

He laughed too, the sound lighter than before, and you felt a wave of happiness wash over you. Being able to make him laugh always seemed to be a highlight of your day.

"Okay, okay, I get it," he said, his hand moving a little more boldly across your back, his fingers tracing soft circles. "I just want to make you happy, I really do.”

“And you do, Max.” You leaned back down, tucking your head under his chin. The position was perfect; you could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear. “You make me really happy.”

He tightened his hold slightly, and suddenly the nervous tension was gone, replaced by something warmer, comfortable, soft. You both were finally just enjoying each other’s company.

"Do you like this position?" you asked, your voice sleepy. The warmth of his body, the weight of his arm around you, was making you feel incredibly content.

It occurred to you just how easily comfortable you were with each other.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness. "Yeah, I really do."

You stayed like that for a long time, a comfortable silence enveloping the room. Occasionally, one of you would shift slightly, adjusting to be a little closer.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head, and the soft scratch of his hoodie against your cheek. The quiet was punctuated only by the occasional sounds from outside, a car driving by, the laughter of distant voices.

Later, as the sky outside began to darken, you felt yourself drift off, the events of the day melting away. You didn't even register when Max shifted, pulling the soft duvet over you both.

Only when his arm tightened a bit more, pulling you closer to him, did you stir slightly.

"Are you still okay?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

"More than okay," he replied softly, his lips brushing against your hair. "This is perfect."

And as you drifted off to sleep, his words echoing in your mind, you knew he was right. It was perfect, this first awkward, beautifully hesitant cuddle, the beginning of something real, something special. And you couldn't wait to see what else would come.

Later, you were still drifting in that blissful space between sleep and consciousness when you felt a weight on your side.

You opened your eyes slightly and saw Max, his face buried in your neck, his arm thrown possessively across your waist, and his leg tangled between yours. He was practically clinging to you, his body pressed flush against yours.

You smiled, this was definitely a clingy sleeper. He was your clingy sleeper.

The golden afternoon light, a warm, honeyed blanket, spills through the gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across your face. You stir, a deep contented sigh escaping your lips.

It's the kind of sleep that wraps you in a soft cocoon, the kind that leaves you feeling like you've been reborn anew, refreshed and light. You stretch, a slow, languid movement, and that's when you realize something’s amiss.

Or, rather, two somethings. Two very solid, very warm somethings.

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see is the curve of Max's arm, draped possessively across your waist. His fingers are tucked into the hollow of your hip, pressing you flush against the length of his body.

Another arm, equally insistent, is wrapped around your chest, his hand curled just below your shoulder blade. You’ve forgotten, in that blissful, post-nap haze.

You’ve forgotten the reason you slept so well. It’s the first day you and Max shared a bed together.

A soft laugh bubbles up in your chest. You'd known Max was a cuddler, a natural contact-seeker, but ‘clingy sleeper’ felt like a vast understatement staring at you, quite literally, across the bed.

He’s a human koala, apparently, and you’re the eucalyptus tree.

You turn your head, careful not to jostle him (or, more accurately, to displace his carefully curated system of limbs) and find him still asleep. His face is relaxed, the usual playful crinkle around his eyes smoothed out.

A stray lock of dark hair has fallen across his forehead, and you're struck by a wave of tenderness so strong it almost physically hurts. You reach out a finger, tracing the line of his jaw, the slight stubble that always feels like the softest sandpaper to your touch.

You’ve always admired him, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his smile could light up the darkest room.

Now, seeing him so unguarded, so vulnerable, a different kind of admiration, something deeper and richer, blossoms within you.

You watch him breathe, the slow rise and fall of his chest, a steady rhythm that somehow grounds you. It feels so natural, so right, to be here, tangled in his limbs.

The room, bathed in the warm, golden glow, seems to hum with a soft, content energy.

But the urge to move, the need to stretch properly, becomes too much. You decide to attempt an escape, a careful, calculated manoeuvre meant to free you from his embrace without waking the sleeping beast. You slowly, painstakingly, ease his hand from your waist. He murmurs something, a low, incoherent sound, and tightens his grip.

“Max?” You whisper, your voice barely audible.

He hums again, his face nuzzling into your shoulder. “Mmm, five more minutes?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

You smile. He's absolutely adorable, and your heart does a little flip. “Max, it’s the afternoon.”

He shifts slightly, his eyes cracking open, revealing the warm, ocean blue that you've grown to love. He blinks a few times, as if trying to focus, and then a slow, lazy smile spreads across his face.

“Oh,” he says, his voice still husky, “did you sleep well?”

“I slept wonderfully,” you reply, your voice warm. “But I'm trapped.”

He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates against your body. “Sorry,” he says, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“You’re not, though, are you?” you tease, your fingers playing with the soft hairs at his nape.

He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Nope. Not even a little bit.” He lifts his head to look at you, his expression turning serious, almost vulnerable. "Is it...is it okay? That I’m like this?”

You feel a wave of affection wash over you. “Okay? Max, it’s more than okay. It’s… nice.” You reach up and cup his cheek in your hand. "You're like a human weighted blanket."

He smiles, his eyes sparkling. "I'll take that as a compliment." He pauses, his gaze searching your face. "You’re not… uncomfortable, are you? I know I can be a bit much."

You lean in slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Never. You’re perfect.”

His smile widened, a genuine, beaming smile that always made your chest ache. “Good, now let’s go back to sleep,” he muttered, nuzzling his head back into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you again.

"Max!" You let out a small gasp, a laugh bubbling in your throat. "Didn't you say you planned something today?"

He buried his face in your hair. "We can push it back," he replied, his voice muffled. "This is much more important.”

You knew there was no winning this battle. Max was, as you had quickly discovered, a hopeless romantic and a very clingy sleeper – and a very clingy morning person. You sighed, a mock exasperation in your tone, but secretly you were thrilled.

“Okay, but we’re not staying here all day. I’m starving.”

He pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can always order something, you know.”

“No, we’re getting up. I need to move.” You gave his arms a slight push, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp. He didn’t budge.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling you back into his chest. “Just a little bit longer.”

You sighed again, giving up the fight for now. “Fine, but you have to tell me what you were planning.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your ear. “I was thinking of taking you to that fancy museum restaurant you were talking about.”

Your eyes widened. “The one with all those modern sculptures?”

“The very same.”

“Max, that sounds amazing! And why are you only telling me now?”

He shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face. “I wanted it to be a surprise. But I guess I’m not very good at surprises.”

“You’re adorable, is what you are.” You leaned up and kissed him again, a lingering kiss that made your heart beat faster. “And yes, we are still going. But we absolutely need to get out of this bed first.”

“Fine, but I get one more kiss,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

You laughed, shaking your head, but you didn’t deny him his kiss. Several kisses, actually. It took a while, and some gentle, but firm, reminding him of the day ahead, but eventually, you managed to extricate yourself from his embrace.

Max, however, decided not to get up – at least not yet. He sat up in bed, watching you with those sparkling blue eyes as you started digging through your drawers for clothes.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said suddenly, his voice soft, earnest.

You paused, your hand hovering over a dress. You turned to him, a shy smile playing on your lips. “Thank you, but I’m sure I look like a mess.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. You always look beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You’re sweet.”

He grinned. “I try.” He then stretched out, long and languid on the bed. “But seriously, you’re like a ray of sunshine in the morning, even if it’s the afternoon now.”

“And you’re like a big, fluffy bear,” you retorted.

He laughed. “A fluffy, clingy bear.”

“Very clingy.” You turned back to him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Are you going to get up, or are you planning on staying there all day?”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine, I will get up. But only because you’re making me.”

He finally pushed himself up, and you let out a laugh, the sound light and airy. It was the start of a beautiful day, a day that had begun with unexpected warmth and affection, a day that was a testament to the connection, the love, that you and Max shared.

And as you watched him stretch, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, you knew that this was just the beginning of many more mornings, and afternoons, spent together, in each other’s arms.

And you couldn't wait.

The cool, silken fabric of your dress glided against your skin as you adjusted your earring, the small diamonds catching the light. You knew the dress was a statement, a bold choice for a first date, but you felt confident, powerful even.

Max, you knew, would be waiting. He'd been pacing the apartment for the last hour, his anticipation palpable even through the closed bathroom door. You’d heard the rustle of his perfectly tailored tuxedo as he checked his reflection in the hall mirror, the soft hum he subconsciously made when he was nervous.

Taking a final glance at yourself, you decided you couldn't delay any longer. You pushed the door open and strutted into the living room, your heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.

"How do I look?" you asked, your voice a playful purr, as you fastened the delicate clasp of your other earring.

Max, lounging on the sofa, swiveled around to face you. You watched as his eyes traveled down your form, taking in the low-cut neckline of your dress, the way it hugged your waist, and fell elegantly over your hips.

His mouth parted slightly, his usually composed demeanor shattering for a moment. "I-uh- You look- You look great," he stammered, his gaze lingering on your décolletage, a hint of color rising in his cheeks.

You laughed, a soft, knowing sound. "Yeah okay, let's keep our thoughts innocent," you said, shaking your head with a smirk. The way he looked at you, captivated and slightly flustered, was intoxicating.

He blinked, looking up to meet your eyes, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Right. Innocent. Of course," he replied, clearing his throat. He stood up and offered you his arm. “Shall we, then? Or are you going to make me stare at you all night.”

You slipped your arm through his, the fabric of his tuxedo jacket smooth beneath your fingertips. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” you teased, as you walked towards the door, his hand resting possessively on your lower back.

The ride to the museum was a symphony of nervous excitement bubbling beneath the surface of casual conversation. Max filled you in on the details of the museum, explaining that it was a private collection, hidden away from the public eye.

His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, drawn in by his passion.

Arriving at the imposing, unmarked building, you were a little surprised. It looked more like a bank than a museum. As you walked inside, the cold, marble floors reflected the dim lights of the main hall.

You were greeted by a dapper older man in a dark suit who looked like the kind of man who wouldn't break a law, but would bend them if needed.

"Ah, Mr. Verstappen, pleasure to see you again," the man said, his voice a low rumble. "And you must be the delightful…." he trailed off expectantly, his eyes on you.

"This is…" Max started, placing his hand on the small of your back again, “This is… this is my companion for the night.” He gave you a brief smile, “This is Y/N.”

“Ah, wonderful, a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N, Mr. Verstappen has exquisite taste I must say,” the man smiled. “I will leave you to your tour. Feel free to wander as you wish, and if you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”

As the man left, you turned to Max, a small smile playing on your lips. "Exquisite taste? Really?" you teased.

He blushed, the tips of his ears turning a delightful shade of pink. "Well, I do, don't I? I mean, look at you," he said, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

The museum was a treasure trove, the kind you could spend days exploring. Ancient artifacts, forgotten masterpieces, and strange, unexplainable objects filled the dimly lit rooms.

You walked hand in hand, Max pointing out his favorite pieces and telling you the stories behind them.

He was a wealth of knowledge, and you loved seeing his eyes light up with passion.

You can’t help but feel as though you’ve been transported to another world, a world where only the two of you exist.

"This is amazing, Max," you say, your voice soft. "I’ve never seen anything like it."

He turns to face you, and his gaze holds a warmth that makes your heart flutter. "I wanted to share it with you," he says, his voice a little lower than usual. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

You smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling. The quiet intimacy of the museum feels perfect, a secret world built just for the two of you.

Eventually, the setting sun begins to cast long shadows across the museum, painting the walls in hues of orange and gold.

Max guides you toward the outer restaurant, a haven of modern elegance that contrasts sharply with the old-world charm you've just explored.

The restaurant's large windows offer a breathtaking view of the sunset, the sky ablaze with vibrant colors. You instinctively reach for your phone, wanting to capture the moment.

You start recording, the lens catching the fiery hues of the setting sun, the silhouettes of the surrounding landscape, and finally, you pan the camera towards Max, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches the sunset.

"Oh, sorry! Did I ruin the video?" he asks, his brow furrowed with worry.

You shake your head, laughing lightly. "No, Max, you made it better," you assure him, your gaze lingering on his face. “You just added the main attraction to the video.”

He grins, relieved. “Okay, good.”

The warm light of the sunset turns his eyes to crystal blue, and you can’t help but stare for a moment. You snap some photos of him, his features illuminated by the golden glow, his smile a captivating mixture of shyness and genuine joy.

After showing him the photos, you guide him on how to take pictures of you. He takes a few, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to capture the perfect angle, following your playful prompts.

You giggle when you see the final result - he's a natural.

"Okay, one for ourselves." Max suggests, pulling out his phone and extending his arm.

You lean into him, your cheek brushing against his, and take a selfie. You both glance at the picture, a visual record of the shared joy in your eyes.

The public wasn't ready for this relationship, not yet anyway. This moment, this happiness, was meant for just the two of you, a secret you guarded like one of the treasures hidden within the museum.

“This whole day has been amazing,” you say, tucking your phone away.

Max’s hand finds yours on the table, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. “It was perfect,” he says, his gaze locking with yours. “And it’s only just beginning.”

A playful grin spread across your face. "Good, because I need more pictures for when I have to soft-launch this relationship," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

You watched his brow furrow slightly, a charming look of confusion that made you want to laugh.

"What's a soft-launch?" Max asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb caressing the back of your palm.

You tilted your head playfully. "Oh, you know," you drawled, "it's when you start dropping little hints, subtle clues that you might be seeing someone without explicitly saying it. Like posting a picture of a restaurant we went to, but not showing our faces. Or maybe a shot of your hand holding a wine glass, and mine is just barely in the frame. It's all very strategic," you added with a wink.

Max laughed, a low, resonant sound that made your stomach flip. “Strategic, huh? So, you’re already planning our big reveal, even before our first date is over?” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Well, a girl has to plan ahead,” you replied, your tone light but sincere. “This whole thing, with keeping it a secret for a while… it’s exciting, but it’s not sustainable forever, right? I think our friends are starting to suspect something."

Max took a moment to digest this, his gaze thoughtful. "I guess you're right," he said finally. "It's been nice, having this just for us. Like we have our own little secret world in the middle of all the chaos."

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your fingers intertwining with his. “And when we do decide to tell everyone, we get to decide when and how. The soft-launch is just a little… prologue to the main event, I suppose.”

“I like the way you think,” Max said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “So, what kind of pictures are we going to take tonight to fuel the soft-launch?”

