#I can see them being married and hating each other

[faithshouseofchaos]

I would like to see a part 2 to this

https://www.tumblr.com/faithshouseofchaos/762652024189976576/the-young-lewis-and-young-nico-being-told-off-by?source=share

Where it shows them now were their having trouble hiding from media because aparently no one would have guessed that brocedes were getting back in touch and this would be a headline if they can get info, and the other drivers surprise and confusion to this info is immense because they also thought that lewis and nico R hated each other in an extremely passive-aggressive way.

—🍑

A/n — @crispysoup318 I just combined the two idea as best as i cloud

I thought it was a joke — Lewis Hamilton x Male!Reader x Nico Rosebrg

Word count—776

Fluff Crack fic

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend had always been chaotic, but this year, it felt different. It wasn’t just the press swarming the paddock or the luxurious yachts packed along the harbor—it was the rumor mill spinning out of control.

It all started with a photo.

A single, grainy shot taken at a quiet café in Monte Carlo late last night. Nico Rosberg, sitting opposite Lewis Hamilton, both laughing over what looked like dessert. At first glance, it seemed like an amicable catch-up, shocking enough considering their years of tension. But the moment that sent the F1 world spiraling was the kiss—Lewis leaning over the small table, Nico tilting his head up, their lips meeting in a way that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than romantic.

The first wave of shock hadn’t even settled when another photo hit social media. Nico’s so-called husband—you—appeared at the same café shortly afterward, leaning casually against Nico’s chair with a drink in hand. If that wasn’t enough to break the internet, the third shot did: you, Nico, and Lewis walking out together, Lewis’s hand resting lightly on your back while Nico smirked, his fingers brushing against yours.

Twitter descended into chaos.

“BROCEDES WAS A JOKE?!?!?”

“Nico has a HUSBAND?? And LEWIS IS PART OF THIS???”

“I need a second to breathe, but also I don’t think I can breathe.”

“So Nico hated Lewis… but also secretly loved him… while being married to this third guy… but then all three of them are a thing? Is this fanfiction?”

“Wait, wasn’t he just Nico’s husband?” someone muttered. “Like, how is Lewis involved in this?”

“And Nico and Lewis hated each other,” another replied. “This doesn’t make sense!”

In the corner, Charles Leclerc looked genuinely distressed, his breakfast untouched as he muttered to Pierre Gasly. “I don’t understand. They were always fighting, weren’t they? Like… properly angry. This has to be fake.”

Pierre, wide-eyed, shook his head. “Brocedes was a meme! A meme, Charles! How—” He gestured helplessly. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

Nearby, George Russell frowned, clearly overthinking the situation. “But if this is true, that means they’ve been hiding it for years. Years!”

Carlos Sainz, standing beside him, choked on his coffee. “So Nico didn’t just retire to get away from Lewis?”

“Apparently not,” George deadpanned.

“They won’t need to. Look at Lewis.”

Sure enough, Lewis Hamilton, arriving just minutes after you, was doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. He strode into Mercedes hospitality with all the confidence in the world, flashing his trademark smile. Instead of slipping quietly into the back like he should have, he went straight to Nico, threw an arm around his shoulders, and pressed a quick kiss to his temple—in full view of half the paddock.

Carlos, who had just recovered from his earlier choking incident, muttered, “Wait, wait, what?!”

George’s jaw dropped. “I… I don’t think my brain can process this right now.”

It didn’t take long for the drivers to start gathering in small, confused groups, some pulling out their phones for updates. Lando Norris, scrolling Twitter furiously, let out a stunned laugh. “Guys, the memes are already insane. Look at this!”

He shoved his phone toward Oscar Piastri, who squinted at the screen. “They Photoshopped Nico holding a ‘Brocedes Forever’ sign,” Oscar said, trying not to laugh.

“This is a PR nightmare,” Toto Wolff said somewhere in the background, his voice carrying over the general noise.

For you, Nico, and Lewis, it was just another challenge in a relationship that had defied expectations from the very beginning. The trio had spent years carefully hiding it, crafting a delicate balance to keep the media—and nosy drivers—off their trail. Nico was known for his perfectionism, Lewis for his showmanship, and you for being the quiet, grounding presence who had seamlessly blended into Nico’s post-retirement life. No one had suspected that your relationship extended beyond friendship—or that it included Lewis.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” you muttered to Nico as he grinned at Lewis’s display of affection. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Nico arched an eyebrow, pretending to be affronted.

“Yes,” you said, ignoring the curious stares aimed in your direction. “You’re the one who said, ‘It’s fine. Monaco is basically our backyard. Nobody will notice.’”

“To be fair,” Lewis interjected smoothly as he slid into the seat beside you, his hand casually brushing your knee, “he’s not entirely wrong. Usually no one notices.”

“Except when you kiss him in public,” you said dryly.

Lewis grinned, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? I got caught up in the moment.”

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Command Me

Feyd Rautha X Plus Size! Y/N - drabble/series - Part 2 - 2.3K WC

Part 1

Part 2 (you are here!)

Masterlist

Warnings: the Voice, slightly steamy, full of tension, being rude to each other, enemies to lovers, like two kisses?, it's all building up to the next chapter

----------------------------------

You woke to see Feyd sitting across the room from you, watching you. You sat up quickly grabbing his knife that you had taken from him the day prior, flipping it around as you prepared to throw it. 

Feyd put his hands up in surrender.

You kept your position, eyes narrowing as you did not trust him.

He stood slowly, “I don’t want to fight you.” he said, keeping his hands up.

“Afraid you’ll lose?” you said, quirking an eyebrow and swinging your legs around so you could stand. “Again.” you said with a cold gaze.

Feyd let out a scoff but his face was adorned with a smirk. He liked how defiant you were, especially to someone like him. Everyone feared him, you were so intriguing because not only did you not fear him, you challenged him. “I fear you are outmatched, Y/N” he said.

A shiver ran down your spine when he said your name. You hated to admit it but you wanted him to say it again, it rolled off his tongue ever so sweetly. You slowly lowered the knife. “What do you want? Or do you just enjoy watching people sleep?”

“You fascinate me woman,” he said with a genuine air of amazement.

You rolled your eyes at him, “You didn’t answer my question, what do you want?” 

“The Baron and Reverend Mother are always watching. They want us to become… familiar with one another. We are to be married after all.” he said, walking closer to you until he sat on the bed, you towering over him. His head was level with your chest and it took every ounce of his mental strength to not ogle your chest. Flashes from the night before replayed in his mind, the black water running over your nipples and down your thighs. Control yourself was all he could repeat in his mind. He saw you sigh when he said marriage. “You do not wish to be married?”

“What does it matter? I have known I would marry you for as long as I can remember to fulfill some prophecy. That is my purpose, what I want is of no consequence to anyone.” you said. 

He could see the sadness in your eyes. He often felt the same way. He wanted his life and fate to be his own, not some part of a grand religious plan. But alas, here you both were. “You do not wish this,” he said to himself.

“Do you? You said it yourself, I’m just a simple, pathetic Tleilaxan.” you crossed your arms.

Feyd hesitated, the knife still in your grasp. He went with his instinct despite the possibility of injury. Feyd gently placed his hands on your hips, leaning his forehead to your abdomen. “You have always been my destiny,” he looked up at you. 

Your face was full of shock. You wanted to push him away but this was a side of Feyd you had not seen before. His eyes looked like they did when he was a teenager, soft and vulnerable. You couldn’t help it but the skin beneath your shirt tingled at his touch. You could feel the pads of his fingers slightly digging into the lush skin. You wondered if he knew how to be gentle with a woman? You had heard rumors that he kept concubines but the Reverend Mother said they had been dismissed as your arrival approached. Did he treat them like this? You shook your head, regaining control. You don’t like him. He is the Harkonnen who bound you to this kind of existence. You could not, would not, do anything more than endure him. You pulled back, holding the tip of his knife to his throat. “Destiny or not we are bound together by obligation, nothing more.” You said before walking away. You grabbed the first dress you saw, all of them were black just varying in style before walking into the bathroom.

----------------------------------------------

Feyd considered what you had said earlier the whole day as he trained. He had killed at least a dozen slaves, training so hard everything in his path was fair game. He isolated himself in the arena, the black sun beating down on him. Falling into a void of emotions he thought he had long forgotten.

You spent most of the day with the Reverend Mother. All she could go on about how important it was for you to “perform your Bene Gesserit duty”. She made Feyd sound like a chore, a disgusting one at that. The sky had started to darken, sunsets on Giedi Prime were strange. You missed Bandalong, the Holy City of Tleilax. It was industrial, but not in the way the Harkonnens had polluted their planet with. You missed the air there, how it smelled fresh and clean. Like trees and moss most days. Most of all you missed the five moons that orbited your planet. All were different sizes and different colors. You never thought you would miss something so trivial. 

“So forlorn,” said Princess Irulan, making you jump slightly. 

You turned away from the terrace hugging her with a genuine smile breaking out across your face. You two had spent so much time around each other in your youth. Your father being one of the members of the Tleilax Masters you were treated as royalty. Especially when both religions realized the power they had brought about was so great. Their centuries of breeding created a Bene Gesserit, Bene Tleilaxu Face Dancer who could not only shape shift but also wield the Voice. They made you a fierce fighter, a true force to be reckoned with. You were beautiful beyond most in your race, having features that were similar to your distant human ancestors. You had a plump figure, round face, full cheeks, and less sharp teeth. You had eyelashes, long and curled slightly upwards unlike most in your race who had lost the trait of eyelashes and eyebrows long ago. Your pale skin still had a rosie flush about it. By all means you were the closest to a human most had seen from Tleilax in ages. 

“What troubles you?” Irulan asked, guiding you gently to a bench.

You sighed, picking at the skin around your fingers.

“It’s the marriage isn’t it?” she asked, looking at you with concern and understanding.

“I will perform my duties.” you said robotically, repeating what you had been told your whole life. 

“I know you Y/N, you wish for more than what the Bene Gesserit have planned. All you spoke of when we were little was falling madly in love. Do you not recall?” Irulan smiled softly at you, turning your cheek to face her directly. She smoothed her thumb over your cheek. Your eyes were welling with tears. Irulan was the only soul you trusted in this lonely existence, and you knew she felt the same. She was the only one you could be vulnerable with. “As I remember, it was you who droned on and on about the wonders of love, how it would envelope you whole.”

“Feyd Rautha is not capable of such a thing. You have seen him, he is psychotic. Harkonnen are not capable of love.” you said with a stern tone, frustrated that this was to be your life.

Irulan sighed, she knew you were right. The Harkonnen were feared throughout the Imperium. It would be a lie if she told you they could change. “If he cannot love he can be manipulated. He is vulnerable in some way.” she said.

“What way? He is a brute, he has no weaknesses.” you said, looking off into the distance.

“The way all men are vulnerable - sexually. He loves pain. Find a way to combine the two.” she said, her eyes full of confidence. She believed you could not only survive here, but thrive. 

You looked down, finally feeling the tears flow down your face. You sniffled before you could respond, “I… I don’t know if - if I can…” you mumbled. 

Irulan lifted your face with her hands, wiping your tears away, “You are Lady Y/N daughter of Lord Mirlat Torg, one of the strongest Tleilaxu Master’s the Imperium has ever seen. You are Bene Gesserit, Sardaukar, and Face Dancer. And now you will become Harkonnen - show me a stronger woman in all the Galaxies?” 

You sniffled once more, trying to compose yourself. She is right. Everything you’ve endured, everything you have become. You can be just as strong and ruthless as Feyd Rautha. Irulan pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back reassuringly. You held her, soaking up all the comfort she brought you.

“Na-Baron Feyd Rautha demands your presence.” a guard said, causing you and Irulan to jump slightly. 

You both stood, she squeezed your hands giving you a slight nod. “I will see you tomorrow before the ceremony. Good night sister.” she said before walking off towards the guest wing of the palace, the guard bowing slightly as she left.

You followed the guard all the way back to your shared chambers. When the door slid open you saw Feyd removing his chest armor. You entered the chamber, “You demanded my presence oh gracious Na-Baron, how ever could I serve you?” you said with a sarcastic and spiteful tone, crossing your arms.

Feyd looked at you before removing his shirt, his pale skin glistening with sweat. You felt a lump form in your throat, trying your best to not let your eyes roam. “What do you want?” you said in a softer tone. 

Feyd walked closer to you, stopping inches before his nose touched yours. You could feel his breath on you, it made you shudder. Why was your body responding to him?

“Like I said, the Reverend Mother wishes for us to be acquainted before we marry tomorrow.” he said, searching your face for something unknown. 

You huffed, “Fine.” you said monotonously. You walked around him but heard him following after you. You made your way to the library. If you had to be around each other at least you could do it in silence. Feyd watched you as your eyes scanned over the shelves looking at the many books. You landed on a history book, The History of the Butlerian Jihad.

“Why would you want to read a book on war?” Feyd asked with a slight scoff. 

“History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes. We are going to be part of history one day. If we do not know our past we are doomed to make the same mistakes.” you said as you walked to one of the large tables in the foyer. You jumped up to sit on the table, leaning back with the book.

Feyd looked at you with hungry eyes, imagining you laid out for him on that table, screaming his name. He walked over to you, walking slowly until he was slotted between your legs. You put the book down on the table, eyes wide at his bold actions but your lips remained sealed. He kept his eyes on you watching for any reaction you gave him. His hands ghosted over your thighs, sliding your gown up slightly before his hands settled on your hips. Your ears were ringing but you remembered what Irulan said earlier - exploit his weakness. You leaned up slightly, showing him you were not afraid of him. He smirked, his eyes growing slightly playful. You raised your hands gently, one resting on his bare waist the other on his cheek. His hands slid from your hips to your waist. You both watched each other, seeing who would cave first. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, his lips hardly skimming over the column of your neck. His warm breaths making you lean into him. You tilted your head back, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

“And what will history say of us?” He whispered, the words making you shudder once more.

“That we did what was necessary.” you struggled to get out.

Feyd sat up pulling you with him, his lips so close to yours. “My Lady.” he says against your lips before releasing you from his grasp and walking out of the library.

You took deep breaths, feeling like you were getting air for the first time. What the fuck was that?

----------------------------------------

You stepped out of the bathtub, wrapping the towel around yourself. The door slid open making you jump. Feyd entered, shirt off with loose pants hanging around his hips. You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind since the library. Feyd looked at you as the droplets of black water slipped over you onto the floor. You tried to move around him but wherever you moved he blocked you. 

“What?” you said with frustration.

Feyd’s hand rose to your cheek, he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall. “You’ve never been touched before.” he said, watching the blush creep up on your face. 

You put your hand to his chest, keeping some semblance of space between you two. His heart was beating fast. Was he nervous around you? “Have you ever been kissed?” he asked.

You didn’t respond, trying to remain defiant.

“Would you like to?” he asked, hardly audible.

You tilted your head down to look at him which Feyd took as a yes. He connected his full lips to yours. You pushed him back immediately, looking at him with shock before glancing down at his lips. He pulled you back in, wanting to taste you as much as possible. 

“ON YOUR KNEES.” you said using the Voice.

Feyd dropped before you. Your body wanted him so badly but you needed to resist. “See you at the altar, Na-Baron.” you said, walking past him to your bedroom.

-------------------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Yayyyyy next part! I think the next chapter is going to be to everyones liking. I hope you all are well :) Let me know if you guys want to see any tropes in this story, I'd love some ideas. Thank you! XOXOXOXXOXOX!!!!!!!!

