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whocaresstillthelouvre · 3 months ago

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Fifteen Weeks

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, face sitting, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex (reader is tested and has an IUD, protect yourselves IRL), mentions of sex work, anxiety, Din is bad at feelings, farmhouse emotions, goats!, yes I made Din Djarin a schnauzer owner don't judge me. Words: 5,050

A/N: Here it is folks, the follow up to Fifteen Minutes, which I originally wrote as a standalone. Thank you to @goodwithcheese for speaking so highly about Fifteen Minutes thus making me revisit this draft and finally finish it. I also want to thank @frannyzooey for taking a look at the bare bones of this months ago. I really love these two and I’m so glad they finally get to eat soup together.

Masterlist

___

“So, where ya’ headed?” the Uber driver asks, turning toward the departures terminal.

“Just to see a... friend."

“Hm. Must be a special friend to catch a flight this early.”

“I guess he is,” you smile through a yawn.

___

Waiting to board. Can’t wait to finally see you! xxxx🙂

Hitting the send button, you shake your head still finding it hard to believe you’re traveling almost halfway across the country to meet a man. A man you’ve fallen head over heels for.

Can’t wait to see you too. See you soon.

His response arrives just in time. A nervous rush of excitement courses through your body before turning your phone off for departure.

You wonder if your seatmate can feel your leg shake as the nerves tap out against the plane floor. Sure, you’re excited, you’re ready to meet Din in person but there still is trepidation twisting inside of you. You’ve never done anything like this at all. You’ve never met a client and now you’re on a plane headed to one. You’ve known him for only four months, but the connection the two of you share is something you’ve never believed to be something you’d find. You’ve dealt with enough men wearing wedding bands who tell you they love you, that you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve seen, that you’re their whole world. Love is a ridiculous concept when you charge ten dollars a minute.

With Din, it’s different, it’s something that can be named, can be felt, can be solved, and yet so many questions about it remain. What do you call the quiet silence that exists between the two of you, happy to be on the phone keeping each other company every night? The small laugh and head shake he does whenever you tell him he’s cute? The random texts of his life that always brightens your day? The way he nods with zero judgment when he hears the ding of your new client alert? What do you call the decision that got you here on this plane?

You read the same page over and over in your book. Will you sleep in his bed tonight?

You give up on reading and stare forward at the little map on the seat screen. What does he smell like?

You look out the window and watch the clouds disintegrate around you. Is he just as nervous as you?

You turn the volume up and try to drown out your racing thoughts. Will this all be worth it?

Two hours left to find out.

___

You step off the escalator, eyes scanning the crowded baggage claim area for the reason why you’ve taken a six hour flight halfway across the country. Your hands grip the backpack strap tighter trying to calm the nerves overtaking your heart and brain.

There, right there, leaning against a column alone in the shadows is Din and the brown eyes you’ve only dreamt of seeing in real life. He straightens when you make eye contact, but makes zero attempt to move, still frozen against the column. You lose the fight to hide your smile and excitement hurriedly shuffling over to him, he smiles as you get closer, the same shy half grin he gives when he says good night. His hands slip out of his pockets as you approach. Goodness, he’s so big and handsome, he could be a heartbreaker of all sorts to anybody he sets his sights on. The phone doesn’t do his beauty any justice.

“Hi,” you smile.

“H-hey, I can’t believe you’re… here,” his voice sounds even smoother and deeper in person.

“I am,” you shuffle on your feet. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

He tucks his hands back into his hoodie pocket, his silent rejection shoots a pang of longing through you.

You thought it’d play out like a grand romantic movie, you’d jump into his outstretched arms and he’d never let go. Din’s rejection fills you with jealousy… screw all of the happy couples. You hate those movies now.

Touch me.

Of course he’s nervous, you’re nervous too, you’re just better at hiding it. He still leans against the column, shielded by the liminal space.

“Do you have luggage?” He’s right in front of you and yet you’re too scared to touch him, too anxious you’ll scare him away.

“Nope, just my backpack and carry-on.”

Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Oh, okay, did you want to leave then?”

“I didn’t come here to see the airport Din,” you place a hand on his hoodie clad arm. He looks down and stares.

Did you overstep? You couldn’t have, you just watched this same man orgasm for you last night while chanting how he couldn’t wait to paint you with his cum.

“Din,” you snap him out of his stare, “come on, I’m ready to leave.”

You know he’s not trying to reject you, but his nervous aloofness is overwhelming when all you want is for him to touch you… just once.

“I—uh, here, let me take your bags,” he mumbles, reaching past you to grab your suitcase. “It’s really cold, do you have a heavier jacket?”

“No, but I’ll be okay,” you reassure. The cold won’t sting nearly as much as Din’s seemingly innocent rejection.

“Here,” he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his head. “I’m used to this cold. You aren’t.”

You take the bundle of black fabric from his outstretched hand, not realizing just how cold you were until you put the hoodie warmed by his body heat on. It smells of him. Faint hints of campfire, wood, leather, citrus, and cinnamon. You wish you were wrapped up in Din himself, touching him, smelling him, tasting him. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Whatever is happening inside of him seems to be bleeding over into your mind. You’re now second guessing every decision to come here. He was excited last night, he texted you this morning how he couldn’t wait to see you, is he disappointed?

“Yeah, of course,” he nods and turns towards the door, walking away in quick strides leaving you alone in the dark corner near that damn column he’d rather touch than you. He has your suitcase and backpack, so either this is a really expensive way to get robbed or he has zero clue how his actions are affecting you.

He turns back to you as he reaches the automatic doors, his eyes wide with guilt when he spots you still standing in the same place he left you. Well, at least he feels bad.

You let a deep breath out to steel yourself and walk to him.

“I-I’m sorry, just not used to ever having to… you know…”

“I know, it’s okay Din,” you gently smile. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

“I’m just—“

“Nervous. I know Din, it’s okay. I understand this is a lot.”

“It is, but just… know that how I’m acting is not how I’m feeling. I’m really happy to have you here. You’re so… beautiful and I—thank you for being here with me.”

There it is. Everything is worth it now. The early morning Uber to the airport, the neverending TSA line, the cramped airplane seat, the nervousness you feel. You’d do it all again to hear that sentence.

“Of course, I know. You’re okay,” you take his hand. If he’s not going to do it, you’ll do it. “Come on, let’s go.”

His eyes stay downcast staring at your hand wrapped around his.

You clear your throat to get his attention, his eyes snap up to yours. “Din, let’s go.”

“R-right. Of course. Right.”

He leads you out the door, gripping your hand harder when the bitter wind lashes against your skin.

The two of you weave your way through the parking lot until you reach a large silver truck. It’s clean with a few dents and scratches. Well taken care of but old.

Din opens the creaky door and helps you step up. The black leather seat is smooth as you slide across it.

Din places your luggage in the back before opening his door and deftly stepping in.

You hide a deep exhale when he starts the engine.

He clears his throat and you look over. “It’s–uh nice to see you in here.”

“I’m glad,” you smile, turning and reaching your hand out to touch his cheek. Your thumb finds the little heart patch on the side of his face, you’ve been thinking about how it’d feel since you first saw it. You can’t help yourself, he looks so delicate, as if he’s aching to be touched but too scared to ask for it. You’re holding a scared fawn in your hands. Don’t scare him, don’t move too quickly, let him figure things out on his own.

His lips part as he inhales, deep brown eyes staring into yours, the nervousness radiating off his skin fills the truck cabin. You wish you could just throw caution to the wind and force him to tell you exactly how he’s feeling, to slide across the bench seat and beg him to take you right here in this airport parking lot. You don’t. You pull your hand away and put your seatbelt on.

“I can’t wait to see your home. I’ve never been to an actual farm before.”

___

You’ve seen glimpses of Din’s home in random pictures he’s texted you or your nightly FaceTime sessions, but you never imagined just how picturesque it could be. A large white two story farmhouse situated in the middle of a vast expanse of green grass, a small tin roofed barn sits to the side with a herd of goats happily grazing. Din’s life must be so peaceful here, very different compared to your townhouse in the middle of suburbia.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse as he pulls into the driveway. “I can understand why you never wanted to leave.”

The truck stops in front of his home, a german shepherd and a little schnauzer run down the porch steps and head for Din’s truck.

“They’ll be fine with you, but let me get out so I can control them.”

Din gets out of the truck, you chuckle to yourself as his clipped directions to the dogs are drowned out by excited barks.

He opens your door and reaches his hand out.

“Grogu! Boba! Back!” Din shouts as he helps you step down. His raised voice makes your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know he could ever be this loud.

“It’s okay, I like your dogs, you know I think they’re cute,” you bend down and tap on your knees to beckon them over. “This must be Grogu,” you scratch his soft ears. “He does have big ears.”

“They’re not that used to other people.”

“Hmm,” you stand up and pat the top of Boba’s head, “sounds like someone I know.”

He chuckles as he walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door.

Warmth fills your body as you walk over the threshold. White walls, worn floorboards, antique furniture, all of it taken care of and clean. Tidy and well kept up, a lot like his truck, aged but in better shape and made to last; a far change from your newbuild townhouse and IKEA furniture.

“Diiin,” you breathe, “it’s beautiful in here. Like… I knew you lived in a nice house, but wow, between this and the farm… when do you sleep?”

“I sleep enough. I’ll go get your bags, make yourself… at home.”

You take a seat on his couch, it’s perfect for him. Beige, simple lines, nothing fancy, not too comfortable, but probably the height of cozy after a long day working on a farm. Grogu jumps up and sits next to you, his little bearded face panting happily next to yours. You scratch his chest and praise him as he inches closer towards you. Boba stays near the entry, waiting for Din.

“Think he likes you,” Din says as he places your bags by the steps. “Don’t take Boba’s standoffishness personally he’s–”

“Like you. I know,” you smile.

“Did– what would you like to do?”

“Can I see the computer where you first talked to me?”

“Um, yeah,” he walks down the hallway leaving you behind yet again, “it’s just in here.”

You shake your head and rise off the couch to follow, obviously he’s not used to company.

You walk into a small office, everything has a place, efficient and tidy, perfectly Din. Paperwork stacked in neat stacks, a calendar with his sharp writing all over it hung on the wall, today’s date circled with your name written in the box.

A black monitor sits on a mahogany desk.

“This is the computer, huh?” you ask, running your hands across the black keyboard,

“It is.”

“So this is where it all began? You sat there, clicked on my picture, and now look. I remember when I first heard your voice,” you face him taking both of his hands in yours, “it was so deep and warm, it lit something inside of me.”

You guide his arms to wrap around you, his hands rest on your lower back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our first session ended. There was something so pure and mysterious about you, I knew you weren’t lying about wanting to know. It wasn’t some kink you had, I knew you needed help. I felt lucky to be the one to show you.”

He sighs as you rest your head against his chest hearing the rhythm of his heart. “I closed that window so many times before finally agreeing and joining. I-I kept on thinking about how I could talk to someone as beautiful as you, all it would take is just a click. You were so pretty.”

“Just a click,” you whisper, craning your neck up as Din lowers his head. His nose bumps against yours, his plush bottom lip is captured between your lips, another part of him you’ve wanted to touch since you first saw him. You finally kiss him, sweet and tender, his lips molding to yours perfectly. He pulls you in closer, his tongue hesitantly dipping into your mouth as you lick against him. The past fifteen weeks have finally led to this moment inside of this old farmhouse office in the middle of nowhere. Your Din and his soft lips, tense hands against your back, your soft coos mingling with his low groans, you could stay in this moment forever, if it wasn’t for Din’s phone beeping in his pocket.

“I’m sorry,” he pulls away, a bashful smile adorns his face, “I need to go take care of the goats before sundown.”

“Of course.”

He hugs you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead and inhaling your scent before leaving. He’s warming up…

___

Din loves soup. You know this by the nights you spend with him over the phone. The man eats soup almost every single night. Soup with bread, soup and a baked potato, soup and steak, soup, soup, soup.

You can’t blame him, the stew and homemade rolls he serves you for dinner are delicious. He shyly tells you it’s his speciality when he places the porcelain bowl in front of you.

You could get used to the farm life. A fire burns in the fireplace while the tv plays Din’s favorite movie he’s been wanting to show you, some film about a galaxy far far away and an unlikely hero. The man loves space.

His arm slung across your shoulder lies heavily on you, warming you inside and out. Grogu sleeps on your lap, softly snoring as you pet his gray fur. Din occasionally sneaks a kiss against your hair, you don’t know if you’ve ever been more comfortable in your life.

The movie ends, a grand symphonic score plays over the credits.

“That was really good,” you smile towards Din. “I liked it.”

A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, thank you for showing me it.”

“You’re welcome,” he gazes at you, the same look he smolders through the phone, like he can’t believe his luck that you’re talking to him.

You attempt to fight a yawn and lose. Your eyes blink tiredly at Din when he reaches and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

“Did you want to,” he clears his throat, “sleep in my room with me tonight?”

“Only if you want me to Din.”

“I, uh, I do.”

“Okay, I’d like that.”

___

The airplane and long day washes off and rinses down Din’s shower drain. You use his washcloth and think of his hands touching you. You smell his soap and think of inhaling the scent as he holds you close. You don’t know what’s about to happen once you leave this room. If you’re this nervous, how does he feel?

Din looks up from the book he’s reading and watches you step out of the bathroom shyly padding over and getting into bed.

“What are you reading?” you whisper.

“Some book about a cowboy warrior in space…”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It’s good.”

“You know,” you look around the simple bedroom, “I see this room all the time, but only the wall behind your bed, hardly anything else. It’s been really nice seeing more of your life.”

He nods, blinking back to his book.

The night can’t end like this.

You grab the book from his hands and place it on the table.

“What are you thinking about Din? I never know what’s going on inside of you.”

“H-how pretty you look wearing that.”

You look down at the pink silk tank top and shorts and swallow down a smile. You specifically wore it because you know how Din’s eyes light up whenever you put it on. “It’s my favorite because it’s so soft. Do you want to feel it?”

He turns to you wide-eyed and gives you a solitary nod.

“Go ahead Din.”

His tan hand splays across your stomach, golden toned skin rests against the blushy silk of your tank.

“S’soft,” he murmurs to himself.

“Here,” you place your hand over his and press down, “really feel it.”

His eyes angle down watching your hand navigate his around your stomach to just below your breasts. His mouth sits slightly agape, thick brows furrowing in concentration as you slip his hand underneath the fabric, his trembling calloused fingers making contact with your skin.

“Am I soft here Din?”

“Y-Yes,” he stammers.

“Touch me, as little or as much as you want. Wherever you’re comfortable doing, okay?” you remove your hand from his. “I came here for you… whatever you want… I want..”

“I want to,” he gulps, “I want to touch you all over.”

“I’m all yours baby.”

His shoulders deflate with a groan, he trails his hand higher to cup one of your breasts. The tips of his fingers peek out of the top of your tank. Tan, well worked strong hands lay against your smooth skin. The sight makes you moan, your teeth gnawing at your lip, trying to qualm the temptation to touch him further.

“Take it off Din.” His dark brown eyes beam up to yours. “Go ahead baby.”

He grabs the hem of your tank top, softly bundling it in his hands and lifting it over your head leaving you bare chested.

“Kiss me and touch me baby,” you gently will.

His lips form over yours, his hands return to your skin, petting and caressing your breasts before you cover them, pushing them farther down your stomach. His breaths quicken against your mouth when you slip his hands underneath the band of your shorts.

“Fuck,” he pants against your lips when his hand meets the wetness seeping from your pussy. “Fuuuuuck.”

“You feel me baby? That’s how wet you always make me, ever since the first time we talked and all you were was a black square with a sexy voice. It’s like we were destined in the stars.”

“God damnit, you’re so soft,” Din’s hips buck into the air, his head thuds against the headboard when his thick finger slips in between your folds. “I-I-I oh god, I’m– I think I’m going to cum. I’m sorr–”

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, cum for me.” Your hand reaches down and grips his hard cock through his black sweatpants. “Cum for me Din.”

You feel a warm wet spot spread against your hand, pulling a moan from you..

“I’m--agh– sorry,” his big eyes stare at you, a hint of shame rounds them. “You feel so amazing.” He pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“No,” you whimper at the loss of contact. “I like it baby, I like that you like me so much that happened. Please don't apologize. Keep touching me if you want to. Do you?”

“God,” his eyes shrink in determination, “yes I do.”

“Okay baby.”

You sit in between his stretched out legs, lifting your hips to take off your shorts, spreading your legs wide, much the same way you do for your clients.

He stares at your exposed skin, eyes mapping every dip, curve and dimple of your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you’re here… for me.”

“Of course I am baby.”

His fingers trace the plains of your legs, moving their way up to your thighs. His face set in a determinative scowl, eyes fixated on your core as he inches closer to it, now aching and soaked for him.

“I-I’ve never done this.”

“I know baby, you remember our first call?”

He nods.

“Remember what I told you what I liked?”

Another nod.

“Do that for me baby, touch me. Make me feel good.” A thick finger meets your lips, tracing a line up from your entrance to your clit before softly rubbing a circle around your sensitive nub. He remembered.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes out, his eyes staying planted staring at your pussy beguiled by his own actions.

“I am Din, only for you. I think about you every time. I-I,” you moan when he sticks a finger inside, slowly pumping it in and out, “I only want you.”

“Only want you too, baby. C-can I taste you?”

“Ye–oh my god, yes Din, I’m yours, do whatever you want to me.”

“I’m yours, anything you wa–”

“Sit on my face,” he growls.

“O-of course.”

You crawl towards him, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before straddling his face, your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth. He grips your ass and pulls you down, smothering himself with all of your slickness. You cover him like a mask, he worships your taste like a religion, moaning and groaning into your sweet pussy. Your praises about how good he’s doing and how amazing you feel incant out of your mouth as he takes you to paradise. Plush lips suck and savor you, your hands grip the bed frame like a precious artifact, his devotion to you and your pleasure pulls a melting orgasm from you.

“Din, Din, Din,” you pray at his altar, knees bowed and quaking against his ears as he drinks your offering down. You’re shattered, everything you’ve ever believed in replaced by Din and his idolatry of you.

You move your lust drunk body off and lay down next to Din. His face shines with a gloss of you, his tongue peeks out and licks his lips, before sending you a shy smile.

“You’re amazing,” he incredulously mutters.

“You are too,” a doting grin lights your face before pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, a moan leaves your throat at the realization.

Strong arms envelop you, pulling you closer to him, his hard cock juts against the soft skin of your thigh.

“Already?” you pull back and tease.

“C-can I feel you?”

“Feel me?”

“Yes, c-can I… can we….?”