You giggled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Well, seeing as we’re surrounded by so much beauty, I think we have a lot of choices. Maybe a silhouette against the city lights?” you suggested, turning your head to admire the twinkling skyline.

“Or perhaps a shot of our hands together, holding an ancient artifact? Something artsy and mysterious.”

Max’s smile widened. “I’m in. You’re the expert. But," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I have one suggestion of my own.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let’s take a picture of us kissing, in front of that ancient Egyptian mural. Something that screams passionate romance, but that we keep private, for now, just for us. Something for us to look back on when this is all public and we want to remember what it felt like when it was just us in our secret world.”

Your breath hitched. The idea was undeniably thrilling, a delicious secret between two people who were navigating a very public life. “That,” you whispered back, your heart thumping in your chest, “is a brilliant idea.”

And so, you spent the next little while taking seemingly innocuous pictures, careful not to give away the intimacy of your relationship, while knowing the picture you were both looking forward to was safely stored away on your phone.

You laughed, you whispered, you reveled in the space between you both. You were no longer just living in a secret, you were thriving in it.

You were a team, making tiny decisions on how you would slowly show yourselves to the world. It was a shared excitement that buzzed through you both.

As the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the museum’s terrace, you realised that the night had flown by. The museum, once an unfamiliar and grand space was now somehow warm and comforting.

It held the secrets of you and Max, a space where you both could be yourselves, a space that gave you both this intimate peace.

“I think,” Max said, his voice soft and contemplative, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you, “that I’m going to enjoy this soft-launch process more than I thought. And,” he added, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat, “I’m really enjoying being able to share this with you.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Me too," you whispered, pulling back to gaze into his eyes. "More than you know."

As you walked back through the halls of the museum, hand in hand, you knew that this was only the beginning. Your relationship, like a rare and precious artifact, was just being unearthed, and you were both ready to share it with the world, in your own time, at your own pace.

The secret had been sweet, but the future, you suspected, was going to be even more extraordinary, a journey of love and discovery that you were both eager to embark on together.

And you had the perfect, secret picture to carry with you, a reminder of every moment leading up to this one. . . .

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yourusername posted a story

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maxverstappen1 just posted a story.

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The harsh studio lights beat down on you, reflecting off the polished table separating you from the rest of the Formula 1 pack. You could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a scalpel.

The interviewer, a woman with a carefully constructed smile, had just asked you, "Y/N, do you think that Red Bull will finally win the constructors this week?"

The question hung in the air, a blatant attempt to ignite a feud between Red Bull and Ferrari, the two teams locked in a bitter battle for the championship.

Your heart hammered a bit faster, not from the pressure, but from the awareness of Max, sitting just a few feet away. He was your best-kept secret, your forbidden pleasure, and the man you were now forced to appear coldly professional towards.

"Well, looking at the data and the car," you began, your voice smooth and practiced, "I think there's a high percent chance to win it." You kept your gaze fixed firmly on the interviewer, the practiced calm of a seasoned driver radiating from you.

You refused to even glance in Max’s direction, knowing that a single flicker of recognition could expose your secret.

The interviewer, clearly disappointed by your diplomatic answer, quickly moved on to Charles and Carlos, peppering them with similar questions, their responses just as measured and professional.

You could feel Max's eyes on you, a warm weight on your skin, and the urge to meet his gaze was almost overwhelming. You focused instead on your fingernails, the glossy paint a small anchor in a sea of chaos.

The questions kept coming, each one designed to stir up controversy, to extract a juicy headline. They asked about car development, track strategies, and the pressure of the championship, and you answered them all with the same practiced detachment.

You had learned to compartmentalize, to separate your personal life from the brutal honesty of the racing world. It was how you kept your relationship with Max safe, a delicate balance between public rivalry and private passion.

During a short break, you reach for your water bottle, the plastic crinkling loudly in the sudden silence. You feel a slight brush against your hand, and your eyes flick down to see one of Max’s discarded pens.

He's watching you from the corner of his eye, a small, playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You want to laugh, to reach out and touch him, but you simply pick up the pen and gave it back to him, your face a mask of indifference.

The interview continued, and you found yourself becoming numb to the constant probing. You noticed in your periphery that Max has started to subtly moved closer to yours, an inch at a time.

You almost smiled at his audacity, his need for you, but you kept your composure. The interviewer, sensing the subtle shift, tries to steer the conversation towards the relationship between teammates.

"Y/N, you've been battling Max neck and neck all season. What's it like, being such a close rival?"

Your mind raced. You couldn’t tell them the truth – that you and Max had been battling not only on the track, but in your own hearts, trying to reconcile the demands of the sport with your growing affection for each other.

You settled on a careful, albeit vague response.

"It's a challenge," you said, your voice measured, "we push each other, and that's ultimately good for both of us." You felt Max's gaze intensify, and you finally allowed yourself a brief, almost imperceptible glance in his direction.

He was watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

The questions continued for another agonizing thirty minutes, and you began to feel like a puppet, your words carefully chosen, your emotions buried deep beneath the surface.

"Y/N, two more question. What's your prediction for this weekend’s race?"

Max looked at you, his eyes sparkling with an unspoken challenge. You knew what he wanted, the thrill of the race, the sheer audacity of hoping to beat him on the track.

He wanted you to openly admit, within the confines of your professional persona that you were coming for him. You almost laughed at the audacity of that situation.

You straightened your back, a confident smile playing on your lips. "I intend to win," you said, your gaze unwavering.

It was a statement of intention, a promise to yourself and a silent acknowledgment of the silent game you were playing with Max, the push and pull of your hidden romance.

A low chuckle rumbled from beside you. You could feel Max’s amusement, his thrill at your audacity. It was a reaction you understood well, a kind of shared language only you two could speak.

“Okay, and the last question,” the interviewer continued, a glint in their eye, “how does it feel, this being your last race in Red Bull, since Perez is still registered to race next year?”

The words landed like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of you. Your face fell, a flicker of surprise and hurt momentarily taking over.

You hadn't discussed it with Christian, not officially, not in a way that would solidify your position within the team. You had been focusing on the race, the chance to prove yourself, to earn your place. You hadn't wanted to think about the possibility of leaving, not yet.

The interviewer had gotten the reaction they wanted, the crack in your otherwise impenetrable facade.

You took a deep breath, forcing a smile back onto your face. “Well, depending on my performance this week, you might be seeing me more often,” you joked, trying to keep the lightness in your tone.

The interviewer, however, looked unconvinced. The air still felt heavy with the question.

The interview wrapped up shortly after, leaving you feeling like you’d just completed a grueling qualifying session. The lights were still too bright, the tension still too thick.

You wanted to escape, to find a corner where you could just breathe.

“You okay?” Max’s voice was low, his hand brushing against your arm as you stood up. It was a fleeting contact, a whisper of affection in public, but it was enough to send a shiver through you.

“Yeah… just a bit blindsided by that last question,” you admitted. You moved away from the cameras, walking towards the quieter corner of the room. He followed, always the gravity to your orbit.

You both found solace in the small, closed off corner, the noise of the media room fading into a dull murmur.

“You said you wanted to win,” Max stated, his voice laced with the teasing note you’d grown so fond of. “You confident, are you?”

You leaned against the wall, folding your arms. “I always am, Max.” You met his gaze, the unspoken connection between you bubbling to the surface.

“Even against me?” He stepped closer, his presence filling the space between you.

“Especially against you,” you whispered, the words laced with a secret challenge.

He chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always made your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous light. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The conversation shifted, as it always did, away from the public eye and into the realm of your carefully guarded private world. “Did you see Christian after the qualifying? He was in a mood. I think they expect something big from both of us this weekend,” You began, trying to shift the focus away from the news.

Max let his hand graze your arm again, a fleeting touch that sent a wave of warmth through you. "I did," He took a cautious look around the corner before continuing, "He seemed very uneased which is very unusual for our boss."

You both shared a silent laugh, the understanding of your complicated situation binding you closer.

"I'm going to see Christian now," you said determined for your future in Red Bull.

The studio lights were harsh, reflecting off the polished table separating Christian Horner from Toto Wolff. It felt like a battlefield, not a talk show set.

Christian shifted in his seat, a forced smile plastered on his face, while Toto, ever the picture of composed elegance, offered a curt nod. Sky Sports, in their infinite wisdom, had decided this was good television – pitting the two most dominant, and arguably most antagonistic, team principals against each other for a season-review segment.

"Hello, this is Sky Sports, and I'm with Toto Wolff, the team principal of Mercedes, and Christian Horner, team principal of Red Bull," Steve Jones announced cheerfully, oblivious to the simmering tension.

"Red Bull is currently leading in the constructors, and Max has already secured the drivers' championship. Mercedes is third, but if they perform exceptionally well this last weekend, they could potentially snatch the constructors from Red Bull and Ferrari."

Christian bit back a sarcastic comment about the ‘exceptionally well’ part, focusing on the fact that Ferrari was also in the mix. They were here to be subjected to a parade of carefully selected clips from the season – highlights, lowlights, and everything in between.

It was a cruel exercise in reliving the year’s triumphs and tribulations, especially when shared with the man who had been his constant nemesis.

The first clip flickered onto the screen, a montage of Max Verstappen's dominant wins. Christian couldn't help but smile genuinely.

It had been a phenomenal season for Red Bull, a testament to the hard work and dedication of his entire team.

"Max really has been on another level this year, Christian," the interviewer prompted.

"He has," Christian replied, his gaze flickering towards Toto, who remained impassive. "The whole team has worked tirelessly. It's been a well-deserved championship." He made a point of subtly emphasizing “well-deserved”.

The next clip was a Mercedes pit stop blunder, a chaotic few seconds that cost them valuable time during a race early in the season. Toto’s jaw tightened slightly, though his expression remained remarkably controlled.

“Toto, that looks like a pit stop you’d rather forget,” Steve said, a hint of mischievousness in his tone.

“These things happen in racing,” Toto said, his voice cool, “It’s a complex sport, and mistakes are inevitable. We learn from them and move forward.” His tone suggested the conversation was closed. Christian, however, was far from finished.

"Indeed," Christian said, leaning forward slightly, "though, some mistakes seem more… recurring than others." He offered a polite, but undeniably pointed, smile. Toto's eyes narrowed, a barely perceptible flicker of anger behind the carefully crafted facade.

The clips continued – a Red Bull mechanical failure, a heated moment from a team radio message, a Mercedes podium celebration following a rare victory.

Each clip served as a new opportunity to poke, prod, and subtly undermine the other.

The show was nearing the end when a clip of Christian celebrating a win showed up. He was laughing heartily, his arm around Max, a picture of pure elation.

“You seem genuinely happy there, Christian,” Steve said.

“We had a good day. There have been many good days this year,” Christian said. He glanced at Toto who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

“And you Toto, how does it feel to watch your rival celebrate?” Steve asked, clearly trying to stir up some drama.

“It’s part of sports,” Toto said diplomatically, “They were good this year. We will be ready next year.”

They were both masters at this game, the subtle jabs masked by polite smiles and carefully worded platitudes. Christian had to admire Toto's coolness, even if he hated the man.

The segment continued, a carefully curated dance of veiled antagonism, going over their season highs and lows, the victories and the defeats. Until the screen flashed a video clip, a stark shift in tone.

It was from the press conference, just hours ago, the forced cheerfulness replaced by a raw vulnerability.

The interviewer's voice cut through, "Okay, and the last question," he continued, a glint in their eye, “how does it feel, this being your last race in Red Bull, since Perez is still registered to race next year?”

The camera zoomed in on Y/N's face, her smile faltering for just a moment, betraying the hurt she was clearly trying to hide.

She took a deep breath, forcing the smile back onto her face, the lightness in her tone almost too practiced, "Well, depending on my performance this week, you might be seeing me more often," she joked, trying to keep the lightness in her tone, though a hint of steel was there too.

The clip ended there. It had been a great final race, one of her best which made the question all the more hurtful.

Christian felt a pang of guilt, watching Y/N's forced smile. He knew why she looked mad. He still had to make an important decision, a decision that was tearing at him.

Perez was the seasoned veteran with consistency, but Y/N, the rookie with speed and an audacity that lit up the track, was a force to be reckoned with.

Toto, ever the opportunist, decided to strike. A wide grin spread across his face, the kind that made Christian want to punch him.

"Oh Christian, you're letting go of Y/N, right? Perfect! I'm sure George will be happy about finding his new teammate," he purred, his eyes gleaming with a calculated malice.

It was a low blow, and Christian knew it. Everyone knew Lewis was having a bad season, but to suggest so openly that they would kick him out for a great rookie, was cruel.

He knew that would get to Christian and it did.

“Wow, so now you want both of my drivers? That’s called being greedy,” Christian shot back, his own placid demeanor cracking under the pressure.

He had been perfectly happy with Toto's veiled insults but this was too far. He was coming for his drivers.

"Just stating the obvious," Toto simply replied, giving a small shrug. It was a blatant attempt to unsettle him, to make him doubt his own decision. And it was working.

“You’re forgetting there’s another driver in Mercedes,” Christian retorted, forcing a chuckle, “are you ready to throw your champion out?”

“He will be back, do not worry, just like you’re going to stick with Perez next year,” Toto said, his tone oozing with a false sympathy. “Let me tell you, you will regret not having Y/N, that girl will be a champion one day.”

He looked straight at Christian. “When she wins, don’t come crawling back to us to get her.”

"Who said I'm letting her go? She's already a big part of Red Bull's family and it's going to take a lot for her to go away," Christian said, his voice now raised.

Toto smiled at him. “Excuses, excuses. I’ll make sure to add you to my speech of how you helped her at the start,” he said with a sly smile.

Christian gave the mic to a staff member before leaving with Y/N. They walked in comfortable silence, the noise of the paddock fading away with each step.

She knew Christian was waiting for her to say something, to make a decision, but she wanted to process everything in her own space, away from the prying eyes and endless negotiations.

As they entered his office, a space that reflected his organized yet focused persona, Y/N finally broke the silence.

“An hour, Christian?” she said, her voice still carrying a hint of amusement. “Really? You couldn’t have wrapped it up in 30 minutes?”

Christian chuckled, leaning back against his desk. “I was enjoying baiting Toto. You have to admit, he takes the bait every single time.”

“I think you both enjoyed it far too much,” Y/N retorted. “You know that whole scene is a performance, right?”