Taglist:

@sw33tsnow

[nonotoff]

KhunRachel KhunRachel KhunRachel

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[existentiol]

something that pisses me off in RA is that Flanagan will occasionally hype up Pauline as this super important and prominent figure in Will’s life, even treat her as a proxy for the mother he never knew, and yet will just refuse to show it beyond the like. two or three (personal) conversations that they have in canon. I get that he was attempting to make her an important person in Will’s life but why not do that by actually making her an important person in Will’s life

[itspileofgoodthings]

I know I’m talking to an empty theater here but the writing on that episode of Lark Rise to Candleford where Robert loses his tools (and so the means to feed his family) and is facing destitution and then runs into the young guy who’s in love with his daughter and then uses the moment not to take out all his angst and anger on Fisher but to ask him if he’s ready for all that marriage and staying and giving up his life on the road actually means thus forcing Fisher to admit that he isn’t ready for it—-

!!!!!!!!

[sukugojo]

different anon here, i came here wanting to clarify something but i saw that your reply took the words out of my mouth HAHAH it's funny seeing some of us shippers sharing the same braincells and having similar opinions. love this small community but i hope it gets bigger (wake tf up people!!! are 15 consecutive canon suspicious homoerotic chapters not enough for people on the international jjk fandom to finally start shipping them?!)

the something being that i don't sense any malicious hateful intent coming from either gojo or sukuna. this is a rare enemies/rivals trope imo. like their whole theme is about teaching love and trying to maybe come to a mutual understanding despite fate cruelly putting them on the opposite sides, as they are really just different sides of the same coin. and that's one of the many reasons why i love this pairing. it's not easy to find a non-toxic enemies/rivals dynamic portrayal in media so i'm glad that jjk is an exception.

p/s: i'm an extremely introverted person so unfortunately i won't have the social battery to continue this conversation, but thanks for reading my ask! i really want to interact more with my people bc yall are lovely and have great tastes but socializing drains me so much

YES YES ANON, they really don't hate each other at all. one thing i was thinking about is how gojo doesn't seem to think of sukuna as this malicious Evil thing that other sorcerers (rightfully) make him out to be. he... really hasn't been shown to harbor any ill feelings towards sukuna, even after all he's done.

and their fight is playful, they're playing, they're having fun, it's recreation. sure the fate of the world is at stake here, but that's not what it's about for them at all.

there's not hate, not even dislike, it's simply. well to steal canon's words. love. an overwhelming sense of pleasure, of satisfaction, of fulfillment.

and i LOVE that u mention "despite fate cruelly putting them on the opposite sides" bc YEAH YEAH, that's part of the tragedy of them. there's too many factors outside their own personal satisfaction at play.

and i think there is also a bit of a paradox in there. they're looking for someone with whom to share that solitude that comes at the lonely top. but... that's something i don't think to be possible. sure they're equals, that's the thing, but at the same time, their existences clash just by definition. bc there can't be two strongest. there can only be one.

both can't live at the same time. if one lives, the other can't live by definition.

no one understands them bc they're the strongest, but once they find someone who might be able to—and who does—dont they stop being the strongest?

[this-doesnt-endd]

I used to have a really giant family like tons of tias and tios and cousins and i say used to cause like it seems like after my grandparents died on both sides both families seemed to never speak again and i had no chance to even try and keep hold of those ties i was in elementary school watching my parents marriage crash and burn in real time dealing with major death in the family and then subsequent family abandoning me at the tender age of 11. Hell my brothers were older and jumped ship it was just me and the horrors

[joanthangroff]

why didn't bar and len become engaged in the gcau :(

hm, i don't really see it for them

[harrysfolklore]

charles and his childhood best friend but he's secretly in love with her pretty please

childhood friends to lovers is my favorite trope 🥺 i hope you like this

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 102,625 others

yourinstagram perks of your best friend being a formula one driver: you get to travel to cool places to see him work

📸 by my love @boyfriendsusername

view all 3,087 comments

charlesfan1 the most beloved non wag is coming

charlesfan2 “📸by my love” charles was found fuming

↳ charlesfan3 no bc he refuses to admit he’s in love with her (we all know it)

lilymhe i can’t wait to see you 💗 ♥︎ by author

charlesfan3 is her boyfriend going to the gp?? bc is he is we’re getting pissed off charles again lol

↳ charlesfan2 brazil gp flashbacks 😭

landonorris Don’t forget about me and come say hi ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram will do landoeeee 🫡

↳ landofan1 love this duo

charlesfan4 why does she have to take her boyfriend? 😫 actually can she break up with him and just get with charles ?

↳ charlesfan1 you guys are so disrespectful sometimes, they’ve been best friends since forever you shouldn’t be projecting a relationship between them when there isn’t

boyfriendsusername 😍😍 ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc About time, I miss you a lot ❤️

↳ charlesfan2 MARRY HER

↳ yourinstagram same hereeeee

↳ charlesfan3 she replied to charles’ comment but not to her boyfriend’s. see? she’s in love with him

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 114,824 others

yourinstagram cooking breakfast because running over my ex with a truck is not the right thing to do

view all 4,033 comments

charlesfan1 PAUSE. SHE BROKE UP WITH THAT DUDE??

charlesfan2 okay sucks for her but i bet charles is jumping up and down 😭

francisca.cgomes It’s his loss 💗 Ilysm ♥︎ by author

↳ charlesfan1 she’s so loved along the wags she just needs to become a wag herself

carlossainz55 Sending you a big hug, nena ♥︎ by author

↳ carlosfan1 carlos what are you doing here charles would have your head if you ever try something with her

charlesfan3 ITS TIME FOR YN AND CHARLESSSSS LOVE STORY

charlesfan4 it’s kinda insensitive that you guys celebrate that she broke up with her boyfriend and the comments about how she should get with charles… she’s a human being who just had a breakup and charles is literally her best friend and nothing more

charles_leclerc I don’t think it’s a wrong thing to do. Actually, I can run over him with my Ferrari if you want, I know a thing or two about driving cars at a really fast speed 🤷 ♥︎ by author

↳ charlesfan1 CHARLES WTF 😭

↳ charlesfan2 HE HAS NO CHILL

↳ charlesfan3 we knew he always hated him

↳ yourinstagram 😂😂 love you, charlie

liked by yourinstagram, pierregasly and 1,002,367 others

charles_leclerc When your best friend is obssesed with all things aesthetic

view all 15,044 comments

charlesfan1 LOVE OF MY LIFE

charlesfan2 he’s really the hottest man alive

landonorris Can she be my best friend too?

↳ charles_leclerc No

↳ charlesfan1 😭😭😭

leclerc_pascale ❤️

charlesfan3 he looks so boyfriend so i think he should be yn’s boyfriend

yourinstagram you look cute through my lens 🥲

↳ charles_leclerc I always look cute what do you mean

↳ charlesfan1 stop flirting in front of us

liked by charlesfan1, charlesfan2 and 34,836 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and YN out in Monaco tonight

view all 2,088 comments

charlesfan1 BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND

charlesfan2 they’re both so pretty. they would make the hottest couple on the grid

charlesfan3 why don’t they just get together ffs 😭

↳ charlesfan1 streets say (and ny street i mean people from monaco) that charles has been smitten over her since they were kids but she always dated other guys

↳ charlesfan2 this must be true like we’ve seen it

charlesfan4 something in the air is shifting people maybe they’re finally confessing that they’re in love with each other lol

↳ charlesfan1 LETTUCE PRAY

charlesfan5 why is this comment section full of weirdos they’re FRIENDS

↳ charlesfan2 stfuuuu

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 120,725 others

yourinstagram back on my tifosi era ❤️

view all 5,033 comments

charlesfan1 YEEEEES

charlesfan2 imagine being charles’ best friend and traveling with him for races

↳ charlesfan1 babe that’s not his best friend that’s the love of his life

lilymhe IT WAS SO GOOD TO FINALLY SEE YOU ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram i literally LOVE you 🤍

↳ charlesfan1 just become a wag already

charlesfan3 see charles was all smiles today because her (ex)boyfriend no longer tags along

landonorris When will the two of you confess to each other

↳ landofan1 LANDO😳

↳ charlesfan1 WTF IS HE CALLING HIM OUT

↳ yourinstagram you’re so weird i never know what you’re talking about

↳ charlesfan2 of course yn is playing dumb

↳ charles_leclerc ???

↳ charlesfan3 PLEASE 😭

charles_leclerc I look weird in that pic :(

↳ yourinstagram you look cuuuute

↳ charlesfan2 KISS KISS

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 250,388 others

yourinstagram i’ve known and loved this one since he was this little. growing up, we talked about what he would become countless of times, and in every single conversation i told him that he was going to achieve every single one of his dreams. today he drives the monaco circuit for the 6th time, and i know this year will be his year and monaco will finally love him back 🏆

love you beyond words @charles_leclerc ❤️

view all 10,187 comments

charlesfan1 AWEEEE

charlesfan2 THIS IS ADORABLE I CANT

leclerc_pascale ❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳ yourinstagram tysm for the picture 🥺

charlesfan3 JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY

landonorris Little Charles Leclerc

scuderiaferarri FORZA CHARLES ! 👏

charlesfan4 CANT YALL SEE THEYRE MEANT TO BE ???

↳ charlesfan1 the thing is we all can see it but they just can’t

charlesfan5 seriously if this ain’t love then what is

f1gossip Charles and YN’s romantic relationship will be confirmed any minute now

↳ charlesfan2 WHAT DO YOU KNOW

↳ charlesfan3 SPILL THE DEETS

charles_leclerc Thank you for being my biggest supporter and never leaving my side. I love you so much 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ charlesfan1 STFU STFU

↳ charlesfan2 YN WAKE UP

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri and 3,436,137 others

charles_leclerc BEST DAY EVER ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for everything, I love you all ❤️🤍❤️🤍

view all 43,826 comments

charlesfan1 PRINCE OF MONACO DID IT

schecoperez Bravo Charles! 👏

charlesfan2 IM STILL CRYING

oscarpiastri Congrats bro 👊

pierregasly Bravo Champ!! Trop content pour toi!! ❤️

georgerussell63 Congrats mate !!

charlesfan3 HE DID IT FINALLY

charlesfan4 IVE BEEN CRYING FOR HOURS NOW

scuderiaferrari Bravo Charles !! So proud ❤️

yourinstagram im so proud of you, words are not enough. this was your dream and you achieve it, i love you so much

↳ charlesfan1 AHHHHH

↳ charlesfan2 ADDRESS THE RUMORS WE LITERALLY SAW YOU KISSING

↳ charlesfan3 JUST GET MARRIED

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 376,956 others

yourinstagram when we were 15 i told him that i would be his girlfriend the day he won the monaco grand prix. i guess it's time 🤍

view all 15,875 comments

charlesfan1 AHHHHHH

charlesfan2 JSDJOEHYSIJON I CANT BELIEVE THIS

francisca.cgomes 🥹🥹🥹🥹

charlesfan3 OMFG HOW IS THIS REAL

arthur_leclerc Finally ♥︎ by author

↳ charlesfan1 ARTHUR 😭😭😭😭

↳ charlesfan2 even their families were rooting for them I CANT

scuderiaferrari ❤️

charlesfan4 WE WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG

charlesfan5 THIS HAS BEEN THE MOST PERFECT WEEKEND EVER

carlossainz55 👏👏👏

charlesfan6 they were always meant to be but they were too stubborn to see it

landonorris I LOVE LOVE ❤️

↳ landofan1 PLEASEEEEE

charlesfan7 they have been in love for YEARS i cannot

charlesfan8 THIS MOMENT WAS LITERALLY PERFECT

charles_leclerc I’ve waited my whole life for this moment 🤍

↳ charlesfan1 IM CRYING AGAIN

↳ charlesfan2 CHARLIE DONT DO THIS

↳ charlesfan3 they’re so invisible string coded

↳ charlesfan4 MY FAVORITE LOVE STORY EVER

↳ yourinstagram 🥺🥺❤️

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 3,574,037 others

charles_leclerc Lucky I’m in love with my best friend ❤️

view all 44,399 comments

charlesfan1 AND IM CRYING AGAIN

charlesfan2 THIS IS PERFECT

pierregasly Adorable 🙌

charlesfan3 HANG THIS PICTURE IN THE LOUVRE

charlesfan4 SOBBING SO BADLY RN

instagram 🥺

scuderiaferrari ❤️

charlesfan5 every single soul was rooting for this relationship fr

charlesfan6 I LOVE THEM SM

charlesfan7 childhood friends to lovers 🥹

yourinstagram i love you so much 💗💗

↳ charlesfan1 took you decades to find out but it’s okay girl

↳ charlesfan2 i can’t get enough of this relationship

↳ charlesfan3 YOU FINALLY REALIZED

[foxy-eva]

Warm Embrace

Summary: Spencer and his wife explore ways to be intimate with each other after a traumatic event

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Please read the CW, this story contains potentially triggering topics! 

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) referenced past SA of Reader (non-graphic), implied flashbacks, trauma related sexual problems, conversations about sex and intimacy, nudity, kissing, mutual masturbation, handjob, thigh riding

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“Spencer?” Your voice echoed through the apartment when you stepped through the door and found no sign of your husband. 

A distant sound came from the bathroom. “In here!” 

After a quiet knock on the door and his confirmation that you could step in, you found Spencer sitting in the bathtub. The room was filled with the lavender scent of the bath soap and what you could see of his body was covered in bubbles. It almost looked comical how his knees stuck out of the water, making it obvious that the tub was not big enough to accommodate his long limbs. 

“I was too tired to take a shower,” he explained after discovering your curious expression. 

“I can see that,” you laughed. “I thought you hated taking baths.”

“Honestly, I think I’m starting to understand why you like them so much. This isn't too bad.”

You stood there for a few moments, smiling at the sight in front of you. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you slowly began shedding your clothes. 

“Mind if I join you?” you wondered. 

Nothing about this situation would be unusual for any other married couple. Just a few months ago neither of you would have questioned your actions. Back then initiating any form of intimacy with each other felt natural and familiar. 

Things were different now, though. 

Spencer cleared his throat and shifted his position. “Are you sure about this?”

There was a reason to ask. For the past months any attempt to get close to each other resulted in you crying for the rest of the night. Something as simple as him placing his hand on your thigh was enough to startle you. 

A sigh rolled over your lips as you dropped your shirt to the floor. “No,” you confessed. “But I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” he reminded you.

That was not what you meant and he knew that. Of course he understood the meaning of your words. Spencer was well aware of the fact that ever since that son of a bitch hurt you, you fought a constant battle between wanting his nearness and pushing him away. 

Your husband gave you the space you needed and was there to hold you whenever you’d let him. It couldn't have been easy for him either but he never once complained about this new reality you had a live. 

A reality where that person took something from you that you’d never get back. It was hard to shake this feeling of being tainted after having your physical integrity stripped away like that. You were distant and closed off when it came to intimacy, despite your best efforts to get back to what once was normal. It had been months since Spencer even saw you unclothed.

That was about to change. 

Slowly, you pulled down your pants before reaching back to undo your bra. Spencer's sight followed the piece of clothing as it dropped to the floor before settling on your face again. 

“Stop profiling me,” you warned him with a playful undertone in your voice. 

“Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

By pulling down your panties, you shed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely bare in front of your husband. It was a strange feeling to reveal yourself to him. It felt new yet familiar to allow him to see you. 

However, he didn't dare to look, even when you approached the tub. It wasn't clear whether he just tried to be respectful or if seeing you like this for the first time after months was too much for him to bear. His reaction reminded you that he never answered your question about you joining him. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t okay with this. 

Spencer’s eyes widened as he noticed the change of your mood before you did. Within a split second your heart started pounding and you stepped back to reach for your bathrobe. 

“Sorry, this was a stupid idea,” you muttered as you turned around to shield your body from his sight and your heart from the rejection. 

“My love,” he cooed from behind you.

The sound of splashing water gave away that he was exiting the tub. From the corner of your eyes you saw how he reached for his own robe. 