A rush of anticipation thrums through your body at the implication of his nervousness.

“Yes Din, we can. Are you sure this is what you want tonight? We can wait.”

“N-no. I want you, I-I want this,” he moves his sweatpants down, kicking them off.

“Okay baby, okay,” you kiss him, grabbing his face, petting the soft hair of his sparse beard.

He rolls on top of you, cradling your head between his strong forearms, a heated kiss licks into your mouth as his naked weight covers you. Your legs open in a silent offer for Din to take everything you have. You can just feel the heft of his cock ghosting against your entrance.

He looks down at you, brown eyes wide, plush mouth parted, brows softened with adoration.

You send him a silent nod and smile when his cock enters you, feeling a sense of honor that you’re the one Din has chosen for this. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The green accept button, the reserved man dressed in all black, the deep voice, the connection between two screens. Now, you’re here with Din, moaning and rolling your hips to accept the length of him.

His neck strains when he sheathes his cock fully inside of you, panting and groaning as he slowly rocks back and forth.

“You … feel … like … heaven… I love your pussy… I love your body…. I… love you.”

He freezes at the divulgence, body locked in shock at his slip.

Your face lifts in a reassuring grin. “I love you too,” your hand grabs his chin, bringing his lips to yours.

You love him, you’ve known it for so long, but here in this farmhouse bed you can hear it, you can feel it.

Your bodies meld, hips meeting, lips locked, he gives you everything, you give him everything. Your pussy clenches around his slow, full strokes. This is making love.

“Baby, I-I.. I’m going t–” he strains.

“Go ahead Din, I got you.” Your hands trail up and down the expanse of his smooth back. He grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck, fevered breaths hit your skin as his cum fills you.

He rolls off, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your hair.

“Wow… I.. are you okay?”

“What?” your head perks up.

“You didn’t… uh–”

“I did when you fucked me with your tongue Din, I’m very happy and satisfied.”

“Oh, I just… I want to make sure you’re good.”

“Baby, I am very good. Trust me.”

“I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you too Din…” you rest your head against his chest, the exhaustion of the day settling in, quickly lulling you to sleep. This is the way to go to bed.

___

The faint sound of running water gently rouses you from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, the room’s still shrouded in a lazy darkness.

Din’s long sigh echoes against the tiles of the shower like a siren song.

You pad out of bed toward the bathroom, pushing the door wide open.

Your mouth drops at the sight ahead of you… Din’s muscular, toned golden body shines underneath a glistening sheen of water. He runs a gray wash rag across his stomach, the mop of dark, curly hair right underneath his hand beckons you to look farther down. You’ve seen him so many times before, almost every night, but this is the first time you’ve been able to see all of him in person. Din is a big man, his cock matches his stature. Just as long, just as broad, just as golden. God, he’s gorgeous.

You knock on the doorframe catching his attention, surprise tensing across his whole body.

“Good morning,” you purr, “can I join you?”

He nods, his cock grows visibly hard when you walk over and get in. The warm steam, Din’s naked body, and the smell of Din’s cedar body wash engulfs you, this is the way to wake up.

“Mmm, the hot water feels good,” you sigh, leaning your head against his chest. Din’s cock rests heavily in between you, tempting you to touch it. “Want me to wash you?”

He groans a yes.

“You can wash me too,” you propose, squeezing a dollop of body wash onto your palm, running it across your chest before leaving suds on your hands. “Go ahead Din.”

Drops of water land against your skin as his trembling hands slowly reach for your breasts. He massages and kneads, both palms laying against your tits, his touch turns more searing when your hands land on his chest, rubbing in the soap along the dusting of hair stretched across his broad body.

Your nipples pebble under his nervous, firm touch and undivided attention. He hisses when your hands slink farther down, running across the damp curls of his happy trail leading you to his cock standing between his thighs, thick and dripping. You wrap a fist around his length, his knees weaken causing his body to smash against the wall, his face grimacing in pleasured agony.

“Fuck,” he pants, water rains down into his wide open mouth, splashing out with every exclamation of your name he repeats as he cums all over your stomach.

Your tongue runs up the column of his neck to his mouth, swallowing his rapid breaths.

“You feel so good against me,” he gasps against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I am baby, I am,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him, wishing you could live in this tiny shower forever. This is the way to wake up.

___

Din settles on the porch swing next to you, pulling your blanket wrapped body close to him.

“Is this what you do every morning?”

“Just about,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee.

“It’s nice,” you yawn, “early but nice.”

He chuckles, “You get used to it.” “Mm,” you rest your head on his chest, smelling the fresh dew and hay on his flannel jacket.

“I really like you being here,” he softly says.

“I really like being here too.”

“You know,” he gulps, “you can do your job here… with me.”

___

A/N: Thank you for reading! This ending makes me feel:

#din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fic #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian au #din djarin au

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itsgodepi · 1 month ago

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First Winners | MV33

Summary: After a challenging first season, you return to the Formula One world with renewed determination and lots to prove. You and Max have finally left your rivalry behind and the future has never looked more promising. Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader Note: this is the second and last part of a collection called Chasing Firsts, being First Loser the part 1 of it. It can be read as a standalone but you'll understand things better if you have read part 1. Word Count: 11k Warnings: emotional distress, mentions of injury Also on AO3

“Sorry!” you shout, breathless, as you sprint across the track, heart racing with effort and pure excitement.

It is one of those nice sunny days, where the sky is clear but the air remains refreshingly cool, just right for the snug embrace of the race suit. Ahead of you, the drivers are already standing on position, their brightly colored team gear popping against the backdrop of the asphalt.

Formula 1 Gulf Air Bahrain Grad Prix 2022.

Just reading the huge sign placed in front of the group makes your skin tingle, the thrill of the season ahead and the weight of what had come before thrumming in your heart.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Lando’s voice rings out, dripping with playful mockery, his face lighting up with exaggerated shock.

The teasing begins immediately as you half-run to your place, playful cheering and clapping for your ‘long-awaited’ arrival. Your eyes find Max across the group —his signature grin spreads wide, eyes sparkling with amusement. You wave off their jokes with a smile of your own, shaking your head and quickly unknotting the sleeves of the suit from your hips. Not even five minutes have passed.

"I had to take shots for the opening titles and all that stuff!” you explain, slightly out of breath as you slide into your spot.

Your position is on the left side, wedged between Yuki Tsunoda and the McLarens. Behind you, the Alpine drivers stand a step higher, getting settled in for the photo. Daniel is quick to throw an arm around your shoulders, shaking you from side to side with an exaggerated cheer while you try to fix yourself.

“Welcome back! We missed you”

You look up at him, your lower lip pushed out in a joking warning “Don’t say that! I’ll cry!”

Daniel just grins. “Oops. My bad,” he laughs, releasing you and falling back into position.

The photographers quickly signal they are ready.

You also draw a smile for the cameras, despite the emotions that start bubbling inside of you. The uncertainty, the fear that your racing career was over and you wouldn’t get into a Formula One car ever again. You weren’t even lined up for a reserve driver role, left scrambling after Hass had terminated your contract late in the off-season. Every seat was covered.

And yet, her you were again, this time wearing AlphaTauri’s colors.

The world seems to blur around you, your eyes stinging as you try and fail to blink back the tears welling up. You turn around, pressing your hands over your face in a desperate attempt to pull yourself together. You can hear the confused murmurs around you, drivers shifting slightly as they notice the photographers stopping their work.

“What’s wrong?” someone asks, but before you could respond, Alex Albon’s voice rings out above the chatter, announcing to everyone within earshot, “Aw, she’s crying!”

That was it —every driver and staff surrounding you turned into a mix of soft chuckles and sympathetic coos. You feel a hand gently land on your head from the spot behind yours, Fernando, offering a quiet, steady reassurance. Daniel also shifts beside you, using his body to shield you from the cameras as he begins to draw comforting circles on your back. You let out a shaky breath.

Some things never change, you think. At least, this time, they’re happy tears.

A couple days later, you find yourself standing among the drivers in a more composed manner. The pre-race buzz growing loud around you.

Max comes to stand beside you, flashing a grin and checking “How are you feeling?”

You cross your arms in front of you, glancing at the grandstands and staff rushing around. Everything had to be perfect for the first race of the season.

“Honestly? Weird,” you admit, scrunching your nose “It’s just... I don’t know”

Carlos, catching the tail end of your confession, chimes in “You’ve already been through the hard part,” he casually shrugs “Now’s just like last year”

You grimace, changing the weight from one leg to the other. The problem is that this could not be a repeat of last year, and yesterday’s qualy was clearly not helping that resolution. Sixteenth, for godness sake.

“Yeah, but with the new team...”

“Ah, don’t worry!” Lando chimes in, flashing you a cheeky smirk “No one will even notice the change, just a different shade of blue.”

He wasn’t wrong. In your almost identical white race suit, only the blue details and deep red logo of Hass had been swapped for the completely dark blue parts of the AlphaTauri emblem. They could have easily photoshopped you into the start of the season’s group photos.

You are fast to quip back “Says the guy who’s been a walking papaya for three seasons straight!”, nodding at his McLaren gear.

“Excuse me, it’s four seasons,” Lando corrects, mock-offended as he dramatically clutches his chest. “Have some respect!”

Carlos snickers, nudging you with his elbow. “Yeah, look at him, he’s a senior now”

“Whatever” you shake your head, waving a hand in the air to dismiss their corrections. “But yeah, I was hoping for a darker color or something. They had some nice blue ones back when you were in it” you add, glancing up at Max.

The Dutch, who had been quietly hearing the conversation, raises his eyebrows slightly. His eyes shifting between you and Carlos, his old teammate, trying to recall those days in Toro Rosso.

You, on the other hand, remembered it vividly. That lanky teenager with rosy cheeks and a wide grin, who shyly laughed off the harsh questioning from the media and was still learning how to handle the spotlight that never seemed to leave him. Max Verstappen, then the youngest driver in Formula 1 history, had merely been a young boy thrust into the cutthroat world of racing, where every mistake felt magnified and the pressure was unyielding.

And now, here he was, standing tall and confident next to you on his eighth season. He had transformed into a fierce competitor, coming off a runner-up finish in the previous World Championship and now fiercely hungry for his first title.

Max sure had grown a lot.

Just a few minutes later, a staff member gently interrupts your conversation, guiding your group toward the red carpet as the national anthem prepares to play. The Red Bull driver helps you weave through the crowd all the way to the front, and finds a spot right next to you as they finalize preparing the ceremony. The atmosphere around you hums with excitement, fans' cheers growing louder as everyone settles into place for the race presentation.

It doesn’t take long for someone to notice that Max has given up his prime position at the center, as the race pole winner, for a place next to you. But by then, he’s already achieved his goal: calming your nerves with a few light-hearted quips, leaving you smiling even as he’s more or less escorted back to his position.

Still, after the ceremony comes to an end, the Dutch manages to find his way back to you. Just to wish you good luck one last time. Max tries to do so seamlessly, thrusting himself into the sea of people and matching your pace as you walk back to your car —despite his own resting in the front row. The Red Bull mechanics waving their arms and making signs behind him, their expressions a mix of frustration and amusement, likely thinking he has forgotten his starting spot.

“Be careful, though, no ending up in the curb today,” he calls out, a playful grin lighting up his face when you near the crowd of white and blue AlphaTauri personnel “You’re not a rookie anymore!”

Your eyes widen when his words sink in, instantly transporting to last year events and how mad you had been at him. Those interviews and press conferences where you had been at each other neck, especially at the one Max references.

He had pushed you to the edge —both metaphorically and on the track—, so calling him a rookie was the softest thing he was going to get from you.

Max lets out a hearty laugh at your reaction, taking a couple steps back in his car’s direction. You roll your eyes, shooting him a playful middle finger which is thankfully hidden by the crowd of people still swarming the grid. No need to give the media something to buzz about before the race had even begun.

In a twist of irony, despite Max’s playful warnings, it’s him who ends up in the curb in the season opener. Well, not exactly like that, a fuel system failure forces him to retire just a few laps from the end. But naturally, when he wanders into the AlphaTauri garage afterward to congratulate you on your impressive debut, you can’t resist the jab.

Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I deserved that." But his smile is genuine, a glint of pride in his eyes as he pats your back. "Nice job out there."

It feels good. Really good.

Qualifying may have been rough, and your aggressive overtakes might’ve drawn some criticism, but that day, you managed to score your first points for AlphaTauri and secure your highest finish yet. Eighth place. Not bad, not bad at all.

You know you can’t promise this kind of result in every race, but it still feels like a statement. A message to all those who had questioned the team’s decision to sign you, who flooded the internet with doubts about your abilities. They chalked up your signing to desperation, to picking the only driver left on the market.

Now, with a hard-earned finish in the books, you feel a sense of vindication. You have proved you belong here.

Honestly, part of you understands their doubts. Not a single rumor had circulated about you being an option for AlphaTauri—or any other team—after a long break and the presentation of the new cars for the season. It had seemed clear: you had lost your opportunity in the F1 world, like many others. Once you stepped out, it felt like there was no coming back.

Yet, just two weeks before the start of the season, you were walking into AlphaTauri headquarters to finalize your contract.

From that moment, everything became a blur—papers to sign, photos to take, and a whirlwind of patience required to navigate your new life. Patience with your new team, with the bosses, and as always, with the media.

In the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, the car starts having issues as soon as qualifying starts. The steering is a mess, failing to respond to every single one of your manoeuvres, and the engine loses power lap after lap. The result: the withdrawal of your car just before the end of Q2.

It’s fine, you tell yourself, repeating it like a mantra. You’ll make do with what you have. You’ll forget everything when the lights go out. Even relaying a more polished version of it to the reporters.

It is March anyway, more specifically Drive to Survive new season’s release week, so they don’t care that much about your Qualy. Their focus lies elsewhere: namely, your huge rivalry with Max Verstappen, the centerpiece of Netflix’s media campaign.

A rivalry that does not exist anymore.

“I mean, I understand the interest,” you accept, taking a sip from your newly acquired Red Bull can-shaped bottle to organize your thoughts. “Max was having an amazing sea-”

Your sentence is abruptly cut off by a hand falling on your shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. You turn back in surprise to see Max himself making his way past, his PR minder close behind.

“Sorry, sorry,” he shyly smiles, noticing he has distracted you from the question

You wave it off “It’s alright”, looking back to the camera

“We were actually talking about you,” the reporter interjects, seizing the chance to bring the two of you into the spotlight, already moving his microphone towards Max.

Max raises an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and caution on his face. You can sense the tension; it’s no secret that you have not been nice to each other in past interviews. Glad it is not like that today.

“About Netflix and all that” you finish for the reporter, noticing he wasn’t going to

“Oh, right, did you see the posters by the entrance?” Max suddenly remembers, a clever shift in the conversation. Like you, he must have been receiving this type of questions all weekend. “They look straight out of a movie! The one where you are jumping out of the car is the be...”

“Of me?” you cut in, pointing to yourself in disbelief.

“Yeah, it's you! From back in Austria, I think” Max confirms with a nod, taking a step toward his waiting interviewer. That’s when the crash went down “They’re just by the gate, next to the security. You should check them out.”

And just like that, Max has deftly diverted the spotlight and got you both off the hook from what could have been an incredibly uncomfortable interview. Sometimes, his media training does work wonders.

Later, he even sends you a photo of the poster, and you have to admit it: you look amazing in them.

Sunday morning dawns, and your sixteenth position on the grid is turned into a disappointing nineteenth due to necessary changes in your car's components. Last place. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that you hardly get to feel the weight of starting at the back, since the steering wheel starts throwing every known error at you the moment you drive out of the pit lane for the formation lap. The radio crackles to life in the middle of your panic, informing you that the car is also smoking.

Just like that, your car is deemed unsafe to drive, and you are left to spend your second race seated in the AlphaTauri garage watching Yuki, your teammate, raise to P7.

This time, it’s you who walk over to the Red Bull garage after the race, hoping to congratulate Max on his amazing race and to escape the celebratory cheers in your own. The moment is far more fleeting than when he had come to see you in Bahrain. Max all smiles and adrenaline, skin glistening with champagne as he pulls you into a brief half-hug in the crowd of mechanics, before he’s whisked away to a meeting room for a post-race debrief.

He’s the winner, after all, and the season seems to look better for him with each passing race.

Meanwhile, for you, things only going downhill from there on. You’re doing terrible in qualifying, and fixing it in the race turns into an almost impossible mission as the rest of the cars swarm past, easily overtaking you even in the slowest sectors.

Those words of encouragement from Bahrain morph into doubtful glances once again. It doesn’t matter that you beat your own record with a seventh-place finish in Imola or that you manage to get within the points in Spain after a grueling race. The media decides to deem that performance “inconsistent” instead, and it stings.

Then comes the Canadian Grand Prix, a moment that seals your fate. You had climbed the grid from seventeenth place with sheer determination and some questionable overtakes, you were pushing it to the limit and the strategy was looking so promising. Lap 58 and you had managed to reach P9.

But as you exit the pits on your final set of tyres, everything comes crashing down.

“There we have it. Comes out of the pits on cold tires and goes straight on into the barrier” the sportscaster's frustration is almost palpable as they show the footage of your onboard camera “Such a shame”

The clip replays in your head and the TV on a constant loop. The way you accelerated and simply lost control, as if it were your first time in a Formula One car. Do you even know how to drive? —it’s basically what Esteban Ocon had screamed over the radio during your battle in the opening laps, and at this point, you’re starting to believe it yourself.

Your phone buzzes over the hotel bed, pulling you out of the haze. It’s Max.

Didn’t see you back at the garage. Hope you’re alright.

You leave the message sitting there, unread, unsure of what to say. It’s the first time you’ve skipped seeing him after the podium, breaking what had quietly become a tradition between the two of you since the Abu Dhabi GP. Max comes to your garage when you secure a decent finish, and more often than not, you head over to Red Bull to celebrate his wins. But yesterday, you couldn’t face it.

A few minutes later, another buzz.

Got a plane back to Monaco with a few of the guys. You’re welcome to join.

Thought it might be better than flying alone.

You hesitate, the idea of being around the other drivers feels exhausting right now.

It alright, Max. I already got the flight back.

Thanks

His response is instant.

If you change your mind, we��re leaving in a couple hours. Just let me know.

After the summer break, you return to the paddock with a new mindset. You have made a decision to not to care anymore. Not about the whispers, the criticism, or the endless pressure to prove yourself. Last year, you achieved a dream you had been chasing since you were a child—your first season in Formula One. And yet, instead of soaking in the accomplishment, you had spent every race weekend consumed by the opinions of others.