“Of course it is,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “But it’s an important performance. We need to show the world why Red Bull is the best option.”

“And what about what I want?” she asked. “Is that considered?”

Y/N didn't hesitate. The words were out before she could even fully form them in her mind. "I want to stay in Red Bull," she stated, the statement ringing with conviction.

There was no room for doubt or second-guessing. Despite the allure of Mercedes and the challenge of a new environment, her heart was firmly rooted here.

Christian raised an eyebrow, a small smile returning to his lips, a mixture of surprise and relief flashing through his features. “Are you sure?” he asked, the question almost rhetorical.

“Yep,” she replied, her voice firm, a genuine smile finally breaking through her earlier tension. The relief was palpable, washing over her in a warm wave. A decision, finally, made.

Christian nodded, a satisfied expression settling on his face. “Okay, I'll see what I can do. You will know by the end of this week,” he said, his tone indicating the discussion was over and he was moving onto the next item on his never-ending list of tasks.

He settled back into his chair, turning his attention to the paperwork strewn across his desk.

You lingered for a moment, your mind buzzing. You had spoken your truth, laid your cards on the table. Now, it was a waiting game.

You made your way out of the office, heading back to the garage.

Max was there, his engineer deep in discussion with him, the usual debrief in full swing. He caught sight of you and gave you a quick, almost imperceptible nod, a subtle change in his expression indicating he knew something was up.

You two might be discreet in public, but you had an understanding, a silent language spoken between two people who shared so much, not just a team, but a life.

Later, back at your hotel room, after both had showered and changed, you finally found the words to break the silence that had settled between you.

"I spoke to Christian," you said, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Max as he paced in front of the window.

He turned, his blue eyes meeting hers, a flicker of something akin to anxiety in your depths.

"And?" he asked, the single word laden with questions.

"I told him I want to stay," you stated simply, watching his reaction carefully.

The tension that had been coiled within him seemed to unwind, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. A small smile played on his lips as he walked over and sat next to you.

"Good," he whispered, taking you hand in his.

"Good?" you echoed, tilting your head, your eyebrow arched in amusement. "That's it?"

Max chuckled, squeezing your hand. “What else is there to say? I’m glad,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I want you here.”

"I know," you replied, your own smile widening.

"This whole thing has been... annoying," Max admitted, his usual confident swagger replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "It's not like you're not good, you're amazing, I don't want you to leave, but I also don't want you to feel like you have to stay. It has to be your choice, not because of me."

You understood. He had been walking a tightrope, wanting you to stay, desperately, but also knowing it had to be you decision, not influenced by your relationship or the pressure of the team.

“I know, Max,” you said, squeezing his hand back. “It’s my choice. And I choose to be here.”

"Then that's all that matters," he replied, pulling you into a hug, burying his face in your hair.

You stayed like that for a while, the silence comfortable, a shared understanding passing between you two. You were both drivers, both driven, but together, you were something more. . .

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The roar of the crowd is a physical force, vibrating through your bones, through the very air you breathe. It's a familiar sensation, one you've learned to both crave and ignore. Today, though, it feels different.

More…intense. This isn't just another qualifying session; this is it. The final showdown, the battle for pole position. You're in the cockpit, strapped in, the familiar scent of fuel and hot rubber filling your senses.

Your hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, the leather warm against your skin. This is your domain. You are one with the machine, a perfect symbiosis of human and engineering.

Your eyes flick to the timing screen. Okay, you’re P2 heading into this final run. Your teammate is some distance back. Max's name glares at you from the top spot, a bright, taunting beacon. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He's fast, no doubt about that, the fastest today in fact – but you're not about to let him take it without a fight, especially not when you know you have the pace.

Especially when you want to make him work for it.

You take a deep breath, the tension in your chest a knot you need to unravel. ‘Ok y/n just focus,’ Joseph, a calm voice amidst the chaos, crackles over your headset. ‘Tyres are warmed, engine temp okay. Let’s go show them.’

You acknowledge with a nod, although he can't see it, and grip the wheel tighter. The green light snaps on, and you’re away, the car launching forward with a brutal, exhilarating surge of power.

The first corner is a dance of precision, every input deliberate, every movement calculated. You apex perfectly, feeling the tyres bite into the asphalt. The G-force presses you into your seat, a heavy hand forcing you to stay locked in.

You’ve been working hard to perfect that corner all weekend. This is your track, you know every bump, every camber change. You’ve poured every ounce of your energy into this run.

You shift up through the gears, the engine screaming behind you like a furious beast. You throw the car into the next chicane, the tyres protesting with a high-pitched squeal, but you're in control, a masterful conductor of speed and precision.

The car feels alive beneath you, surging forward in a symphony of mechanics.

You push, and push harder, daring to go right to the limit, every inch, every hundredth of a second, matters now. You see the sector times flashing on your steering wheel. Purple. Purple. Purple.

A surge of adrenaline floods your veins, a heady mix of excitement and focus. You’re on a flyer, everything is falling perfectly into place.

You navigate through the hairpin, the car teetering on the edge, the slightest misstep and you could be in the wall. You dance with the car, balancing it on a knife's edge. And you nail it.

As you accelerate out, your eyes flick to the timing screen again. You're on course, right there, on pace with Max. The final sector is your strength, the fast, flowing curves where the car is allowed to breathe.

You push the car to its absolute limit as you begin to glide through the section, each corner a blur of colour and speed. You flow through the corners effortlessly.

You power out of the final corner, pushing the pedal to the floor, the engine roaring in protest. You feel the car give its all, vibrating as if it could explode under the pressure. You shoot across the finish line, the car shuddering to a stop.

The pit wall explodes in chatter. Your engineer's voice rings loud in your ears. ‘Y/N, that was incredible!’.

And it was. You can feel it.

You take a deep breath, hands still gripping the wheel, waiting for your final time to register. It appears on your steering wheel. Your jaw drops. You've done it! But then… your heart sinks a little.

You’re in second. Max has gone faster. By just a fraction.

You plastered a fake smile on your face, attempting to engage with the journalists.

You answered their questions with practiced ease, praising the team, thanking the sponsors, and saying you tried your best, before rushing into the Red Bull building, desperate to escape.

After your debriefing, you retreated to your drivers’ room, locking the door behind you. 

You didn’t want to see anyone, especially not Max. You felt like a failure. You thought that, today, you would beat him in qualifying, and it was just not happening, no matter what you do. 

A soft knock echoed through the room, and instinctively, you knew who was on the other side. “Y/N?” Max’s voice filtered through the door, a gentle rumble that was usually enough to make your heart flutter. 

Now, it just felt like another layer of pressure. He knew you too well. 

“Go away, Max,” you called out, your voice surprisingly rough. 

You didn’t want to talk, not right now. Especially to him. Not in this state. 

“No,” he replied simply. That was the thing about Max. Once he wanted something, or to talk to someone, he was persistent. 

Usually, you loved him for that. Today, however, it just made you feel more irritated. 

“Please, just leave me alone,” you said, your voice laced with that irritation. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.” He knocked again; this time, the sound had a gentleness to it, almost pleading. “I just want to talk to you.” 

You sighed, leaning your head back against the door. “What is there to talk about, Max? You won, I lost. Again. You’re better than me, end of story.” The words were sharp, laced with the bitterness of disappointment. 

A moment of silence passed before Max spoke again, “That’s not true, and you know it. Qualifying is just one part of the weekend. I know you pushed. I could see it.” 

You scoffed softly to yourself, “Oh really? Could you ‘see it’ from pole position?” 

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. I know you’re upset, but I’m not trying to rub it in. I’m here because I care about you.” He let out an audible sigh and you heard him lean against the door. “Can we just talk?” 

You knew you should just open the door, you wanted to open the door. He was your boyfriend after all, even if it was a secret to the rest of the paddock. 

But that just made it worse. You knew that you could be vulnerable with him, but the constant competition and him being better was just eating you alive. 

“No, Max. I don’t want to talk.” You could hear the plea in your own voice. 

“So you’re going to stay locked in there? You need to get some rest, we have the race tomorrow,” he said with a sigh. You could hear the worry in his voice. 

“I will. Just not now.” 

“Fine.” His voice was low now, defeated. “But I’m not going far. If you need anything, I’ll be here.” 

You heard his footsteps walk away, and you felt a pang of guilt with his tone and words. You didn’t want to hurt him or make him feel as if he was the reason you were upset. He was the one of the reasons you were okay. 

You sighed once more and got up to open the door. You knew that if you let this linger, it will keep eating at you, and with the race tomorrow, you wanted to feel better. 

You softly opened the door and his eyes met yours instantly. He hadn’t gone far after all. Standing there in his racing suit, and his hair slightly messed up, he looked more handsome than ever. 

You knew, deep down as you looked at him, that even though the competition was difficult, what you had with him was worth it. 

“Hey.” You said softly, and in an instance, he had stepped between the doorway and pulled you into a hug. 

“Hey,” he whispered back, his face buried into your hair. “I’m sorry you feel this way. You were amazing today.” He pulled back slightly to look at you straight, his blue eyes concerned. “And I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” 

You shook your head gently and snuggled into his chest again, “I know, Its just… I wanted to beat you today.” 

He let out a soft chuckle and pulled you into the room, shutting the door behind you. “I know that too.” 

“It’s just… this competition… it’s relentless,” you admitted, finally letting your guard down.  

He held you tighter and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know. But you have to remember why you do it.” 

You shrugged. “I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I’m just not good enough.” 

He quickly pulled back and raised his eyebrow. “Don’t you ever say that. You’re incredibly talented, Y/N. The best in the paddock. Even better than me.” He smiled gently at you. “We both know I just got lucky today.” 

You looked up at him, not believing his words. He knew you well and he knew that you always doubted yourself. “Sure.” You said, rolling your eyes jokingly. 

“I’m serious, you know? You have so much potential. And to be honest, I love the competition with you. It makes me better.” He took your hands and looked at you dead in the eye. “And you will beat me one day. I know it.” 

You smiled, feeling the tension ease away. “You really think so?” 

“I do.” He grinned and squeezed your hands. “Now, how about we get some food and just relax before the race tomorrow?” 

A smile spread across your face. “I like the idea.” 

He kissed you softly, and you forgot, for a brief moment, the pressure of the competition, the frustration of losing. All that faded away with the touch of his lips.

As you pulled away, you knew, deep down, that as much as you desired to be on the top step, the most important thing was what you had with Max and that was something more special than winning. 

You would never give that up. And you knew, as you looked into his eyes, that you would indeed beat him one day.

But until then, you were happy to just try. Together. 

You followed Max out of your room, towards your shared space, and you knew, that as long as he was by your side, you could face anything. Your competition, with him and against the rest of the grid, would push you. 

But your love for Max would make you stronger. . . .  

The roar of the crowd is a distant hum, a low thrumming against the frantic rhythm of your pulse. You grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, the leather slick against your palms.

The air in the cockpit is thick with anticipation, the scent of burning rubber and high-octane fuel a heady, almost intoxicating mix. The red lights above the start line blaze, each one a hammer blow against your already strained nerves.

You’re acutely aware of the weight of the moment - the last race of the season, the last race of your career if you don't pull this off.

“Lights out and away we go!” David Croft's voice explodes through your headset, a sudden, almost jarring jolt. You react instinctively, your foot slamming down on the accelerator, the car lunging forward like a caged beast freed.

The world becomes a blur of color and motion. You’re in second, to your left, is the crimson and navy blur of his car. Max.

The first few laps are a brutal ballet of speed and precision. You weave through the pack, battling for position, your heart pounding against your ribs. There's a crash behind you, the sickening sound of tearing metal and screeching tires.

The safety car is deployed, bunching the cars together, a brief lull in the chaos. You exhale deep, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

The safety car pulls in, and the green flag flies again. The race explodes back into life. Max accelerates, pulling away slightly. Your eyes narrow. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

This isn't just about the race anymore; it's about proving something to yourself, to everyone who ever doubted you. And maybe, just maybe, to him.

You push your car, inching closer, taking every corner with calculated risk. You can feel the heat radiating from your engine, the vibrations of the tires screaming against the asphalt.

You’re glued to Max’s rear wing, calculating every move, searching for an opening, a single mistake that might give you the edge.

The laps tick by, each one a grueling test of your skill, your endurance, your will. You’re breathing hard, sweat stinging your eyes, your muscles aching.

You’re pushing yourself beyond the limit, chasing the tail of his Red Bull, the finish line growing closer with every agonizing lap.

You see an opportunity on the next corner, the perfect turn, the perfect braking point, the perfect chance. It’s a risky move, one that could easily send you spinning into the wall if you miscalculate.

But you have to try. This is it.

You lock your brakes, your tires screaming in protest, and cut to his inside, your car lunging forward. Your heart is in your throat, the world narrowing to the car in front of you and the sliver of asphalt you're now occupying.

You’re neck-and-neck, your wheels inches apart, the air thick with the tension.

There's a moment of pure, raw speed, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You are pushing yourself and your car to the max. This is it; the final corner, in the final lap, of the race, before the end of your career

You hear Joseph’s voice, sharp and urgent, “Y/N, be careful!” He knows the risk you’re taking.

You don’t reply, your focus laser-sharp. You keep your foot on the gas, your knuckles white as bone, and then, you do it. You’re ahead, the nose of your car inches into first place, the finish line a blur of colors and emotions.

You cross the line, the world exploding in cheers and the deafening roar of the crowd. You’ve done it. You've won.

Your mind struggles to catch up. You barely register the immense relief that washes over you, the adrenaline still flooding your body. You glance to your right and through the fence you see a sign being held aloft.

Your team.

And it reads, just as you hoped, ‘Y/N P1, Max P2, and Constructors' Champions.’ The confirmation you’ve been longing for, the culmination of a season of dedication and teamwork.

You pull into the pit lane, your heart pounding, your hands shaking. As you unbuckle your helmet, you can barely believe what you’ve just accomplished. You and Max were the champions. You’ve won it.

You run, not walk, to the pit wall, your team is already celebrating. Christian stands proudly in front of the crowd, and as you reach him, his face breaks into a fatherly grin.

You embrace him tightly, a hug that holds more than just victory—it’s a lifetime of shared dreams and unwavering support.

"You did it, kid," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You absolutely did it."

You pull back, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “We did it, Christian,” you correct, “All of us.”

He chuckles, a warm, rumbling sound. “Aye, we did. You just went and made sure of it, didn't you?"