You felt his presence behind you. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded as you turned around, finding him wrapped in his robe with water still dripping from his jawline. Spencer reached out his hands to pull you into his arms. 

“What just happened?” He wondered, his voice laced with concern. 

Before you could think about it, you mumbled, “You didn't want to look at me.”

Your husband thought about your words for a moment, replaying the scene that had just unfolded in his mind. What you said wasn’t true. He wanted to look at you, to admire you fully like he had done countless times before. 

“I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable,” he confessed as he pulled back to be able to find your eyes. 

It was hard to read your expression which was not surprising considering you were mostly confused about your current state yourself.

“I miss the way you used to look at my body. I miss being close to you,” you whispered and paused for a moment. “I miss… sex.”

He closed his eyes before placing an innocent kiss on your forehead. “I know,” he breathed. Me too, he thought.

“Do you still think about it?” You wanted to know. 

“Sex?” 

Nodding, you watched his facial features intently. Ever since your attack, there were many occasions when the two of you had tiptoed around this subject. But never before had you been so blunt about it. 

It seemed like he was looking for the right words. “Yes, I do,” was what he settled on.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “With me?” 

The insecurity in your question wasn’t lost on Spencer but he still couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. “Of course, silly girl. You're my wife.”

“It’s just been so long that I would understand if you ever thought about doing it with someone else.”

“Stop that right now,” he said with a firm yet loving tone. “I would never cheat on you.” 

A shaky breath escaped your throat before you dared to say what had been bugging you for weeks now. “What if I’ll never be ready? What if things won’t ever be like before?” 

“That would be okay, too,” he reassured you. “There are many ways to create nearness and intimacy. Sex is just one way but it’s not necessary. At least for me it’s not.” 

“So you’d be okay to live without sex?” 

“Before I met you I thought that was my only option,” he quipped. 

You knew there had been a handful of women before you but you appreciated his joke nonetheless. It made you smile. 

Spencer let his fingertips brush over your cheeks. “But to answer your question, yes, I would be okay with that.”

His words were genuine. The way he looked at you with the most loving expression made your heart jump. The amber of his irises radiated a warmth you could get drunk on. You nestled your head against his chest and he held you even closer against his body. He was right. Sex wasn’t necessary to create nearness. However, you were still curious about what else you felt safe enough to try. 

“I want to get into the bathtub with you,” you whispered. “And I want you to look at me.” 

Loosening the embrace, you looked at your husband. With a nod he confirmed that he wanted that, too. 

With shaking fingers you brushed over his robe before gripping the material. “And I want to see you, too.”

Together you helped each other out of your robes until you stood bare in front of each other. You took a moment to admire the man in front of you. It had been a while since you had seen him like that. Unlike you he didn't deliberately hide his body from your sight but there hadn’t been many occasions in the past few months that allowed you to see him unclothed. 

His body looked familiar yet different at the same time. His tummy was a little bit softer than you remembered and you imagined what it would feel like underneath your palm. 

Spencer dared to let his eyes drop down to take in every inch of skin within sight. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and you noticed how it broke out in goosebumps. 

“You're so beautiful,” he purred as he tentatively brushed over your arms. 

Tilting your head, you placed a soft kiss on his lips before breathing against them, “So are you.”

He took your hand in his to walk you over to the bathtub. Your husband got in first, bending his knees in an attempt to make himself smaller than he was. There was enough space to join him, a relieved sigh falling from your lips when you felt the warm water enveloping your body. 

First you sat a little awkwardly opposite one another for a few moments before you felt confident enough to get closer. Gently, you placed your hands on his knees to part them before moving closer to lean against his body sitting between his legs. Spencer’s heart pounded rapidly against his ribcage as you nestled against his chest. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I uh… I’m not sure where to put my hands,” he chuckled and you noticed how they hovered above the edge of the bathtub. 

Taking his hands in yours, you guided them towards the water, placing them underneath your chest. Even though you expected his touch, you still jerked when you felt his palms make contact with your body. 

Instinctively, your husband wanted to retract his hands again but you held them still with your own palms pressed against them. Once the initial shock faded, you were certain that you wanted to be held exactly like that. 

A part of you still wanted to fight this vulnerable situation but a much bigger, much more confident part longed to be close to the love of your life. 

It was as if Spencer sensed your ambiguity. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed. Then you thought about the way your body flinched when he touched you. It had happened before each time Spencer had touched you in places that he had touched, too. “I just feel like my body has to relearn a couple of things.”

Spencer nodded before finally being able to relax a bit. He leaned back while holding you against him, relishing the sensation of having you close without any barriers between you. Just for a moment he forgot about what had happened to you and to your own surprise, so did you. 

For the following weeks you made it a new habit to take baths with each other. There was something so sweet about getting clean together, it became a sacred ritual you wanted to repeat over and over. 

Slowly but surely you got more comfortable around Spencer. There was a time when you didn't think it was possible that the two of you would cuddle every night and every morning without constantly having to fear that you’d freak out at any given moment. 

But just like that it happened. Spencer didn't have to think twice about hugging you from behind and leaving a feather-light kiss on your neck. He didn't hesitate to pull you into his arms when he woke up before you. 

He did however wake up in shock and almost jumped out of bed when one morning he realized he had sleepily pressed his erection against your thigh. Having woken up before him, you had noticed it, too. You could have easily moved away but found no reason to do so.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured as he moved away from you, his voice still sounding raspy from his slumber.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Spencer. I know basic biology,” you snickered. “Now come back here.”

Hesitantly, he moved back towards your open arms. The warmth you radiated was too hard to resist so it took very little convincing for him to find his place inside your embrace again. 

Gentle fingertips danced along his arms, making him hum in contentment. It had always amazed you how his skin felt so particularly soft and tender in the morning. His curls hung unruly from his head and you couldn't resist intertwining your fingers with them. 

You thought back to the many times you had woken up like this. Back then when it still was normal for your hands to become curious enough to explore every curve and dip of each other’s bodies. 

It was odd to think about before. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime away, other times it felt like nothing had ever changed. It made you feel like the man who hurt you had the power to bring a new time reckoning upon you. You didn't want him to. 

It only spurred you further on to fully reclaim your body again. 

Your fingers found Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head just enough for you to be able to kiss him. His lips felt so soft as he slowly reciprocated your actions. It was sweet and innocent at first but your desire to feel more of him only grew the longer you kissed. Slightly shifting your leg you could feel his hardness again, making him whimper at the sudden pressure against it. 

As your hand found its way under his shirt, you brushed over the softness of his tummy. Shaking fingertips followed the trail of hair leading further down before changing their direction and moving upwards to feel his chest. The beating of his heart was faster than usual, almost erratic. 

With cautious motions he mirrored your eagerness and let his palm wander beneath your shirt as well. You deepened the kiss when you felt his fingers wander over your waist, leaving goosebumps on their path. Spencer became hungry, almost desperate as his tongue brushed over yours, melting into you in a way he hadn’t for too long. 

It was what you longed for too, what you had been hoping to finally be ready for. 

Then he touched your breast and it all came crashing down again. 

“Stop!” 

Healing really wasn’t linear. 

In an instant Spencer retracted his hand and leaned back to give you some space. Widened eyes looked back at him and it took both of you a second to realize what had just happened. Before he could apologize, you did. 

“I’m sorry… I really thought I was okay with that.”

For a moment Spencer closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he looked at you again, a soft expression on his face. “Please don’t ever feel the need to apologize for that,” he cooed. 

Unlike other times, you were able to calm down quickly. Instead of pushing your husband further away, you still yearned for his proximity. He seemed surprised when you moved closer to him again to lay your head down on his chest. Content to still have the privilege to hold you close, he wrapped his arms around you before a relieved sigh fell from his lips. 

There was no need to leave the comfort of your shared bed just yet, so you just lay there together, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Spencer placed a gentle kiss into your hair before breathing, “I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You tried your best to be kind to yourself in that moment. It was a learning opportunity for you. Just a few weeks ago lying close to your husband like that was unthinkable. Even if they felt like baby steps at the time, it was still progress. 

The images of recent intimate encounters flooded your mind and let a pleasant calmness spread through your body. Spencer’s kisses tasted sweet and made you feel insatiable, always longing for more. Feeling his skin pressed against yours as he held you close in the bathtub enveloped you in a safe feeling unlike anything else. 

You thought back to those rare moments when you considered taking things further lately, just like you had tried just now. There was something you had wondered about. 

“I have noticed that when we cuddle…,” you began your sentence, unsure of how to continue. “Even when we’re naked in the bathtub together, you uhm… never get aroused? That was very different before.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he let out an awkward laugh. “I try really hard not to. I think about baseball a lot.” 

His response confused you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you raised your eyebrows at him. “You think about baseball when we’re taking baths together? You don’t even like sports.” 

Spencer just shrugged and added, “Sometimes I try to solve equations, too.”

“Please don’t do that anymore,” you pleaded as you laid back down beside him. “It makes me feel good to see you’re still interested in me.” 

“Of course I am still interested. I just really do not want to make you uncomfortable or feel pressured in any way.”

Your words were genuine when you said, “I don’t think that will happen. I actually really liked seeing you in all of your morning glory earlier.”

Your husband smiled at you. “Yeah?”

A smirk formed on your face. “It reminded me of the countless times we were both late for work because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves after waking up.” 

“That was fun,” Spencer chuckled. “What wasn’t fun though was the conversation I had to have with Hotch after being late four days in a row.” 

His words made you laugh, too. Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, your husband hesitantly asked, “Can I ask you something?” 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you responded, “Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer this but I’m wondering… Do you ever get aroused in those moments, too?” 

You were used to talking openly about intimacy with your husband, that had always been a normal part of your relationship. His question didn't feel odd and you wanted to respond to it. 

For a long time after what happened, your longing to feel his nearness wasn’t connected to any sexual desires. At times you even felt like your libido had gotten lost entirely. Recently that had changed. 

More and more you had become aware of the little spark inside you that was ignited when you were with him. It was very different from the burning flame that was there before but your desire grew each time you were together. 

“Lately, yes,” you sincerely answered. Thinking about it some more, you decided to share another detail with him. “I even started uhm… touching myself again.”

Spencer seemed a little surprised by your response. “You did? That's good to hear.” His palm brushed gently over your arm when he added, “I can imagine that's a good way to feel a connection to your body and your needs.” 

For a second you thought he might start one of his ramblings to share all his knowledge about the health benefits of masturbating. He didn't, though. 

“Yeah, it feels nice. Almost normal,” you said instead. “I obviously still have a long way to go when it comes to sex but… I finally feel like I’ll actually get there, eventually.”

“There's no rush,” he reminded you. “We have all the time in the world.” 

Your lips met his in a tender kiss. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” 

After a few more moments of enjoying each other's company, it was time to get up and get ready for the workday. That night you found yourself tangled up in bed with your husband again. 

As you breathed in his scent and felt the heat radiating off his skin, you noticed it again – the little spark inside your chest flared up and spread a tingling sensation through your body. 

Your mouth found Spencer's neck to leave a trail of kisses along it, before it moved over his jawline and found his lips at last. He hummed when you kissed him and you could feel his fingertips twitching against your waist. 

It didn't take long until you deepened the kiss, a quiet moan slipping through your lips when Spencer’s tongue found yours. 

With your body pressed against his you didn't allow any distance between the two of you. It still wasn’t enough for you, though. There was too much fabric in the way of really feeling close to him. 

Your hand moved to the hem of his shirt to grip it and impatiently push it upwards. Spencer moved with you as you pulled it over his head. When your fingers moved to the waistband of his pajama pants next, he interrupted the kiss to find your eyes. 

A smile was painted over your face when you nodded, reassuring him that you were okay. You weren’t sure yet where exactly this was going but you felt safe enough to explore your options.

“We can stop or slow down at any point,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

After kissing him again, you sat up so you could continue undressing him. Slowly you pulled down his pants, an audible breath falling from your lips when you saw he was already half-hard. 

Spencer scanned your face for any sign of discomfort but found none. What he saw instead was excitement and curiosity. It made him smile. 

He sat up and brushed his hands over the fabric of your shirt. By lifting your arms over your head you gave him the sign he needed to remove the piece of fabric. He gently motioned for you to lay back down before he made contact with your hips, carefully brushing over your pajama shorts. 

There was no hesitation to be found when you lifted your hips for him to pull them down, without ever breaking eye contact. You thought about how different this situation was from being naked with him in the bathtub. Some parts of you remained hidden from him even then. 

You wanted him to see you, even when being exposed to him like that still felt a little scary.

After he had dropped the last piece of clothing on the floor, you dared to open your thighs for him to see every part of you. A rosy shade spread over his cheeks as he dared to look at you. It reminded you of when you were with him for the very first time many years ago. 

Just like then, he breathed, “You're so beautiful.” 

You could feel how some arousal had already gathered at your center and wondered if Spencer could see the glistening. By the way his pupils dilated you had a hunch that he did. 

Then, after he had fully taken in your beauty, it was as if he was frozen in place. He used to be so confident in situations like that, knowing your body better than his own and never questioning his next move. Things were very different now and you both sensed it. 

His eyes met yours and it became obvious how unsure he was of how to proceed. 

Opening your arms, you cooed, “Come here, love.” 

He seemed relieved when he lay back down beside you again. You wanted to kiss him but he hesitated. 

After a moment, he suggested, “I think it would be helpful if you talked to me more. I need you to tell me exactly what you want to do.”

“I’m figuring this out as we go, too,” you explained. “Right now I don't know where this is going. I only know that I really want to kiss you.”

His nose brushed against yours. “I would really like that, too.”

Just a split second later you got lost in another kiss. The way your bodies were pressed against one another while your lips were connected let you briefly forget where your body ended and his began. After shifting your position, you became well aware of that again. 

Spencer was fully hard now and his erection was firmly pressed against your thigh. You moved your leg slightly, prompting him to whimper into your mouth. The hand on your waist moved down to your hip and his fingertips pressed into your skin. 

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. “Can we slow down for a moment?” 

His grip on your hip lightened immediately before he moved his hand back up to your waist. Spencer placed one last peck on your mouth and pulled back. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head. “No, I just need a little break. To make sure it doesn't get too much.” 

The truth was that you felt really good in that moment. Excited, loved and so, so turned on. It just felt safer to take things slowly. Gently you pushed against his shoulder until he was lying on his back. You found your home inside his arms. 

Your lips grazed over his cheek as you breathed, “How are you feeling, Spencer?” 

He chuckled at your question. “You have no idea how good I’m feeling right now.” 

As you let your head rest on his shoulder, you dared to look down at his body. The extent of his desire laid on his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum had formed at his tip. Your fingers itched to touch him, to remember how hot and heavy his cock always felt inside your palm. 

A curious hand made its way down his chest, over the side of his stomach, brushing along his thigh. For a second you hesitated but then you let your palm hover over his hardness. 

Then you felt a pit form in your stomach and decided to retract your hand again. It might have just been your nervousness but that didn't change the fact that you couldn't continue in this moment. 

Your husband had watched each of your motions intently. It was obvious that he was burning to find relief. 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you purred, “I want you to feel good.”

“It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You knew that, of course. There was still something else you could do together. 

As you began kissing his neck, his throat vibrated under your lips and a moan escaped his mouth. Then, you whispered into his ear, “I want you to touch yourself.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your request and the rosy color on his cheeks turned a shade darker. It seemed like he needed a little more encouragement, so you lay back down inside his arm and opened your legs to give yourself access. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” you teased as you let your hand wander down your own body. 

Mesmerized by the sight, his eyes followed the path of your fingers. When you parted your folds to access your most sensitive spot, Spencer hissed a curse. 

The honeyed wetness between your legs made it easy for your fingertips to move through your folds. It felt relieving to touch yourself like that. Just like Spencer you were yearning for release. 