You are not going to make the same mistake this year. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your time in Formula 1, it’s those opportunities like this, to redeem yourself, don’t come twice. So, you are decided to block out the noise. If people want to talk, let them. You have a job to do: racing.

But life has a way of throwing curveballs.

It’s Qualifying day at the Belgium Grand Prix, and the paddock is alive with the usual pre-session buzz. The weather, typical for Spa, is unpredictable —dark clouds loom over the track, threatening to turn the session into a chaotic lottery as the track slickens.

Unfortunately, you have found yourself being kicked out in Q1. You were pushing, clocking good lap times, but the worry about your wheels slipping on the wet asphalt held you back from going full throttle. As the session concludes, you can’t shake off the disappointment.

You discuss possible questions with your PR minder while waiting for your turn in the media pen. Your gaze drifts occasionally to the large screen nearby, watching the remaining drivers test the limits of their cars in the second session.

Suddenly, your stomach drops, and your heart races as you see a car spin out of control on the screen. It takes a moment for your brain to register the scene; it’s Sergio Perez. The monitor shows him losing grip during a fast lap, the car sliding wildly before crashing into the barriers. A collective gasp fills the media pen, and your breath catches in your throat.

A couple of hours later, Red Bull officially announces what everyone feared:

“Following a severe accident during Qualifying today, Sergio Perez has sustained a wrist injury that will prevent him from competing in the Belgian Grand Prix. He is currently receiving medical attention, and we wish him a swift recovery.”

The weight of the news hangs heavily in the air, and as fans and media begin speculating who will fill Checo's seat for the race, whispers circulate around the paddock. Some believe Yuki, with his existing experience in the Red Bull family, will be the front-runner for the seat. Others argue that Liam, fresh off impressive performances in F2, might be a bold choice but also an intelligent one.

It is safe to say that, when your name is announced in the following statement, nobody is expecting it.

Your new photo, clad in the Red Bull race suit, plasters itself across every headline, every social media feed. The press loses its collective mind.

From the back of the grid to Red Bull’s frontlines: A risk too far?

The mistake that could cost Red bull the constructors’ title

An erratic driver in a top-tier car. Will she crumble under pressure?

Inconsistent and unreliable. The weakest link signed for Red Bull’s title chase?

Every headline, every article paints the same picture—Red Bull taking a reckless chance with you, questioning your consistency and readiness for the top-tier spotlight. It’s as though no one remembers the flashes of brilliance you’ve shown, only the times you’ve faltered.

You can’t help but notice the lukewarm response from Christian Horner when he arrives to the paddock on race day.

"We’re giving her the opportunity, and she’ll have to show if her performance is up to our expectations." declares the Red Bull principal. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. More like a public trial, and you’re the one on the stand.

But Max? Max defends you, openly and unapologetically.

“Everyone’s being so quick to judge, but no one gets on this level by accident” he is asked about innumerable times that morning pre-race, and his response is always firm. Leaving no room for doubts “She’s more than capable.”

It’s a bold statement, one that earns Max a few raised eyebrows and more than enough jokes about needing to be saved from his PR team. But he doesn’t care. He stands by you, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’ve got someone in your corner.

The pre-race ceremony feels like a fever dream. Drivers and team members pass by, offering fist bumps, handshakes, and quick words of encouragement. This time you are ushered to the front line for the race presentation, to stand next to Max Verstappen because that is your place right now. As his teammate.

"You do look better in blue, I’ll give you that" he whispers with a teasing grin, giving you a playful nudge

“Told you” you smile up at him, genuine happiness pulling at your lips "Guess I’ve got to prove I can drive just as well in it too."

"You will" Max responds, his tone suddenly serious, but there’s no pressure behind it —just belief.

When the lights go out, the roar of the engines swallows your every thought. You’re starting P13 as a result of Checo’s accident, but as the race unfolds, you move higher and higher in the grid. By lap 30, you're in 8th, and there’s no stopping you now. The Red Bull feels like a beast under your hands and you’re squeezing every bit of power out of it, pulling off daring overtakes with a confidence you didn’t know you still had.

Each overtake, each maneuver, pulls you higher up the grid. By the time the final laps roll around, you have somehow managed to slip into P3, a podium spot within your grasp. This is surreal.

Still, Carlos Sainz’s Ferrari is looming large in your mirrors. He’s fast, too fast, and he’s on fresher tires —he is not the one who had to fight half of the grid to get into this position. You know it's only a matter of time before he makes his move, but you defend like your life depends on it.

The Ferrari dives down the inside after the straight, and you can't hold him back any longer. He slips past, his car a red blur as he takes P3. The podium slips through your fingers, but you hold on to P4, pushing the car to its limits until the checkered flag waves.

In the media pen afterward, the energy is electric. You raise with confidence as the reporters wave his congratulations and questions. They press you for details, dissecting every turn, every near-miss. One reporter brings up the moment mid-race where you almost went off-track, and you grin, leaning into the microphone.

“Oh, yeah, look...” you sigh, laughter bubbling up inside you “Max told me to try his settings this weekend and, wow”

The interviewer chuckles at your reaction, but he really doesn’t know the half of it. It's unlike anything you’ve driven before, a razor-sharp font end and a rear looser than you've ever seen. The result of it is an extremely sensitive car, unpredictable, always on the edge of losing control.

“It’s hard to get used to, but you know... you don't argue with someone who's going to be the world champion."

A new announcement comes like a wave crashing over the F1 world a few days later: Sergio Perez will be sidelined for up to five races due to his wrist injuries. The rehabilitation will be long and difficult, but the doctors are optimistic about his full recovery. The news spread like a wildfire, the weight of expectation settling heavily on your shoulders. You’ve had your fair share of ups and downs this season, but stepping in for Checo? That was definitely not on your bingo card.

Arriving at Zandvoort later that week is a surreal experience. This time, you’re not just las minute filling in, you step into the paddock as a —somewhat— confirmed Red Bull driver for the start of a race weekend.

You’re dressed head-to-toe in the signature blue and red, the bold bull logo stamped on your chest for all to see. It feels like a second skin, but at the same time, heavier than you expected. Honestly, the simple attire by itself draws a lot of attention, more than you wanted —though, sorry to disappoint, you’re clearly not Max Verstappen.

At least, when you finally step into the Red Bull garage, the cameras and the blatant stares don’t follow. Your eyes shift through the garage as you try to gather your bearings, taking a deep breath, but someone quickly catches your eye.

Victoria.

The sight of her sent a wave of warmth crashing over you, and you rush forward, surprising her with a hug that she instantly reciprocates. It has been so long since you last saw her, only got meet her a few times during your seasons in F3 and F2 when you came to the Netherlands.

“Oh, look at you!” Victoria whispers, her voice thick with emotion as she buries her head into your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, really proud. This is huge”

“I know, it’s not in the best conditions but-” you lament, voice lightly trembling

“Don’t say that” she pulls away to look you in the eyes, still firmly holding your hands in hers, and you feel like a small teary child again. “You deserve it, this opportunity. Nobody gave this to you, you’ve worked for it”

“I wish you were here,” you confess, letting go of her right hand to wipe the stray tear rolling down your cheek. Victoria squeezes your hand, probably a bit overwhelmed as well, so you decide to lighten the mood a little “Your brother’s too good”

“Are you saying I wasn’t?!” Victoria shots back in faux indignation, giving you a playful light push.

“But you’d at least let me pass.”

“Yeah, I would have,” she states, confidently, her smile brightening the moment “I’m glad you two fixed things.”

The mention of last year’s chaos weighs heavy in the air, you take a deep breath, “Sorry for not coming to see you last year. That was... a hard weekend.”

The 2021 Netherlands Grand Prix was a weekend you'd rather forget. You’d felt exposed, vulnerable, and, honestly, betrayed by Max. Even though you were never more than acquaintances during your karting days, and the fact you had clashed so badly during that season that season, you thought him, more than anyone, could understand what being crossed by the media was like.

At that point especially, when, after weeks of leading drama-filled headlines, that video of you completely broken after your crash with him had flooded every social media platform. He should have known better than to approach you in such a delicate moment.

But, anyway, all of that was now forgotten.

“I know,” Victoria’s expression softens at the memory. Her eyes reflected the same pain you felt, and the understanding between you two was palpable “Max wanted mom and I to check on you since the team was dragging him everywhere, but well, he got to you first.”

That surprises you. You had guessed Max caught wind of the release of the video before approaching you after the race, but you supposed he just wanted to save his ass in what looked like an awful-looking media scandal. Never to check how you were feeling.

Someone media team swoops in just as you and Victoria are settling down, pulling you away for promo videos and media duties. You nod, giving your friend a parting smile, and follow them toward the motorhome where the familiar sight of cameras, mics, and branded backdrops wait for you. The Netflix crew is also buzzing around like bees, documenting your every step just in case you trip.

Max is already there, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing that signature smirk.

“Took your time,” he says, raising an eyebrow as you approach. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Blame your sister," you say, nodding toward the garage where you last left Victoria. “She’s distracting.”

Max chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and coming closer as the crew sets up for the first video. “Told her to hang around for a bit, hope recording doesn’t take too long.”

You are guided to stand by a table with portable cooking stoves, different ingredients and cooking utensils perfectly laid out for you to use. The arrangement seems to spark a realization in the Dutch’s mind.

“Oh, I almost forgot it. My mother wanted to invite you over to the house for lunch, or dinner, or whenever you want really...” Max trails off, scratching the back of his neck “I’ll just go pick you up at the hotel”

You blink in surprise. Lunch with Max’s family? It’s been years since you and his sister were close enough to even consider something like that. The thought makes you feel warm, almost nostalgic for a time when things were simpler.

“I’d love to, but—” you gesture around, the motorsport chaos swirling around you both, “I’ve got a lot to catch up on, car stuff, strategy... I want to focus.”

“That’s okay” Max nods in understanding, and you notice there’s an ease to your interactions now that wasn’t there before. “But don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?”

From them on, the weekend unfolds with lots of promo recording, meetings with the engineers and adapting to the team.

Qualifying is... bad? Honestly, it is the first time ever in your career you have entered Q3, which, for you is huge milestone, but the high expectations put on you make it seem like an even bigger failure.

Max is second, at least, which can make for an easy race win despite the poor help his teammate can guarantee him.

Race day also brings a whole new set of challenges. The weather at Zandvoort is temperamental, shifting between light rain and slick track conditions, and making tire strategy crucial. The pit calls come fast and frantic, and in the heat of the moment, you make a mistake. You swing in for the tire change and, surprise, the mechanics don’t try to even touch your car, but instead they start standing up and getting out of your way.

It takes you half a second to understand what is happening, but when you see the white overalls, you immediately push the gas pedal. You’ve stopped in Haas’ garage.

The mechanics from both teams wave frantically, guiding you to the correct pit box, but not without some laughter.

“Sorry, too many changes in one year” you mutter into the radio, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks beneath the helmet

Your race engineer is quick to reassure you "No problem," though you can still hear the suppressed laughter in his voice.

Cameras catch the Red Bull and Haas crews chuckling after your departure, and even the commentators can't hold back their amusement.

You get driver of the day too, for some reason.

Later that night, just as you finally collapse onto your hotel bed, exhausted, Max sends you the clip of your pit stop mishap with a string of laughing emojis. You sigh, a tired smile tugging at your lips. You’ll have to get used to these post-race celebrations —Max is on the way to sweep every single trophy this season.

Another win at his home race, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face all night. For you, a consolatory P5. You will do better next time.

Asshole

Go to sleep

Before you can even roll over, the Red Bull driver is already writing back. You pull the covers over yourself and turn off the lights, waiting for his reply to light up your screen.

Can’t

I’m drunk still

Did you get to the hotel alright?

You can almost hear the slur in his words, even through the letters. It takes a second for you to reply.

Yeah, just got here

I’m so tired, seriously, am not fit to party every week

You have to stop winning so much

There’s a long pause, the kind that makes you think he’s finally drifted off. But then your phone buzzes again.

Okay

I won’t win next week

Promise

A smile tugs at your lips at Max’s messages, warmth spreading through your chest at the silly prospect, and you tap out a quick reply.

Like you can help yourself

Good night, Max. Get some sleep.

You fall asleep before you can see his good night message, the events of the day finally taking a toll on you.

In Italy, everything feels different. Max and you fall into an unspoken rhythm thanks to the convenience of being in the same hotel. Every morning now begins with a knock at your door, the familiar sight of Max waiting to walk with you to breakfast, and then sharing a car to the track. This continues at the paddock as well, though Grand Prix’s weekends are always a chaos. You suffer through meetings, recordings and PR obligations side by side, exchanging glances when things drag on too long or when something utterly pointless is said. And sometimes, if you are lucky and the schedules align, you can even get to spend some low time relaxing back at the motorhome. Not because you are obligated, but because you want to

It is a welcome change. You have never been this close to a teammate in your time as a professional and Max Verstappen, contrary to all your previous thoughts about him, seems like the perfect person to have that experience with.

On Saturday, the meeting with the engineers stretches long into the evening. Despite the success of qualifying —better than expected, even, you’ve secured a solid P4, just a couple sports behind Max's P2—, the debrief is exhaustive. The engineers dive deep into every tiny detail: tire degradation, fuel consumption rates, weather forecasts, braking zones, and a million other things you’re digest in time for tomorrow. Your brain is buzzing by the time it finally wraps up.

The hotel’s restaurant has already closed by the time you roll into the lobby, and you both groan in unison as the realization hits —there’s no food in sight. The trainers, ever vigilant, push you both into the elevator, their meal-prep containers left earlier in your rooms supposedly your savior for the night. You know what's waiting for you though, and it's not appealing.

“I can’t eat another freaking rice bowl,” you whisper once the trainers step out on one of the lower floors, the mere thought of it making your stomach turn.

Max chuckles beside you, rubbing his stomach in agreement. “I think I’d rather starve.”

The two of you stand in comfortable silence for a moment, digesting the reality awaiting you. The floors of the elevator flash by on the display, climbing higher and higher toward your rooms.

“I mean...” Max starts, crossing his arms and leaning against the elevator wall with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I did see an open pizza place down the street when we were driving by”

“But tomorrow’s race day...” you mumble, trying to reason with yourself as much as him.

“Yeah...” Max nods, giving you space to mull it over.

The elevator dings and opens on your floor, and Max straightens, preparing to walk out and head toward the sad prepped meal waiting in his room. But just as he’s about to take a step, you reach out and grab the fabric of his shirt, halting him. You press the button to close the doors again, making a quick decision.

“Okay, but you’re not ordering!” you say, a grin starting to creep onto your face.

Max bursts into laughter, leaning back against the railing again. “Alright, alright.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, glancing at the two of you in the mirror. Both of you are still fully decked out in Red Bull merch from head to toe —Max even has his cap with his number 33 embroidered on it. This has to be the stupidest idea ever.

“The fucking Max Verstappen ordering pizza at 1 a.m. on the night before a Grand Prix,” you shake your head, already imagining the headlines. “As soon as they see you, they’re gonna freak o—”

“Like you’re any better!” Max interrupts, a teasing grin on his face.

Luckily, you manage to get through the pizza run with only a couple of selfies snapped by the restaurant owner and a few late-night customers. Once the pizza box is securely in hand, you both make a quick dash back to the safety of the hotel. It’s too late to hide your little escapade from the trainers —the notifications on your phone are already rolling in. But with the scent of freshly baked pizza wafting up to your room, you decide not to care. The film Max picked playing as a mere background as the two of you scarf down the greasy treat.

The next day, the Italian Grand Prix dawns with bright sunshine and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Each lap feels like a heartbeat quickening, anticipation pulsing through you as you steadily climb through the positions. Your focus is razor-sharp, each corner, each straight, a delicate balance of precision and control. Max is just ahead, having commanded the race since the second lap, and after battling off the Ferraris and Mercedes, you’ve finally latched onto his tail. P2.

You push hard, feeling the car respond beneath you with perfect precision, each movement sharp and purposeful. You’ve fought off them off, but they’re still close, their pace threatening to catch up any second. You need to widen the gap —need to create more space—, and you try to close in on Max to let him know exactly that.

But something feels off. Max doesn’t pull away, sometimes to the point you could easily overtake him.

What is happening? It’s not like he’s letting you pass, he is perfectly blocking the path, but why does he seems to already be at his limit?

“News on Plan X?” you ask over the radio, using Max coded name for some privacy. Better not to raise any alarms if they decide to put it up on TV.

“No changes”

You furrow your brows at the quick response of the race engineer. That can’t be. You could —easily— go faster, overtake him. Your pace keeps decreasing with every lap spent behind Max, the difference even making it difficult for you to maintain a comfortable gap between the two.

Maybe they don’t want to tell you there’s a problem? Or don’t see it? Is it his tires? Did he get any damage? —Why are you faster?

Despite the way your instincts scream for answers, you decide it’s better to keep quiet. A double podium is on the line, you can’t be fighting Max. Of course you want to win, to show your worth, but you also have to be a team player and these points are extremely important for Red Bull and, of course, for his championship.

The familiar silver and blue machine looms closer in your rearview mirror in the middle of your internal battle. Lewis Hamilton is relentless, shortening the gap between you with pure experience and determination.

You push down on the throttle, focusing on the track ahead, trying to distance yourself from him as best as you can while protecting Max. You change your line, block him at every turn, do everything to keep him at bay.

But with just three laps to go, despite your best efforts, Lewis finds his moment. He slips past with surgical precision, and the sting is immediate. Frustration surging straight from your heart. Could you have passed Max? Could you have won this race? Yes, says a voice in your head, you could have.

But it’s too late to act on it, you have betrayed your instincts and now you can only watch Hamilton as he pulls away.

P3.

As you cross the checkered flag, though, all the frustration takes a backseat in your mind. Finally, you have made it. You’ve secured a podium, your first one ever.

The moment you park the car in front of the sign with a number 3 and pull yourself out, a tidal wave of emotion crashes into you. The cheers of the crowd, the roar from the team. You can’t even keep yourself upright. Your legs feel weak, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.

You lean into the car, burying your head in your hands, your helmet still on as tears flow freely, the overwhelming joy and relief of this moment too much to hold in.

Before you can fully grasp the moment, you feel strong arms wrap around you, pulling you upright. Max is there, his face alight with pride and joy. He helps you remove your helmet, the tears still rolling down your cheeks, and pulls you into a tight hug. His laughter bubbling through the noise.

"You didn’t want to win, huh?" Max yells over the cheers, a wide grin on his face. "No more parties, you said? You were tired!"

His joy is contagious, and for a moment, you forget the exhaustion, laughing through your tears.