The crowd is chanting your name now, a rhythmic wave of sound that washes over you. You want to soak it all in, every single second of it.

As the celebrations continue, you scan the crowd, your eyes searching for a familiar face. Max.

Max approaches you, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and disbelief. He pulls you into a tight hug, his body trembling against yours.

“You were incredible,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Absolutely incredible.”

"It was a wild one," you say, still catching your breath. He pulls away slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

“You scared me, Y/N. That move was…insane.” There's a mixture of concern and affection in his expression.

“I had to,” you say, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. “I wasn’t going to let you get away with it.”

“I know,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You never do.” He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours, the tension suddenly building between you in this very public space.

The air crackles with unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that draws you closer. The roar of the crowd recedes further, replaced by the roaring in your own ears. You want to kiss him so badly, to taste the victory on his lips and share this moment of triumph.

But you know, with a sharp pang of reality, that thousands of cameras are trained on you. The world is watching. Your private romance is anything but.

As if on cue, the team swarms around you, a joyous cacophony of cheers and backslaps.

They engulf you and Max, creating a human shield, obscuring you from prying eyes. It’s a coordinated effort, a protective circle forming around you two.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” they chant, their voices a chorus of encouragement. The sudden change is disorienting, the privacy you had for a moment now replaced with raucous enthusiasm.

Your heart hammers in your chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement flaring through you. You glance at Max, who is looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, a silent question passing between you.

You take a deep breath, knowing he reads your every expression. The world might be watching, but the only opinion that matters right now is Max’s. You nod once, a small, decisive motion.

With a grin that could light up the entire paddock, he leans back in for what feels like the longest kiss of your life. There is no hesitation, no reservation as your lips finally meet. It tastes of victory and relief, the culmination of weeks of tension and pressure.

His hands move from your face to clutch the back of your neck, as if to pull you deeper. The kiss is everything you imagined, fierce and tender, a perfect blend.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. The team is in uproar, cheering as if you’ve just won another race.

He nuzzles his face within the crook of your neck, his voice a low murmur, "Well, that was something."

You giggle, the tension finally starting to ease out of your body, "I think we just gave them a show."

"They've been wanting it for a while though," You can hear the grin in his voice.

The team started to separate, a sign that the interviewers would be waiting for you both. You subtly pulled away from Max, the silent agreement to continue with the charade still in place.

Nobody could know, not yet anyway. Max headed off first, giving you a small wink before disappearing into the waiting crowd. You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips.

He was such a tease.

Your time came soon after, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your fire suit and walked out into the fray.

The cameras flashed, the voices of the interviewers assaulted you, but you kept your smile plastered and your answers as vague as you could manage.

The interviewer, a woman with a microphone the size of your fist, was already beside you, her bright smile a stark contrast to the sweat clinging to your brow.

"Absolutely incredible race, you just won the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix," she began, her tone a blend of excitement and professional poise. "How does it feel to finish the season with such a monumental victory?"

You managed a grin, the corners of your mouth stretching tight with the effort. "Honestly," you breathed, your voice still raspy from exertion, "it feels incredible. It's been a short season for me yet a tough season, and to end it like this… it's just… wow."

“You seemed to really pull it through in the last part of the race, what was going through your mind when your closest competitor was right behind you?” she asked.

“I was just trying to stay focused, that’s all.” You responded, smiling.

The questions kept coming, but you were well versed in keeping the conversation on the racing and not on you.

You knew you couldn't slip, not out here, not yet.

"So has there been an official talk about next year? Will you be replacing Perez, or going to a different team?" the interviewer asked, a knowing grin plastered across his face.

You were waiting for this one, the inevitable question that skirted the edge of your secret.

"Yeah, there has been, but I'd rather not say until the announcement is made. Red Bull is my family after all," you stated, your tone light, casual, but your inner voice was screaming.

The truth was more intricate, more nuanced, than any simple team transfer. Your future wasn't just about a car or a team; it was inextricably linked to a man.

The interview moved on, finally deeming you squeezed dry of any revealing information.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you make your way to the cool down room. It's a sanctuary, a place where the pressure of the race can begin to dissipate before the long night of media duties and debriefing.

The door slides open, revealing Max and Charles already settled on the plush sofas, their eyes glued to the monitor on the wall. The race replay is unfolding, a ghost of the events that just transpired.

"There you are," Charles says, tilting his head in acknowledgment as you enter. He offers a small, genuine smile, one that reaches his eyes. "Congratulations, you were absolute dynamite out there."

"Thank you," you reply, settling onto the empty sofa opposite them. Your gaze slides towards Max. He's watching the screen intently, his jaw clenched slightly, a telltale sign of the intensity that still lingers.

You know him so well. You see the pride swimming beneath the surface, the subtle tightening of his shoulders. It’s a different kind of pride than if you were someone he saw as a rival.

It’s the pride of someone who loves you.

"Insane drive,” Max finally says, turning his attention to you, a genuine grin spreading across his face. “You were untouchable.”

"Thanks,” you say, your heart doing a little flip-flop at the way he's looking at you, a mix of admiration and something deeper, something only you would recognize.

It’s a look that makes the exhaustion start to fade, the adrenaline beginning to settle into a warm comfortable thrum. “It wasn’t easy though.”

The replay on the screen has reached the crucial point in the race, where you made that daring overtake, the move that sealed your victory.

Re-watching it now, it still takes your breath away, the sheer audacity of it all.

"That move," Charles murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief, "I still can't believe you pulled that off."

"Calculated risk," you say, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"You’re sure it wasn’t just blind luck?” Charles laughs, and you roll your eyes playfully. “It really was amazing though, you were on fire all weekend."

"Maybe both," you say, turning serious for a moment, “I’ve been working real hard this whole season to be able to do those kind of moves.”

Max shifts his position slightly, leaning back on the couch. His eyes meet yours once more, and a silent understanding passes between you.

In that brief, unspoken moment, you feel a wash of comfort, a sense of belonging that comes from sharing a secret with someone you love.

The knowledge that he sees you, truly sees you, is almost a greater reward than the victory itself.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet as the race unfolds on the screen, the commentary filling the space. The tension from the track begins to release, replaced by a quiet camaraderie.

You steal glances at Max, the easy familiarity between you like a warm blanket on a cold night. It’s always like this when the two of you are around Charles.

You’re both relaxed, and while you are not displaying it, there is a clear feeling of warmth between you. It’s the kind of relaxed feeling that you’re sure Charles can’t help but notice.

"So," Charles says, breaking the silence, his gaze moving between you and Max, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Big celebrations tonight? Champagne showers?"

You laugh, a genuine laugh that echoes in the quiet room, "Probably, if the team has anything to say about it."

Max snorts, a sound of quiet amusement, "They usually do."

"I know what I'm going to do," Charles continues, his eyes twinkling, "I'm going to party until tomorrow."

"I could say the same," you said. “We’ve got celebrate the whole night."

The end of the race replay starts to come to a close, and Max shifts his attention from the screen to you, his lips twitching into a teasing smile.

"So, who’s going to make the drinks for the post-race party tonight? Surely the race winner has to."

"I'm sure there's someone more talented than me in that department," you say, your eyes meeting his challenge, a playful energy dancing between you. "I’m sure that you will do a better job."

“Oh I’m sure I will,” Max says, standing up and offering you his hand to help you to your feet, “but the champion needs to practice being a gracious host.”

You accept his hand and let him pull you up, a smile playing on your lips. Your touch sent a rush of excitement through your body, a silent signal that always passed between the two of you.

The walk to the podium felt like wading through a dream. The air crackled with energy, a symphony of cheers, whistles, and camera flashes. You saw the podium ahead, three steps waiting for their occupants.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, building the anticipation. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! For third place, representing Ferrari, please welcome Charles Leclerc!”

The crowd erupted as Charles, with his signature charming grin, stepped onto the lowest tier. He waved to the masses, his eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and good-natured defeat.

Then, it was Max’s turn. “In second place, representing Red Bull Racing, your champion, the one and only Max Verstappen!” The roar intensified, a wave of orange crashing through the air. Max, ever stoic, offered a small nod of acknowledgment before taking his place.

He caught your eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and gave you a quick wink. Your heart skipped a beat.

Finally, the announcer's voice reached its crescendo, "And now, for the winner of the final race in first place… Y/N L/N!!" You could barely hear your name being yelled over the collective scream of joy.

You felt a surge of adrenaline, a second wind fueled by the sheer adoration of the crowd. You took a deep breath, a smile stretching across your face, and stepped onto the top step of the podium.

The bright lights felt hot against your skin, but you barely noticed. You raised your arms in victory, taking in the magnificent sight of thousands of people cheering for you. It truly was magic. The national anthem started and you felt a beautiful sense of pride fill your heart. 

The champagne bottles were popped, and the podium was engulfed in a spray of bubbly liquid. You laughed, brushing the droplets from your hair, your eyes meeting Max’s across the small space.

After what felt like an eternity, the podium celebrations came to an end. You were being ushered towards the press area when you felt a hand grasp your arm.

You turned to see Max, his eyes a mix of impatience and amusement.

“Meet me in my room later,” he whispered, his voice low.

You nodded, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. “I’ll be there,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the evening was a blur of questions, flashing cameras, and polite smiles. You answered the questions with practiced ease, your mind drifting back to the quiet intensity in Max’s eyes.

The constant chatter of journalists faded into background noise as you yearned for the peace of your garage and the promise of Max’s company.

Finally, the interviews were over. You could feel the exhaustion pulling you down, but a surge of anticipation kept you moving. You quickly made your way back to the garage, the place where you felt most at peace when you weren’t on the racetrack.

You found the door slightly ajar and with a gentle push, you entered the dimly lit space.

He sat on the small, worn sofa, his head tilted back against the cushion, eyes closed. You paused just inside the doorway, watching him. He looked relaxed, the tension that always seemed to coil within him seemingly absent.

He looked, in that moment, utterly vulnerable.

You cleared your throat softly, and his eyes snapped open, focusing on you with an intensity that always managed to make your breath catch.

"You're here," he said, his voice a low murmur, a hint of relief coloring his words. He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners.

You walked towards him, the silence between you comfortable and intimate. You sat down beside him on the sofa, the worn leather yielding to your weight.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, content in the quiet intimacy of the space.

Then, Max reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand, sending another warm shiver through you. He laced his fingers with yours, the contact both grounding and electrifying.

“You were incredible out there today,” he said, his gaze locked on your eyes, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

A flush of pleasure warmed your cheeks. "So were you," you countered, a smile playing on your lips. "You were pushing hard."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that always made your heart skip a beat. "Someone had to try and keep it interesting," he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “But you stole the show, as usual.”

You glanced down at your interlocked hands, a surge of emotion flooding your chest. Despite the public persona, the competitive edge, there was a tenderness in him, a vulnerability that only you seemed to see.

It was a side of him that you cherished, that you protected fiercely.

He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear again, just like it had been before the interviews.

“I have to admit,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, “I’m really glad you won today. It means I finally get you all to myself. No more cameras or journalists.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, the warmth spreading through your entire body. He could always make you feel this way, with just a few softly spoken words.

You leaned in closer, mirroring his movement. “You know, it’s funny,” you said, your voice barely a breath. “I thought I was coming here to celebrate the win. But all I really wanted, was just to be here with you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “You mean that?” he asked softly, the playful teasing gone.

You nodded, the honesty in your heart plain for him to see. “Always.”

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was resting against his shoulder. The comfortable silence descended once more, this time even more intimate than before.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

A small, almost hesitant smile touched his lips, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a touch so tender it sent a jolt of warmth through you.

He kissed the top of your head, his touch feather-light, and a small contented sigh escaped your lips.

“God, I’ve missed this,” you murmured into his shoulder, the tension finally leaving your body.

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against you. "Missed what?" he teased, his voice a smooth caress.

You pressed closer to him, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his neck. "This," you whispered, "just... this."

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was resting against his shoulder. The comfortable silence descended once more, this time even more intimate than before.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, grounding you, reminding you that you were real, that this was real.

He pressed a small kiss to the top of your hair before shifting slightly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You could feel his shy smile curve against your neck as he peppered small kisses there, each one sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. You turned your head slightly, offering him more access to your damp skin.

The shyness in his touch was endearing, a stark contrast to the confident racer the world saw. It was this side of him, only for you, that made your heart swell.

"We're going to party so hard," Max muttered, his voice a low purr against your skin. "We deserve it."

You chuckled softly, the sound muffled against his neck. “We absolutely do," you agreed. "I think I can finally feel all the tension leaving my body. I was so nervous before the race, I was practically buzzing.”

The roar of the crowd was still a tangible thing, vibrating under your skin and making your heart thump like a hummingbird's wings. The confetti, a glittering storm of victory, tickled your face.

You held the trophy aloft, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of the moment, the weight a solid reassurance of the triumph you had just achieved.

"3.. 2.. 1..!" the team admin's voice boomed, cutting through the din. Then, the collective roar, a joyous, guttural yell that vibrated in your bones.

Champagne erupted, the sweet, sharp tang filling the air, soaking into your racing suit, adding another layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience.

Max, standing beside you, mirrored your pose, his own trophy gleaming under the stadium lights. He caught your eye, a familiar warmth flickering in his gaze before he offered a wide, celebratory grin to the cameras.

You both knew the drill. Hold the trophies high, look ecstatic, spray the champagne, and be the perfect picture of sporting camaraderie.

The flash of cameras punctuated the moment, capturing the manufactured joy. Smiling until your cheeks ached, you followed Max’s lead, swigging from the bottle and spraying the effervescent liquid with abandon.

Later, the team announced the location for the after-party. Not the usual quiet bar, but a nightclub big enough to hold the entire grid. A place that promised a night of uninhibited celebration.

A genuine space for everyone to let loose.

As exciting as the prospect was, you found yourself craving a moment of quiet before the storm. You caught Max's eye across the throng, a silent understanding passing between you.

He offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, a promise of sanctuary. You both made your excuses to the team, promising to meet them at the club later.

The short drive back to the hotel was filled with a comfortable silence, the earlier adrenaline slowly giving way to a calm satisfaction. In your shared room, the relief was palpable.

You kicked off your shoes, your clothes feeling suddenly cumbersome.

"That was… something," you said, your voice husky.

Max chuckled, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “Something is an understatement. You were incredible.”