When your husband heard your heavy sighs as you pleasured yourself, he couldn't hold back anymore. You watched as his hand found his cock, a view that let your heart pound inside your chest. 

First, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and squeezed, prompting droplets of his arousal to run down his tip. Then, he swiped his thumb over the leaking head before he slowly began moving up and down. Your mouth hung open as you watched that sinful scene unfold in front of you. 

As Spencer accelerated the pace of his fist, sounds of pleasure filled the room. His eyebrows were scrunched up and desperation was written all over his face. 

He had never looked more beautiful.

Distracted by the mesmerizing view, the hand at your core stopped moving. Instead of continuing, you let it wander away from your body to touch Spencer’s thigh. Before you could overthink it, your hand kept moving to his center. 

A heavy breath fell from his lips as your fingertips cautiously brushed over the velvety skin of his balls, making his body jerk underneath you. Smiling to yourself, you remembered how sensitive he was. 

Spencer stopped moving his hand, waiting to see how you’d proceed. When you touched the soft curls at his base, he whimpered. It was then that you realized that you were not scared anymore and that your nervousness had turned into excitement. 

“Can I continue?”

Spencer audibly gulped before removing his hand. “Yes… please.” 

When you wrapped your fingers around his length, both of you moaned in unison. Holding him in your hand like that felt both familiar and novel at the same time. You started moving your palm and quickly remembered how exactly he liked to be touched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels good!” 

With all the built-up tension and those months of abstinence, it only took a few moments until Spencer was getting close to reaching his point of no return. Familiar with all the telltale signs of his impending climax, you continued caressing him. Coming closer to his undoing, his cock twitched inside your palm and his entire body started quivering. 

His release began spilling over your hand and onto his stomach while he kept pulsing against your fingers. You kissed his jaw and his neck before you reached for the tissues on your nightstand to do some damage control of the mess you had created. 

Your husband’s chest was still heaving when you finished cleaning him up. Concern was written all over his face when he found your eyes.

He pulled you back into his embrace as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I am. That was really fun,” you snickered. 

Spencer's hand brushed over your back as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth. “Do you want me to touch you?”

The truth was that your entire body was aching for his touch. You could feel the heat burning between your legs and were aware that your arousal had started coating the insides of your thighs. It had been a long time since you’d felt so turned on. 

And yet, the thought of him actually doing something about it made you nervous. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I would like to kiss you again, though.”

He let out a breathy laugh before finding your mouth once more. Feeling his lips on yours only blazed up the fire burning inside you. You shifted your position until you were hovering over your husband, one of his thighs pressed between yours. 

Tentatively you began rocking your hips against his leg, sighing as you realized how pleasant the friction was. 

“Is that okay?” You breathed against his lips as you kept moving. 

“More than okay,” he reassured you. “Use my body however you like.”

You sat up as you ground against his skin, feeling him tense his thigh underneath you. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your hips so he could help you move. Soon you had created a mess on his leg as you spread your wetness along his skin. 

With your entire entire body twitching, your motions became erratic. Looking down at Spencer, you found him staring at you with lust-filled eyes and a wicked grin painted over his face. 

As you danced along the edge of euphoria, you forgot your surroundings. It was only you and him right then. “I love you,” you whimpered and before your husband could respond, you collapsed into his arms as pleasure overcame you. You kept pressing your core against his leg as your whole body shook. 

Spencer held you firmly inside his arms as you came down from your high. He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you more.”

After your heart rate had come down to a normal frequency and you weren’t panting anymore, you kissed your husband. 

“How are you feeling?” He wanted to know. 

“Good. And also a little sticky,” you snickered, hinting at the mess you had created between your legs. 

“Yeah, me too,” Spencer chuckled. “How about I run us a bath so we can get cleaned up?” 

The prospect of that made your heart flutter. “That sounds wonderful.”

Author's Note: Writing this story took me two years and I am so relieved I was finally able to get it to paper. I hope reading it felt as cathartic for you as writing it was for me. Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate a reblog and a comment.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[itspileofgoodthings]

but on a more serious note, I do hate when any adaptation--but especially this one!--decides to change the nature of specific uncomfortable or antagonistic character interactions to something softer or sweeter, or even just decided to give two characters that don't get along or interact much at all A Moment™. That really is not always the right call!

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (03)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.1k words (get ready for #reallove)

Aliyah's Notes: whats that one saying? rainbows before the storm or wtv tf.

You didn’t believe in hatred.

Dislike? Sure. Irritation? Absolutely. But hatred was for people with time to waste, and in your world, every second was precious. Even now, as you posed under the bright lights of your latest Chanel photoshoot, your mind wandered to the few people you disliked.

Rude stylists, overly critical photographs, maybe a couple of models who thought being catty made them superior—but hate? No, that wasn’t your style.

You were in the middle of changing poses when your phone loudly buzzed on the nearby table. You ignored it at first, moving your chin slightly as the photographer directed you. You could answer it later.

“Gorgeous, Y/N! Hold that pose… yeah, just like that!” the photographer called out, camera clicking away.

The phone buzzed again, more insistent this time. You shifted your weight to one side, flipping your hair for the next shot. But the third buzz was enough to make you sigh.

“Alright, take five!” the photographer announced, waving his assistant over.

You stepped down from the set and grabbed your phone, frowning when you saw Rafe Cameron on the screen. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you swiped to answer.

“Finally answering my calls, sweetheart?” his voice came through, cocky and irritatingly smooth.

“Rafe, I’m working,” you replied, as you pulled your robe around yourself. “Not everyone gets paid to play with a ball.”

“Work, huh? I thought posing in front of a camera was more of a hobby.”

“You’re so funny,” you said flatly, glancing back at the crew who were resetting the lights. “What do you want?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m taking you out tonight.”

You snorted. “Excuse me? Did I miss the part where I agreed to go anywhere with you?”

“You didn’t,” he replied, completely unfazed. “That’s what I’m fixing right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t ‘fix’ things with me, Rafe. You ask, I decide.”

“Is that our dynamic?” Rafe’s tone dripped with amusement. “You sure? Because I remember you agreeing to marry me.”

“That’s business,” you shot back. “Don’t confuse it with me actually wanting to spend time with you.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, clearly not buying it. “Business or not, we’ve got a public to convince. Tonight, we’re making our debut as a couple. We wouldn’t want the media thinking you’re too good for me, would we?”

“I am too good for you,” you replied smoothly, your lips quirking up. “But go on.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Dinner at La Belle, 8 PM. Be ready. I’ll pick you up.”

You glanced at the time. Seriously? “Wait, how do you know where I live?”

“I have my sources. I’m a basketball player; I can afford to have a few eyes on my future wife.”

“Creep,” you mumbled, ignoring the flutter of annoyance in your stomach. “And what makes you think I’m free tonight?”

“Because you’re talking to me instead of saying no.”

“I haven’t said yes, either.”

“You will, though. I can hear it in your voice.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a smug edge in his tone. “But I’m also persistent.”

You exhaled through your nose, staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror as the makeup artist approached with a fresh brush. The look you gave yourself was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Fine.”

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the smirk stretching across his lips. “See you tonight.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, leaving you scowling at the screen.

“Everything okay?” your stylist asked, glancing at your reflection with a raised brow. She has been listening in.

You plastered on a smile. “Yeah… Just…  a guy, you know.”

She snorted. “Sounds like he’s already giving you headaches.”

“Don’t even get me started.”

Your thoughts swirled as you prepared to finish the photoshoot. Rafe’s voice still rang in your eyes. Dinner at La Belle? You weren’t sure why he frustrated you so much—you weren’t like this. Being optimistic and smiley was your trademark, it was who you were, but whenever Rafe was mentioned or around he made you snappy and full of attitude… and you didn’t know why. 

Hours passed in a blur of flashing cameras and outfit changes, and soon enough, it was nearing 7:30. Maya, your stylist, was packing up the last of your things when she gave you a look. “You better get going if you’re gonna make that date.”

“You’re right,” you muttered, checking your phone for the first time in hours. “Oh my God! I have 30 minutes—I gotta go bye, Maya.”

“Bye, girl,” she laughed and waved. “I hope you get dicked—”

“Lalalalala,” you screamed and ran away.

You slipped into your black trench coat and hopped in the car. You texted Rafe.

You: “I might be late. I’m sorry.”

Rafe: “What happened?”

You: “Shooting went overtime.”

Rafe: “Okay.”

You: “You should’ve picked a later time.”

Rafe: “Just get here in one piece. I like my women alive.”

You rolled your eyes, like every time with him, but couldn’t help but smile at his sarcastic tone. You fished out your small makeup bag and quickly powdered your face, adding concealer, mascara, blush, eyeliner, and lipstick. Now, you were one step ahead—ready to slip into an outfit as soon as you got home.

The car pulled up to your apartment, and you rushed into your apartment, your heart raced. You threw open your closet, eyeing the racks of beautiful dresses, each one tempting. 

You finally chose an elegant, sleek black dress that hugged your curves flawlessly, the smooth fabric flowing over your body with a low, scooped neckline. The rich black material shimmered under the light, emphasizing your figure with every movement. In a rush, you worked mousse through your hair, then applied a smoky eye that intensified your gaze, blending shades of charcoal and bronze. The look was bold, and perfectly matched the confidence you were determined to exude tonight.

Your phone buzzed.

Rafe: “You taking too long. I’m coming up.”

A series of sharp knocks echoed through your apartment, almost making you drop your phone. You whipped your head towards the door, quickly adjusting the strap of your dress as you glanced at the clock. 8:20—fuck!

“Give me a minute!” you shouted, frantically slipping on your heels. Your heart raced as you grabbed your earrings, juggling them in your hand while heading towards the door.

When you swung it open, Rafe stood on the other side, leaning casually against the doorframe, wearing that smirk that could only belong to him. His eyes immediately swept over your figure, starting at your legs, up to your waist, your exposed breasts, and finally your face. His gaze lingered, and though he didn’t say anything, the heat in his stare would’ve given you chills down your spine.

You didn’t notice. You were too busy hesitating on what to do with your hair.

“I am not ready yet,” you groaned, stepping aside to let him in. “I got home late, and I haven’t even had time to—ugh. I knew shooting was taking some time but I didn’t think it’d be this much. I’m sorry for making you wait. I swear I’m not usually like this—I hate being late.” You didn’t pause for a breath, just rambled on as you tossed the earrings on the coffee table and made a beeline for your room.

Rafe closed the door behind him, but his attention was fixed on you. He watched as you moved, the dress hugging your ass perfectly, accentuating your hurried movements. The sight of you—flustered, elegant, and completely unaware of his gaze—only deepened the smirk on his face.

“Nice place,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His gaze followed you down the hallway, where your bedroom was slightly ajar.

Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped through the threshold and followed you inside, finding you in your room—which was the perfect picture of chaos. Clothes were draped over the bed, shoes tossed in random covers, and a vanity table cluttered with makeup. It was the kind of organized mess that only you could make sense of.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching as you rifled through your vanity drawer for something. His eyes swept over the pastel-colored blankets and the flowery décor, stark contrasts to the girl who had been all sass and attitude with him up until now.

But he liked that. It turned him on, for some reason.

“I didn’t take you for the ‘pink floral everything’ type,” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You shot him a glance through the mirror, briefly pausing from rummaging through your drawer. “And I didn’t take you for the ‘nosy guest who barges into rooms uninvited’ type,” you quipped, raising an eyebrow back at him. Your fingers grazed over a tube of lipstick, which you quickly uncapped and re-applied.

Rafe’s smirk only widened. “What can I say? I’m a man full of surprises.”

“Yeah, well, try surprising me by sitting quietly on my bed like a normal person,” you shot back, giving your lips one final press together before throwing the lipstick into the pile of clutter on your vanity.

Rafe made a show of glancing around your room. “I think ‘normal’ left the building when I saw this,” he said, gesturing to the soft pink pillows and floral patterns that clashed with the image you projected. “Didn’t peg you for the type to have a room that looks like a rom-com set.”

You turned, finally facing him fully, one hand on your hip. “Oh, look, a creep overanalyzing a girl’s bedroom.”

Rafe chuckled. “Just making an observation. It’s cute. A little... princessy for someone who tries to pretend she’s all tough, but hey, I can roll with it.”

You tried to fight the smile threatening to creep up. “First of all, I am tough. Secondly, I like pink, sue me.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said with a wink, his voice dropping a little lower. “You look good in pink.”

You scoffed and turned back to the mirror, fiddling with your dress. “You’re insane.”

Rafe just grinned, watching you trying so hard to look occupied, clearly flustered. “Probably, but I think you like that,” he said, his tone teasing. He stepped closer, now standing right behind you. His presence was warm, and his gaze never left your reflection.

You met his eyes in the mirror, your hands faltering with your hair as his intense gaze locked onto yours. The air between you thickened just a little, but you weren’t about to give in to his charm. “I don’t like anything that involves you, Cameron,” you said, but the words lacked the bite you intended.

He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I don’t believe you.”

The heat of his breath on your neck made your skin tingle, and for a brief second, you forgot what you were supposed to be doing. But then you snapped out of it, stepping away to grab your perfume from the vanity. “Well, believe this: we’re leaving in five minutes, and I still need to finish getting ready,” you said, your voice firm, though your cheeks betrayed you with a faint flush.

Rafe raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you finish...”

As you spritzed the perfume, you caught him eyeing you again, his gaze lingering on your tits. You couldn’t help but shake your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Eyes up here, Rafe.”

He shrugged, shameless as ever. “Can’t blame a guy for appreciating the view.” He paused for a beat, then added, “Besides, in five minutes, you’ll be mine for the night.”

You threw him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Creepy... This is just for show, remember?”

Rafe nodded, and as you finally slipped on your coat, he followed you toward the door, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, there was no hiding the smile. “Yup! Ready, Cameron.”

Rafe’s hand wrapped around your wrist just as you reached for the door, his touch firm but gentle enough to send a flicker of electricity up your arm. You turned, brow furrowed.

“What now?” you sighed, trying to sound annoyed.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “You know what? I think we should practice.”

You blinked, trying to read his expression. “Practice?”

His gaze dipped to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “Yeah, practice… For when we’re in public,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, almost daring you to look away. “When we’re kissing… we wouldn’t want our kisses to look unconvincing, mmh?”

A laugh bubbled out of you, partly from surprise and partly to keep yourself from being completely thrown off by the heat in his stare. “You’re kidding.”

He raised an eyebrow, inching closer, the space between you shrinking until the scent of his cologne mixed with the tension already thick in the air. “Am I?” His voice was smooth, dripping with amusement, but beneath it, there was something else. Something far more dangerous.

Your breath hitched as you took a step back, your body colliding with the door. “You’re serious...”

Rafe’s smirk widened, but this time it was laced with something primal. “Yeah,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were just a whisper away from yours. “You look so fucking good tonight, sweetheart.”

Your pulse raced, and for a split second, you considered pushing him away, but your body betrayed you. You stayed there, frozen in the moment, trapped by the intensity in his gaze, the closeness of his body.

Before you could even form a reply, he closed the distance, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t the playful, teasing peck you were expecting—it was deep, his hand sliding to the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was full of fire and heat, a simmering tension that had been building between the two of you since the moment you met.

Your mind went blank, the world outside disappearing as your lips moved against his, as though you had been kissing him forever. His fingers tightened on your waist, and a low moan escaped from the back of your throat, sending a wave of warmth through your entire body.

When you finally broke apart, your chest was heaving, and you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. You stared at him, wide-eyed, struggling to catch your breath. Rafe’s blue eyes were dark, his smile gone, replaced by a hungry look that made your stomach twist in knots.

“That was...” you trailed off, trying to find the right word. But nothing seemed to fit.