When he finally breaks away from the hug, it’s only to lift you onto the front of your car. You try to protest —it’s his victory, after all, not yours— but Max doesn’t give you the chance. He lets go of your hand and steps back toward the barriers, your helmet still in his hold as he cheers for you alongside the team. Leaving you to bask in your moment.

Your dream come true.

The celebration is everything you had imagined and more. The deafening roar of the crowd, the weight of the trophy in your hands, and the surge of pride coursing through your veins feel surreal. It’s all too much and yet exactly what you’ve dreamed of. The champagne flies in all directions, and Max and Lewis make sure to drench you in it until you're soaked to the bone.

By the time you make it to the post-race conference, cleaned up as best as you could, your skin still feels sticky, and your hair —well, that's a lost cause.

“An incredible race today!” the presenter congratulates you at the start of your round of questions, “It’s been a long journey to get here, hasn’t it? We’ve been waiting for you”

“I know!” you laugh, nerves still fluttering, but adrenaline keeping you afloat. “Finally got a race with nice weather. I’ve always hated the slicks, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“But you’ve always been good on rainy days,” Max interjects from his relaxed spot on the sofa, picking the mic unprompted for the first time

“What are you talking about? I almost ended up on the gravel in Spa last year,” you throw him a sideways glance, incredulous “Two times!”

“No, I meant, like, back in karting,”

“Ah, seriously?” you sigh, exasperated but amused, finally catching onto where he’s going with this. Max lets out a low chuckle, and you turn to Lewis and the interviewer “You know why he’s saying that? It’s because when that inchident thing with him and Charles happened, I was third all through it.”

You can almost see the journalists in the room perking up, pens poised with renewed energy. You’ve never really talked about this before —there was no need, especially since the main character on it hadn’t mentioned you either—, so this was probably news to everyone.

Honestly, you weren’t sure Max even remembered you being there.

“And you know,” you continue, getting into the swing of things, “those two were driving like we were playing Mario Kart or something. Max pushed Charles out to seventh. Charles came back up and almost crashed into me. That was a disaster!”

The interviewer grins, playing along with the banter. “Did you also end up in a puddle?”

“I actually won, since they were both disqualified,” you reveal, shaking your head as you look back at Max. His fond smile swiftly drawing one on your lips.

The Singapore Grand Prix looms large, buzzing through the paddock with one question on everyone’s mind: will Max bring home the championship today? Five races before the end of the season? It’s a delicate balance. For Max to seal the deal, he not only needs to win but also relies on Charles to have a disaster of a race —preferably a low grid finish or, better yet, a DNF. And with Singapore’s notorious twists and unforgiving barriers, it's not out of the question.

The fact that both of you are starting at the front of the grid, while the Ferraris languish in fifth and sixth, only heightens the expectations. It feels like everything’s falling into place. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be the night Max brings home the title he’s fought so hard for.

“How am I going to sleep tonight?” you murmur as you pull the room key from your bag. You’re restless, still wound up from the qualifying session. “I’m all like, I don’t know. I feel like I could run a marathon right now”

“Not going to follow you on that one,” Max chuckles, low and tired, stretching out his arms as he follows you out the elevator “Sorry”

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet as you make your way to your room. You look around. It’s a nice hotel this one, with a good gym and a big room. Such a shame the weekend has been so chaotic.

“Must be nice being so relaxed”

“Wasted all my nerves in Qualy,” he replies, shaking his head with a grin. The soaked track, the stifling humidity—it had all made qualifying feel like a war zone. Max had been knocked off pole a few times, twice by you. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you, can’t have you stealing the championship”

You pause, halfway through opening your door, and turn to look at him, incredulous. “You asshole, I’m like 200 points behind you!”

“Yeah, sure, sure” the Dutchman concedes sarcastically. “Just know I’ll be watching you”

Rolling your eyes, you lean against your door, pushing it open with your back. The door swings inward, but instead of stepping inside, you instinctively reach out, arms open. Of course, the goodnight hug —a routine that feels oddly familiar now. You can't quite remember when it started, when Max began waiting for you at the paddock or leaving you at your door every night. But as his arms wrap around you and you're pulled into his warmth, you realize you don’t really care.

“You’ll do great tomorrow”

“You too,” you whisper back into his shoulder, and a tiny smile draws in your lips just thinking about your next words “Mister World Champion”

“Don’t say that yet, you’re going to jinx it” Max susses you, jokingly, pulling back slightly but still holding onto you. Your arms rest comfortably over his shoulders.

You chuckle, looking at him straight in the eyes. “I told you, Max, there’s no way to jinx it. If it’s not tomorrow, it’ll be the day after. I just know you’re going to win so much that you’ll—”

“That I’ll get tired of it” Max finishes, in a whisper. The memory of the night you told him that, after his loss in last years’ championship, fresh in his head. “And you know, the same’ll happen to you. Just look how great you’ve done this year, with only—”

“You are just saying that” you interrupt him, grateful for his encouragement but also realistic. Just a few races are left for you to enjoy being in a title winning team, or simply on a team. Your one-year contract, once again, ticking by in front of your eyes.

“I don’t have to say it, you’ll see it” he assures you, his confidence radiating in every word. “But you won’t get tired, you’ll want win after win, after win”

You both laugh at that, maybe because it's the truth or because you are both basking in the promise of such futures. Of such fantasies.

Silence falls between you, the air grows thick with unspoken words. You gaze into each other's eyes, those familiar galaxies pulling you closer. Why does he have to have such pretty eyes?

And before you know it, you both lean in, the world around you fading away as your lips meet for the first time. Soft, tentative, but with so much want.

Max pulls back just a fraction, looking a little breathless, but then he gently nudges you toward your room, his body still hovering close to yours as he keeps the door open.

“The security cameras...” he chuckles when you glance up at him, clearing the confusion swirling in your eyes.

You can’t help but smile, the giddiness of the moment washing over you. Unable to resist, you bring him close again, your hand finding its way to his cheek as you lean in, capturing his lips with yours once more.

Sometimes, Max’s media training really does work wonders.

When you and Max arrive at the paddock the next afternoon, you feel like you are floating in a bubble of excitement. The usual chaos of race day is buzzing around you—engines roaring, engineers shouting, and the media snapping photos—but all of that seems distant. You exchange glances filled with unspoken affection, a spark of joy igniting between you at every second you get to spend together. It doesn’t matter if it’s during the endless drivers’ meeting or the PR duties, it’s nice being nice to him.

The media, ever-watchful and ever-mistaken, reads the chemistry as confidence, speculating about the brilliant strategy from Red Bull that has practically secured Max’s first championship. And yes, there’s truth to that, but the reality is that Max is simply too happy about finally kissing you.

The Dutchman makes a small detour to your driver’s room a couple minutes before you have to head to the track, a mischievous grin spreading across his face when he finds you alone. Without a word, he pulls you in for a quick, sweet kiss, the kind that leaves your heart racing and your cheeks flushed.

“What was that?” you laugh, your hands playfully resting on his chest as you look up at him, curiosity dancing in your eyes. “Do you do that with Checo too, huh? For good luck?”

“No, just you,” he replies, his tone light and teasing. Then, he leans down again, his hand caressing your face as he pecks your lips.

Yet, just as the kiss deepens, a knock on the door and a voice calls out. The race start.

The race is a delicate balancing act from the moment the lights go out. Max launches into the lead, commanding the front of the grid with the ease of a seasoned champion, while you follow close behind. Every lap is executed with seamless coordination between the two of you, the Red Bulls in perfect sync, widening the gap from the rest of the field. The strategy is clear—avoid the battles, manage the tires, and let the Ferraris and everyone else fight among themselves. Both of you know what’s at stake: the championship.

Your engineer's voice crackles through the radio at intervals, feeding you updates on tire wear, fuel management, and gaps. You can see Max upfront doing the same, his moves calculated and fast. There is no room for errors.

The laps tick down, the race dragging into what feels like an endless cycle of corners and straights. But everything changes when you hear the voice of your race engineer again, this time with a note of concern.

“Carlos closing in behind. In DRS range.”

Your heart skips a beat, though you keep your hands steady on the wheel. It’s clear he’s not going to let you both just cruise to victory.

Max is still ahead, but you know he's starting to struggle. He’s been pushing, maybe too hard, and the tire degradation is catching up to him. You can see it in the way his car shifts through the corners, just a little slower, a little more unstable. He’s giving it everything, but the gap with the Ferrari is closing, and fast.

You know the moment is coming. The moment you’ll have to make a decision, if they don’t make it for you. In the pitwall they seem to have reach the same conclusion, relaying both Max and Carlos gap to you every few seconds.

Carlos makes a try to overtake you, once, twice, without success. You are blocking him, but can’t do so for much longer while you have Max at an arm's length.

Your race engineer comes through the radio, again, the tension in his voice this time unmistakable “You can push”.

Permission.

Your heart sinks. The conversation from yesterday replaying in your mind.

As the next lap approaches, you take a deep breath and swing out of the slipstream, pulling alongside Max. There’s a brief, silent moment of understanding between you. It’s not a fight, just necessity. And with a heavy heart, you make the overtake cleanly, taking the lead.

You glance in your mirrors again, catching sight of Max falling back. The tires are gone, and the Ferraris are right there to capitalize. Within a lap, Carlos gets by, then Charles. Max is slipping, and you can feel the weight of it settle in your chest.

Later in the day, the headlines say you have feed the Lion to the vultures. You knew Max was a hard time and, despite it, you just let him go. Like deadweight.

There’s a brief second of silence on the radio before your engineer confirms, “Good job. Keep pushing.”

Now it’s just you, leading the race, with Carlos right on your tail.

The roar of the Ferrari engine fills the space behind you, the threat of him overtaking growing with every lap. You push harder, your tires squealing as you take the corners, doing everything you can to hold onto the lead. But the Ferrari is relentless, inching closer, until finally, in a desperate late-braking move, Carlos gets past you. Almost crashing into your car.

The disappointment hits you instantly, but you can’t dwell on it. You’re still in second, still in the running, but the possibility of Max winning the championship slipping away gnaws at you.

Lap after lap, you fight to stay close to Carlos, but the gap widens. Max is slipping further back, and by the time the checkered flag waves, he’s dropped to sixth. You cross the line in P2.

Your highest finish yet, but it feels hollow.

Parc fermé is a blur. You climb out of the car, handing over your helmet and gloves without even thinking, your body running on autopilot. The podium awaits, but you feel none of the excitement you imagined you’d feel standing on the second step. The cameras flash, the crowd cheers, yet your mind is elsewhere.

After the podium ceremony, you’re guided back to the garage, drenched in champagne but weighed down by disappointment. The team welcomes you back with smiles, their congratulations sincere, but you can see it in their faces —the unspoken acknowledgment of what just unfolded on track. The championship remains in a limbo.

You change into a clean race suit, steeling yourself for the media. The cooldown room had already been hard enough with all those cameras in your face, capturing your every twitch, and you’re not sure how much more you can hold together.

You don’t really think about it as you make your way to the opposite part of the garage and knock on his door, a hand pressed to your chest.

There's no response. Maybe Max hasn’t made it back to the garage.

Still, you decide open, just in case.

Your eyes widen when you see him, not sure if you are ready to face him. But your heart wills you to take a step inside. Max is sitting in the corner, slumped on the sofa with his head in his hands. The sight hits you hard. Memories from last season, of you sitting in his same exact position, flooding your mind.

Without a word, you reach into your suit and pull out the handful of candies you grabbed earlier. It’s not much, feels silly to do even, but right now it's the only thing you can offer. You place it gently on the table in front of him, just as he had once done for you.

Max looks up, his eyes tired but warm. A tight-lipped smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You try to reciprocate it, yet only a grimace comes out.

The engineers and mechanics start calling for you to head to the debrief from outside, and you look at the door and back to Max. You want to give him the same space he gave you, to be as understanding as he had been last year, but you feel rooted to the spot.

Max finally speaks, his voice is soft “Congrats on P2.”

“The first loser” you correct, with a shrug of your shoulders, a tight smile on your lips. The old joke weighting in your heart.

And Max smiles, for real this time.

That’s when it all hits you. The weight of the race, the decisions, the pressure —it all crashes down at once. Tears start welling up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice breaking. “I’m really sorry Max, I don’t want to go back to fighting again”

Max is on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice soft in your ear. “It’s not your fault. You did what you had to do. Don’t cry, I’m not mad.”

“But, I shouldn’t—, I—”

Max just holds you tighter, sussing your cries, one hand gently stroking your hair as you cry into his chest. Your hands clutch at his fireproof shirt, desperate, like he might slip away if you let go.

“And I didn’t even have nice candies for you! I-” you sob, pulling away from his chest long enough to gesture to the table, your voice catching in your throat. “Just the ones for the throat. This is so bad, I’m so sorry”

Max eyes widen with surprise as he takes in your teary outburst, a chuckle slipping out of his lips, but there’s no teasing in it —just something tender and understanding.

“Don’t laugh!” you protest, fresh tears brimming in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” the driver helplessly smiles, pulling you back against his chest and letting you cry. After a moment, he adds quietly, “If it means anything, I bought the candies like way before I gave them to you. In a nice store I found"

You pull away, confused, your brows furrowing.

“What?” Max questions with a sheepish smile “You thought I had a nice bag with your favorite candies just laying around in my room?”

You lower your eyes as you mutter “Thought it was from a fan or something”, a pout forming in your lips

“No, no” he shakes his head, rubbing slow circles into your back. “I bought them back in France, after the fight in the parade. I felt really bad about everything that happened”

Your eyes widen. France? That was weeks before you patched things up last year. Had he been carrying those candies from race to race, just waiting for a chance to fix things between you two?

More tears well up, the flood of emotions overwhelming you. “Max, no! That’s even worse!”

After a season filled with battles and close calls, Max finally clinches the championship at the Suzuka Grand Prix. Despite your best efforts to keep calm, your excitement betrays you the moment set your eyes on him. Surrounded by the team, the photographers and the fans, basking in the glory of his first title.

Without much thinking, you run straight to Max, throwing your arms around him in an embrace that’s far too enthusiastic to go unnoticed. Max pulls you in without hesitation when he sees you, laughing as you both collapse into each other, overcome with relief, pride, and sheer happiness.

The sportscasters on live TV are quick to catch it, chuckling at the scene.

“Oh, are those..?” one of them wonders, amused.

“Yeah, they are!” another commentator jumps in, clearly enjoying the moment “Do these two have something to tell us?”

That night’s celebration is truly unforgettable, a whirlwind of champagne, cheers, and heartfelt toasts. The team is overflowing with joy, reveling in the culmination of their hard work, eight years of relentless effort finally paying off in the most spectacular fashion. Laughter rings out as stories are shared, memories of the long nights and tireless preparations flooding back to everyone in the room.

Max at the center of it all, his dream come true. His first World Championship. One of many.

And although the saying states that misfortunes never come single, it is fortunes that do it this time. A couple weeks later, as you savor every moment left in the Red Bull garage —nestled in your incredible world championship-winning car and with a schedule that perfectly aligns with Max’s before Checo returns—, you find yourself at the top of the grid.

Your first win.

It’s exhilarating, the trophy gleaming in your hands as you stand on the top step of the podium, the crowd erupting in cheers below. You can hardly believe it, especially after the uncertainty of whether you would even participate in this season. But here you are, excelling everyone expectations and proving that you deserve to be here. You belong here.

However, as sweet as the victory is, there’s an inevitable bittersweetness when you slip back into the Alpha Tauri race suit. Hanging low on the grid again despite the high expectations everyone has thrown onto you. This is your true seat after all, but the contrast still feels shattering, like waking up from a dream you didn’t want to end.

Guess you will have to remind yourself of your Wolrd Champion boyfriend’s words: “It will come”. Because one day your name will be etched on that trophy right alongside his. Max is sure of it.

The end of the season arrives just a month later, and both Red Bull and AlphaTauri teams gather for their final celebration. A constructors and driver’s championship in their pocket.

It’s a glamorous night, everyone dressed to the nines. Max looks dashing in his tailored black suit, and you in a long dress that makes you nervous just to walk in. The evening is full of happiness and memories, a fitting end to a thrilling year.

After a long round of applause for Max and his championship win, Christian Horner takes the microphone, a grin spreading across his face as he addresses the crowd.

“Actually, can our newly confirmed driver for Alfa Tauri come up to the stage for a second, please?” he announces, and the room erupts into applause. Your heart skips a beat.

No one really knew about your contract extension —two more years in the AlphaTauri seat, with the possibility of a return to Red Bull on the horizon—, so the announcement makes your future with the team feel all the more tangible.

You leave your seat to walk towards the stage, confusion written all over your face. You clearly weren’t expecting a live announcement, less so bringing you up on the stage for it.

Max leaves the spotlight for a second to come to meet you at the top of the stairs, lending a helping hand.

“Can you explain to me what am I doing going up on stage with the world champion?” you whisper. You grip his arm, grateful for the support as you follow him to the center.

“Well, bringing the rising star, what else?” Max states like it’s obvious, a smirk tugging at his lips. And then he can’t help but whisper “You look beautiful”

Standing on stage, you feel the nerves tighten in your chest, the weight of all eyes on you suddenly overwhelming as Christian thanks you for your efforts this season. But the team principal’s voice breaks through the buzzing in your ears.

“I’ll be honest, kid,” he starts, turning toward you with a playful glint in his eye. “If I knew you were this good, I would’ve saved myself a lot of calls from Max.”

Laughter erupts from the crowd, and you can’t help but smile, shaking your head at Max, who just smirks and shrugs innocently. You didn’t know the Dutchman had had such a hand in bringing you into the team.

Christian raises his glass, his expression shifting into something more serious. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want a round of applause for both of them —our two first-time winners. For many more victories and better ones, if that is even possible”

Max steps forward, taking your hand and lifting it alongside his, both of you standing together, as winner, first winners. The room erupts in cheers and clapping, the weight of the season finally settling in. You exchange a glance with Max, and in that moment, you both know that this is just the beginning of an incredible adventure together.

Author's note: First of all, thank you all so much for reading! I can't thank you enough for the comments and support you gave to First Loser.

I hope you enjoy this ending a lot too. I hadn't even thought of writing a second part but now that I see it, I'll have to give agree with you: it needed a part 2. So thanks for the encouragement! hahaha

(Also thank you to the person who say they wanted to see a reunion with Victoria, I loved writing it)

Taglist: @youre-on-your-ownkid, @bieberismysoulmate, @nebarious, @drezzerk33, @yuiiimd

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 imagine

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gguk-n · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 3- Heartfelt confession

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Oscar decides he wants to spend time with Y/N. The more time he spends, the more his feelings solidify. He likes her a lot. He just hopes she likes him too.