His eyes, so often serious and focused on the track, held a warmth that always made your stomach flip. “But yeah, shower?”

“Definitely shower,” you agreed, already peeling off your clothes.

The hot water was a balm to your tired muscles, washing away the grime and stress of the race. As you stood under the cascading water, you couldn't help but smile.

You’d won, you’d done it, and you had him, waiting for you on the other side.

When you finally emerged, a towel wrapped around you, Max was dressed, looking utterly devastating in a simple black top and trousers. His hair, still damp from his own shower, was styled just so.

And then, the detail that made your heart skip a beat - a silver chain nestled against his collarbone.

"Wow," you breathed, unable to stop staring. "The chain. You actually wore it."

He smirked, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "After some serious persuasion," he admitted, a playful edge to his voice. "You look good, too," he added, his gaze lingering on you.

"I figured it was only fair," you said, heading to your suitcase and pulling out an identical black dress, pairing it with tailored black heels.

Max watched you as you changed, a silent appreciation in his gaze that made you blush. Getting dressed was always easier when he was in front of you, admiring you openly.

You had fallen for him hard, and the private world you shared, hidden from the prying eyes of the racing world, made your love feel all the more precious.

Downstairs, Max's car was already waiting. The short drive to the club was filled with a sweet anticipation. The bass from the music vibrated through the car, a promise of the chaos to come, but also a reminder of the secret you both shared.

The nightclub was even more enormous than you’d imagined, pulsating with strobe lights and the throb of electronic music. The air crackled with energy as drivers, team personnel, and their plus-ones mingled on the dance floor.

You spotted your friends already in the thick of the party, their faces flushed with excitement.

Max took your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur against the noise of the club.

You squeezed his hand. "As I'll ever be," you said, a thrill coursing through you.

The night unravelled in a blur of music, laughter, and celebration. You danced with your teammates, you toasted with the other drivers, but always, your eyes sought out Max.

His presence was a constant anchor amidst the chaos. You occasionally met his gaze, a shared smile, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

You were laughing at something Sarah had said, her arm slung on your arm, when suddenly you felt a familiar heat against your back.

Max’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The soft press of his chest against your back sent a jolt through you, a spark that had nothing to do with the strobe lights.

“You know you can drink as much as you want, it’s your party and I’m driving,” he murmured into your ear, his breath sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. “Are you sure you can handle me?” you teased, turning to face him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief under the club lights. “I’m pretty sure I can handle anything you throw at me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Especially a race winner who’s celebrating a season well-won.”

You could feel your cheeks flush. Even after months of stolen moments, his gaze still had the ability to make your heart race.

You leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around you as he talked to some people from his team. You knew he was the leader, the one everyone looked to.

He was charismatic, a natural in front of the camera, but here, in the soft light of this lounge, you saw a different man.

A man who was quieter, more thoughtful, more…yours.

"Hey, you," a voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see Sarah, her bright pink dress a stark contrast to Max’s dark suit.

She was already holding a bottle of champagne, and you knew that look in her eyes – it was a look that promised a night of unadulterated fun. "You just made history! We need to celebrate properly."

You laughed, "Sarah, I think I've had enough champagne to last me a lifetime."

"Nonsense," she scoffed, already popping the cork. "Tonight, we drink like champions! And I have a feeling you're not going to be the only ones celebrating, there is a certain someone celebrating on the sidelines." She threw a playful glance at Max, who chuckled.

"Go on," Max murmured, leaning against the lounge’s velvet wall, "Have some fun. I'll be here." He winked, that flash of playful mischief again.

You knew he wasn't genuinely worried, he knew how close you and Sarah were. He also knew how much you deserved to let loose after the pressure of the season.

You allowed yourself to be pulled away by Sarah, laughing as she poured you another glass. "To the future legend," she declared, clinking her glass against yours. "And to finally kicking that season into the dust."

The rest of the night was a blur. You drank, you danced, you laughed until your sides ached. You and Sarah traded recent stories, some old, some new, some best left untold. You talked about the season, your favorite moments, the times you almost gave up.

Hours later, the room had thinned out. You were sitting on a plush velvet sofa, your head resting on Sarah's shoulder, both of you giggling over some ridiculous inside joke.

You were definitely drunk, your thoughts a little fuzzy, your speech a little slurred.

"You are the best," you mumbled, nuzzling closer to Sarah. "Best friend ever."

"And you are the best driver, ever," she replied, squeezing your hand. "You deserve all of this."

A shadow fell over you. You looked up and saw Max, his expression a mixture of amusement and mild concern. “Okay, ladies, I think it's time to wrap it up. You’ve both had enough excitement for one night."

You blinked up at him, your vision a little blurry. "But…but we were having fun," you protested, your words slurring.

He chuckled, kneeling down beside you. "I know, schat, but tomorrow is going to be a long day. Remember how bad your hangover gets?".

“Oh, right,” you mumbled.

"Come here," Max said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, steady, a stark contrast to the chaos that had begun to swirl in your head.

Sarah was grinning, a knowing look in her eyes. "Alright, love birds," she teased, "I think I'm going to grab a taxi home. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you," you mumbled, leaning heavily on Max.

He nodded at Sarah, then guided you out of the lounge and towards the back exit. Your head was spinning, the alcohol making the world tilt precariously.

But when Max's arms were around you, you felt a sense of calm settle in your chest.

As you stumbled into the cool night air, you felt his hand slip into yours. You squeezed it tightly, grateful for the warmth and the strength he exuded.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah," you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Just a little…fuzzy."

He chuckled, pulling you closer. "I figured. You and Sarah were having quite the party."

"She's the best," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "You know, she’s like...my sister."

"I know," he replied softly. "And I'm glad you have her."

The silence that followed was comfortable, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you. You walked hand in hand to his car, the cool night air slowly beginning to clear your head.

Once inside the car, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminated his face. You looked at him, really looked at him, and a wave of affection washed over you.

Even after all the champagne, all the laughter, all the chaos, he was still the most beautiful person you had ever known.

“Thank you, Max,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “For…for everything.”

He smiled, a soft, gentle smile that melted your heart. “You don't have to thank me. You earned this. All of it.”

He started the car, and as it rolled out of the parking lot, you leaned back against the headrest, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. The city lights blurred into a vibrant streak of colors as he drove.

You knew in that moment, as Max drove you home, that the victory was so much more than a trophy, it was the moment you knew you had someone who would always be there to celebrate the highs and navigate you through the lows.

He led you towards a small, unmarked door, the entrance to a private elevator used for discreet entrances. Inside, the metal walls reflected your image back at you: flushed cheeks, bright eyes, a victorious but tired smile.

But it was Max who held your attention. He stood beside you, his presence filling the small space. He was too damn hot. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins. But it now mixed with a different kind of energy, a desire that was making your face flush with heat.

You could feel your body temperature rising, a warm sensation spreading from your chest to your face and beyond.

You stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the earlier roar of the race.

He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you knew he felt it too—the silent tension that crackled between you.

“You’re staring,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

“Am I?” You asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out breathy.

He took a step closer, his body almost touching yours. “Yes. Like you want to eat me.” His eyes held a playful glint, but there was something else there too, something hungry.

“Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. You felt your cheeks burn redder. “You’re just…well, you’re very distracting right now.”

He grinned, a slow, sensual smile that sent another wave of heat through you. “Distracting? Is that a problem?”

“It could be,” you said, your gaze dropping to his lips, imagining the feeling of him kissing you.

The elevator doors slid open, and for a brief moment, you forgot where you were. It was just you and him, two hearts beating in time, wanting so much more.

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Let’s not worry about it here,” he whispered, pulling you out of the elevator and into the dim hallway. “There are better places to be distracted.”

He led you towards the suite, the luxurious space a far cry from the sterile atmosphere of the paddock. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamps creating a sensual ambiance.

He closed the door behind you, the soft click sounding like a promise.

The weight of secrecy lifts subtly, a permission granted to be solely yourselves. You turn to face him, your heart hammering in your chest, his eyes are dark, pupils dilated, mirroring the intensity you’re feeling.

He steps closer, his body heat radiating towards you, and the tension in the air thickens like honey.

“You were incredible today,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Absolutely incredible.”

"So were you," you admit, your voice barely a whisper, though you know he didn't place as high as you.

The humility in his eyes when he came to congratulate you was endearing, your victory was as much his as it was yours.

He leans in, his eyes locking onto yours, and your breath hitches in your throat. It's not just the victory, or the adrenaline, it’s the pull, the magnetic force between you that has always been there, simmering beneath the surface of stolen glances and whispered conversations, now unleashed.

His lips brush against yours, a featherlight touch that makes you tremble, and then they are on yours, a heated claim, a silent demand for more.

The kiss isn't gentle – it's urgent, hungry, fueled by the pent-up desire you’ve both held captive for too long. Your hands find their way into his soft hair, tugging gently as you deepen the kiss, not caring about being careful.

You can taste the champagne on his tongue, the lingering sweetness mixing with the heat of your passion. His hands roam, finding the bare skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine as they trace the curves of your body.

He nibbles on your lower lip, a playful bite that makes you moan, and the sound is like music to his ears, a melody that only he is privy to within the four walls of this room.

There is a heavy breathing against your neck and you match him in rhythm.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes filled with a desire that ignites a fire within you. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he murmurs, his voice husky with want.

“Me too,” you admit, the words a breathless sigh against his lips.

He moves then, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. The wall, cold against your back, makes the heat of his body feel even more intense.

He braces his arm above your head, trapping you with his gaze, his eyes dark and intense. You tangle your fingers in his hair again, pulling him closer for another heated kiss.

He tugs at your dress, his touch sending sparks along your skin, and you reciprocate, your fingers finding the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. He breaks the kiss and begins kissing down your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Your head falls back against the wall and you gasp quietly as his hands explore your body, mapping the curves and valleys of your skin with a practiced intimacy.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his breath tickling your ear, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You’ve seen him at his worst, sweat-soaked and frustrated after a bad race, and at his best, confident and triumphant. But here, in the privacy of this room, he’s simply Max – yours.

He pulls away just enough so he can look at you. His eyes roam your face, taking you in, and there’s a raw hunger in his gaze. He leans back in, his body pressing against yours.

His legs went between yours and you moaned, the sound catching in your throat.

“Max,” you whisper, your voice husky and low, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer to the wanting ache that had been begging for release ever since the race had ended.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your nails scoring the skin. “Please,” you beg, needing his touch, craving the shared release that only came when you were both wrapped up in each other.

He hesitated, his body still as he moved his hands down, cupping your face between them. “You’re drunk,” he says, his voice a low rumble. It’s not a question, but an observation, a gentle reminder that you’re not entirely in control right now.

The words break through the fog of champagne and adrenaline a little, and you realize he's right. You were a little tipsy, the victory buzz mixing with the after-party atmosphere had left you wanting, but hazy.

You reach up, your hands capturing his against your face. “I am,” you admit, your fingertips tracing the lines of his face, the roughness of his stubble. “But I still want you. So much.”

The intensity in his gaze deepens, and for a moment, it's almost frightening. He wanted this too, you could feel it in every fiber of his being. He steps back, his hands releasing your face, his eyes now searching.

“We can’t,” he stated, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You are still drunk and I want you to be sober when we do it.”

“Please,” you repeated shamelessly, your leg moving instinctively, humping against his. The brazenness you wouldn’t usually allow yourself felt entirely natural in this moment.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Don't worry schat," Max muttered, his eyes sparkling with that familiar glint, "I can please you in other ways."

With surprising ease, he scooped you up in his arms, his strength a comforting reassurance. You let out a small yelp of surprise, but quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his warm skin, inhaling the scent of him.

The room spun for a moment, but with Max holding you tightly, you felt grounded, safe. . . .

The harsh, fluorescent light of your bathroom felt particularly cruel this morning, mocking the throbbing in your skull. Last night’s celebratory party – or, more accurately, the aftermath of that party – was a monster you were still wrestling with. You squinted at your reflection; dark circles underscored your eyes, your hair was a tangled mess, and the faint smell of stale champagne clung to you like a persistent ex. Today was the day. The day you found out if you'd be back for another season on the racing circuit. The weight of it settled in your stomach, heavy and cold, a stark contrast to the residual warmth from the alcohol.

And then there was Max.

He was currently draped over you like a particularly affectionate koala, his arm a dead weight across your back as you tried, and failed, to tame your unruly hair. “Don’t go,” he mumbled into your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Stay here.”

You sighed, a sound that was half-exasperation, half-affection. “Max,” you said, your voice still rough from sleep, “I have to, you know, function. Or at least try to.”

He shifted, nuzzling his face further into your neck, his grip tightening. “But you smell so good,” he purred, his voice thick with a morning-after huskiness that always made your heart do a little flip. “And you’re warm.”

“You smell like a brewery and I’m probably radiating regret,” you retorted, finally managing to wrestle yourself free enough to reach for your toothbrush. You squeezed a generous dollop of toothpaste onto the bristles. “Besides, I have an appointment.”

"Oh," he said, his earlier playfulness dissipating, replaced by a hint of anxiety. "The... the thing?"

You nodded, your mouth full of toothpaste. The ‘thing’ was the dreaded meeting with team management. It wasn't just a formality; it was the culmination of your season, the final judgment on whether they saw potential in you, or if your time with the team was over.

You rinsed your mouth and turned back to face him, leaning against the sink. He looked like a lost puppy, his usually vibrant blue eyes clouded with concern. "It'll be okay, Max. Either way, it'll be over."

He frowned, pushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. "But... you're amazing, you know? You're the best. They'd be stupid not to keep you."

You knew he meant it, his unwavering belief in your talent always a comforting constant in your life. It was one of the reasons why you'd fallen so hard for him, the hidden depths behind his public persona. “You’re biased,” you said, managing a small smile. "And thank you. For everything."

He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, his touch reassuring. "I just... I don't want to see you upset. Not today."

You rested your head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent of engine oil and a hint of expensive cologne. It was a comforting chaos, a reminder of the world you both occupied, a world of adrenaline and speed and relentless competition.

"Then wish me luck," you murmured, pulling away. "And maybe make some coffee while I get dressed?"

He grinned, the anxiety momentarily banished. "Coffee? Coming right up. Anything for the best damn driver I know."

The drive to the team headquarters felt like entering a pressure cooker. Every street sign, every red light, felt like a countdown, each second ticking away towards either elation or heartbreak.