Rafe’s thumb brushed over your lower lip, wiping away some of your smeared lipstick. “For practice,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “You know… just in case.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, but your brain finally caught up. “Uh-huh,” you mumbled, still feeling the warmth of his thumb on your lip. “Just practice.”

You tried to step away, but his hand was still on your waist, holding you there, his thumb brushing the delicate skin of your hip as if testing the boundaries between you.

“You, uh…” Your voice wavered, and you blinked, trying to find something—anything—to cut through the tension. “You’ve also got lipstick all over you.”

Rafe’s lips twitched into a grin, though his eyes remained locked on yours, full of heat. “I do?”

You nodded, taking a breath to calm your racing pulse. “Here, let me…” Without thinking, you reached up and brushed your thumb across his lips, wiping away the smear of color.

It should’ve been innocent. It should’ve been nothing.

But the moment your thumb touched his lips, Rafe’s eyes darkened even more. He caught your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently but firmly, his gaze never leaving yours. The warmth of his skin seeped into you, and the atmosphere between you both thickened, the tension pulling tighter.

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper aware of how close you were, how your bodies seemed to gravitate towards each other without you even realizing it. The way he was looking at you—like he wanted to devour you—it made you feel dizzy.

His voice was a low rasp when he finally spoke. “You’re killing me here.”

Your breath hitched at the huskiness in his tone, your stomach twisting with nerves and something else entirely. You tried to laugh it off, to shake the moment. “It’s just lipstick, Rafe.”

His thumb brushed over your pulse, the simplest touch sending sparks down your spine. “It’s not the lipstick,” he murmured, his eyes flicking back to your lips.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperate to break the tension before you did something you’d regret. “You’re all cleaned up now, Romeo. We should go,” you said, your voice shaky but determined.

Rafe’s hand lingered a moment longer on your wrist, his gaze searching yours, as if considering whether or not to push further. But then he dropped your hand, stepping back with a slow, devilish grin. “Yeah,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “We should.”

You turned toward the door, your heart still racing as you tried to pull yourself together. But even as you reached for the handle, you felt his presence right behind you, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck, sending a shiver through your body.

“I like the dress, by the way,” his tone lighter now but still tinged with the lingering tension.

You glanced back at him. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes glinting as he opened the door for you. You stepped out into the hallway, your head still spinning from the kiss, from the way he looked at you, from everything. 

He followed closely behind, his presence lingering in the space around like shadows. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you stepped inside.

“That’s a nice place you’ve got, by the way,” he remarked, his tone casual.

You glanced at him sideways, unwilling to give him more than a passing look. “Thanks, but I’m sure you say that to all the girls you visit uninvited.”

He smiled. “Only the ones I’m marrying.”

“Look at me swooning,” you rolled your eyes as the elevator began its descent, the silence between you settling into something almost comfortable.

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out quickly, determined to put some space between you and him. But even as you reached the front entrance of your building, Rafe was right behind you, his hand lightly brushing against your back as he guided you toward the black car waiting at the curb.

“Such a gentleman,” you whispered sarcastically.

“I try,” he shot back, opening the car door for you. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he added, “Besides, it’s part of my job as your husband to be a gentleman towards you, right?”

You slid into the car, crossing your legs as you settled into the plush leather seat. “We’re not married yet, you do know that, right?”

“But we will be, so what’s the difference?” he said, slipping into the seat next to you. His arm stretched out along the back of the seat, brushing against your shoulder.

“Well, there’s a big difference actually…” you whispered more to yourself, smoothing down your dress as you glanced out the window, trying to ignore the way his proximity made your pulse quicken.

As the car pulled away from the curb, silence filled the space between you. You weren’t sure if it was the lingering effects of the kiss or the fact that Rafe was sitting so close, but the air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.

“So, we’re going to La Belle, huh?” you asked, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, you ever been there before?”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “The five-star restaurant in New York City where all the celebs go to get photographed? Of course, I’ve been there.”

Rafe grinned. “Perfect spot for our big debut, don’t you think?”

“You did your big one, bravo!” you nodded with a smile.

The car pulled to a stop outside of the restaurant, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of the flashing lights. Paparazzi filled the sidewalk, their cameras already trained on the car. You took a steadying breath, feeling Rafe’s eyes on you.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and something else—concern, maybe.

You let a truthful smile spread across your lips as you met his gaze. “Fuck yeah!”

He laughed, and for a moment, you felt his hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of reassurance. The car door opened, and before you could second-guess anything, you felt yourself being gently tugged out into the swirl of flashing cameras, Rafe’s hand warm and steady around yours.

“Rafe! Y/N! Over here!”

“Look this way!”

“Is she your new girlfriend?”

Questions flew around, shouted from all the angles as you made your way toward the entrance. You kept your chin up, smile fixed, the years of modeling training kicking in to keep your expression calm and collected. Meanwhile, Rafe had his arm draped around your waist, his casual confidence almost comforting.

Inside the restaurant, the lighting was dim, intimate—a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The maître led you to a private table in the back corner, and as you slid into your seat, the reality of the situation settled back in.

“I felt like I almost died out there,” you said with a laugh as you glanced at the menu.

“I thought that was fun,” he said, picking up his own menu. “them thinking you’re my girlfriend when you’re about to become my wi—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, a familiar broke through his voice. “Oh, what a surprise, Y/N.”

You froze, looking up to see none other than Alina Ivanov, her polished smile almost too bright as she approached your table. Dressed in a sleek, form-fitting red dress and with her hair swept back in a low chignon, she looked like she belonged here. And, as always, her appearance felt like a subtle reminder of the rivalry she’d always tried to stir between you.

“Alina,” you said, keeping your voice polite but cool. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered between you two, sensing the tension immediately. “Friend of yours?”

Alina flashed him a charming smile before turning back to you, her expression a picture of innocence. “We’re worked together a few times,” she said, not missing a beat. “I was just so surprised to see you here. It’s not every day you bring a date to places like this… or just bring dates, period.”

You kept your smile polite, though your jaw was tight. “Unlike you, am I right?”

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment too long before shifting back to Rafe. “And who might you be?”

“Rafe Cameron,” he said, his tone smooth but his gaze sharp.

“I was joking. I know who you are, silly,” Alina said, chuckling softly. “My brothers are huge fans of yours. Always telling me how you’re the one to watch on the court.”

He offered a polite nod. “Glad to hear it.”

There was a beat of silence before Alina leaned in, her eyes glinting as she looked back at you. “So, Y/N, how’s everything going with… your work?” Her tone was light, casual, but the question felt like a dig.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Busy as ever.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” she replied, her smile widening. “Things have been so competitive lately. But I’m sure you’re managing.” She tilted her head, her expression turning almost pitying. “Just let me know if you need any tips on balancing everything. We know what happened the last time that you were too stressed.”

For the first time in a long while, she left you speechless. Words hung on your lips, but nothing came out. A slight tremor shook your body as memories flooded back. Alina mentioning that moment…it was like a punch to the gut. You’d convinced yourself everyone had forgotten, buried it in the past. But of course, she hadn’t. How could she? It was the most humiliating, traumatizing experience of your career.

Rafe noticed the shift immediately. He always looked forward to your sharp retorts, the way you never missed a beat with your quick-witted comebacks. But now? He saw something different—a rawness, a vulnerability he hadn’t seen in you before. His chest tightened, a protective instinct flaring up, urging him to shield you from the wound Alina had reopened. He didn’t know what she meant, didn’t need to know. Your face told him everything.

Before Alina could twist the knife any deeper, Rafe stepped in, his voice low but steady, the edge unmistakable.

"Seems like she’s been doing just fine on her own," he cut in, his gaze hardening. "Haven't you seen her work lately?"

His tone was firm, no hint of the usual lightness. He didn’t look at you—he didn’t need to—but you could feel the solidarity in his words, a silent reassurance that said, I’ve got you.

Alina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, brushing off his words with a delicate laugh. “Yeah, of course! I mean, I’d be hard-pressed to miss it with her face practically everywhere.” She turned to you, her gaze sharpening just a fraction. “Lucky for you, the timing’s been in your favor, huh?”

You clenched your teeth, trying to stop the trembles in your body. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Her smile stretched a little too wide as she inclined her head. “Oh, I totally get it, babe. Well, enjoy your night, you two.” She cast a lingering, almost possessive look at Rafe, her gaze dragging over him as though he were something she intended to claim. “And, Rafe, it was lovely meeting you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.”

Without missing a beat, Rafe’s gaze stayed anchored on you as he replied, “Doubt it.”

Alina’s expression faltered, again, before she flashed a final smile and melted back into the crowd, her perfume leaving a sickly-sweet trace in her wake. The silence that followed felt dense, almost stifling, and you could still feel the sting of her words hanging in the air like smoke. You exhaled, trying to let go of the tension that had coiled in your shoulders.

Rafe’s gaze shifted, catching yours with an intensity that softened as he studied your face. “She’s... really friendly, isn’t she?” he said with a dry chuckle.

You let out a scoff, unable to resist. “That’s one way to put it.”

Rafe smirked, his eyebrows lifting. “She always this nice?”

“Only when there’s an audience.”

Rafe’s expression shifted, his humor fading into something more thoughtful. He leaned forward, just close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne, and his eyes softened as they searched yours. “If she ever gives you trouble, you let me know. I’ve got no problem shutting her up.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected note of protectiveness in his voice. The way he looked at you was something new, something unfamiliar—and it stirred something you hadn’t anticipated. “Thanks, Cameron, but I can handle the Russian princess.”

“I know you can,” he replied, his voice low, every word rich with unspoken promise. “But you’ve got a husband now to help you with these… things”

His words hung in the air, sparking a warmth in your chest that surprised you. This side of him—serious, protective, and entirely focused on you—was so different from the cocky charm he usually wore like armor. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the quiet charge humming between your gazes.

A server approached, breaking the lingering silence as they took your orders. Once they left, quiet settled between you and Rafe again, pressing down as the sounds of clinking silverware and murmured conversations filled the space around you. For a moment, you let yourself tune into the chatter of the other tables, realizing how strange it was to be here with someone you hardly knew. Sure, you knew what the media had to say about Rafe Cameron—most people did. 

You thought back to what you actually knew about him. He was 25, a talented star on an NBA team, with a cocky smile. The media painted him as the consummate playboy, a regular at exclusive clubs, and someone who, judging by the number of girls he was photographed kissing, had perfected the art of fleeting connections. And yes, the tabloids had mentioned his dreamy abs.

It was a curious thought: this man across from you was, somehow, your future husband. Yet, aside from the stories, the rumors, and those dark blue eyes that sparked whenever he looked your way, what else did you know about him? You felt a pang of embarrassment.

Maybe it was because of the arrangement, maybe it was the fleeting glances across magazine covers and sports sites, but all you truly knew about Rafe Cameron could barely fill a sentence.

Finally, you couldn’t help it, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table as you studied him. He looked too comfortable, too at ease, like he belonged here. He was the perfect enigma: superstar athlete and notorious heartbreaker, with eyes that seemed to hold every secret and none at all.

“So, um, Rafe, what do you know about me?”

He stilled, his easygoing expression faltering for a second. You’d caught him off guard. “What do I know about you?” his fingers wrapped around the glass, as he searched for your face. “I mean, I know what people say. What I’ve seen.”

You tilted your head, waiting. “Which is?”

“That you’re the golden girl, flawless. Beautiful and nice, sure, but… it’s more than that,” his eyes traced your face, almost tender, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “People can’t help but be in awe of you.”

A quiet breath escaped you, surprised by the way his words lingered, settling like an unexpected weight in your chest. Awe of you—it wasn’t something anyone had ever said to your face, and it sounded both charming and absurd coming from him. But something about the way he said it made you pause. You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if, perhaps, he actually meant it.

“So, I’m a tabloid fantasy, then?” you teased softly, trying to keep the edge of doubt in your voice.

He chuckled, but his gaze remained steady, as if searching for something hidden beneath your smile. “No, you’re more than that,” he murmured. “You’re the woman everyone wants to know, but it seems like nobody really does. Even some of my teammates can’t stop talking about you… some of them are practically in love with you. They think you’re beautiful and—”

“And would you agree?” you prompted, you didn’t why you asked. You didn’t care what he thought of you.

He hesitated, his eyes tracing over your features in a way that felt too intimate for someone you’d barely spent any time with. “You're not bad, but if you toned down the attitude and that smart mouth of yours, I might just find you beautiful.” You laughed and playfully flipped him off, earning a chuckle from him. But then his expression shifted, and he grew serious again. “But you’re nice, that’s what I wanted to say. Like, actually nice. Not the superficial stuff everyone says to stay in the good graces of the media… probably like that Alina girl who definitely pretends to be nice.”

You scoffed, but your heart betrayed you, thudding a little faster under his gaze. “Nice? You think I’m nice?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. His eyes moved slowly over your face, as if trying to peek back a layer, to see the person beneath the perfect photos and poised interviews. “You… you’ve got more edge than what people think, but still nice, you know.”

His confidence was intoxicating, an irresistible blend of cockiness and charm that made it nearly impossible to ignore the urge to close the distance between you and kiss him senseless. Tonight, he looked ridiculously good—his light yellow dress shirt with a crisp white collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms in a way that only made you rub your thighs together. The way his black trousers hugged his figure and the subtle shine of his shine only added to the magnetic pull drawing you towards him.

A quiet stretched between you, heavy with unspoken tension, his words lingering in the air. He leaned back just enough, his guarded expression softened by the way his gaze stayed on you. “But what about you?” he asked, voice low and smooth. “What do you know about me, baby?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, watching him with newfound curiosity. “Honestly? Not much,” you admitted. “I know you’re 25, a famous basketball star,” you narrowed your eyes, watching the way his intense gaze never wavered from you. “You’re cocky—maybe a bit too cocky sometimes—and you love pushing people’s buttons. Especially mine. You probably like it, though, huh? Seeing how we'll react.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Go on…”

“And you’re a bit of a party animal. From all the photos out there, it seems like you’ve got a new girl on your arm every week. But despite that, you’re fiercely dedicated to your sport—and you’re damn good at it. The media practically worships every move you make on the court. That’s all I have on you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of intrigue in his eyes as he leaned in, again. “And what’s your conclusion?” he asked, voice lower, as if this moment was just for the two of you.

“Not much,” you replied with a slight shrug. “I don’t know anything about you, Rafe—only the version everyone else sees.”

He breathed out slowly, his expression softening as he thought about your words. “So, we’re both just media fantasies,” he said, voice a quiet murmur. His fingers brushed against yours, the contact so subtle yet electric, igniting warmth that raced up your arm and made your heart pound a little faster.

“Maybe we are…” you replied softly, glancing down at his hand resting near yours on the table, close enough to close the gap between you. “But I guess if we’re planning on getting married and all, we should probably learn a bit more about each other, don’t you think?”

“Right.” His gaze softened, and a playful gleam flickered in his eyes. “So, what do you want to know?”

You tilted your head, unable to keep the teasing edge from your voice. “Honestly? If it were up to me, I’d probably prefer not to know a thing about you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t believe no one ever warned me about that smart mouth of yours. Haven’t seen a single headline on it.”

A smirk spread across your lips. “I’m saving it for my husband,” you replied sweetly, watching his expression shift, a spark of something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

“Future husband,” he corrected with a soft smile, as if savoring the words.

“Future husband, that’s right,” you nodded. “So… I guess since we’re supposed to be newly dating, we should start with the basics, right? You know, things like your favorite color, your favorite movie…”

"That makes sense. So, my favorite color’s green, but not just any green—I’m talking deep green, like the kind you see in plants," he rambled. "And I guess my favorite movie’s probably ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’—"

"Oh, my God! Liking that movie is such a douchey choice," you teased, and he laughed along.