Lando was the happiest person when summer break began since he would no longer have to hear his teammate pine over his best friend's sister. Oscar was a quite and stoic man and nothing could elicit a response from him except Y/N. Even the thought of her getting hurt would make Oscar worry to no end; so he would resort to stealthy pestering Ansel while away for races on what was going on with his sister who honestly was of no help since he lived in another city. So, Oscar now depended on his mother and he would be lucky to catch glimpses of Y/N behind his mom on rare occasions. Nicole was happy her son was calling way more often then usual and she wasn't about to complain. Oscar had ulterior motives and would ask about everyone in hopes of finding out what Y/N was up too. He was sure his sisters could take care of themselves.

Summer break couldn't come any sooner for Oscar either. Oscar was back in Australia enjoying the cooler weather especially after he found out Y/N would also have July off from school when he over heard his mother talking to Y/N about her plans for July. Even Oscar wasn't sure if he ever booked plane tickets any faster than he did in that moment. Oscar decided to 'surprise' his family or another way to talk to Y/N. He texted her asking her to pick her up from the airport since he wanted to surprise everyone. That's how Y/N found herself awake at the crack ass of dawn since Oscar doesn't seem to understand timezones or so it seems and was landing in Melbourne at 5 am. Y/N would rather be asleep on the rare few days she got off from school without having to plan for the next year or make up a teaching plan for the next week. But here she was driving to the airport with the largest coffee mug she could find and a hoodie with Oscar's number on it. It was the warmest hoodie she owned and she had forgotten it was Oscar merchandise that she had stolen from her sibling.

Oscar was stood at the airport arrival terminal when Y/N drove her car to him. She rolled the window down, "You should be grateful I've known you for years because I was ready to leave you stranded at the airport when my alarm rang" she called out and popped her trunk open. Oscar placed his bags in and climbed into the passenger seat. "Thanks for picking me up" Oscar said. "I love you guys too much to explain to Nicole how I lost her son" Y/N replied after taking a sip of her once hot coffee. Oscar didn't really hear anything after 'i love you' honestly you wouldn't either if your crush directed those 3 words at you in any context. He gathered himself, "Take me to your place" Oscar asked rather commanded but who's asking. "What? Why?" Y/N asked now fully looking at Oscar who's eyes had travelled down to the hoodie Y/N was wearing and you could clearly see OP81 plastered all over it if you looked carefully enough since the hoodie looked like it was Y/N's favourite in her collection of clothes. "You're wearing my hoodie" Oscar pointed out. "What? This is my hoodie" she corrected. "It has my name and number on it" he corrected. And for the first time since she woke up she looked at herself and realised that she left the house in the hoodie she slept in which just happened to be Oscar's merchandise. "You support my merchandise" Oscar gleamed. "Ansel bought it, I stole it from him" she commented. Nothing was dimming Oscar's shine. He was just winning, in his eyes, since he landed.

"Why do you wanna come to my place?" she asked getting back to the topic. "I'm planning a surprise and I need to look prepared for it" he said while stealing glances at Y/N in his hoodie. "Since when do you plan surprises?" she asked. Oscar just shrugged and they drove to her apartment. Y/N helped Oscar grab his stuff from the trunk and brought him to her flat. The house was a mess but Oscar had seen worse. "There's coffee in the kitchen. The bathroom's that way. The guest bedroom is to your left. If you need anything, I'll be asleep in my room that's in front of you." she pointed around. "Are you going back to sleep?" Oscar asked with his puppy eyes. "I was going too, but you look like you want something. So spill" she stated. "Can we have breakfast together? I miss your pancakes, like the Japanese style one's you tried to make" Oscar pouted. "Those abominations can't be called pancakes. Now, I do make a really good pancake. So, for the flattery I will fulfill your wish" she offered.

Oscar got changed from the jeans he was wearing to a sweatshirt and joggers. Y/N had ditched the OP81 hoodie much to Oscar's dismay to wear another sweatshirt and joggers. He was hovering around her as she tried to make the pancakes, making her snap. "Okay, Osc, sweetheart, can you stop moving around so much. I can't work when people are in my space." she reprimanded him in the nicest way possible. Oscar took his place on the breakfast bar like a child that had been told off. Y/N served the pancakes with fresh fruits and maple syrup. "I didn't think those pancakes could get any better" Oscar moaned after taking one bite. Y/N smiled at him, "You flatter me" she smiled back. "Can you help me decide how to surprise my family?" Oscar asked. "I knew those weren't empty praises" she laughed.

Y/N was sat thinking while munching on her pancakes all the while Oscar would steal glances at her. "You should turn up to the house with flowers. I think they would like that" Y/N said after much deliberation on her part. "That doesn't sound grand" Oscar pointed out. "They are your family. IDK how to make it grand" she retorted. "Maybe you should take your time. It's like you want to get rid of me as soon as possible" Oscar pouted. This boy needs to stop pouting because for some reason his puppy eyes are working on her and she doesn't know how to get out of here, she thought. "Oscar, baby, I have holidays for the next few days before school and I would like to do stuff I can't when I'm busy" she said. Oscar lost his train of thought when she called him baby. "We can do stuff together" Oscar stammered, "As a thank you for helping me surprise my family" he finished. Y/N wasn't winning today, or ever again with Oscar for that matter. "Please" Oscar begged now holding on to both of her hands. Y/N for the first time since he became friend's with her brother looked at him, like really looked at him, his chocolate brown eyes or his cute little freckles that littered his face or the moles that were splattered across his face and neck; this stay wasn't going to end well for her she thought. She couldn't think straight when his warm hands were holding her's like they were the most fragile thing. She just nodded to him, pulling her hands away with a slight blush that was starting to form on her cheeks to put the dishes away.

Y/N and Oscar were sat on the sofa while Y/N was flipping through movies to watch on Netflix. "I thought you were sleepy" Oscar voiced. "I'm not anymore, someone wanted to have pancakes" she chided. Oscar just smiled and he looked like the cutest cat making her smile. She realised what she was doing so she quickly handed the remote to Oscar, "Watch whatever you want, I'm gonna get some stuff done around the house" she said walking to her room. Oscar switched the TV off and followed her into her room. "I can help" he offered, making Y/N jump. "Oscar, you scared me" she said. "Sorry" he apologised with a small smile. "You should get some sleep, you must be jet lagged. I'll wake you up for lunch" she said now pushing Oscar towards the guest room. "Try to get some sleep" she reiterated, closing the door behind her. That's how Oscar found himself lying on the bed while staring at the ceiling, imagining what it would be like to enjoy domestic bliss with her.

At some point in his daydreaming, Oscar fell asleep and only woke up at around 5 pm. He stumbled out of the room to a much cleaner flat and Y/N making dinner. "You're up" she said. "You didn't wake me up" he asked. "You looked so cute sleeping, I couldn't" she cooed. She thought I was cute, Oscar thought. "Cute in a OMG!! baby is cute way or cute in a damn that boy cute way" he asked. "Who's teaching you this stuff?" she laughed. Oscar just shrugged; "Obviously, OMG!! baby is cute way" she laughed. Oscar's shoulders seem to fall. "Dinner's almost done" she said getting ready to serve the food. Y/N and Oscar sat on the table with their plate of food. Oscar was playing around with his food; "Is it not good?" she asked. "No, no it's delicious." he replied. "But you haven't touched your plate" she pointed out. "I...do you still see me as the kid that your brother befriended?" Oscar mumbled. "Oscar, you are the kid my brother befriended" she highlighted. "But, do you see me as you know, someone who is older and more mature?" he questioned. "You are older now Oscar, and more mature too. You drive a Formula One car now, you have a life and career and we are all so proud of you." she said. Oscar hummed, "Are you proud of me?" he asked. "So proud. If you are worried about the season, it's your first season. You'll get better with time. The cars getting used to you, you're getting used to it. I'm sure next year will be the best ever. Mark my words" she reassured. Y/N thought Oscar was having anxiety with his career when he asked her that, but that was far from the truth.

"I know how to surprise everyone" she announced after dinner. "How?" Oscar asked. "We could throw a party at my place and then invite everyone. I think Ansel's visiting soon too. And surprise, you're here." she explained. "When will we do that?" Oscar asked. "Ansel is coming in 2 days, on Friday night we can have everyone come in. I'll send out the invites and you can greet everyone once they come in. I think they'll love it" she elaborated further. Oscar liked that he could stay here for a couple more days. "You're gonna have to help me" she said. "I will" Oscar agreed.

The next few days were spent cleaning the place, planning a menu out for the dinner, wrapping up the presents Oscar got everyone. They sent out the invites and everyone agreed to meet her at 7 pm on Friday. The two of them spent all of Friday decorating the place. You would find the two laughing along or having fun through out the whole planning. Oscar hoped that she would see him as more than just a kid. The time they spent together was precious for Oscar. He had bought her a necklace which he asked her to wear on Friday. "Oscar, this is beautiful. But it must be expensive" she said handing it back. "You should wear it today" he said placing it in her hands once again. "I can't take this. It looks so expensive" she mentioned admiring the necklace. "Please, it took me forever to pick out" Oscar begged. Y/N conceded.

They got dressed for the party. Y/N was wearing a navy blue midi dress, to highlight the necklace. She was struggling to zip up her dress which Oscar saw when he came to check up on Y/N. He quietly walked in and zipped up the dress; "Let me" he said. "Thanks" she whispered, her breath stuck in her throat as she felt his finger hover over her lower back. Before she could take the necklace out of the box, Oscar beat her to it, moving her hair aside, his fingers brushed past the small exposed area on her neck, bringing the necklace around and hooking it up. "Done" he mentioned. Y/N was looking at herself in the mirror with Oscar standing behind her, a small smile on his face. She turned around, "how does it look?" she asked. "Gorgeous" Oscar replied. Y/N was blushing and for the first time Oscar saw it. He felt his chest swell up at the thought of making her blush.

Everyone showed up almost at the same time, Oscar was waiting for everyone in the living room. The house was a bit cramped with everyone present but the laughter that could be heard echoing through the house was well worth it. Nicole almost cried when she saw her son and Chris gave him the biggest hug. Both of Y/N's parents hugged and greeted Oscar like their own son was visiting. Oscar brought out all the presents he had bought and you could hear everyone chatting away about the presents while Ansel and Oscar stood a little further away from the group; "You didn't even tell me" Ansel said skeptically. "It was supposed to be a surprise" Oscar reasoned. "Sure" Ansel replied sounding not so sure of Oscar's answer. "Don't you like the present I got you" Oscar quizzed. "Yeah yeah, I know you're trying to bribe me. Just don't take too long." Ansel said. "What do you mean by that?" Oscar asked and Ansel just shrugged his shoulders while walking away to help his sister set up the dinner.

Everyone had taken a plate and were sat where ever they could find a place. Y/N was playing with her necklace every chance she got; "Where did you get the necklace from? It is beautiful" Y/N's mother asked her. "You should ask Oscar, he got it for me" she replied after quickly swallowing the food in her mouth. "Now did he" Oscar's mother asked looking at him. "I just saw it while passing and got it" Oscar dismissed everyone. Lando will tell you, and I quote, "He sent me links to multiple luxury brand's necklaces which he vetoed within minutes of staring at them since they weren't good enough for his Y/N. Then he started dragging me around to a new shop in every city we visited and made the employee of the shop show him their entire inventory. It took him months to decide on the damn necklace. I thought I would have to get some one to craft him one" end quote. But Lando wasn't here and no one was about to know.

Oscar offered to stay back after the party even though Y/N insisted that he leave with his family. "I'm the one that wanted to surprise them. I should help you clean up." he stated. "The party was my idea" she retorted. "Let him help you Y/N. Come home early tomorrow Oscar" his father called out as everyone filed out. "Good luck" Ansel and Aldric called out simultaneously as they bid them good bye.

The house wasn't as destroyed and they were done with cleaning the place up in a few hours. It was almost 2 AM when Oscar finally sat, sprawled out on the sofa. Y/N was putting the last of the dishes away. She walked towards the sofa when her toe got caught on the mat on the floor and she extended her arms to brace herself from the fall. Oscar with his quick reflexes caught hold of her extended arms, stopping her mid-way. "You haven't outgrown your clumsiness" Oscar stated, his face inches away from hers. "I have" she whispered. "What would you do if I wasn't there to save you?" Oscar asked now pushing her back on her feet and placing her arms on her side. "I'm perfectly capable of saving myself" she retorted. "Never said you weren't. But I wouldn't mind being there for you" he retorted back. "Why would you be there for me?" she asked. "Because I like you" he said. There he said it, the words that he wanted to say for years. "Oscar" she began, this didn't sound good to Oscar. "You're my brother's best friend. I can't" she began. "But you would if I wasn't" he interrupted. "No, I wouldn't. You're younger than me" she said. "By a year, it doesn't even matter honestly" Oscar reasoned. "You probably feel this way since we've been spending a lot of time together lately" she said. "I've felt this way for years. Don't demean my feelings for you, Y/N. Do you know what you do to me?" he asked. "Oscar, you're ugh...you're you and it would never work out" she said. "You've thought about me" Oscar asked hopefully. "That's not the point" she said. "It is" Oscar pointed out. "I like you Y/N, I have for as long as I've known you. This isn't some silly crush I had when I was 12 or because of the close proximity. You make my heart beat fast and my tongue doesn't know how to speak around you. I've repressed my feelings for you for far too long. I just don't know if I've ever felt this way about anyone." Oscar said. "Oscar, you're" she began but was cut off; "I'm not acting impulsively. Take your time. I'm here for a couple more weeks. I'll leave tomorrow morning but I'll be at my house. Just think about it. Think about us, think about me. For Once" Oscar begged walking towards the guest room. While Y/N was stood there shocked, in her living room.

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 7 months ago

Text

I Want To Kill Her

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 2

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink.

Word Count: 6,773

Growing up in America was a constant uphill battle for me. Every day, my family's lower middle class status weighed heavily on our shoulders, dragging us down and suffocating any sense of hope. Despite my parents' relentless efforts, we were always one step away from financial ruin. At school, I was painfully reminded of my economic disadvantage as I trudged through the halls in threadbare clothes and drove up in a battered car that served as a target for cruel jokes and vicious teasing from my more privileged peers. But amidst the constant struggle, I found refuge in my studies. The world of academia offered a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of my daily life, where I poured all my energy into excelling and proving my worth to a society that seemed determined to keep me down.

Life in our small town was like a broken record, repeating the same monotonous routine day after day. That is, until Teddy waltzed into our midst like a breath of fresh air. His tall frame stood out amongst the sea of ordinary faces, and his crisp British accent was music to our ears. The local coffee shop suddenly became a buzz of excitement as he charmed everyone with his wit and sophistication. And when he extended an invitation for me to join him in London, it was like a fairytale come to life. Leaving my predictable life behind and starting anew in the bustling city seemed intimidating, but I couldn't resist the allure of adventure and passion that awaited me with Teddy by my side.

My hand shook as I clutched the small, worn suitcase. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye to my family and familiar life. But deep down, a sense of determination propelled me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plane bound for London. As the engines roared and the wheels lifted off the ground, a knot formed in my stomach and my heart raced with a mix of emotions - fear of the unknown, excitement for new adventures, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, double-paned window and watched as familiar buildings and streets grew smaller and smaller. A sense of relief washed over me, lifting the weight of my past struggles and hardships with every mile we flew away from them. Little did I know, the journey ahead would be filled with new challenges and lessons that would shape me into the person I was always meant to become.

As we soared higher into the sky, thick clouds began to spread like a blanket over the vast expanse of blue. The world below disappeared from view, hidden by layers of white. But as we descended towards London, small patches of land began to peek through - rolling hills covered in lush green fields and charming villages nestled along winding rivers. My heart fluttered with excitement and curiosity at this glimpse of a foreign land.

The wheels touched down on the runway, jolting me out of my daydreams. I took a deep breath as we taxied towards the terminal, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life in a place that felt both unfamiliar and full of endless possibilities.

The bright lights of London beckoned me, a stark contrast to the small town I left behind. Teddy, my generous host, had spared no expense to make me feel at home in his lavish house. Each morning, I woke up to stunning views of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The enticing scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled my nostrils, reminding me that this was a life of luxury that I never could have imagined.

But what truly amazed me was the fact that I no longer had to work. Teddy's successful business ventures meant that money was no longer a worry for me. This newfound wealth allowed me to indulge in all the things I could only dream about before. My wardrobe was now filled with designer clothes, fancy dinners were a regular occurrence, and luxurious vacations were just a plane ride away.

However, amidst all this extravagance and joy, there was always a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Growing up, every penny counted and financial struggles were a constant source of stress for my family. Now, with my newfound wealth, I couldn't help but feel guilty for having so much while others back home still struggled to make ends

I fiercely pushed all doubts and apprehensions aside, determined to fully surrender myself to my newfound life. And by all appearances, I succeeded. Teddy whisked me away on dazzling tours of the city, revealing hidden gems and indulging in the finest cuisine known only to elites. He also opened the door to his elite circle of friends – powerful individuals who radiated confidence and wealth wherever they went.

At first, I felt like a mere observer among them. While they boasted about their latest investments and business ventures, I could only offer anecdotes about my humble beginnings in a small town. But as weeks turned into months, they welcomed me into their exclusive inner circle. They even included us on extravagant trips abroad where we mingled with A-list celebrities and attended VIP events.

I couldn't believe how rapidly my life had transformed since meeting Teddy. Where once I was ridiculed for not fitting in with the wealthy crowd, now I lived among them, basking in their luxurious lifestyle.

But amidst all the glitz and glamour, a persistent voice gnawed at the back of my mind. It started one afternoon while Teddy was tending to the front yard. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary chore for a homeowner, but something about it felt insidious and unsettling.

Despite the hired help we had to maintain our lavish property, Teddy insisted on taking care of menial tasks himself. At first, I thought it was just his need to be hands-on, but as the days turned into weeks, I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on the woman next door. Every time she stepped outside in her form-fitting gardening attire, he would drop whatever he was doing and watch her with an unbridled hunger. Her movements were like a sensual dance, each step oozing with an irresistible seduction that captivated him. She seemed to know exactly how to entice him, bending over suggestively in her garden while his eyes greedily took in every curve of her body. But when her husband's luxury car pulled into their driveway, she would become a picture of innocence once again. It was a tantalizing game of desire and secrecy, leaving me wondering what they truly did behind closed doors.