You parked the car, the engine ticking in protest as it cooled. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your clothes, trying to project an air of calm you didn’t feel. You walked through the familiar halls of the headquarters, the silence amplifying the nervous flutter in your stomach. Each step felt heavier than the last.

You reached the conference room, the door standing ominously closed. You paused, your hand hovering over the handle. There was no going back now. Taking another deep breath, you turned the handle and went in.

Helmut Marko was already seated at the long table, his expression unreadable. You sat down, your back ramrod straight, trying not to fidget. He offered a curt nod, his eyes, however, didn't meet yours.

“So,” he began, his voice devoid of any warmth. “Let’s get straight to it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

He spent the next twenty minutes discussing your performance throughout the season. He highlighted your strengths, acknowledged your weaknesses, and spoke in a monotone that offered no hint of his final verdict. He referenced stats and figures, each word further tightening the knot in your stomach. You listened, nodding occasionally, your mind racing, trying to decipher his cryptic language.

Finally, he stopped, the silence that followed almost deafening. He looked at you, a flicker of something unidentifiable in his eyes. “So, here it is.”

You held your breath, your heart thudding in your ears.

"We have decided... to offer you a seat for next season."

The relief that washed over you was so intense, it almost made your knees buckle. You let out a breath, a quiet, almost disbelieving sound. “Really?” you managed to say, your voice a little shaky.

He nodded, a rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Your potential is undeniable. There are things to work on, but we believe you have what it takes.”

You felt a grin spread across your face, a genuine, unadulterated smile of pure joy. “Thank you,” you said, your voice overflowing with gratitude. “Thank you so much.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur of contract details and future plans. You nodded, agreed, and signed, your mind still reeling with the good news. You practically floated out of the room, the weight that had burdened you for so long finally lifted.

You pulled out your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed a message to Max. "I got it!"

His reply was instantaneous. “Finally! You had me worried. I’m buying you pizza to celebrate tonight!”

And just like that, the world seemed brighter, the hangover a distant memory. You made your way back to the car, a smile playing on your lips, the prospect of seeing Max again filling you with a warmth that had nothing to do with celebratory drinks and everything to do with love. You couldn't wait.

The soft glow of dawn hadn't quite conquered the darkness yet, but it was enough to paint the room in a gentle, hazy light. You stirred, a slow, languid stretch rippling through your body. A warm weight pressed against your back, a familiar comfort. Max.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, the gentle heat emanating from his body, and it was the most perfect thing to wake up to on Christmas morning.

You turned carefully, mindful not to disturb him, and faced the man whose presence had transformed your life in the most wonderful way. His dark hair was tousled against the pillow, a stray strand falling across his forehead. His face, usually animated with laughter, was placid in sleep, a peacefulness that tugged at your heart. He looked younger, somehow, more vulnerable, and you couldn't resist the urge to reach out and trace the line of his jaw with your fingers.

Your touch must have been more than the softest feather, because his eyelids fluttered open, revealing sleep-hazed brown eyes. He looked at you, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a sleepy smile that made your stomach flip.

"Merry Christmas," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Merry Christmas," you whispered back, your voice equally soft, "Did I wake you?"

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours, "Just the perfect way to wake up." He reached for you, pulling you closer, and you settled against him with a contented sigh.

"We should probably get up," you said after a moment, even though all you really wanted to do was stay tangled in his arms forever, "Presents, remember?"

"Presents can wait," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, full of warmth and affection, a silent promise of all the love you shared. You kissed him back, your hands cupping his face, savoring the moment, the feeling of his lips on yours.

When you finally broke apart, you were both slightly breathless. You managed a small laugh, a nervous flutter in your chest. "Okay, presents it is then." You reluctantly pulled away, the cool air hitting your bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you’d just known in his embrace.

You both padded barefoot into the hallway, the scent of pine needles and cinnamon from the Christmas tree in the living room filling the air. It was the first Christmas in your shared home, a landmark you’d both been looking forward to with a mixture of giddy excitement and nervous apprehension. Would it be as magical as you’d both hoped? So far, it was proving to be even more enchanting.

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, its branches laden with shimmering ornaments, each one a tiny reflection of the light, and of the love you’d built together. There was a small pile of beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, each carefully chosen and thoughtfully placed.

You both stood there for a moment, just taking it in, the magic of the day settling around you like a warm blanket.

"This is...perfect," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Max slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side, "It is, isn't it?" he said, his voice full of tenderness.

You both sat down on the rug, your legs touching, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor. You began to carefully unwrap the presents, each one a small gesture of love and understanding. He gave you a soft, cashmere scarf in your favorite shade of blue, a leather-bound journal with a quote from your favorite author engraved on the first page, and a delicate necklace with a tiny silver charm of a star.

You, in return, gifted him a vintage record player he’d always talked about wanting, several new records by his favorite artists, and a handmade, knitted beanie in his favorite colour. You'd spent hours carefully making it, a labor of love that you'd hoped he would appreciate.

He pulled it out of the box, his eyes widening as he instantly recognised what it was. "You actually knitted this?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and delight.

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips, "I did. I hope you like it."

He pulled you closer and kissed you again, a long, lingering kiss that spoke more than words ever could, "Like it? I absolutely love it. Thank you," he whispered. You snuggled into his arms, a sense of contentment washing over you.

"I'm starving," Max said after a few minutes, pulling away and ruffling your hair playfully. "What do you say we actually make some breakfast instead of only giving gifts?"

"Sounds perfect," you replied, getting to your feet. You followed him into the kitchen, the familiar sounds of clanging pans and sizzling bacon filling the air.

While he cooked, you poured the orange juice, the two of you working side by side, a comfortable rhythm developing between you. You felt a sense of belonging, of home, in this shared space, in this shared life.

As you ate breakfast, the morning light streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. You looked at Max across the table, his face lit up by that signature smile, and you felt a rush of love so deep it almost took your breath away.

"This is the best Christmas," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you, his eyes twinkling with happiness.

"It is," he echoed, reaching across the table for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, "And it's just the beginning."

You squeezed his hand, his words sending a shiver of excitement through you. You knew that this was just the start of your journey together, a journey filled with love, laughter, and the soft comfort of shared moments like this.

This first Christmas with Max, in your shared home, was a beautiful promise of the magic to come. And you knew, without a doubt, that you were exactly where you were meant to be. . . .

maxverstappen1 just posted.

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maxverstappen1 It's been a year, a full revolution around the sun, since I first fell head over heels for you. A year of laughter, whispered secrets, and building a world together, a world that feels so uniquely ours. And yet, despite this beautiful year, there's still one mystery that eludes me: what exactly is a "hard launch?" Happy birthday, schat. Thinking back to this day last year, it makes my heart swell to remember I was so bold as to ask if I could be yours. To be invited into your amazing world, to share life with such a remarkable woman – that's been the greatest gift. Happy birthday again, and yes, for those who might be wondering, I am dating Y/N, and she's everything I had never imagined wanting and so much more.

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yourusername just posted.

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yourusername Another year older, and this one feels extra special! It's my birthday, and I'm beyond lucky to be celebrating it alongside our first anniversary. Max, this past year with you has been more incredible than I could have ever dreamed. Every moment, every laugh, every shared experience has meant the world to me. You make life an adventure, and I’ve loved every second of it. Feeling so grateful for today and for you. Here's to many more birthdays and anniversaries together! 💙

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[holdmytesseract]

Hii! It’s me again, back at it with another request (your writing is just so good! I can’t get enough of it).

So this is another dad!Daryl one, one where the reader is pregnant. So we know that some of the Saviours in season 9 didn’t particularly like Daryl because of everything that happened. What if a couple of the Saviours cornered the reader and kidnapped her, taking her to some place to keep her in. Daryl, naturally, is seeing red and will do just about anything to get her back. Angst with a happy ending.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don’t! 💜

What I do, I do for You

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When two Saviors kidnap you - Daryl's pregnant wife - in order to score him off, the archer sees red and does everything to safe you... Everything.

Set in Season 9!

Warnings: Lots of bad stuff is happening, so please act with caution! usual TWD stuff, a lot of angst, pregnancy stuff, violence, blood, character death, murder, brief mentions of rape, FLUFF, Justin & Jed (yep, they're a warning), please tell me if I missed something!

Also, protective!Daryl alert. He goes absolutely feral.

Word Count: 6.9k

a/n: @dixons-sunshine I really hope that I could do your request justice. 🙏🏼 I loved to write it and tried to give my absolute best. 🧡

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ya sure 'bout that?" Your husband asked with a tinge of concern and fear in his voice. "Ya really wanna come?" You gave him a smile and stepped closer; invading his space. "Positive. I am drop-dead serious about it," you announced and raised your hands to his chest; adjusting the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "I absolutely hate it when you're away and I'm alone in Alexandria... Especially now..." Your gaze fell onto your yet small baby bump; Daryl's blue-greyish eyes following.

He couldn't suppress the soft smile on his lips, neither the quickening of his heartbeat. The man who had lost more in his whole life than he had won, had still a hard time to believe that he actually wasn't dreaming. That this was real. You. The 'wedding band' around your ring finger. The life he was granted to spend with you. Or hence, the new life growing inside you. Him, becoming a father. It was too good to be true. Daryl had to pinch himself on a regular basis, and still questioned himself how a man like him deserved something so precious. Luckily, you were always here to erase the bad thoughts ghosting through his mind... And to remember him how valuable he was to you - and to all the people around you whom you called family.

"A'right. 'M gonna take ya with me to the Sanctuary. Yer maybe right. Best way ta protect ya 's keepin' ya close to me I s'ppose," he agreed in the end and leaned forward to bestow a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled. "Thank you so much, baby. You won't regret it, I swear."

"I know, sunshine," he finally answered; his voice huskily with emotion. From the both hands resting on your hips traveled one to the front of your body; gently cupping the bump which was his child. "But 'm not sure..." You pouted. "Please, Dar... I don't want to miss you... And we both know I'd be the safest within your presence."

The archer chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a long moment; contemplating his next words.

Oh, how wrong the both were going to be...

Barely two days later, you and Daryl made your way to the Sanctuary. Not on his bike, though. The archer had made that clear the moment you and him left the basement apartment you called home. "Hell nah. We ain't takin' the bike. 'S outta question. 'Specially in yer condition," your husband had said, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile. Sure, you understood him and got his point, but you were also aware that this wasn't a 'condition'. You were pregnant. Not sick. And besides, not even that far along. About four months was Siddiq's guess.

Of course, you hadn't even tried to reason with the archer; knowing already that you'd fight a battle you couldn't win. So, you had followed him without a word to one of Alexandria's cars - certainly not horse; Daryl would rather walk than riding on a horseback, even if it would take him days to get to his destination on foot - and were now comfortably seated in the passenger seat. Daryl steered the car to the place you actually still despised deep down in your heart; not having forgotten the things Negan and the Saviors had done. What they had taken and almost took from you.

A few former Saviors were out and about. Most of them tending to the crops and other things planted in the makeshift gardens. The lot of them greeted you and Daryl with respect; some even gave a smile, but others... If looks could kill. The coldness and hate in theirs eyes sent a shiver down your spine. Of course you knew that some Saviors didn't quite... appreciate the mercy you showed them, neither the things you did for them. They were still hanging on to Negan. Daryl knew as well - and he didn't tolerate them. Unfortunately, he had to. At the end of the day, he bent and listened to his brother; being faithful and loyal.

You passed by lots of beautiful places on your way; proofs that mother nature had taken back what belonged to her. But you also saw a lot of rotting corpses trudging and staggering down the abandoned streets, meadows and woods. Life and death battling over the world domination. Nobody would've seen it coming that the line between decay and reincarnation was going to be that thin at some point - and here we were.

"Ya a'right, sunshine?" Daryl's deep, but comforting and definitely slightly worried voice urged suddenly to your ears. You blinked and tried to refocus again. You didn't notice that you had your head in the clouds; lost in thoughts. Neither did you notice that Daryl had parked and turned off the engine of the car. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. Just spaced out a bit." Daryl nodded and gave you a last look, before he opened the car door and moved to get out of his seat. "C'mon. We're here."

It was strange to be back at the Sanctuary. Only the mere look at the huge, old factory caused an uneasy feeling to spread within your stomach. And you could tell that Daryl wasn't quite at ease either. How could he? After all he had to go through here... After all the traumatizing experiences...

"Daryl." A blond woman approached the two of you. Your eyes scanned her face; realizing that you knew her. Laura - if you remembered correctly. The archer jutted his chin into her direction; silently addressing her. The both of them started to talk. Something about the crops and an incident with a 'living' walker as a scarecrow. You didn't pay fully attention to your husband and the former Savior, since you could clearly feel a pair of eyes on you. In search for them, you looked to your left; meeting eyes with a man. Tall, longer black hair and a beard. He was quite a few yards away from you but you could clearly tell that he was the one watching you.

You blinked and waved it off. It was most likely 'cause he had never seen you before.

"Let's get our stuff inside. 'S gettin' dark soon." Your husband's voice caused you to redirect your attention. "Yeah..." You nodded; still a bit absentmindedly, and followed Daryl inside the building.

He led you down several corridors, until you reached a spacious room with a bed, attached bathroom and a few other basic things. While Daryl put down his backpack and your bag alongside his beloved crossbow, you sat down on the bed; feeling a dull ache in your feet. "Ya okay, darlin'?" Of course, Daryl noticed immediately. His senses seemed to be even sharper since you told him about the pregnancy. You nodded. "Sure, Dar. Just some swollen feet." He gave you one of those cute, little smiles you adored so much. "Guess yer in for a foot rub tonight then."

It was the fourth day you spent at the Sanctuary. Daryl tried his best to be around you as much as somehow possible, but unfortunately, there was a lot of work to do for the 'leader'. So, you just decided to stay around him. Luckily, you had a few books packed and you'd always find a comfortable seat - no matter where. You just felt safer when your husband was close, and you could tell that it was much appreciated by him that he could throw a watchful eye on you from time to time.

Daryl wasn't the only one who had his eyes on you, though... Day after day, you could feel the unpleasant stare of that man who already had watched you at the day you set foot here... Justin, like you got to know. He didn't let a single opportunity slip to eye you. It was highly uncomfortable and quite confusing. You didn't know why he was doing what he did. It wasn't like you knew each other. You never even had exchanged a single word! Yet he was always looking... And when you'd catch him, he just gave you a little smirk - what didn't make you feel any better.