"Alright, then—what's your favorite movie, Miss Judgey McJudgerson?"

"I'm not judging—" he shot you a look and you sighed, nodding in surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe I judged a little. But can you blame me? Anyway," you continued, a spark of excitement in your tone, "a movie I can watch on repeat? ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’. And don't even think about making fun of it, because it’s honestly a masterpiece."

He tilted his head, feigning offense. "Oh, so ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ isn’t a masterpiece? Is that what you're saying?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you leaned back. "Look, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying all the jerks are obsessed with that movie."

His smirk grew, eyes glinting with challenge. "The jerks, huh?" His brows raised, his gaze holding yours. "So, I’m a jerk?"

You shrugged with a mischievous smile. "If the shoe fits."

“So,” he said, “you’re telling me my taste in movies is a red flag?”

You smirked, meeting his gaze. “I mean, ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ is practically a requirement for men with commitment issues. It’s the kind of movie someone watches to feel cool, you know?”

“Ouch.” He raised his glass, looking amused. “So what does ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’ say about you? That you’re a sucker for impossible relationships and grand romantic gestures?”

You feigned sigh, taking the glass of wine in your hands. “Maybe. Or maybe it just says I have taste,” you glanced at him over the rim of your glass, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Enough on how shitty my taste in movies is,” he moved his hands dismissively. “Let’s focus on whether the ‘golden girl’ is a hopeless romantic. Are you?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Your husband’s asking.”

You held yourself back from correcting him, and just scoffed. “I wouldn’t go that far. I just have a soft spot for movies with good storytelling, good humor, and good looking white boys.”

“You know, I might actually have a soft side for sappy movies too,” he shot back, his smile widening.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Right, and I’m the fucking queen of England.”

“What? Why? I could like them, you know.”

“Rafe, I bet you’d hate anything with a happy ending—”

“Holy shit! Rafe! My fucking dude on a date?”

The moment shattered as a voice cut through the air, loud and incredulous. Both of you turned your heads to see a tall blond guy wavering through tables with a grin as wide as the room itself.

“Topper,” Rafe muttered with a sigh and a look that bordered on agony.

“Rafe, my guy!” Topper laughed, eyes flickering between the two of you in delight. “I cannot believe my eyes. You—on a date? And with her?” He gestured to you, his excitement barely contained. “No offense, beautiful, but I thought Rafe’s only serious relationship was with basketball. You’re like a mythical creature right now.”

You fought back a laugh as Rafe shot Topper a glare, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“Top,” he sighed, “aren’t you supposed to be somewhere? Literally anywhere else?”

“Oh, hell no. This is a one-in-a-million chance. Besides, I have to see this through. Rafe Cameron actually out with a woman he didn’t meet at a club? Man, this is incredible.”

Rafe pressed his fingers to his temples, visibly restraining himself from shoving his teammate out. “I swear, I’m this close to throwing you out of here.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Topper said, clapping him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Don’t be like that! I mean, I thought you were incapable of going on a real date, and here you are, actually acting all gentlemanly.” He glanced at you with a grin. “So, what’s it like dating Rafe? Has he tried any of his classic lines yet?”

You shrugged with a grin of your own. “If by classic lines, you mean being generally annoying? Then yes.”

Rafe raised his eyebrow, feigning offense. “Annoying? Really?”

“Am I wrong?” You met his gaze head-on, smirking. “Every time you speak, you’re trying to get under my skin—”

“Because I want to see what that smart mouth of yours will say back to me.”

Topper laughed, completely entertained, while you just shook your head, trying not to laugh. “So, I was right. You love riling people up just to see their reactions.”

He shook his head, eyes glinting. “Not people, sweetheart. Just you.”

Your cheeks warmed despite yourself, caught off guard by his focus. You quickly recovered, scoffing, “Oh, and that’s my cue to swoon, right?”

Rafe leaned back, his smirk victorious. “Whatever works.”

Topper threw his head back, laughing, as if he’d just won the best seat at the theater. “Oh, this is good. You guys… yeah, I’m getting popcorn next time.”

Rafe gave his friend one last pointed look, his eyes practically daring his friend to stick around. “I’m serious, Top. I’m here on an actual date, so if you want to keep your teeth intact, I’d suggest moving along.”

Topper raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning ear-to-ear. “Alrighty. But I’ve gotta say, I never thought I’d see the day you’d settle down—especially with someone who can actually keep you in line,” he gave you a wink. “Good luck, beautiful. You’ll need it with this one.”

With a final smile and a nod to you, Topper sauntered away, glancing back with an amused shake of his head as he left.

Rafe turned back to you, letting out an exasperated breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about him. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

You grinned. “Seems like he knows you pretty well, though. I’m actually surprised he didn’t say more.”

“Top’s just not used to seeing me on a date, that’s all. He’s right, though… this isn’t my usual scene,” his eyes traced over your face, lingering on the way you smiled. “But I’m getting married, so I gotta get used to it.”

The server returned with your orders, interrupting the moment. Rafe took a bite of his food and you did the same, each of you eating in a silence as the tension between you grew stronger. Finally, he spoke.

“So, back to this hopeless romantic thing you swear you’re not,” he began, his voice light but his gaze steady. “You say you’re not, but you can’t stop watching ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’. Are you telling me you don’t want some big, dramatic love story? A guy standing in the rain, begging for a second chance?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, though his question struck a nerve. “I mean… who wouldn’t want that? But not everyone’s looking for a grand gesture. Some of us just want someone real.”

A flicker of something flashed in his eyes. “Real, huh? So you’re looking for real?”

“Of course. That’s all anyone really wants, right?” You felt vulnerable, caught off guard by his interest in something deeper. “But real is hard to come by… especially when you’re both in the spotlight.”

Rafe’s smirk faded, and for a moment, he looked down, almost as if he were weighing your words. When he looked back up, his expression was softer, thoughtful in a way that felt almost too intimate for a first date. “Maybe that’s something we have in common then.”

Surprised, you blinked, watching as he traced the rim of his glass absently. You hadn’t expected him to say that. The Rafe you knew from headlines and public appearances was never the reflective type. And yet, here he was, letting down his guard, even if just a tiny bit.

“So, the basketball star has a soft side?” you teased, unable to resist breaking the tension. “Who would’ve guessed?”

His lips curved into a grin, smoldering. “Don’t go spreading that around. Gotta keep some mystery.”

You both continued eating in a comfortable rhythm, making light conversation about inconsequential things—places you’d been, places you still wanted to see. Each laugh that slipped out came a little easier, every smile more relaxed as you both unwound.

As the last plates were cleared and Rafe paid, you glanced over his shoulder and noticed a familiar face in the back of the restaurant. Alina Ivanov, was seated at a nearby table, staring at you both with a smirk that sent a chill down your spine. Instinctively, you looked away, pulse spiking with a mixture of irritation and unease. It felt as though you were being watched through a magnifying glass, judged, evaluated, and silently torn apart.

Rafe’s gaze followed yours, and his hand found the small of your back as he leaned in. “Don’t mind her. Let’s get out of here,” he said quietly, his voice a reassuring warmth in the sudden chill. He guided you to the door, ignoring Alina’s gaze as he led you out into the cool night air.

Outside, the city hummed around you, and Rafe’s hand lingered at your back, grounding you. The air was a welcome relief, a quiet reprieve from the intensity of the restaurant. When you reached his car, he opened the door for you, his gaze lingering on you with an unreadable intensity before he rounded the car to the driver’s side. It was a small gesture, yet oddly grounding, as if he knew exactly when to offer support without crowding you.

(The chauffeur left and let them the car.)

The car ride was a soft blur of city lights, fading into a serene silence. You leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass against your skin as you stared at the passing streets, bright with shop lights and late-night wanderers. But your mind wandered far from New York.

You thought of home—your home country, the land you hadn’t seen in far too long. Your heart ached for the family you had left behind, a pain that had quietly settled within you. You hadn’t been the perfect daughter, nor the obedient child they had wanted, but you missed them, missed your siblings. You wondered what they’d think if they saw you now—would they be proud? Or would they find this new life of yours too far from the one you left behind?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the car slowing to a stop until Rafe’s voice broke the silence. “We’re here.”

Startled, you lifted your head, blinking as you recognized the familiar building. The faint neon sign from the bodega down the street cast a soft glow, painting the pavement in shades of blue and pink. You glanced at Rafe, his face softened in the gentle light, a calm patience in his expression as he looked at you.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said quietly, feeling a strange reluctance to leave the moment behind.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Anytime.” The two syllables held an unspoken promise, a rare gentleness that seemed almost out of place for him. He paused, watching you as if he wanted to say something more, but he merely gave a slight nod, lips curling in a faint smile.

You reached for the door, but his voice made you pause. “Hey.”

You turned, finding his face close, the space between you shrinking as his fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, catching you by surprise. His touch was soft, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone with an unexpected tenderness. His hand lingered, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek—a feather-light touch that sent warmth spiraling through you.

The kiss lasted just a moment, yet it was enough to make your heart race, to make you painfully aware of every point of contact. His breath fanned across your skin, and you could feel the faint scratch of stubble against your cheek. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, the usual cockiness tempered with something softer, something far more real.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, a small smile ghosting his lips.

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Goodnight, Cameron,” you managed, feeling the warmth still lingering on your cheek, the phantom sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin.

As you stepped out of the car, you looked back once more to see him watching you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips but softened by something else, something deeper you couldn’t place. You gave a small wave, trying not to overthink the moment as he pulled away, leaving you standing in the quiet night, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your skin.

chapter four

[evilrwbyfan]

does anyone else just like. not think tai actually had a romantic relationship with either summer or raven

[thelostconsultant]

A life well lived

pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader

summary: Max has been in love with Charles's twin since they met as kids. When he finally has the chance to tell you how he feels years later, it turns out you feel the same. A wonderful life is ahead of the two of you, and Max couldn't love you and your son more.

note: 9k words + sm posts. I love them so much, I can barely put it into words. I hope you'll like this.

Whenever he was on the track, Max was competitive, and he didn’t lack the confidence he needed to win races. But he wasn’t the only one, Charles was equally good, and he also had everything a great driver needed to succeed. So the two of them naturally became rivals, the greatest of their generation, and despite their hate towards each other, Max couldn’t help but respect him deep down. 

Throughout the years, he got to learn everything about him on and off the track, so he knew about his siblings. And he was painfully aware of his twin sister being there with him at every race, the sweet, lively girl who always had a bright smile on her face as she talked to her relatives. Every single time he laid his eyes on you, he wished he was the one you were talking to, he wished you would finally say more than just a brief hello or goodbye. 

Whenever he did well in the race, Max liked to think your smiles and cheers were meant for him alone. They were always meant for your brother though, he knew that, but his stupid teenage brain assumed the fact you briefly glanced at him while smiling meant you would get married one day. That you were madly in love with him too, that you were yearning for his company just as much as he was. 

If it was up to him, he would have talked to you. He wanted to learn more about you, he wanted to be near you, he wanted to experience the innocent love only a teenager could feel, but how could he do that under his father's strict control? He couldn't even play football on the weekends, how could he have a girlfriend? And then there was Charles who was already giving him death glares whenever they met, if he found out Max had a thing for his sister, who knows what he would have done. It was better not to risk a possible fist fight it would end with.

So he was destined to watch you from afar, letting his imagination run wild to cope with the pain he felt for not being able to talk to you. In his mind you were sitting next to him on top of a large crate, asking various questions to pass the time, giggling and feet dangling as you listened to him. His brain fed him with the image of you running up to him to hug him after the race, your bright smile being a much better prize than the trophy he had left on the ground.

And then he and Charles ended up in different series, meaning you weren’t there at his races anymore. His race weekends became much colder and emptier, he decided to focus solely on racing, pushing every single thought related to you to the back of his mind. He kept an eye on his rival, of course, he needed to know how he performed, if he was still good enough to one day catch up to him. He also wanted to know if you were still following him around like a shadow, if you still stood next to him on countless photos that he would later share on social media. He just wanted to see you, to know you were okay. 

His mother was the only one who figured out he had a little crush on you. She noticed him staring at photos of you, and she was kind enough to start a conversation about you, giving him the chance to finally give someone a speech about how special you were to him, how nice you were to everyone, how pretty you were, and how much he wished he could talk to you. He didn’t even know why he told her everything without feeling embarrassed, but maybe he was just grateful to have the opportunity to get it off his chest after all those years. His mother told him to find you on social media and send you a message, after all that’s what those were made for. 

But he didn’t do it. His confidence was usually nowhere to be found when it came to you, and even now all he could think about was making a fool of himself. What if you said no? What if you told your brother and he would reappear in his life to give him hell for making a move on you? He didn’t want to risk that, so he just returned to watching you from afar. Sad and lonely, with the kind of pain in his heart that couldn’t be healed so easily. 

When he made it into F1, Max had a new challenge to face, and his head was always in the races, this cutthroat world forcing him to focus more than ever before. He knew it was only a matter of time before your brother debuted in the series as well, he just had to be patient and wait for it to happen, and once it did, you would be back in his life. So he waited and pushed himself, eventually winning his first race, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you saw him, if you were proud of him. 

But then one day he noticed that you suddenly disappeared from social media, all of your accounts were deleted, and he began to panic. Seeing your posts–even though he didn’t follow you–was always the highlight of his day, so what was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to know what was happening in your life? And to make things worse, you were studying abroad, he didn’t have the chance to accidentally bump into you on the streets of Monaco. 

And then it happened. Charles finally caught up with him and joined F1. Max couldn’t have been happier. For one, he finally got his rival back, even a rush of adrenaline flowed through his veins at the thought of continuing their competition, and two, you would surely be back in the paddock. Maybe not at every race, but you would without doubt show up every now and then. So he began to count back the days to the first race of that season, having a feeling that you would not miss it, and then he spent the remaining time checking your family’s social media accounts to see if they shared any new photos of you.

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 245,175 others

charles_leclerc: I want to say thank you to my team and my family for the support. It was a great first race with a decent result. I missed my baby sister though, she used to be my lucky charm.

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

arthur_leclerc: Not bad.

pascale.leclerc.355: I'm so proud of you!

yourusername: What baby? I'm literally half an hour younger. That's not the baby category, you muppet.

⤷ charles_leclerc: You're a baby to me.

⤷ arthur_leclerc: You kinda are.

⤷ yourusername: Shut up, fetus.

⤷ charles_leclerc: And muppet? You spend too much time in London. Come back home.

⤷ yourusername: No.

You were back on Instagram apparently, and he had never tapped on a link faster before. His heart was racing from the excitement, expecting to see a bunch of photos of you, ones he hadn’t seen before, but to his disappointment, it was private. He couldn’t send you a request, he didn’t want you to know he was interested in your posts, and it was killing Max, because he was suffering from withdrawal symptoms by now. With your brother being back, he felt like that stupid kid again, which despite your absence came with the crushing feeling of a one-sided love he’d been suffering from for all those years.

Time passed, and he was just waiting and waiting, hoping one day you would show up, but you didn’t. There were posts on your family’s accounts, and you were glowing on every single photo, apparently having a happy life in London. He wondered if you were in a relationship. Did you have a special someone waiting for you? The thought of you being taken was devastating, because in his mind you were his, he truly believed that you were destined to be together.

[Nice to meet you, where you been?]

2023. He had to wait until the 2023 Azerbaijan Grand Prix to finally have you at a race. 

It all started with a burner account he created years ago to keep an eye on the posts from your family and other people connected to them. Just to see if they had any new content about you without the risk of accidentally liking a photo with his real account. It’s not stalking. It’s not bad. Well, not that bad. So that day he checked the posts in the morning while he got ready to leave, and he saw a post from Alexandra that the two of you were having breakfast together before heading out to the track to see your brother. 