Rosie, the woman of the house, was a force to be reckoned with, her love and dedication to her garden rivaling that of a mother's fierce protection for her child. Harry, her husband and successful entrepreneur, exuded a confident aura as he walked through their flourishing gardens, the beauty brand he created known by all as Pleasing. Despite our similar ages, their maturity and put-together appearance made me feel inadequate in comparison. Our own home seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to theirs, always offering an unobstructed view of Rosie's constant tending to her bountiful gardens, a sight that also caught my husband's wandering eyes. But it was impossible to deny the allure of their well-manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant hues and intoxicating scents that enveloped us in a hypnotic trance.

Each passing week brought a new wave of torment as I watched Teddy's eyes dart towards Rosie's garden, his gaze lingering on her while she tended to her roses. My stomach twisted with jealousy as he made excuses to be outside, his every move calculated to catch her attention.

I couldn't bear the thought of him longing for someone else, and my heart shattered into pieces with each stolen glance towards her. Desperate for answers, I confronted him about their relationship, but he dismissed my fears with a cold indifference and insisted they were just innocent neighbors. But deep down, I knew there was something more between them, and it consumed me with a fiery rage that threatened to consume us all.

As I relaxed in the comfort of my home, the noise from outside suddenly jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped to the window overlooking the busy street below, and there I saw Harry's sleek black Mercedes screeching into their driveway, its engine roaring wildly. Rosie appeared in the doorway, her movements frantic as she planted a forced kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside with an urgency that made my heart race. The door slammed shut behind them, and a foreboding sense of dread settled in my gut as I realized that something was seriously wrong between them. Whatever was happening, they were clearly trying to hide it from prying eyes.

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread as I made my way downstairs, my curiosity burning like a wildfire. The front door slammed behind me, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind my back. My feet carried me across the short distance between our homes, anticipation building with each step. As I approached their front step, muffled voices drifted through the open window above me, a sinister soundtrack to my racing thoughts. I could make out Harry's tense tone and Rosie's pleading replies, but not the words themselves. Their hushed argument went on for what seemed like an eternity before falling silent, leaving me standing frozen in shock. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what was happening. Had my suspicions been correct after all? Were Rosie and Teddy entangled in a secret affair that Harry had finally uncovered? The weight of the truth hit me like a sledgehammer, filling me with a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear for what would

My thoughts were racing as I tried to decide what to do next, but before I could make a move, the front door swung open with a loud bang. My heart jolted in my chest as Harry stormed out, his face contorted with either seething anger or burning embarrassment - it was hard to tell which was more intense. He didn't even spare me a glance as he brushed past, heading straight for his car.

Just then, Rosie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock when she saw me standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a wild mess, betraying some sort of frantic activity behind closed doors. "Oh...I-I didn't realize you were home," she stammered, her voice trembling with unease. She attempted a smile, but it fell short and I could see the fear in her eyes.

Before I could ask what was going on, Teddy burst out of our house and called out my name. He sprinted towards us from across the street, his brows furrowed with concern as he took in the sight of Rosie and I standing together. The tense atmosphere was thick between us all, and I knew something serious was about to go down.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern as he eyed us both suspiciously.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, feeling like a pawn in their complicated game. "Do you?"

Teddy and Rosie exchanged a tense look that spoke volumes about their troubled relationship. I could sense the weight of their secrets and lies pressing down on me, suffocating me with their toxic grip. Without another word, I turned and fled back inside, trying to escape the tangled web of deceit and betrayal they had woven around me. My once glamorous new life now felt tainted with suspicion and heartache.

I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with rage and disbelief. My worst fears have been confirmed - Teddy and Rosie were having an affair all along, right under my naive nose. A surge of hot tears fills my eyes as I collapse onto the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. How could he do this to me? After all we've built together, all the love and trust we shared.

My mind races back through the past few months, dissecting every encounter between them that I had brushed off as innocent. His lingering looks at her, her secret smiles directed only at him, their hushed conversations that would abruptly end whenever I appeared. The pieces finally fit together, a puzzle of betrayal and deceit that I was too blind to see. How long has it been going on? Was it when he started staying late at work for that promotion? Or when our once effortless conversations turned into strained silence over dinner? My world is shattered, and I can't help but wonder if it was ever truly as perfect as I believed it to be.

My body curls in on itself, a protective barrier against the pain that radiates through me. My mind is stuck on replay, the tense exchange between them echoing endlessly in my head. Rosie's desperate pleas, Harry's explosive anger - it all points to betrayal.

The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks as I realize I can no longer ignore the truth. My heart aches with every beat, but I know I have to confront Teddy. Pretending everything is okay between us is no longer an option.

As I stand up and make my way to the front window, I catch a glimpse of Teddy crossing back over to our house, his defeated posture screaming guilt. The anger and hurt fueling my determination, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable confrontation.

When Teddy steps into our living room, the air crackles with tension like static electricity before a storm. The unspoken truths between us hang heavily, suffocatingly thick like a dense fog.

"Why don't you just admit it, Teddy?" My voice trembles with a mix of rage and despair.

He responds with words sharp as shattered glass, "Admit what? That you're so blinded by your own insecurity that you'd accuse me without any proof?" His betrayal cuts deep, adding more pieces to the already broken shards of my heart.

My hands balled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I struggled to contain the raging storm inside me. "Don't you dare try to twist this around on me! I saw you, Teddy. I saw the way your eyes linger on her, like she's the only thing that matters."

Teddy's jaw clenched and his calm façade cracked, giving way to a simmering anger. "You're being paranoid. Rosie is just a friend, nothing more."

I took a step closer, my voice dripping with venom. "Oh please, spare me your excuses. I've seen how you look at her when you think I'm not looking."

Fury burned bright in his eyes, his voice rising in a challenge. "How dare you accuse me of cheating? I would never do that to you!"

Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head in disbelief, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "It's not just about today, Teddy. It's been building up for months. The way you ignore me and shower her with attention... It's like I'm invisible to you now."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh please, stop playing the victim here. You knew what you were getting into when we moved here.You want me to make you feel like you exist? Do you want me to fuck you? What do you want? You’re so needy you put your issues onto other women."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure in the face of his callous words. "I thought I was getting into a life with someone who loved and respected me. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back to screw the neighbor."

The tension in the room reached its breaking point as Teddy's mask slipped completely, revealing the raw emotions seething beneath the surface. "Maybe if you were more exciting, more adventurous, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere for some excitement in my life!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in disbelief and pain. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, an invisible barrier that seemed impossible to breach.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered hoarsely, the finality of those words echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once again with resolve. "Fine then! Maybe this is for the best. Actually, yeah it is. Bitch." he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

And with those parting words echoing in my ears like a curse, I turned away from him and headed towards the door, leaving behind our shattered dreams and broken promises in a trail of fractured memories.

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Harry sat in his sleek, black car, parked precisely outside of his modern fortress. I approached cautiously, trying to mask my trembling steps on the pavement. With a gentle tap on the window, I could feel his intense gaze burning through me from within the tinted glass. His phone slipped from his hand as he rolled down the window, revealing a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity. A commanding voice cut through the silence, "Get in." Without hesitation, I made my way around to the passenger side and sank into the plush leather seat next to him, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

As we drove away from the chaotic scene behind us, the tension in the car was suffocating. Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to be coiled with a fierce determination, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. I stole a quick glance at him, noticing how his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a dangerous edge, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.

A heavy silence hung in the air of the car, suffocating me as I struggled to catch my breath. Harry's voice pierced through the tension like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my racing thoughts. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression etched with genuine concern.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt constricted and choked. Finally, I managed to whisper, "I don't know." My mind was reeling from the events that had unfolded only moments ago.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his words heavy with understanding. "Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us," he mused, his tone grave and contemplative. "But it's how we handle them that defines who we are."

I turned to look at him, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos raging inside me. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For being here for me."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, but there was a glint of steel in his gaze. "You don't have to thank me," he replied firmly. "I'm here because I care about you and because your husband is sleeping with my wife." His reassurance was met with a sense of relief and gratitude amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume me.

The stillness between us was palpable, a fragile thread holding back a storm of emotions. The road stretched out before us, winding through fields and forests, as if it were leading us towards a new beginning.

My heart felt heavy with the weight of our shared past, but in this moment, with Harry by my side, I could feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Together, we drove into the unknown, leaving behind the pain and hurt that had consumed us.

But as we reached our destination - a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere - the tension returned. Harry's exhaustion and frustration were etched on his face as he turned to me.

"I know neither of us want to go home right now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "For fuck's sake, they're probably sexing each other up as we speak.." A surge of anger and betrayal rose within me at his words. "Let's just stay here for the night, maybe two. We can regroup and come up with a plan." His proposal hung in the air like a dark cloud, reminding us both of the uncertain future that lay ahead. But one thing was certain - we wouldn't have to face it alone.

My voice caught in my throat, unable to form words as I simply nodded, a tight knot of fear and anger coiling in my stomach. My body trembled with the intensity of the situation. We both knew that any misstep could cause everything to spiral out of control. The motel seemed like a fitting backdrop for our strained emotions, its dilapidated exterior reflecting the state of our relationship. The neon lights flickering ominously, casting a sickly glow over the peeling paint and broken windows. But even this rundown place offered some respite from the suffocating chaos and turmoil surrounding us.

Panicked and unprepared for the situation I found myself in, I regretted not packing a change of clothes as my heart raced and my mind spun with fear. The events that had just unfolded left me gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of chaos. As we rushed into the rundown motel, I couldn't help but scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. The flickering lights and musty smell only added to the ominous atmosphere. Harry snatched the key from the grimy front desk man and led us down a dimly lit hallway to our room. My anxiety spiked when they informed us that the only available room featured a single king-sized bed. My nerves were on edge at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Harry, his intimidating presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension between Harry and me was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.

"I'll take the floor," Harry offered gruffly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a heavy blanket.

I shook my head, unable to accept his sacrifice. "No, we can share the bed. It's fine," I replied softly, trying to ease some of the strain that weighed on us both.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. "Alright then."

The room felt suffocatingly small as we settled in, the walls seeming to press in on us from all sides. The shadows danced ominously in the dim light, casting eerie shapes across the worn carpet.

"I never thought we'd end up here," I mused quietly, breaking the somber stillness that enveloped us.

Harry's voice was gruff as he responded, "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect it."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Seems like we're both striking out lately."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our complicated situation hanging heavily over us. The sound of distant traffic seeping through the thin walls served as a reminder of the world outside our little bubble of chaos.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry you're going through this. You deserve better."

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since we had arrived. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that caught me off guard.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold despair that had settled in my heart. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's company.

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of our circumstances still heavy on our shoulders but somehow more bearable with each other's presence. The flickering lights outside cast fleeting shadows across the room, adding a sense of fleeting impermanence to our shared moment of respite.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice genuine and heartfelt.

Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between us in the midst of turmoil. "Me too," I whispered, feeling a sense of hope blooming in my heart despite the challenges ahead.

And so we sat together in the dimly lit motel room, two souls seeking solace in each other's company amidst the chaos that threatened to tear us apart.

My phone began to buzz incessantly in my hand, Teddy's name flashing on the screen. I couldn't bear to see his name or hear his voice, so I forcefully shut off my phone and flung it across the room with a violent toss. As it clattered against the wall, Harry's quiet voice pierced through the air.

"She called me too," he seethed, his fists clenched at his side. "In this moment, I could kill her."

I nodded in agreement, my blood boiling with rage. "Teddy had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous and then suggest that if he just fucked me, my jealousy would disappear," I spat out, feeling both hurt and incensed by his words.

Harry's voice dripped with desire as he turned towards me, his gaze burning into my skin. "Would it?" His words were a challenge, daring me to answer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he leaned in closer.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Would what?"

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he spoke the words that sent a shiver down my spine. "If he fucked you, would you still be so jealous?"

My heart raced at the vulgar question and I let out a nervous laugh. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Harry. Nothing could change how I feel."

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in his voice. "The timing of this is fucking terrible. I've always thought you were stunning, wondered what you saw in a guy like him. And I know I could give it to you so much better."

Our eyes locked in a heated moment and I couldn't deny the sparks that flew between us. But as tempting as his offer was, I knew I couldn't betray my feelings for another man.

I glanced up at him through my lashes and saw the raw intensity in his gaze. It was clear that he wanted me. But we both knew it could never be more than a forbidden fantasy.

“What if we had our own affair, you know, to get back at them.” He said with a smirk.

My heart pounded in my chest like a wild animal in a cage at his words. An affair? The thought sent waves of scandalous delight and sinful anticipation coursing through my veins.

"An affair, Harry?" I repeated tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch in my throat. The charged silence that hung between us was as intoxicating as the raw desire smoldering in his gaze.

Leaning closer, Harry's lips brushed against my earlobe as he whispered huskily, "Yes, an affair, just like what they did. Us, sneaking around, feeling each others bodies." His hot breath fanned over me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

The room seemed to shrink around us as Harry moved impossibly closer, his hand finding its way to my knee. I watched as his fingers traced patterns along my thigh, desire flooding me with each small movement.

Harry's thumb traced a line up towards the apex of my thighs, igniting sparks wherever it made contact with my flesh through the thin material of my skirt. My body instinctively rose to meet him and I let out a soft gasp.

"You want this," he murmured heatedly against my neck before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my core clenched at his actions.

"I...I..." I stuttered, struggling for words as heat pooled low in my belly. He chuckled darkly at my loss for words before returning his attention back to where his hand had slowly began creeping upwards again. His warm touch was like an electric shock, leaving behind a trail of molten desire.

Without another word, Harry pushed up my skirt and slipped his hand into my panties. His fingers brushed lightly against me and I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to my core. He grinned wickedly at me and slowly began to stroke me, his skilled fingers setting my senses ablaze.

"Harry," I moaned out, clutching at his arm as he expertly worked me into a bundle of nerves. His low chuckle did nothing to ease the escalating tension.

His finger easily slipped inside me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion. Harry pumped his digits inside me slowly at first, but quickly sped up when I let out a needy gasp. The pleasure was overwhelming and soon enough, I clenched around him, a shuddering orgasm ripping through me.

I fell back onto the bed, panting heavily as aftershocks still tingled throughout my body. Harry wiped his glistening fingers on my skirt before smoothly pulling it back down. He then lay next to me on the bed, his smirk evident in the dim light.

"That's just a taste," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"I can't wait to claim you as mine," Harry whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart raced as he trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to suckle a tender spot just below my earlobe. His hands moved sensually over my body, teasingly tracing patterns on my skin before gripping me tighter.

Desperate for more of his touch, I moaned and arched into him. He took that as an invitation and gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head roughly. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he saw me bare-chested for the first time. I blushed at his appreciation but internally preened at his reaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled lowly before capturing one of my nipples between his lips and sucking hard. My back bowed off the bed as I let out a keening whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He had a way of making me feel wanted and desired like no one ever had before.

He moved lower, kissing and licking his way down my stomach until he reached the hem of my skirt. With a swift movement, he yanked it up over my hips, baring me completely to him. His eyes darkened even more when they met mine again, full of lust and possession.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded softly yet authoritatively. I hesitated for only a moment before complying with his request, feeling incredibly exposed but also powerfully aroused by the thought of pleasing him in any way possible.

Harry took advantage of this vulnerability by thrusting two fingers deep inside me without any warning or preparation. I gasped at the intrusion but didn't stop him from exploring deeper within me. Instead, I clenched around his fingers instinctively while moaning out his name in ecstasy. He chuckled softly against my inner thigh before reaching between our bodies to stroke himself in time with his rhythmic fingering of me.

"You're so tight," he groaned approvingly.

As Harry thrust his fingers deeper into me, I couldn't help but moan louder. His fingers curled inside me, searching for my sweet spot while his other hand gripped my hip firmly. My body shuddered with pleasure as we moved together in this intense rhythm.

"You feel so good," I whispered between breaths. "Please don't stop."

He chuckled darkly before biting down softly on the lobe of my ear, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His hips picked up speed, grinding against me as he groaned in approval.

"That's it, baby girl," he growled. "Take what you want."

His words ignited something deep within me, making me even more hungry for his touch. I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer still. Our skin slapped together in sync with each swift thrust and retreat as we moved together like two bodies meant to be one.

"Oh fuck, you're driving me wild," he whispered into my ear before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back sharply. The sudden sting shot straight to my core, intensifying every sensation tenfold. He released my hair just as quickly and crashed his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss that left me panting for air.

We moved from the couch to bed floor where he pushed me down onto all fours before kneeling behind me. One hand gripped the base of my spine while the other caressed its way up my inner thigh towards my core again. He teased me mercilessly with his fingers as he trailed hot kisses down my spine and back up again, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

"I know I'll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before," he muttered darkly into my ear just before slamming himself deep inside me from behind in one powerful stroke that made me cry out loudly at both surprise and pleasure. In response, he gripped both sides of my face roughly yet tenderly and claimed my mouth once more in a fiery kiss that went on forever or at least it felt like it did until our bodies became entwined.

I could feel his cock hardening in his pants and I needed it no matter how wrong it was.

He gripped my hair tightly and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You're mine to fuck however I want." Wanting more than anything to feel his cock deep inside me, I moaned in agreement.

Pushing me against the bed, he roughly lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his free hand, he pushed his hard and heavy cock into me. I cried out at the intense pleasure shooting through my body as he began to thrust slowly yet powerfully in and out of me.

"Say you want it," he growled against my ear. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Please," I whimpered. "Fuck me hard."

His answering groan sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins as he slammed into me with all his might, claiming my mind and body as his own. The force of each thrust sent jolts of electricity through every nerve ending i body, leaving me breathless and begging for more.

As he continued to pound into me, I couldn't help but moan his name. His thick cock stretched and filled me, hitting my sweet spot with each powerful thrust. I felt my walls start to quake, ready to explode with pleasure as he took control of our encounter.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at my earlobe. "Just let go."

I clung to him tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the intensity of our lovemaking. Every muscle in my body was on edge, waiting for the release that felt so close yet so far away.

He changed positions again, lifting me up and pushing me against the wall. His other hand gripped my hair tightly as he claimed my mouth roughly in a deep, passionate kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he began to thrust even harder into me. It felt so dirty yet so good to be taken like this.

"You are mine," he whispered harshly between breaths. "Only mine. I bet your husband would be fucking dumbfounded when he sees you filled up with my babies."

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement as he took control completely. This was exactly what I needed - someone strong who would make me feel wanted and taken care of.

As we moved together in sync, lost in the heat of passion and desire, I whispered back to him between gasps for air, "Please...don't stop."

He replied by grabbing hold of my ass cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he thrust deeper into me. His rough skin rubbed against mine, sending tingling sensations all over my body. With every push and pull, our hips collided, echoing throughout the room.

I could feel him growing harder inside me, straining against the thin fabric separating us. The anticipation was killing me - I needed him to release that cock and fill me up completely. As if reading my mind, he pulled away from me suddenly and spun me around so that I was facing the wall again.