After day two, you just accepted it and tried to brush it off and ignore it. You didn't dare to confront the man. If you weren't pregnant, you wouldn't have even give it a second thought and walked straight up to your 'stalker', but... You were pregnant and didn't want to risk anything.

And telling Daryl wasn't an option in your eyes either. He was already so occupied and definitely way more on edge now that he was back at this former hellhole. This wouldn't end well; you knew it.

"You gotta come! Reilly and Mark are fighting. They're yelling at each other like kindergartners!" Daryl scoffed. "Dun care. They can handle their shit alone." The Savior standing opposite you frantically shook his head. "Man, if you don't intervene, this is gonna escalate! They're gonna beat each other up - or worse! You know how they are!" The archer groaned and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately was that idiot right. He couldn't let this escalate, even if he didn't care if it did. He had silently promised Rick to keep this place sane and running, so... "Fine," he finally answered, and turned to you. "Ya gonna find the way alone, sunshine?" You nodded, and placed a hand on his chest with a soft smile. "Of course. Go. I'll be waiting for you in bed. I'm tired." Your husband nodded and gave your hip a soft squeeze; an apologizing look on his face. He didn't want to leave you alone - but knew he had to. Turning on his heel, he followed the Savior and vanished around the corner.

"Dixon!" You flinched at the sudden, unanticipated voice of a man echoing down the corridor you and Daryl just walked through. You were actually on your way back to your room; ready to call it a day. Well, apparently not...

The archer stopped and turned; you both witnessing Dean - a Savior, of course, sprint around the corner. "Dixon!" "Wha'?" Daryl snarled in annoyance. He have had enough of that day. All he wanted was to disappear in that room and not leave it - and you, until tomorrow.

"Hello, Y/N."

You sighed and gazed behind you down the empty corridor, as you felt a flutter within your belly. You smiled; placing a palm underneath your baby bump, which was well hidden since you wore way too big, but comfortable clothes from the day you got here. "I know, munchkin. Daddy's gonna be back soon. Let's go to bed. We could both use some sleep," you talked to your unborn baby quietly; the smile never leaving your lips.

Everything was eerily quiet. Well, no wonder. It was quite late and most of the Saviors were already sleep, you reckoned. Hopefully me too, soon, you thought; pushing down the door handle and opening the door to yours and Daryl's room. You switched on the light - thanks to the generators.

An unknown voice suddenly urged to your ears; causing you to flinch and almost stumble right back out of the room again. You spun around to seek out the origin of the voice; finding the man who had watched you for days sitting on that one chair in the corner of the room with a smirk on his face. You swallowed hard.

"Justin, right?" You tried to sound brave, even though you had a very uneasy feeling brewing within your gut. "What are you doing here? Can I, um, help you?"

Justin's smirk widened. "Oh yes, indeed. You can help me... Close the door, love. I wanna talk." You did what he said and slowly closed the door, but your hand kept gripping the handle - just in case.

"I have never see you before," he started. "Surely we both crossed paths before without knowing - blame it to the war." "Most likely, yeah..." You answered. Justin shook his head and let his eyes wander over your body again. You felt like a piece of meat. "You're a true sight for sore eyes, Y/N... What a shame..." You frowned. "Shame?" The black haired man nodded. "It's a shame you have such low standards and waste your time on a man like Dixon. You are his girl, aren't you?" Your frown deepened at his words; feeling anger bubble up inside you.

Just as you wanted to speak up, the Savior cut you off. "Or... Wait... Are you just his little toy? An occasional fuck? God, how pathetic," he laughed to himself. "What do you get in return? Protection? Food? A shelter? Or are you doing it for free? His dick that good?"

Your jaw almost dropped at the foul words leaving Justin's mouth. He definitely went to far. You've had enough. Nobody threw mud at Daryl like that. Nobody. You were not having it.

"I'm his wife! I-" "His wife?" Justin cut you off once more; laughing. "So this is some serious shit, huh? Wow... Never thought a guy like Dixon could pull such a hot girl like you. You're too good for him, you know," the man said with a dramatic sigh and pulled himself up from the chair. With calculated steps, he crossed the room - and the predatory smirk he wore on his lips, made you feel even more uneasy than you already felt. "You certainly deserve..." Justin licked his lips. "...better."

The Saviors eyes widened, "Fucking hell... He... He knocked you up?" and he laughed. "You're dumber than I thought." Justin shook his head; still smiling amused. "We're witnessing the fucking end of this shit show called life," he gestured around himself. "And you don't know better than get pregnant with that asshole's bastard child."

You swallowed hard and took a step back, feeling your back pressing against the door; grip on the handle still painfully tight. "N-No, I don't. Daryl is more than enough. H-He treats me right." "He treats you right?" Justin asked mockingly, "Aww, how cute." and chuckled. "What if I told you that other men could treat you so much better?" He whispered in a low voice and reached out a hand to cup your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Your heartbeat quickened; pumping adrenaline through your whole body in fear. Your primal instinct to run already knocked against the door to your brain, but another instinct was stronger just yet... Protecting your baby. So, out of instinct, your free arm wrapped around your baby bump, before you could even stop yourself - and it didn't escape Justin's notice, of course. Your well kept secret suddenly wasn't a secret anymore.

The last sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back. Insulting the husband of an expectant mother wasn't wise. But insulting the child of an expectant mother was suicide.

It was the whistle which sealed your fate.

Before the rational part of your brain could intervene, did your palm already collide with Justin's cheek; slapping him hard.

A soft groan of pain left his lips as he stumbled back. His hand immediately rubbing the now stinging skin. "You bitch!" The Savior exclaimed angrily. "Alright, that's enough." Justin stomped back over to you and already reached out his hand to grasp your wrist, but your instincts kicked in again. This time, they told you to run. So, you did.

Quickly opening the door, you stormed outside and wanted to flee - but you unfortunately didn't get far.

Suddenly another Savior appeared in the corridor ahead of you - and you immediately stopped. Frantically turning around and searching reverently for a way to escape, you soon figured out that there was no way out. One man in front of you, Justin coming up behind you. And in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in the same situation like seconds earlier - just that it was way worse now. Pressed against the wall; trying to shield your unborn child from any possible harm and danger. "P-Please, don't p-please..." You begged for mercy, but it was no use. The men just laughed; having you cornered. "Not so brave anymore, are we?" Justin snickered. Tears stung your eyes. "T-The baby, p-please..." You whispered through tears; feeling your knees buckle and almost give in from underneath you. Silently, you prayed to every God and higher force, that Daryl would walk around the corner now.

He didn't.

"Get her. We're gonna make that asshole pay." It was the last thing you heard, before the other man lashed out. You felt a throbbing pain in your skull and within seconds went everything black.

Grumbling in annoyance, Daryl made his way finally back to yours and his quarters. To solve the stupid, boyish conflict between those two primitive idiots took longer than he thought it would. It got him even more tired than he already was. All the archer wanted was to sleep with you safely in his arms.

However, when he reached your shared room he found the door ajar; causing his heart rate to quicken on an instant. Without wasting even a second, he literally stormed in - only to find the room empty and deafeningly quiet.

"Y/N?!" He called out, but didn't receive an answer. "Y/N?!" In a frenzy of panic, Daryl started to search for you. To his sheer horror, he couldn't find you. Fear and the nagging feeling of guilt and failure already eating away at him. He swore to protect you. You felt safe whenever he was around - and now he had failed you; failed to protect you and his unborn child. Whatever happened to you, Daryl could tell that it wasn't something good. This was the Sanctuary, after all. This hellhole was worse than what laid behind the gates.

Nevertheless, he hoped to find you unscathed, and that all of this was just a big misunderstanding.

Of course... He should've think of that. Jed was - among a few others - a Savior, who didn't quite like how things went down. Negan being defeated... Rick's plan to 'convert' them to be better people... Daryl taking over the Sanctuary... It didn't suit their plans. Daryl knew they hated it - and they hated him. So, why wouldn't Jed - or hence, any of them, do something to get at him? And what was the best way to inflict pain to somebody? Exactly. By hurting someone the person loves.

Life didn't treat the archer kind - of course. You were nowhere to be found. Not in the kitchens, the sanitary rooms, nor the common room; his next destination being the gardens.

"Daryl?" A female voice suddenly urged to his ears - not yours, though. So, he simply ignored it. "Daryl?" Laura stepped into his view. She was on watch and saw her visibly distraught 'leader'. "What the hell is wrong? You run around like a mad man. What are you looking for?"

The archer froze in his movements for a moment; breathing labored. "Y/N. Can't find 'er. Somethin' happened to 'er. Someone took 'er. I'm sure 'a it," he spoke in a low, deep voice. Threateningly. "Ya know somethin' I should know?" Eyes full of a anger were staring the Savior woman down. And Laura knew that this wasn't a version of Daryl you wanted to get yourself into a fight with.

"Not really, no, but..." She frowned; seemed to recall something in her memory. "I saw Jed hanging around in the hallway of your room this afternoon." The archer clenched his jaw.

He shouldn't have let you accompany him.

"Daryl?" Laura's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. The archer wanted to answer, but all he saw was red. He stormed off; driven by anger, fear and the urge to protect what was his - the most important one of the few good things in his life.

Without any unnecessary detours, Daryl went straight for Jed's room. Not even blinking, he barged through the door; slamming it shut behind him and causing the Savior, who was just about to get changed for the night to flinch badly. Jed spun around; his eyes landing on Daryl. "What the hell, Dixon?!" He complained; not noticing the hands of the archer, which were curled into fists, nor the rage in his blue-grey eyes. "Fuck off! This isn't your-" Before Jed was even able to finish his sentence, had Daryl already crossed the distance with three big steps and grabbed the Savior by the lapels of his shirt; pinning him against the wall. Sure, Jed was strong - but not as strong as the bulky archer. Plus, the momentum was clearly on Daryl's side, since he had caught him by surprise.

Daryl growled lowly in his throat. It wasn't a warning. It was a threat.

"What-" "Shut yer damn mouth 'n tell me where she is," Daryl growled; accentuating his words with pushing Jed a little harder and caging him entirely between the wall and his broad frame.

The man scoffed and pawed - in vain - at Daryl's bare forearms and the bulging veins and muscles located there; trying to free himself. "What the fuck are you talking about, Dixon?!"

"Ya ain't fuckin' with me, asshole. Ya know exactly what 'm talkin' about." His grip on Jed's shirt lapels tightened. "Where is my wife," Daryl punctuated every single word. The Savior glared into the archer's eyes for a moment, before he scoffed once again. "I have absolutely no clue where your little whore is! Perhaps she ran off and found a better dick than your-" Daryl had enough of the bullshit Jed was giving him. Without even letting him finish his sentence, Daryl pulled him away from the wall and threw him harshly to the hard ground. "Dun'cha dare talk about Y/N like tha'." His voice was deep and quiet, but not lacking with danger. "And now tell me where she is." "I told you, I don't know!" Jed tried to defend himself further, but Daryl knew he lied. He could feel it.

"A'right. Then we gonna do this the hard way," Daryl stated and lunged at Jed; fists connecting with the man's jaw and stomach. Jed fought back, of course, landing a few blows himself. Their bodies hit the floor multiple times. Blood flew, bones cracked and furniture got destroyed and wrecked as both men were fighting for the upper hand. In the end, though, had Daryl clear advantage over Jed. He was the more skilled and stronger fighter, and had the Savior snugly wrapped up in a chokehold. "'M gonna find 'er anyways," Daryl grunted; panting and being out of breath. "'N I dun care 'bout how many of yer assholes I gotta go through. I'll kill every damn one of ya if tha's what's it gonna take," he snarled and tightened his deathly grip around Jed's neck; his biceps bulging. "So, do yerself a damn favor 'n tell me where the hell she is!" "Fuck you!" was all Jed answered. The archer growled once again and squeezed, which caused the man to gasp and flail; helplessly trying to escape.

Only when Jed was on the verge of passing out, did he decide to finally cooperate. "Alright, alright!" He spluttered and choked. "I'm gonna tell you!" Daryl loosened his grip, and Jed frantically gasped for air. "S-She... She's in one... one of t-the cells..." The man coughed; still trying to get air back into his lungs.

The Savior didn't have to say more. Daryl knew what - or well, where he meant. "Try anythin' stupid, I'll kill ya," the crossbow-wielding archer warned Jed and gave him last death glare, before he left him on the floor in his room with bruises already forming on his neck.

This ain't 'bout me, damnit, he reminded himself. I gotta keep my wife 'n baby safe.

A lump formed in Daryl's throat as he made his way to the 'cells'. An area he thought he'd never ever in his life set foot in again. Being back at the Sanctuary was bad enough, but the mere thought of going there was even worse. It caused his stomach to flip. He could've thrown up all over the floor if he had let himself...

It still looked the same like back when he was imprisoned. The same way too squeaky clean floors. The same doors leading into the same rooms. The only difference was the infirmary, which had been moved to another part of the other building. But except that... Everything was the same. Daryl had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a moment to keep his shit together and save himself from an approaching panic attack. His labored breath, shaky hands and the forming sweat on his skin a clear indicator.

"Y/N?" Daryl whisper-shouted; hoping to be close to you and receive an answer. He didn't. The archer had to go a little further to find you, and now that he was standing in front of one particular room with his heart almost breaking free of his ribcage; getting to know that it was locked as he twisted the door knob, realization dawned on him. Of course they'd lock her up here, Daryl thought as he eyed the way too familiar door. That was a part of the sick game they played.

With another deep breath, Daryl fought against the traumatic thoughts which wanted to push themselves to the forefront of his brain and shoved them aside; locking them away and focusing on you.

Precautionary, he freed his knife from its sheath and sneaked down the corridors; checking every room. After all, he didn't know who or what awaited him. Storming into this blindly wasn't probably the best idea, since he was convinced that Jed didn't do this alone.

Clenching his jaw, he had to fight another panic attack; even going as far to cut himself with the knife in his shaking hand, in the hopes that the pain would redirect the attention of his brain. A small grunt of pain escaped his lips as the red liquid dripped down his arm.

"H-Hello?"

His desperate action got interrupted by a soft, weak voice coming from the other side of the door; causing the archer's knife to clatter to the floor and a relieved, shaky breath to leave his throat.

"Y/N?!"