His stomach did a flip, his heart rate jumped, and he suddenly felt like throwing up from the anxiety. He had always imagined this day would be easy. He catches you in the paddock, just “accidentally” bumping into you, greets you with a big, friendly smile with a short comment about how long it’s been, and he tells you how proud you must be of your brother. And then maybe they would have to talk about Charles for a while, but once you eased into the conversation, he could start to shift the conversation to you. How are you? Why haven’t you been to his races? Are you seeing anyone? If not, would you like to have dinner with him? 

But now that it was time to actually do this, he felt sick from the thought. He couldn’t do it, he didn’t feel confident enough to talk to you. It felt like he had traveled back in time, turning into a nervous, awkward kid again. How stupid did he have to be to assume you would be interested? Sure, he and Charles didn’t hate each other on a cellular level these days, they could tolerate each other, but they were still each other’s biggest rivals, so why would you be with him? 

Since it was sprint day, Max decided to focus on his job, but when he caught a glimpse of you as you celebrated your brother’s sprint qualifying win, he knew it was a futile attempt. You didn’t even look at him, even though he watched you for a few seconds with a stupid smile on his face and went over to congratulate Charles, which resulted in a kicked puppy feeling. The sprint race wasn’t any better, his head wasn’t really in it, but at least he could see you again. But then, just as he once again watched you with a smile, your eyes locked with his and you smiled back. Unlike back in the day, now he was sure this smile was meant for him. 

He got drunk on this lovely feeling, and as pathetic as it probably was, he found himself lingering around the Ferrari motorhome after the interviews and the debrief. There would be photos and rumors, he was aware of that, but he had to see you. He had to give himself the chance to say hello, to see if you were also interested, if you were willing to talk to him. Deep down he hoped you would be looking at him starry-eyed, giggling like you used to, your bubbly personality coming to the surface as you talked. 

Then he saw you step out on your own, looking around hesitantly as you probably tried to figure out where to go. You looked lost, but Max was more than happy to offer his services as a tour guide, so he walked over to you and stopped with a small smile on his face. “Need help?” he asked.

You turned to look at him with a surprised look, but then your features softened and you flashed the bright smile he missed so much at him. “I’m looking for the exit.”

“I can show you the way,” he offered, and he was surprised to see you quickly nod in response. As you began to walk in the right direction, Max’s brain worked in overdrive to figure out what to talk about, but in the end all he managed to come up with was a trivial question about why you were leaving on your own. 

“I came with Alex, but now she’s going back to the hotel with Charles. I figured I could take a look around the city before dinner, so I won’t wait for them,” you replied as you pushed your sunglasses up to the top of your head.

This was his best chance to ask you out, he knew that, which is why he let out a low hum with his hands behind his back as if he seriously had to think about it. “I can show you around if you’d like. And I know a really good restaurant, one that’s not the crowded fancy kind,” he said as he glanced over at you. 

He didn’t miss the way you blushed at the thought and he had to do his damn best to prevent a proud, cocky smile from appearing on his face. You clearly liked him, you were interested, what more could he wish for? After all those years here he was with you on his side, having a real conversation without your brother’s murderous looks, and on top of it all, he had the courage to ask you out on a date. Because he could tell you knew it would be a date, otherwise you wouldn’t be this shy all of a sudden.

Max came to a halt and gently put a hand on your arm to stop you. “I promise I won’t bite. Come on, just say yes,” he tried. 

“All right, let's do this.”

A wide smile appeared on his face upon hearing this. “Great. Let's get my stuff then we can leave.”

His fingers slowly slid down from your elbow to your hand so he could take it, pulling you after him as he took a sharp turn and headed to the Red Bull motorhome with you by his side. When you were finally on your way out for real, it was you who reached out for his hand, the contact making him involuntary blush. It made you both nervous, unsure of what this meant, but it still felt so natural, like you've been tied to the other by some invisible string.

The two of you spent the following hours walking around the city, with him telling you interesting details he had picked up throughout the years, and you listened to him talk with shining eyes, accompanied by a big smile that sometimes temporarily made him forget how to speak. It was new, it was exciting, and he could have sworn it was just the two of you in the city that night. His eyes always found their way to your face, taking in every little detail as if he hadn’t studied it before as a kid or on the pictures he saw on social media. 

When it was quite late, he took you back to the hotel you were staying in, but neither of you felt like saying goodbye just yet. For a minute or two you were just standing there in silence, waiting for the other to say something, to say what you both had on your mind out loud. He was the first to break under the sweet pressure, all because you nervously bit on your lower lip, a move that drew an almost animalistic growl out of him before he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss. 

You didn’t hesitate to return it, getting so lost in it that your hands moved up to his neck, gently pulling him closer as if it was even possible. He only broke the kiss to let his lips pepper small kisses across your face, using this opportunity to tell you something that had been on his mind ever since you agreed to come with him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered to you, his nose pressing against the shell of your ear. 

“A whole twelve hours?” you asked with a delicate little giggle. 

He leaned back to look you in the eye, his big palm resting on your flushed cheek as he flashed a playful smile at you. “More like twelve years,” he corrected you. Your eyes grew wide from surprise, pupils still blown, and he couldn’t help but press a kiss on the tip of your nose. “What can I say, I had a crush on my biggest rival’s sister. And I still have to this day.”

Gulping, you watched him in silence for a while, a reaction that made him worry. Did he say something wrong? He was terrified of the thought of you letting go of him and disappearing behind the entrance of the hotel, leaving him behind for good. But before he could get lost in this spiral, you kissed his chin and went, “Well, I might have had a crush on a stupid blond boy with his stupid blue eyes too. But he never talked to me and I was warned to keep a safe distance from him,” you added. 

This made him kiss you again, and this time he didn’t hold back. He couldn’t care less about standing out on the street where everyone could see him, he couldn’t worry about photos emerging of the two of you. He wanted to claim you as his, making you understand that fate brought you together again, and if he had to do this in front of your damn hotel, then he was more than happy to do it right there with an audience. 

Your safe little bubble was burst by the constant buzzing of your phone, soon followed by the ringtone, and while he wished you would just ignore it, you swore under your breath and quickly answered it. You were speaking with someone in French, upset that they were bothering you right now, but soon your expression and voice changed, mirroring the panic you probably felt, because the moment you ended the call, you began to type furiously. When he gave you an expectant look with a questioning hum, you let out a sigh and showed him the screen. 

He took the device from your hand and scrolled over some posts that could be found under his name in the tags, showing the two of you kissing just a few minutes ago. Considering your brother was tagged in a few of them, it was quite obvious that he was the one who called you, and knowing him, he was probably fuming from anger. “I’m sorry,” he said as he gave you back your phone. 

To his surprise, you just shook your head with a smile, then stood on your toes to give him a quick kiss. “Don’t be. He’ll calm down and people will move on. Also, I’m too happy to care about the fans. Screw them,” you said with a laugh. 

Yeah, screw them. As long as you could think about this so casually, he was happy. Because the last thing he wanted was you being crushed by the pressure, deciding that this relationship wasn’t worth the effort it needed to work. He was willing to do whatever it took to make it work, he was ready to make sacrifices if needed, anything to keep you by his side. He was that lovesick teenage boy again, his brain clouded by a pink fog that affected his way of thinking. Was it wise to put rationality and logic aside? Not really, but he couldn’t care at the moment. 

Not when after all those years he could finally tell you how he felt, and he could hear you say you felt the same. 

“Does this mean you’ll give me your number?” he asked with a grin, already reaching for his phone. Shaking your head, you held out your hand, then typed it in, saving it under your name that you finished with a heart emoji. “Will you come to Miami with me? Then we could travel back to Monaco together and spend some time there until the race.”

You hesitated for the first time that night, looking away nervously as you fidgeted with your bracelet. “I wish I could, but I have to work. Maybe I can go to Monaco, but I’m not sure. I’m sorry, Max,” you told him when you finally turned back to him and saw the devastated look he probably had in his eyes. 

He was so lost in his fantasy world that he failed to consider that you might have had a life back home he knew nothing about. He didn’t know what you did for work, he only knew you lived in London. At least he assumed you still did. What else did he not know? What if you had someone waiting for you back home? Panic took over at the thought of this kiss being nothing more to you than a fleeting memory in a few hours, because he didn’t want to lose you so soon, he didn’t want to be a plaything you get bored of so fast. 

Somehow you picked up on his feelings, because you gently cupped his face to make him focus on you. “I have to be in L.A. next week, I don’t know when I’ll have a little break again,” you told him, eventually flashing a sweet smile at him. “But I’ll try to make it to Monaco on time, okay? I’ll even give ourselves a few days to relax together.”

“Promise?”

You nodded before burying your face into the crook of his neck. “I promise. I should get going, but I don’t want to leave you just yet,” you mumbled against his skin. 

Max buried his fingers into your hair then grabbed a handful of it to gently pull your head back. “Get some sleep. And if you feel lonely tomorrow at the track, feel free to visit me. You’re always welcome,” he said before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Now, go before I change my mind and take you back to my hotel.”

You laughed at this, but nodded nonetheless. “Good luck for the race. I don’t want you to beat my brother, but still. Goodnight, Max.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said as he let you go. 

He stood there for a while, watching you disappear behind the entrance of the building, but once he took a deep breath to calm his heart that was still beating fast from the excitement he felt because of you, he headed back to his hotel. In the taxi he pulled out his phone and sent you a message. Then you replied, and the written conversation didn’t stop until you announced you were dead tired around one in the morning. 

You were his, he could feel it. After all those years, after all those dreams and sleepless nights, he could finally consider you to be more than just a precious memory. You were real. He could still taste you in his mouth. It felt like a dream, one he never wanted to wake up from.

In the morning, as he was heading to the track, Max received a message from his mother. All it said was, “I see you got the girl in the end.” He couldn’t hold back the big smile that wanted to creep on his face at the memory of that conversation they had all those years ago about you. After all that time, here he was, lost in the lavender haze because of you. 

During the drivers parade he didn’t miss the same old murderous looks he had received as a kid, but at least this time he knew he was safe in front of all the cameras. A part of him wanted to discuss this with Charles, but something told him it would be better if he let you do the talking. Even as kids, you had your brother wrapped around your finger, he highly doubted that had changed over the years. 

After the race he saw you congratulate your brother, but he didn’t miss the bright smile that you flashed at him. He considered walking over to you, stepping into Ferrari territory, but in the end decided not to risk it. If you came to a race as his guest, he would have the opportunity to get a tight hug from you before giving you a kiss in front of the whole world. 

They were heading to the cooldown room when Charles suddenly appeared next to him and said, “If you hurt her, I’ll launch us both into the nearest barrier the next time we meet on the track.” 

Max gulped and nodded. It was a fair warning. He was already afraid of fighting him on the track, but knowing he now had a good reason to attack him was truly terrifying. 

In the following week, the two of you talked a lot. Once you even told him that you hadn’t written a word in over an hour because of your conversation, but he still didn’t let you get back to work. He was selfish, he needed to hear your voice to function, to feel alive and know that the weekend before wasn’t some fever dream. He considered suggesting a visit to L.A. after the race to spend some time with you before you traveled back to Monaco together, but he had a feeling that he would be pushing his luck with that. 

The race weekend in Miami didn't start as planned. He was really mad and disappointed in himself after the qualifying, but talking to you made him feel a lot better. Even though you weren't there with him, knowing you cared so much helped him calm down and focus on the race ahead. 

On Sunday morning, a bit over an hour before the drivers parade, Checo asked him to follow him, acting all secretive when he said he wanted to show him something. Max wasn't in the mood for surprises, but then he noticed you standing there in their motorhome and a wide smile appeared on his face. He rushed over to you to pull you into a tight hug before kissing you fiercely, recharging his batteries by doing so.

“What are you doing here?” he asked when he stepped away, although he held your hands and wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon. 

You shrugged with that sweet smile on your lips. “Yesterday wasn't the best for you and I could tell you were frustrated. My brother got me a pass, and he decided to ask Checo to sneak me into your motorhome to surprise you,” you explained. 

This was a surprise, sure, but not because you were here. “Charles organized this?” You nodded. “Why?”

“I don't know, ask him.”

“The last time we talked he told me he would push us both into a barricade if I hurt you,” Max admitted, earning a shocked look from you. “Hey, it's okay, I'm not planning on hurting you. Soooo, want me to give you a tour?”

When you nodded, he quickly thanked his teammate for helping your brother with this plan, then put a hand on the small of your back and showed you every interesting corner of the place, telling you different stories from the years he spent here, and conveniently ended the tour in his driver's room so you could have some privacy before he had to leave for the drivers parade. 

Even though you were sitting on his bed with a mischievous smile on your lips, he kept talking about how he got ready for the races, answering a question he didn't realize was a hint until now. Because you were eyeing him as if you were planning to pounce at him or grab the front of his shirt and pull him on top of you.

With a sigh and a knowing smile he stood in front of you, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. “Later, okay? This isn't the right time or place,” he told you.

“Why, what's the right time and place?”

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Somewhere I can take my time with you. This is not it, trust me.” Nodding, you stood up and gave him a quick kiss. “Will you watch the race from our garage, or will you go back to Ferrari?”

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you buried your face into his chest. “Where do you want me?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Red Bull it is,” you mumbled against him.

Soon he had to leave you behind to meet the other drivers for the parade, and his heart was beating in his throat from the nervousness caused by the upcoming chat with your brother. Because he had to talk to him, he had to find out if he was suddenly supporting you two, and why he helped him by bringing you here. 

Charles was deep in a conversation with Pierre, but he wasn't afraid to interrupt them. “Can we talk?” he asked the Monegasque.

He nodded and followed him to a quieter corner. “I guess you met her,” he said with the hint of a smile. 

“Why did you do this?”

“Because she was sad. And I don't like to see my sister like that. If being with you can make her happy, so be it,” Charles explained. “I remember how things used to be in our karting days. I remember how much she talked about you, and I remember the way you always watched her. Guess you found each other again. It doesn't mean we'll be best friends now, but maybe we should bury the hatchet.”

Max didn't even know what to say at first, which was new. Your brother's speech surprised him, he definitely wasn't expecting him to be okay with your relationship so soon after it had begun. Nodding, he offered his hand, and Charles shook it without hesitation. 

He wanted to say something, he wanted to tell him how grateful he was for not making a scene or their lives a living hell, but the organizers told them it was time to go. So he waved goodbye and left to find his friends.

Sadly, he didn't have time to talk to you again, he only caught a glimpse of you before getting in the car, and he wanted to focus on the race ahead anyway. He knew you knew that, which is why he didn't feel like shit for not doing anything he could to squeeze in a few minutes to spend with you. 

After he crossed the finish line, Max had a good feeling and he couldn't stop smiling in his helmet. He wasn't happy because he managed to win, no, he was happy because he knew you would be there with the team to greet him in the parc fermé. After all those years he could finally see you celebrate his good result instead of your brother's. 

After he got out of the car, he quickly took off his helmet and balaclava, then ran over to his team to greet a few people before stopping in front of you, watching you with a wide grin as he waited for you to give him the green light. When you finally nodded, he pulled you into a fierce kiss, the adrenaline in his system working wonders. 

“I hope we'll find the right place and time tonight, because post-race you is criminally hot,” you whispered into his ear with a cute laugh.

If it was up to him, he would have skipped the celebration and debrief parts of the day, but the best he could offer now was making everyone hurry so you could get back to his hotel as soon as possible. “We will, trust me,” he assured you eventually before being dragged away for interviews.

[It's you and me, that's my whole world]

Max knew that the Monaco grand prix would be the perfect time to ask you. But he wanted to do this right, and since he had learned in the past year how important your family was to you, he requested a meeting with your mother and Charles to discuss his intentions.