"Not yet," he growled into my ear before reaching down and teasing my entrance with his thumbs. He pushed one finger inside me slowly, then another, stretching me open until three fingers were buried deep inside me. I arched my back involuntarily as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my veins at his tender ministrations on my most sensitive spot.

“Where is your damn phone?” Harry demanded, his voice dripping with urgency. I struggled to lift my head off the bed and weakly pointed to the device lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and strode over to it.

A sinister grin spread across his face as he unlocked the phone and shoved his thumb into my mouth, ordering me to suck on it. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he flipped the phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the tattoos inked on his arm for identification. His next move was ruthless as he pulled up my text messages and sent the photo to Teddy, effectively sending a clear message of dominance over me.

"I'll make sure that bastard knows what he's missing out on," Harry growls, his eyes filled with possessive rage. "You're too good for him, love. A fucking goddess like you deserves to be worshipped and adored, not tossed aside like a used toy." I feel a mix of anger and satisfaction as I realize that I don't need Teddy anymore, not after the wild and passionate night I just had with Harry. He makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

Harry threw the phone back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I could see the fire in his gaze, the intensity of his desire for me. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, gently tugging on it as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, but his touch was firm, demanding. I responded eagerly, meeting his kiss with equal passion.

As we kissed, Harry's hands began to wander, exploring my body with a familiarity that set my skin on fire. He traced the curve of my waist, the arch of my back, the dip of my hips. I could feel myself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. I needed him inside me again, needed to feel him filling me up, possessing me completely.

But Harry had other plans. He broke our kiss and looked deep into my eyes, his expression serious. "Not yet," he whispered, echoing his earlier words. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He lowered his head and began to kiss a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. He teased my nipples with his tongue, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. I gasped, arching my back as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Slowly, carefully, Harry began to enter me once again. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of me. But as he felt me grow wetter, more responsive, he picked up the pace. He thrust deeper, harder, his hips slapping against mine. I could feel myself losing control, could feel the familiar tightening in my belly as I approached my climax.

"Turn over, want to see that beautiful ass of yours as I fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

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rootedinrevisions · 15 days ago

Text

Everything to Me (Kinktober 2024: Day 25)

KINK: Mirror Sex

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (Fingering)

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

Jake’s been waiting at the airport for what feels like hours, even though your flight only landed a few minutes ago. He’s standing near the arrivals gate, leaning casually against a pillar but fidgeting with his phone, checking the time every few seconds. His excitement to see you is palpable, and when he finally spots you coming down the corridor, everything else fades away. There you are, wheeling your suitcase behind you, looking around for him. The moment your eyes meet, Jake’s grin lights up the entire terminal.

Without hesitation, he bolts toward you, weaving between people, his duffle bag bouncing against his side. The second he’s close enough, you drop your suitcase and run straight into his arms. Jake lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as you hold on tight. It’s like time stops, and the rest of the world disappears. The kiss comes naturally—deep, emotional, and long overdue.

“God, I missed you,” Jake mumbles against your lips before kissing you again.

His hands hold you firmly against him, like he’s afraid to let go. You pull back just enough to see his face, his eyes filled with nothing but love and relief.

“I missed you too,” you say softly, your forehead resting against his.

He grins again, his signature cocky smile making its appearance, but there’s a tenderness behind it, a vulnerability that only shows up when he’s with you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.”

He reluctantly sets you down, but not before stealing another quick kiss. You gather your things, Jake's arm instantly wrapping around your waist as he guides you toward the exit. The buzz of the airport surrounds you, but you feel nothing but warmth and safety in Jake’s presence. As you walk through the doors to the bright San Diego sunshine, it hits you—you’re finally here, with him, and for the next few days, it’s just the two of you.

* * * *

After collecting your luggage from the airport, you fully expect Jake to take you straight to his place. You’re more than ready for some alone time after the long flight, but instead, Jake flashes you one of his charming grins as he swings your suitcase into the back of his truck.

“So, I figured we’d make a little pit stop before heading home,” he says casually, leaning against the open door as if this is no big deal. “The team’s dying to meet you.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head at him. “The team? I thought we were going home.”

He winks, that mischievous glint in his eyes making your heart skip. “Oh, don’t worry, darlin’. We’ll definitely get some alone time tonight.” He leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple before adding, “I just want to show you off a little first. Promise it’ll only be an hour or two.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s impossible around Jake. He’s clearly excited for you to meet his squad, and the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. “Alright, fine,” you agree, rolling your eyes playfully. “But you owe me later.”

His grin widens, and he gives you a playful smack on the rear as you hop into the passenger seat. “Deal.”

The Hard Deck is buzzing when you arrive, full of laughter, music, and the clinking of bottles and glasses. As soon as you walk through the door, you feel Jake’s hand slide possessively around your waist, guiding you through the crowd. You’ve been here before on previous trips, but there’s something different about being here with Jake tonight. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you, unable to hide his excitement, or the fact that you’ve both been apart for too long.

Jake spots his crew near the pool tables, and you can already feel the warmth of their welcome before you even get close. Phoenix is the first to greet you, her face breaking into a wide smile as she approaches. “So you’re the girl who’s been keeping Hangman out of trouble,” she teases, offering a quick hug.

Rooster gives you an equally friendly grin, and Bob, though quieter, seems genuinely happy to meet you as well. “It’s about time we got to meet you,” Rooster says, shaking your hand.

Before you can respond, Coyote comes over, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Good to see you again!” he says, his eyes sparkling with familiarity. “It’s been a while since we were stationed together.”

Jake introduces you to the rest of the group, and it’s not long before you settle in with them. The banter flows easily, and the atmosphere is relaxed. Jake keeps you close, his arm around your shoulders or waist at all times, pulling you in for kisses whenever the mood strikes him. He’s not holding back on the PDA, and honestly, you don’t mind. After months apart, it feels good to be in his arms, to steal these moments together. Between games of pool and darts, Jake’s touch never leaves you, a subtle but constant reminder that he’s missed you.

Every now and then, you catch Phoenix watching you two with a smirk, clearly amused by Jake’s inability to keep his hands off you. “I’ve never seen him like this,” she comments at one point, making you blush. “He’s a lucky guy.”

You smile and squeeze Jake’s hand as he leans down to plant another kiss on your lips. He chuckles softly. “What can I say? I’m not wasting a second.”

The night’s still young, but as Jake promised, he’s got every intention of taking you home soon. For now, though, you’re enjoying the easy camaraderie of his squad and the way Jake keeps making it clear just how happy he is to have you by his side.

After settling in with the team, laughter and conversation fill the air as the night drifts on. You’re still feeling the warmth of Jake’s arm around your waist, his frequent kisses to your temple making you smile.

Eventually, you offer to grab another round of drinks. Jake grins, pressing one more kiss to your cheek as you head toward the bar. As you approach the counter, Penny gives you a welcoming nod, already busy filling orders. You lean against the wooden bar, taking in the lively atmosphere when you notice a woman standing next to you, her eyes lingering on you just a little too long. She’s dressed sharply, her Navy uniform crisp and her expression unreadable. After a moment, she turns toward you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey there,” she says, her tone friendly but laced with something sharper. “I’m a friend of Jake’s.”

You return the smile, even if something feels off. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say politely. “I’m just grabbing drinks for us.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

You nod, keeping your tone casual. “I’m in town visiting Jake. Thought I’d surprise him for the weekend.”

There’s a flicker in her expression, something that makes your instincts tingle. She gives you a slow once-over, her gaze subtly scrutinizing. “Oh,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “Didn’t think you’d be his type.”

The words hang in the air, and though she says it lightly, you can feel the slight jab. You pause, keeping your smile, but something twists inside you. “We’ve been together for a while now,” you respond calmly, hoping to let it slide.

She arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips as she leans in a little closer. “Really? Because I know Jake doesn’t usually do long-term relationships. Just thought you should know.” Her words are casual, like she’s discussing the weather, but the meaning behind them sinks in like a stone.

You hold her gaze for a moment, feeling the urge to defend what you know about Jake, but instead, you calmly lift your hand and flash the ring on your finger. The diamond catches the light, glinting as you meet her eyes again.

“I’m not worried about his ability to commit.”

The smirk falters, and for a split second, you see the frustration in her expression before she smooths it over. Before she can say anything else, Penny sets the two beers in front of you, her presence almost a relief.

You smile warmly at Penny, taking the drinks. “Thanks, Penny.”

Without another glance at the woman, you turn and make your way back over to Jake, your mind buzzing. You try to push the encounter out of your head, but the way she said it keeps echoing: Didn’t think you’d be his type. It shouldn’t bother you, but as you walk back to your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband, you can’t help but wonder… was she right?

Jake’s smile lights up as he sees you coming back, but you find yourself questioning—why would a man like him want someone like you when he could have anyone he wanted? You take a deep breath, willing yourself to shake it off. You’ve been together long enough to know better than to let someone like that get to you.

But the seeds of doubt are planted now, and despite your best efforts, they begin to take root.

As the night wears on, the laughter and warmth of being surrounded by Jake’s friends should be enough to drown out the doubts, but it isn’t. The woman’s words cling to you, refusing to loosen their grip. You try to stay engaged, smiling at Phoenix’s jokes and Rooster’s playful banter, but every time Jake’s arm slips around your waist, or he presses a kiss to your temple, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe… maybe she was right. Why would someone like him choose someone like you when he could have anyone he wanted? Your thoughts spiral, and before you realize it, you’re barely paying attention to the conversation around you.

Jake notices, squeezing your side and asking if you’re alright. You nod and force a smile, but the unease gnaws at you.

After a while, you can’t take it anymore. Leaning into Jake’s side, you look up at him, your voice a little quieter than usual. “Hey, can we leave?”

Jake turns to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Already? It’s still early.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your mind is racing. “Yeah, I just… I think I’m ready to go home.”

He watches you for a beat, searching your face for something he can’t quite put his finger on. You know he senses that something’s off, but he doesn’t push. With a nod, he turns to his friends.

“We’re gonna head out,” he announces, slapping Rooster’s back and giving Phoenix a quick hug. There are a few protests, but Jake waves them off with a laugh, making his goodbyes brief.

Soon, he’s leading you out of the bar, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as you make your way to the car. The cool night air does little to settle your swirling thoughts, and by the time you’re both seated, Jake’s watching you carefully again, his hand resting on your thigh as he starts the engine.

The car hums to life, but instead of pulling out right away, he glances over at you.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks, his voice softer now, laced with concern.

You nod quickly, looking out the window as you respond. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Jake doesn’t buy it. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his eyes still on you as the car pulls onto the road.

“Right,” he says slowly, his tone skeptical. He’s not going to push—he never does when he knows you’re not ready to talk—but you know him well enough to realize he’s not letting it go, either.

The drive back to his place is quiet, the hum of the car and the distant sounds of the city filling the silence between you. Jake’s hand stays on your thigh, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin, but he doesn’t say anything else.

You keep your gaze fixed out the window, willing yourself to push the doubt aside. Jake loves you—you know that. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. But that woman’s words, the way she looked at you like you weren’t good enough for him, keep echoing in your mind. I didn’t think you’d be his type. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

By the time you pull into the driveway, your chest feels tight with a mixture of frustration and insecurity. Jake parks the car and turns to you again, but you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt, giving him another quick smile.

“I’m fine,” you say before he can even ask. “Let’s just go inside.”

He nods, though you know he’s not convinced. He’ll give you your space for now, but you can feel it in the way he’s watching you—he’s going to figure out what’s going on whether you’re ready to tell him or not.

As soon as you step inside Jake’s place, you make a beeline for the bedroom, your mind still reeling from the woman’s comments. You need to shake off this feeling, the doubt gnawing at you, and the only way you know how is to escape into the comfort of Jake’s oversized clothes and familiar warmth.

You peel off your outfit from the night, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought, and grab one of Jake’s t-shirts from the drawer. It’s soft, well-worn, and it smells like him—a mixture of cedarwood and something distinctly Jake. You tug it on, the fabric hanging loose on your frame, and follow it up with a pair of your own sweatpants.

As you’re standing in front of the mirror, running your hands through your hair and trying to make yourself feel more like you again, you feel Jake’s presence behind you.

You turn, catching sight of him in the doorway, and for a second, everything else melts away. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, slung low on his hips, his arms folded across his chest. His hair’s tousled, and his eyes are soft, but there’s an edge of concern in the way he’s looking at you. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your thoughts without having to ask the question he’s been holding back all night.

“What happened?” he asks gently, his voice low as he finally breaks the silence.

You shrug, attempting to brush it off like it’s nothing. “It’s nothing, Jake. I’m just tired.”

But Jake doesn’t buy it. He never does when you try to sidestep your feelings. He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, making his way across the small space to stand in front of you. His hand reaches out, gently taking yours, and he pulls you toward him. You feel the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles.

“Talk to me,” he coaxes, his voice so soft and steady that it breaks through your defenses. “I know something’s up. You’ve been off since we left the bar.”

You sigh, feeling your walls start to crumble under his gentle persistence. He’s always been able to get you to open up, even when you don’t want to.

“There was this girl…” you start, hesitating as you glance up at him.

Jake’s brow furrows as he listens, his eyes locked on yours. “A girl?”

You nod. “Yeah, she came up to me at the bar when I was getting drinks. Said she knew you. She introduced herself as your friend.”

The confusion on Jake’s face deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He lets you continue.

“She, uh… she made a comment about me not being your type,” you admit, the words tasting bitter as they leave your lips. “And then she said something about how you don’t really do long-term relationships.”

Jake’s jaw tightens slightly, but his gaze remains soft as he watches you, waiting for more.

“I didn’t let it get to me at first, but the more I thought about it…” you trail off, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Jake. She was looking at me like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like she couldn’t understand what you see in me.”

You’re surprised by how much admitting it stings. Saying it out loud only makes the insecurity feel more real.

Jake’s eyes darken slightly, but not with anger toward you—more like irritation at the situation. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“Babe, you know who she is?” he asks, his voice exasperated but gentle. “She’s been trying to hook up with every Top Gun pilot since she got stationed here. And none of us have taken the bait.”

He steps closer, taking both of your hands in his now, his touch reassuring and steady. “I’ve told her at least a dozen times that I’m not interested. I have you.”

You feel a flicker of relief at his words, but the nagging doubt still lingers.

“She probably just didn’t like that I didn’t give her the attention she wanted,” Jake continues, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. “But trust me, she’s nothing to worry about.”

He pauses, his gaze softening as he reaches for your left hand, lifting it to his lips. He presses a slow, lingering kiss to your engagement ring, the diamond catching the light as he lowers your hand and meets your eyes again.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his voice sincere and warm. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

His words melt the last of the doubt, but it’s the look in his eyes, the absolute certainty and love, that fully quiets the storm in your chest.

Jake smiles, his thumb brushing along your ring finger as he holds your hand between both of his. His voice is warm and full of pride as he murmurs, “You’re beautiful, Mrs. Seresin.”

You manage a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not Mrs. Seresin yet,” you tease. “You still have time to change your mind.”

Jake pauses, his expression softening as he studies your face. Then, he gives you a look of utter disbelief, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Why would I want to do something like that?” he asks softly, his voice filled with conviction. “I’ve got the most beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, sexy woman on the planet right here. I’d be out of my mind to want anything else.”

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and then another, as if to drive the words home. When he finally pulls back, he’s still close, his lips hovering just inches from yours as he grins.

“If you don’t believe me,” he murmurs, his voice low, “I’ll take you to the courthouse first thing Monday morning. You can be Mrs. Seresin before noon.”

You laugh, feeling your doubts vanish under the warmth of his gaze, and shake your head again. “Jake, you’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I’m yours,” he says, his tone turning serious, his hand coming up to cradle your face. “You’re all I want. And you’re all I’ll ever want.”

The intensity in his voice leaves no room for doubt. His gaze is so steady, so certain, that you know, without a shadow of a doubt, he means every single word. You feel yourself melt a little more in his arms, and this time, when he leans in, you let yourself fall completely into his kiss.

Jake presses another gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. "Feeling better?" he asks softly, his thumb brushing along your cheek.

You hum a quiet "yes" and nod, leaning into his touch. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, warm and full of that familiar affection that makes your heart flutter.

"Good," he murmurs.

His hands slowly slide down your sides, slipping under the fabric of the oversized shirt you're wearing. His fingers splay across your bare skin, and you shiver at the warmth of his touch.

As his hands explore the curves of your body, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "You really are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Do you know that?"

You get quiet again, your insecurities bubbling up in the silence. Jake’s question lingers in the air, and when you don’t respond, he doesn’t push. Instead, he shifts his approach.

"Maybe I need to show you," he whispers, a mischievous edge to his voice. His hands move with deliberate care, his fingers gripping the hem of the shirt. In one smooth motion, he slides it up and off, leaving your chest and stomach exposed to the cool air of the room. You feel vulnerable, standing there in nothing but your sweatpants, but Jake’s gaze is so tender, so full of reverence, that it quiets the anxious thoughts threatening to rise again.

He tucks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down in one slow motion until they pool at your feet, leaving you completely naked. He turns you gently by the shoulders until you’re facing the mirror above the vanity, the reflection of your bare form standing in front of him.

Jake steps closer, his chest pressing against your back as he pulls you flush against him. His hands settle at your hips, then slide up your stomach and over the swell of your breasts, his touch reverent, slow. His eyes meet yours in the reflection, filled with an unwavering adoration that takes your breath away.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your shoulder as his hands continue their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. He’s not rushed, not hurried—he’s savoring every inch of you, as if to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his hands.

He points to your collarbone, brushing his thumb across the delicate bone. “I love this,” he murmurs. “The way your skin feels soft here, how it catches the light.”

His hands slide lower, tracing the curve of your waist. “And here... the way you fit perfectly in my hands.”

His fingers skim your thighs next, gentle but firm. “The way your legs wrap around me when we’re close,” he says softly, his breath warm against your neck.

Jake continues, his voice low and steady, as he points out every detail he adores, from the curve of your hips to the softness of your stomach, to the way your hair falls over your shoulders. Every word, every caress is full of love, his tone steady as he dismantles your insecurities, piece by piece.

“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “Just the way you are.”

His words sink in, slowly dissolving the doubts you’ve carried, and when you meet his eyes again in the mirror, you see what he sees—a woman adored, cherished, and deeply loved. He kisses your neck softly, his lips lingering as he whispers against your skin, “Do you see it now? How beautiful you are?”

You nod quietly, your gaze still locked with his in the mirror. A small, satisfied smile tugs at the corner of Jake’s lips, and you can see the hint of a smirk forming.