The answer came promptly.

"O-Oh my gosh, D-Daryl! I-It's locked, a-and I can't move, I-" "I know, sunshine, I know. Dun worry, 'kay? 'M goin' to get ya," he cut you off with the intention to calm you down. Taking a few steps back, he let the anger and rage take over his system once again and stormed forwards. The door might have been locked, but it definitely wasn't the same door like ten years ago. It had aged and got less stable, so when the archer's strong, bulky frame connected with the door, the lock gave in and the door busted open. Sure, it took him three tries and most likely cost him a bruised shoulder, but Daryl couldn't care less.

"C'mon. Let's getcha outta here 'n see a doctor. I ain't takin' any risks." Your husband shifted and gently slid an arm under your knees and around your back. "Hold on to me." You wrapped an arm around his neck, but shook your head. "Y-You don't have to do this, Dar. I can walk." "Nah," he stated, "I'm gonna do this. Yer hurt 'n pregnant." and lifted you carefully up to carry you bridal style. You didn't protest further. Why should you? He got a point after all...

The bright light from the corridor flooded the dark room and helping him to get a better look at you. You sat in the corner on the cold floor of the dark room. Your wrists and ankles were tied together with a thick rope - way too tight as he noticed, since he could see the material already cutting into your delicate skin. Tried blood was on the right side of your head.

Daryl's heart shattered into a million pieces, seeing you like this. Fear and concern coursed through his veins. "Y/N..." he whispered in a hoarse, broken voice and immediately dropped to his knees beside you, quickly freeing you off the too tight ropes, before one hand gently cupped your cheek, while the other found its way to your growing baby bump. "Ya both okay?! Ya hurt?! In pain?!" Tears of sheer relief gathered in your eyes; threatening to fall as you felt the gentle, loving touch of your husband and knowing that he was here with you. That he saved you.

"I-I'm okay... W-We are okay. Thanks to you," you breathed; smiling as tears rolled down your cheeks. It's been probably only hours since you lastly saw Daryl, but what had happened happened. The shock was profound.

The archer's eyes scanned your body thoroughly for any visible injuries. "Wha' 'bout yer head, sunshine?" "N-Nothing that can't be fixed," you stated and gazed deeply into his worried, loving eyes. "I'm s-so glad you found me. I-I was so afraid..." Daryl lowered his head to rest his forehead against yours. Your hands slipped behind his neck; tangling a few chestnut brown strands through your fingers. "Yeah, me too." Daryl's eyes fluttered shut, before his lips caught yours in a lingering, desperate kiss.

"Just Jed 'n Justin?" You nodded against his shoulder. "Justin waited for me in o-our room. He insulted you. S-Said I deserve better a-and..." You trailed off; feeling tears blurry your vision once again - but this time, it wasn't happy tears. "Ya dun have ta tell me, darlin'. Dun wanna pressure ya into talkin' 'a me." You swallowed hard and buried your face further in his shoulder and neck; "I-I want to tell you." inhaling deeply. Daryl's natural scent, mixed with leather and smoke filled your airways and - like always - had that soothing effect on you. "I-I think he was only a hairsbreadth away f-from raping me, but-" "Wha'?!" Daryl instantly cut you off. Every single muscle in his body tensed as he came to an abrupt halt. You could tell. "He didn't, Dar. I-I slapped him a-and tried to flee, but then there was J-Jed."

"Which one of those assholes did tha' to ya? Jed 'n who else?" Daryl asked in a drop-dead serious voice as he slowly made his way with you down the corridor. You swallowed hard; having to recall the horrible memory. "J-Justin."

Justin. One word - one name was enough to get Daryl's blood to a boiling point once again. He and that prick didn't get along from the very start - and this wasn't the first time the archer and Justin got in each other's ways... There had been a lot of situations where either of them was only a second away from beating the other up. Justin was - like Jed - one of those assholes who wanted Negan back. A Savior through and through.

The clattering sound of - most likely dishes urged to yours and Daryl's ears and managed to quickly redirect both your attention.

"'M gonna kill that sonofabitch," Daryl growled lowly under his breath, but you understood him anyway, of course. "Baby-" "Nah. Ya ain't gonna talk me outta this, Y/N," your husband stated firmly, while opening the main door to the building and stepped outside. Meanwhile, the sun had risen; fresh, crispy morning air hitting your bare arms.

"He's going to pay for tha'. He put you 'n our baby into danger. I ain't havin' tha'." "I know, babe, and you're right. He... He has to pay. But Rick's gonna-" "I dun care 'bout wha' Rick's gonna say. This ain't 'bout him. This' 'bout my family. We both know tha' he'd do the same in the end 'n-"

Justin stood a few feet away across from you and Daryl on the yard. What you had heard was indeed dishes breaking; the shards and content laying on the ground in front of the man. It looked like he had been just on his way to bring you some 'breakfast'. But now, the Savior stood frozen to the ground; eyes directed on you and Daryl. Your husband held his gaze, of course, and if looks could kill, Justin would've been dead already. You felt your archer's muscles tense once again, before he gently let you down. "Sit, 'kay? 'N stay there, please," he whispered and jutted his chin at a wooden bench. You did what he said and slowly walked backwards over to sit down; eyes never leaving both men.

The tension was literally cuttable with a knife as Justin and Daryl stared each other down. The archer out of pure hate and the Savior still in shock and in realization at failure of his plan. You knew this was going to escalate. Two 'alpha males' with completely different, but strong intentions.

Daryl knew it, too. It would've escalated someday anyway. For him, it was just sooner than later.

"Fuck," cursed Justin out loud then; awoken from his rigidity - and instantly started to run. Daryl wasn't having this, of course, and sprinted right after Justin. "Fuck, indeed..." You muttered to yourself; feeling your heart rate picking up. You had to fear for your life and the life of your unborn child for hours and now you had to fear for the life of your husband. Mental stress was your current program as it seemed - something not just you felt... You could feel some movement inside your baby bump. "I know, I know... I'm sorry, munchkin... I just hope your daddy knows what he's getting himself into..." Your palm cradled your protruding stomach in an attempt to soothe your antsy 'roommate'.

Meanwhile had Daryl caught up to Justin and tackled him to the concrete ground - where they still were. Fists connected with several body parts; each of them trying to gain the upper hand. Justin was definitely stronger than Jed. The archer had a hard time taking him down and couldn't do so without taking several hits and punches himself. However kept him the anger and adrenaline going, and gave him the strength he needed.

Somehow, they had made their way back to you. You gasped as both men entered your field of view again - just in time to witness Justin's fist colliding with Daryl's jaw, who let out a grunt of pain. Your eyes widened and you were instantly on your feet; breath hitching in your throat. "Daryl!" He had turned his back to you; spitting out some blood and blindly reaching out his arm to signal you to stay where you are. "Nah, stay back! I got it!" He yelled and violently shoved Justin away, as he wanted to deliver another blow.

You took a step back again, but didn't sit down; face full of concern. You wouldn't let him die. That much was certain. You'd intervene before that happened. How, was the part you hadn't figured out just yet...

The fight went on - without mercy. Daryl, you and Justin knew that only one would walk out alive. Neither the archer, nor the Savior intended to stop. Sure, you could stop it, but how were you supposed to do that?

The sound of a cracking bone almost send you into another frenzy - until you saw that it wasn't a bone of your husband's body. It was Justin's. His nose, to be precisely. The man winced in pain; crimson red blood already tripping down his nose and onto his shirt and the ground. Justin was clearly in a daze; stumbling a few steps back. This didn't slip Daryl's notice, of course. He knew that this was the moment. He had to grasp this chance and use it, before it was too late. The archer was well aware that he was hurt, too and didn't know how much longer he was able to hold on. So, without thinking twice, Daryl reached for the other knife in the sheath attached to his rugged jeans, freed the blade, spun around - and slit the Savior's throat in his movement. Your eyes widened to the size of plates; watching the man splutter and helplessly trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was in vain.

The clatter of a knife caused you to avert your eyes and look at your husband, who had sunk to his knees only a few feet away from Justin's now dead body; panting heavily. Your heart immediately screamed at you to look after the man you loved. Not wasting a second, you ran over to the archer; crouching down beside him.

"Daryl?" You cupped his cheeks and gently lifted his head to make him look at you. "Baby?" Heavy, clouded blue eyes gazed into yours. "You okay?" He nodded meekly. A breath of relief left your lips, although you could already see the bruises forming on his face and the dried blood on his lips and chin. Your thumbs caressed the rough, stubbly skin beneath them, before you gently pulled him closer and rested your forehead against his. Daryl sighed; his bloody hands gripping your wrists. "Y/N, 'm sorry, I-"

The bubble you and Daryl had been in bursted. You lifted your head; only now noticing Rick and a lot of other people standing around you. Mostly Saviors. Swallowing hard, you stood up; holding onto Daryl and helping him up as well. "Rick-" You started, but the leader of Alexandria interrupted you; shock, disappointment and anger clearly visible on his face. "You killed 'im? You killed Justin? Why?" You wanted to speak up again, but Daryl leapfrogged you. "'Cause he was a damn asshole, tha's why!" "Daryl, that's not-" "He kidnapped Y/N, Rick! He hurt her! He wanted to rape 'er 'n do god knows what to 'er!" Your husband yelled at his brother. "Wake up, man. We can't change them, Rick. They are wha' they chose ta be... 'N I ain't no longer puttin' my family on risk for this bullshit," Daryl stated firmly and wrapped his arm around your waist; anchoring you to him. "Let's getcha outta here, sunshine."

He didn't get any further. Another voice cut suddenly through the air. Familiar, but unexpected.

"What the hell is goin' on here?"

Rick was way too stunned to speak; could only watch as his best friend guided you across the yard.

Slowly, you slid closer and placed a hand cautiously on his bare back. "D-" "I failed ya." You couldn't even utter his name, before the words spilled from his lips. "I failed ya 'n our kid. Swore ta always protect ya 'n now look wha' happened..." You sighed. Of course... He blamed himself for this. You should've seen it coming. "Dar..." You spoke up again in a hushed voice; sliding even closer to him. One hand found its way around his waist, the other still resting on his upper back. "This wasn't your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. It was Jed and Justin's doing. Not yours," you tried to soothe his raging thoughts of guilt and littered his shoulder blade with tiny kisses.

A few hours, a visit at the infirmary and a shower later, you sat in yours and Daryl's room - still in the Sanctuary; trying to process what happened.

Only the mattress dipping beside you managed to rip you out of your thoughts. Daryl, who had just taken a shower as well sat down on the edge of the bed; muscles tensed and without saying a single word. He hadn't said a lot anyways since the incident. Sure, the archer had never been a man of words, but... You could tell that something was still bothering him.

You, though, stayed awake and watched him sleep with a soft smile on your face; fingers carding through his soft, still damp hair. "I just hope you reconciled with your brother, Mr. Dixon. You both need each other and you damn well know it."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. 'S my fault, Y/N. Should've protected both 'a ya better." "You are protecting us the best you can, Daryl," you stated firmly; shifting once again to sit beside him. "You risked your life more than once for me. And you did what was right yesterday evening. You did what you had to do. You acted like a leader should act." "But-" "Nu.Uh. No buts," you cut him off and gently placed your lips in on his to keep him from speaking; entangling them in a sweet kiss. "We're right here, okay?" You prompted; taking one of his hands and placing it on your baby bump, while you intertwined the other with yours. "We're right here and we are completely fine." Troubled eyes gazed into yours; his touch never ceasing. "'M sorry," Daryl whispered; voice quivering.

"C'mere." You laid back on the bed and gently tucked at his hand; inviting him to join you. He immediately obliged and melted against your body with his head resting on your chest, while he was holding onto you for dear life. "That's it, baby... Relax. Deep breaths." Your husband followed your words, and found himself drifting off into dreamland at some point. He was just way too exhausted and unable to resist your soothing, comforting touch.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @thevegandarkelf

[iicarused]

he loves me, i swear

ticci toby x reader / pre-proxy & after

synopsis: you met the man as a lone criminal, then he started working for a faceless man

requested by: anon && @/nowonlydogs

★* not the healthiest relationship — more codependency in this one. beware of // co-dependency, stalking, mention of murder, yandere aspects tbh

wrote this while very very eepy, so it ain’t my best tbh.

PRE-PROXY

he spared your life, you should be thankful.

his eyes settle on your form like a wine glass on the shelf. his mother never allowed him to touch such intricate things.

his hands are gentle on your skin, caressing your face as this is the first in a very long time he felt the softness of a cheek — he truly believes he’s a saviour

he saved you. nothing will change that, and as repayment, you just need to be his pretty lover. sit on his lap, smother him, love him; everything that normal lovers do.

but only you would know that this isn’t normal. what a life to be a doormat, and you would meekly agree to live with him

the only way you ever got to see the sky was through windows. the windows of his home that he was quick to also make yours.

he never brought unfamiliar faces — just food, clothes, home decor, and whatever else you requested for

of course, you were hesitant. it’s not everyday that you were about to be murdered then let go — just because of a pretty face — or so you thought

toby often admits his stalkings, and how long he’s been watching you. in a way, he does expect you to find those stories endearing. when in reality, you never noticed his gaze

in the park, when you went shopping, at your friends, night outs, morning runs, at the comfort of your home. you never knew that he was there

but it all made sense. things would move, often disappearing and reappearing. others were gone permanently —— well, until you found them in the makeshift room he made for you.

waiting for your arrival.

toby wasn’t brash nor commanding. he just wanted a home

but you would learn quickly not to go against his simple wish. the plan of escape failed and it took months to regain his trust.

you nearly forgot how the stars looked in the night sky

PROXY

just because his free will is restricted doesn’t mean he became easier to handle — in matter of fact, it became much worse — but somewhere at the back of your head says it is love.

the home you worked so hard for — the trust you built — finally being back in your room and promising toby to never run, all a waste

now your surroundings are alien. your head hurts and your ears hasn’t stopped ringing

he says life will get better but your vision is a blur.

if there is a wish toby wanted, slenderman had granted. all toby yearned for was to be wanted by you, and that’s what the faceless served. not that you would know at the time

all you did understand is that when you lay by toby’s side — everything stopped. your hands would grasp for the fabric of his sweater, pulling his weight to come over you. the world became clear and all you felt was toby

his fingers brushed over your cheek, the cold of his lips pressing against your temple. you truly are a gem