Maybe it was old fashioned, but your brother was a bit overprotective, he wanted to make sure he was comfortable with the idea of having him as a brother-in-law. Your mother wouldn't be a problem, he knew that, because she had often commented on how well he took care of you, and how happy she was that you found someone who was this enamored with you.

So now here he was in your mother's apartment, sitting across from her and Charles as if he was facing the Spanish Inquisition. He took a deep breath to steady his breathing and give himself a moment to figure out where to begin. In the end he decided to be direct, so he pulled out the little jewelry box from his pocket, and placed it on the table between them after he opened it to reveal the ring inside.

Pascale had her hands over her mouth as she gasped in surprise, but soon it was revealed that she was smiling happily when she reached for the box. “When are you planning to ask her?” she wondered as she took a closer look at the ring.

“After the race. Well, since I don't know what Sunday brings, I was aiming for Monday. I'm planning to take her out for lunch, then we would drive to a spot where I can ask her in peace. I already have an event planner getting a party ready for the evening,” Max explained with a shy smile.

And there was that trademark look again from Charles. He watched him with narrowed eyes as he leaned over to take a look at the jewelry in his mother's hand. “And if she says no?” Pascale poked his side with a disapproving look. “What? It's a possibility. They've only been dating for a year. It's too early.”

Your mother let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. “Don't listen to him, Max, I'm sure she will say yes. She loves you very much. Oh, I'm so happy for you, come here,” she said as she stood up with her arms open.

With a relieved sigh, he stood up and walked around the table to hug her. “Does this mean you have no problem with my plan?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course not!”

“I do,” Charles spoke up, earning a pointed look from his mother.

Pascale put his hands on her hips as she watched her son. “You would have a problem with any guy who tried to ask her to marry him, no matter how long they've been together. I know you want to protect her, but you can't do it forever. You have your own relationship to focus on, and I don't remember her ever having a problem with your decisions.”

Finally, your brother let out a long sigh, then nodded. “All right, you have my blessing. But remember what I told you last year,” he warned him.

“Yeah, I know, the barrier.”

Your mother's eyes moved back and forth between the two of them. “What barrier?”

When he saw the pointed look Charles gave him to shut him up, Max decided to lie. “It's more of a metaphor, nothing worth mentioning,” he said, forcing a smile on his face.

“I see,” she said, although it was clear she didn't believe a word he said. “I'm so happy for you. When will you ask Alex?” she suddenly turned to her son.

Charles almost choked on the water he was drinking. “Really? Just because she's getting engaged, I don't have to copy her right away,” he complained.

A few days later Max had his doubts about the timing. Charles won the race, becoming the national hero, so would it be fair to avert the attention away from him the next day? So he did the only thing he could think of and asked your brother if he would be okay with him going on with this as planned. He said yes, probably knowing two events with this magnitude would make you extremely happy.

Lunch was nice, you joked a lot about Oscar becoming an honorary Leclerc, but you were mostly talking about all the love your brother's been receiving since the race win. He understood that, and he truly believed this was a well-deserved win, one that's been a long time coming. He wished he had a car that could fight theirs, but right now they only had their special moments every now and then.

When you reached your destination and the two of you sat on a picnic blanket with a bottle of wine opened, Max began to feel nervous. He'd been dreaming about this for so long, even as a stupid kid he imagined spending your lives together, but now that he was supposed to pop the question he felt surprisingly uncertain. 

You took a sip of your drink before snuggling up to him, even letting out a quiet giggle when you felt him wrap an arm around your body. He placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head while his free hand reached for the box in his pocket. He hesitated, wondering if this was the right time to do it, if he should give your relationship more time, but as he inhaled your sweet scent, he suddenly realized it would be foolish to waste your precious time.

So he moved his hand to yours and placed the little black box into your palm. You glanced at him with a surprised look on your face, and when he nodded to make you open it, you did exactly that. A small gasp left your lips when you realized what it was, what it meant, so he took this chance to tell you what was on his mind.

“I don't want to wait. I know we will have to sort a few things out, but I'm sure we can find a solution to everything. I travel around a lot, I know that, but if you could work remotely every now and then, we would just have to put effort into making our schedules work,” he said, his voice fading when you put up a finger to stop him.

He watched you examine the ring, taking in every little detail with a warm smile playing on your lips. “Maybe you should say those four words before giving me a speech about logistics,” you suddenly noted.

“What–Oh, right,” he said when realization hit him, then took the ring from you to do this right. “Will you marry me?” 

You let out a low, thoughtful hum instead of answering. Did you really have to think about it? But then you looked up at him with that beaming smile of yours and said yes, making him the happiest man with this single word.

“We're going to our engagement party tonight. I invited everyone who's important to us,” he announced.

“A party? And if I said no?” 

Rolling his eyes, Max let out a groan. “I swear you and Charles couldn't deny being twins if you wanted to,” he said, earning a questioning look. “That was his first question as well.”

The party in the evening was wonderful. Everyone was so happy to hear the news, and they had a lot of fun together. You and your mother disappeared for a while, and soon Charles and Arthur decided to join you in a private room, which gave him some time to talk to Alex. He needed to know what your brother truly thought of this engagement, and she surely knew something.

They sat on a couch next to each other, and she was watching him with a knowing smile over the cocktail in her hand. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

It took Max by surprise, but he was relieved to know she was willing to talk to him. “What does Charles think about this? I mean, really think? I'm sure he told you.” 

“He thinks you're taking her away from him, but that's only because they're so close. Dating someone is one thing, but planning a wedding?” She shrugged, but the kind smile was still present. “Look, he understands that this is what she wants, he knows how much you love her, so he made peace with the idea.”

Nodding, he leaned back and drank some from his cocktail. “So I have nothing to worry about?” 

“As long as you don't hurt her.”

“I'm not planning to do that,” he assured her.

Alex's smile grew even wider. “Then you have nothing to be afraid of.”

Their conversation went on for a little longer, but then it was interrupted by Lando who showed up with shots on a tray, planning to give him a speech while getting drunk together. He accepted his offer with a laugh, and Alex decided to give them space after sharing a drink with them. 

Lando had an arm wrapped around Max’s shoulder after their third shot, animatedly explaining something related to marriage, some weird theory that didn't even make much sense. How much he had drunk before was a mystery, but he was his friend, so he just listened to him with a smile. 

Hours later they all went home, and he was glad to finally have you all to himself. You spent the night talking, sleep somehow avoiding the both of you, but he didn't mind, it was nice to discuss things you were expecting from the wedding. Because you were already planning it in your head, trying to decide where to hold the reception, how many guests to invite, and what kind of dress you wanted.

And then you brought up the date. You were thinking about a month with a lower temperature, maybe in the spring, but he had a different idea. He didn't want to wait until next year. If it was up to him, the two of you would elope the next day, getting married without anyone knowing. But he knew you would want your family and friends to be there, so he was willing to settle with an alternative.

“How about this year? The beginning of September or the first half of October? We have short breaks then,” he suggested. 

You looked surprised, but despite the frown, you seemed to consider the idea. “This soon? Planning a wedding takes time, even if we get help from a professional wedding planner–”

Max smiled at you before leaning forward to give you a quick kiss. “I already took care of that. She said even a September wedding is possible if we're open to a compromise when it comes to the venue,” he told you.

“I'm not even surprised to hear that,” you said with a laugh. “So September, huh? I'll need to start looking for a wedding dress right now then.”

The next few months were challenging when it came to the races, the car wasn't performing the way it should have, but his frustration always melted away the moment his eyes fell on you, whether you were there at the track or during a video call after the race. He was always reminded that he would get to marry you soon, that all he had to do was be patient.

When the time came, he was full of energy, he was as excited as a little kid on Christmas, and he couldn't wait to hear you say yes. The thought of Charles walking you down the aisle made him smile every time because you knew how important that was to you. To the both of you. 

And when he tried to imagine what you would look like, how your dress would hug your body, how your hair and makeup would be done, he couldn't stop grinning. If there was one thing you and your brother had in common, it was the ability to look effortlessly pretty without trying.

But reality surpassed his wildest dreams, because you were breathtakingly beautiful. And his mind began to wander, he was already several steps ahead, planning to do something that could take your relationship to the next level, and his thoughts only returned to the present when the ceremony got the the I dos. 

Before the reception began, he flagged down the photographer to ask for the photos he had taken not long ago, and once you both received the pictures, he immediately posted it on Instagram. He knew he should have waited and posted a photo dump, but he was too eager to share the news of his marriage with the world.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 597,346 others

maxverstappen1: My best friend, my soulmate, my WIFE. I love you, sweetheart.

tagged: yourusername

comments are turned off

Your wedding was truly a celebration of your relationship, of your future together, and the love that tied you to all those people in your lives. He was one of the three people who knew a little secret; a secret he allowed to be announced to you and your family on your wedding day.

So you two and your family members gathered in the room you had gotten ready in, and you all watched Charles who was pale as a ghost, fidgeting with his watch until Alex reached for his hand with a supportive smile.

“I know this is your big day, sis,” he began, giving you an apologetic look, “but Max let us make the announcement today since you're all here.” 

He stopped and looked over at his girlfriend, letting her be the one to get to the point. “I’m pregnant,” she said happily.

Max’s eyes never left you, he was waiting to see your reaction, and he didn't regret waiting, He saw that wide smile that appeared on your face, and heard that adorable happy squeal before you ran over to your brother to give them both a hug. That's exactly the reaction he was expecting from you, this is why he told them to make the announcement that day.

Once everyone left to have a drink while they told it to their friends too, the two of you remained in there alone, and he was quick to close the door and push your back against it before you could walk out as well. You gave him a surprised look, but he turned the lock as he kissed you fiercely, his hand moving down to your waist to keep you in place.

“I was thinking,” he began as his lips trailed along your jawline. “And before you say it, I'm definitely not turning this into some kind of competition with Charles. But remember when we talked about starting the baby project after the wedding? We are after the wedding technically, no?”

Now that you knew what he wanted, you reached up to tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him into another kiss. “We’ll have to be quick if we don't want the guests to notice,” you mumbled when you pulled away for a moment.

He gave you a disapproving look at this. “I don't care about the guests. I will take my time with you. Now, buttons or zipper?” 

“Buttons,” you replied with a quiet chuckle.

With a groan, he stepped back and moved his index finger in a circle. “Turn around,” he said. As he began the painfully slow and annoying task of unbuttoning your dress’ back, he added, “A zipper would have been so much better.”

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux and 238,994 others

yourusername: Little Verstappen in the works.

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all comments

pascale.leclerc.355: I'm so glad my babies will soon have their own little families. All the best for you two!

alexandrasaintmleux: Our babies will be the best of friends ❤️

⤷ charles_leclerc: But our boy will be the better driver.

⤷ maxverstappen1: You wish.

maxverstappen1: I love the both of you so much ❤️ I'm lucky to have you in my life.

arthur_leclerc: Congratulations, sis!

[If you approach a Lyon lion hungry you will see teeth]

Max had always known he wouldn't race forever, and with his son in the picture, he always made sure you were okay with him going on. Because he would spend most part of the year traveling, leaving the two of you behind, but you always told him it was okay, that you could go to a few races with him to spend some time together.

When his son became old enough, he took him karting to see if he was even interested. He had grown up watching him in F1, he saw old videos of his races against his uncle, so neither of you were surprised when at the age of six he began to talk about starting to race himself. But it wasn't his idea only, Charles's son was also hell-bent on racing. 

This is how their old rivalry continued with a new generation, although they definitely didn't hate each other off the track. It was truly heartwarming to see them celebrate together, hugging each other after a successful race. Of course, this came with the media's attention, they often wrote about the two being at the top of their category, but neither of them paid much attention to that.

The problems began when his son fell back into the midfield in the new season, because shortly after articles began to appear about his talent. Well, more like the lack of it. Some journalists thought he didn't have what it took to be as good as his father, and Max was fuming from anger every time he read one of these.

“Just don't read them,” you suggested one night after putting your son to bed. 

You sat in his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, and Max put down his phone with a sigh. “It's hard to ignore these idiots. They know absolutely nothing about him, they don't know what's going on with him behind the scenes,” he said before giving you a soft kiss.

It was true. During the break, your nephew proudly showed him an article about the two of them, so he figured he should do his own research. And all he saw were articles where journalists were comparing him to his father, analyzing his every move on the track. It put pressure on him, pressure that he apparently couldn't handle.

He didn't hesitate to take him to a psychologist, knowing perfectly well his mental health came first, but it was a slow process. The two of you did your best to help him, you always told him how good he was, that he just needed a little time to ease back into racing after the break. And you both also assured him that you would love him more than anything even if he stopped racing altogether.

“Did you read what my father said?” he asked you suddenly, and you shook your head in response. “He said that I wasn't pushing him hard enough. I swear he's out of his goddamn mind,” he said angrily. 

You placed a soft kiss on his temple, then rested your chin on top of his head. “You know what he's like. As long as you don't start acting like him–”

“I would never,” he was quick to assure you.

“I know. Limiting contact between him and our son was the best decision we could make. Let's just hope these comments don't reach our boy.”

Max began to place soft kisses on your neck, his hand slowly moving up your back under the shirt. “I love you two so much,” he mumbled against your skin. “I'll discuss what to do tomorrow. I know some journalists have been trying to reach me for a comment, if the team says it's okay to talk to them, I will. Nobody should mess with my family.”

“Just try to stay calm. I know it's been a long time since Mad Max came out to play, but we're doing fine without him,” you said with a short laugh.

He looked up at you as he captured your lips in a kiss. “I can't make any promises.”

The next day the team gave him the green light to comment on the speculations under the condition of every single word being sent via email to have proof later. Though the PR people tried to tone down his harsh reaction, Max wasn't about to let them. He wanted the journalists to know he wasn't about to let them write that bullshit about his son anymore. 

If they had a problem, they should come to him first for comment instead of publishing these pieces so anyone, including his son, could see it. If they wrote something like that, he wanted to have a quote from himself there too, mostly because he wanted his son to know his father was always in his corner.

As he waited for news about the journalists who received his comment from his team, Max saw his phone buzz on the table to signal a new message. When he checked it, he saw it was from Charles, and since he had nothing better to do, he quickly checked it.

Just as he hoped, some of the articles were extended with his comment, or in some cases brand new pieces were published. They visibly toned down the vitriol, probably understanding that they were talking about a kid, not an adult who could protect himself. He even received a message or two in which journalists apologized for the way they handled this topic. 

The perks of including two off the record sentences to make them think. “If it was your child, would you be happy to read this? Wouldn't you worry how it affects them?” he wrote.

When he got home, the first thing he did was hugging his son tightly, telling him how much he loved him, promising to play against him in the sim rig after dinner. You were watching them with a loving smile on your lips, one that drew him closer and made him kiss you softly.

“Have you checked Instagram lately?” you asked him. Raising an eyebrow, Max shook his head. With a smile, you opened it on your phone and navigated to your brother's account before giving it to him. “We can count on our family, no matter what. As long as our son has this support, everything's gonna be okay.”

When he read the caption, he couldn't help but smile. “We should show him,” he said, motioning towards your son who was writing his homework. 

You shook your head as you took back your phone. “He was the one who saw it first.”

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 423,135 others

charles_leclerc: Like fathers, like sons. They will carry on our legacy because they are both insanely talented, and we are proud of them, no matter what happens in their careers. We love you, boys!

view all comments

yourusername: ❤️

arthur_leclerc: My nephews are badasses, don't mess with them.

user1: Those articles are disgusting, I don't get how anyone in their right mind can write that about a kid.

⤷ user2: No wonder Max finally commented on them. But it's so good to see how much he loves his son.

⤷ user3: Mad Max is back!

note 2: That's all, folks. What do you think? Feedback is always welcome.