"Do you want to know what I find most sexy about you?" he asks, his voice low, teasing.

Curiosity flickers in your eyes, and you can’t help but ask, "What is it?"

His smirk widens just a little, and you feel his fingers begin to trail down your stomach, slow and deliberate, until they reach the sensitive spot between your legs. His touch is gentle at first, but enough to send a shiver through you.

His breath tickles your ear as he leans in close, his voice a seductive whisper. “It’s the way you look when I’m making you feel good,” he murmurs, the heat in his words sending a flush through your entire body.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes flutter closed, instinctively leaning back into the warmth of his body. But just as you start to lose yourself in the moment, Jake’s hand pauses, his other arm wrapping firmly around your waist, holding you steady.

“Uh-uh,” he whispers against your ear, his tone commanding but gentle. “Open your eyes, baby.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says, your eyes flicking back open to meet his in the mirror. He shifts his body slightly, positioning himself so you can see every detail of his touch, every reaction your body gives under his fingers.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with adoration.

His hand resumes its slow, deliberate movements, his fingers teasing you in ways that make your breath hitch. But his eyes—those piercing, sea-green eyes—never leave yours in the reflection. You can see the intensity in his gaze, the way he’s watching every little gasp, every shiver you give, as if he’s drawing power from your reactions.

“Do you see it?” Jake’s voice is hushed, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you see how incredible you are when you’re lost in this?”

Your body responds to him before your mind even catches up. A quiet moan escapes your lips, and you press your thighs together, but Jake is relentless in keeping you focused on the mirror, on yourself.

“Don’t look away,” he whispers, his fingers moving with more precision now, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. “I want you to see what I see. How gorgeous you are when you’re like this.”

You bite your lip, your breathing quickening as the pleasure builds, but his steady gaze and firm touch keep you tethered to the moment. There’s something deeply intimate about it, the way he’s not just touching you but guiding you to see yourself through his eyes, with a reverence that makes your heart pound in your chest.

Jake's lips trail soft kisses along the side of your neck, his free hand coming up to cup your breast, adding to the overwhelming sensations running through you. You meet his gaze again in the mirror, and there’s no mistaking the desire and love in his eyes, the way he’s savoring every second of this moment with you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. “You’re everything, baby. Everything.”

Jake’s touch remains steady and deliberate, each movement sending waves of pleasure surging through you. His fingers move with a slow, practiced rhythm, teasing you closer to the edge. The heat of his body against yours and the intensity of his gaze in the mirror makes the moment even more overwhelming.

As the pleasure builds, your breath becomes shallow, your body instinctively leaning back against him, seeking his warmth and support. His other arm wraps securely around your waist, holding you close, his touch grounding you as the sensations spiral higher. The feel of his fingers on your skin, the soft brush of his lips against your neck, and the way he whispers your name between each pulse of pleasure—it’s all consuming.

“Come on, baby,” Jake murmurs against your ear, his voice low and coaxing. “Let go for me.”

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting and crashing over you in a powerful wave. A soft moan escapes your lips, your head falling back against his shoulder as the climax washes through you. Jake holds you close, supporting you as he works you through it, his fingers slowing but never stopping, guiding you down gently from the high.

“There you go,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. His arm tightens around you, keeping you steady as your legs tremble, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless. “That’s my girl.”

His words settle over you like a soft blanket, his quiet pride and possessiveness making your heart swell. You meet his gaze again in the mirror, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. He’s watching you with that same adoring look, his eyes soft, but filled with unmistakable love.

Jake presses a kiss to the side of your neck, lingering for a moment before he slowly removes his fingers, letting you relax fully into him. He’s gentle as ever, taking his time as he slides his shirt back over your body, covering your bare skin with the familiar warmth of his scent. Then, with the same care, he pulls your underwear back up, smoothing his hands over your hips as he does.

“There,” he whispers, his voice soft and reassuring. “My girl's all taken care of.”

Before you can say anything, he scoops you into his arms with ease, cradling you against his chest. You can’t help but smile at the feeling of being wrapped up in him, safe and secure.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says, his voice low and affectionate.

Jake carries you effortlessly across the room, his steps slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment of holding you close. He gently lays you down on the bed, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face before sliding in beside you.

As you curl up against him, his arms wrap around you once more, pulling you into the warmth of his body.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “You’re everything to me. You know that, right?”

You nod, the weight of his words settling in your heart, as you relax fully into the comfort of his embrace. The night is quiet, but the connection between you and Jake feels stronger than ever, his love and devotion wrapping around you like a protective shield.

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #Jake Seresin Smut #Hangman Jake Seresin Smut

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wolverigrl · 2 months ago

Text

Farewells and Distractions

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Prepare yourselves for some jealousyyyy! And well, I already have ideas for the next part! I'm so obsessed right now, send help.. :')

Warnings: fluff, angst, nothing more!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It was early, far too early for me to be awake, but there I was, driving Hugh to the airport. He sat beside me, quiet, his hand resting on my thigh, occasionally squeezing as if to remind himself that I was still there. I glanced over at him, taking in his profile - the way his jawline looked in the dim morning light, the faint tiredness under his eyes. He was heading to Sydney to visit his family for a few weeks, and I’d be joining him the next week. We had planned it so we could have some time apart and then reconnect, just the two of us, after he spent time with his parents and siblings. But as we drove, the reality of that week apart felt heavier than I expected.

“You have everything, right?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended. I already knew the answer. Hugh was meticulous. There was no way he’d forgotten anything.

“Yeah, I’m all set." he replied, his voice equally soft. He glanced out the window for a moment before turning back to me. “I hate leaving you, though.”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s just a week. I’ll be there before you know it, and we’ll have all that time together. Just us.”

“I know,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss my temple. “But it still feels too long.”

We pulled into the airport, and the moment I put the car in park, my stomach flipped. I hated goodbyes, even temporary ones. Hugh reached for his bag in the back seat, and then he turned to me, eyes locking with mine in a way that made everything else seem to fade into the background.

“I’m gonna miss you." I whispered, my throat tight with emotion. I didn’t want to cry - God, it was only a week - but I couldn’t help it.

“I’m gonns miss you too, love." he said, and then he pulled me into a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or hurried like I expected. It was slow, almost reluctant, like neither of us wanted it to end. His lips moved against mine with the kind of tenderness that made me want to cling to him and never let go.

When we finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead against mine, and I felt his breath fan over my face. “I love you." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

My heart skipped a beat. I’d known for a while that I was falling in love with him, but those words… I wasn’t ready to say them yet, not because I didn’t feel them, but because it felt like too much, too fast. I smiled instead, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded, pulling back and grabbing his bag. With one last glance, he headed inside, disappearing into the terminal. I sat there for a moment, staring at the space where he had been, feeling an ache in my chest that I wasn��t sure how to shake off.

The week without Hugh stretched out longer than I anticipated. I had plans with Ryan and Blake - they were supposed to keep me busy while Hugh was gone - but those plans fell through when Blake called me that afternoon.

“Hey, y/n!” Blake’s voice crackled through the phone. “I’m so sorry, but Ryan and I have to cancel for this week. We’re flying out to Canada - his mom needs help."

“Oh no." I said, leaning back against the couch. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, nothing serious. She just needs an extra pair of hands for a bit. We’ll be gone for a while.”

I tried not to let the disappointment creep into my voice. “No worries. Family comes first. We’ll hang out when you get back.”

After hanging up, I tossed my phone on the couch beside me and sighed. So much for that distraction. I glanced at the screen, wondering if Hugh had texted, but the silence between us was understandable - he was busy with family, and with the massive time difference, we hadn’t spoken much.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it, expecting a message from Hugh, but instead saw Chris’ name.

CHRIS: Hellooo! What are you up to? I'm in Boston for the week. Scott, Carly and Shana are coming over. Wanna join?

I blinked, a little surprised by the spontaneous invitation, but the thought of spending time with Chris and his siblings sounded like the perfect way to take my mind off Hugh being gone. After a moment of hesitation, I decided to go.

Y/N: Might just take you up on that. Hugh's in Sydney and my plans here fell through.

CHRIS: Perfect! Let me know when you’re coming!

Hugh was busy, and it wasn’t like I was going to spend the week moping around. Plus, I would also meet my other friends, who I haven't seen for a while!

The days in Boston were great. Chris and his siblings were as always easy company, and I found myself laughing more than I had in days. We spent our time wandering through the city, grabbing food at hole-in-the-wall places, and drinking in tiny bars that didn’t care if we lingered for hours. I wasn’t constantly texting Hugh, mostly because the time difference made it hard to sync up, but we exchanged messages when we could even if it was mostly just short messages or a quick selfie.

Y/N: With friends in Boston. One day left! Miss you❤️

HUGH: Hope you have a great time. Miss you too. Can’t wait for you to get here❤️

One night, Chris’s brother snapped a candid photo of us all laughing at some stupid joke Chris had made and posted it on Instagram. I didn’t think much of it at the time - just a fun moment with friends.

After I reposted Scott's photo, I somehow got a weird feeling, because Hugh neither liked nor commented on it. He usually does that with all my posts.

But then my phone buzzed. It was a call from him. I frowned, glancing at the time. It was the middle of the night in Sydney.

“Hey!" I answered, stepping out onto the balcony to get some quiet. “Isn't it late in Sydney? What’s up? Are you okay?”

There was a pause on the other end, and I could hear the hesitation in his voice. “Yeah and yeah I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

I smiled, leaning against the railing. “What’s keeping you up? Family stuff?”

“Yeah, a little. I miss you." he said, his voice soft, but I could sense something else there too. Something unspoken.

“I miss you too. I’ll be there soon. My flight's tomorrow at noon.” I reassured him, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t go away.

There was another pause before Hugh spoke again. “Yeah okay. Just text me when you're at the airport. What have you been up to?”

“Just hanging out with some friends." I said, hoping to keep things light. “Boston’s been nice. It’s a good distraction.”

“I’m glad." he replied, though his tone didn’t sound completely convinced. I wanted to press, to ask him what was really going on, but something held me back. Maybe it was the distance, or maybe I just didn’t want to have a serious conversation at 3 AM Sydney time.

We talked for a little while longer, mostly about what he’d been doing with his family - going to the beach, having long dinners with his parents. It sounded peaceful, and I couldn’t wait to be there with him. By the time we hung up, I thought things were okay between us.

When I finally arrived in Sydney, I was ready to be wrapped up in my boyfriends arms, to forget about the distance and just be with him. But something was off the moment I saw him at the airport. He hugged me, kissed me, but there was a hesitation in his touch, a distance in his eyes that I hadn’t expected.

“Everything okay?” I asked as we got into the car.

“Yeah, just tired.” he said, brushing it off, but I could tell something was wrong and I didn’t push. Maybe he was still caught up in family obligations.

Over the next couple of days, that distance grew. He wasn’t as affectionate as usual, and when I tried to kiss him or initiate anything more intimate, he pulled back, offering a soft smile but nothing else. It was confusing, and frankly, it hurt.

It all came to a head one evening when we were sitting in his living room, and I could feel the tension crackling in the air between us.

“Hugh." I said cautiously as I looked at his profile. Iis something wrong? You’ve been distant since I got here."

He looked at me, his jaw tightening as if he was wrestling with something he didn’t want to say. “Why didn’t you tell me you were spending all that time with Chris?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What? I told you I was with friends in Boston.”

“You didn’t tell me Chris was one of them." he said, standing up, pacing now. His hands were in his pockets, but I could see the frustration in the way his shoulders tensed. “I saw your Instagram photo, y/n. You and Chris.. you looked really comfortable.”

I stood up too, feeling my heart race with a mix of confusion and frustration. “I didn’t think it mattered. It wasn’t just me and Chris - his siblings were there too. We’re friends, Hugh. That’s all.”

“I know you’re friends, but that’s not the point!" Hugh interrupted, his voice rising slightly. He turned to face me fully, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find something he couldn’t quite name. "You didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you just tell me it was him?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Because it wasn’t important, Hugh! We were in a group, it wasn’t just the two of us, and I didn’t think it would bother you. Chris and I are over. We’ve been over for years."

Hugh’s face tightened, and he took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. "But you two were something once. And now you’re still close, still spending time together, laughing together. I trust you, y/n, but… it’s hard for me to ignore the fact that you didn’t think it was worth mentioning."

I stared at him, feeling my own frustration bubbling to the surface. "Are you seriously mad because I didn’t explicitly say Chris was there? You know we’re friends. I didn’t hide it. I didn’t lie to you."

"It’s not just about Chris," Hugh snapped, finally letting the words spill out. "It’s about everything. You didn't even say anything back to me at the airport! I couldn’t help but felt like you didn’t really want this and went to see him. Maybe I’m too old for this, for you. And when I see you with someone like Chris, who’s younger, who shares your world more than I do… I just start to wonder."

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. I hadn’t realized he’d been carrying all this around with him, this insecurity about us, about our relationship. "Hugh, how could you even think that? We talked about the age difference and you were the one who literally said, that it's fine! It doesn’t even matter to me, and it’s never been about that. I didn’t realize you felt this way… you should have told me."

"I didn’t want to burden you with it. Especially after you were concerned about our relationship and the media." he muttered, turning away, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It’s my issue, not yours."

"No, it is our issue if it’s affecting us like this." I said, stepping closer to him. "You should have told me you were feeling like this, Hugh. I don’t want you to feel insecure about us, or about me spending time with anyone. I love being with you and I want to be with you."

He ran a hand through his hair, still not meeting my eyes. "It’s hard. I see how easy it is for you and Chris to be around each other after you have been together and I thought… maybe I’m holding you back and the thought intensified after you didn't say 'I love you' back."

I felt my chest tighten, a knot of frustration and sadness coiling inside me. "Hugh, that’s not true. You’re not holding me back. I’m with you because I choose to be. Chris is a friend, but you’re the one I want to be with. You’re the one I’m in love with. Also you caught me off guard with that and it was somehow too much for me to tell you before we said goodbye."

At that, Hugh’s eyes finally lifted to meet mine. For a moment, his expression softened, but the weight of everything still hung between us. "I don’t want to feel this way, y/n. I don’t want to doubt us."

"Then don’t." I said, stepping closer, placing my hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm. "You don’t have to doubt anything. I’m here with you because I want to be, not because I feel like I have to. I love you, Hugh. I love you in ways I didn’t think I could. And I need you to believe that."

He swallowed hard, and for a moment, I thought he might cry, or that I might cry, but instead, he pulled me into his arms. He held me tight, his chin resting on top of my head as he whispered, "I’m sorry. I’m sorry for letting this get to me."

I hugged him back, feeling the tension slowly ease out of him as we stood there, wrapped up in each other. "I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you about Chris." I murmured against his chest. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me."

Hugh kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. "I do trust you. I just… I get scared sometimes too. It's my first relationship after a long marriage. It's new to me too."

"I know." I whispered. "We’ll figure it out together."

After a few minutes, I pulled away gently, looking up at him. "Do you want to talk more about it, or…?"

He shook his head, smiling softly. "No. I think we’ve talked enough for tonight." Then, his expression shifted, something playful creeping into his eyes. "How about we make some dinner? I know we’ve got some things we could whip up."

I smiled, grateful for the change in tone. "That sounds good. Let’s go cook."

Standing in Hugh's kitchen, I stirred the vegetables as the aroma of garlic and fresh herbs filled the air. Hugh was chopping some tomatoes next to me, the sound of his knife tapping against the cutting board rhythmic and soothing. We'd been talking for a while about upcoming projects - the usual couple interviews and some new film roles hat were coming our way.

He glanced at me with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. "You know, they've asked for some couple interview next month. Think we can manage to look civilized for one hour?" His lips curled into a teasing smile.

I raised an eyebrow, stirring the sauce as I shot him a look. “Do we really have to talk about that now? I thought this was our quiet time.”

Hugh chuckled and set his glass down, pushing away from the counter to move closer to me. “It is, but you know they’re going to ask us sooner or later. They’re all dying for a chance to talk to us - Hollywood’s favorite couple.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, sure. You might be used to the spotlight, but I’m still getting used to it. Besides, I think they’re more interested in you than me.”

He slid up behind me, his arms snaking around my waist as he rested his chin on my head. “Oh, they’re definitely interested in you, trust me. And I think we make a pretty good team. You’re a natural on camera.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “That’s because you’re always cracking jokes and making me laugh. You're the one who always makes some smartass comment that gets us off track, but I don’t think I could get through an interview without you by my side.”

Hugh kissed my temple softly, his lips brushing against my skin. “Exactly. That’s why we should say yes to a couple of these. It’ll be fun. We can give them a little peek into our life.”

I sighed, stirring the sauce as I leaned back into him. “Alright, alright. I’ll consider it. But only if you promise to keep it light. No deep-dive, personal stuff.”

He raised an eyebrow, his breath warm against my ear. “No promises. They always find a way to ask the hard questions.”

I turned to face him, my hands sliding up to rest on his chest as I narrowed my eyes. “Then you’re answering those.”

He laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Deal. I’ll take the tough ones.”

As I turned back to the stove, Hugh kept his arms around me, his body pressed close to mine as he spoke. “You know, I’ve been getting some new film offers too. There’s one that might shoot in New Zealand next year.”

I felt a twinge of excitement at the mention of New Zealand. “Really? That sounds amazing. Have you decided if you’re going to do it?”

He shrugged, his hands absentmindedly playing with the hem of my shirt as he spoke. “I’m still thinking about it. I want to make sure it won’t take up too much time. I’d rather spend more of it with you.” His voice dropped, soft and intimate, and I couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he shifted from teasing to sincere.

I turned to face him again, this time resting my hands on his arms. “You’re really not going to stop making me blush, are you?”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss me again, this time slower, lingering. “Not a chance.”

We stood there, the conversation fading as our lips met again and again, the kitchen suddenly feeling much smaller as the heat between us built. It wasn’t long before the playful kisses turned into something deeper, more urgent, and I found myself wrapped in his arms, pressed up against the counter, his hands sliding up my back as he kissed me like he couldn’t get enough.

Just as I was getting completely lost in the moment, Hugh pulled back, his breathing heavy as he gazed down at me. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you." he said, his voice a little more serious now.

I blinked, trying to focus through the haze of desire. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he spoke. “The kids… they’ve been asking about you. They want to meet you.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. His kids. I knew this moment would come eventually, but the thought of meeting them, of stepping into that part of his life, made my stomach twist with nerves.

“Oh.." I said softly, my voice betraying my uncertainty. “I didn’t know they’d been asking about me.”

He nodded, his expression gentle but serious. “Yeah. I called them yesterday and they’ve been curious for a while now, but I didn’t want to bring it up until I felt like we were both ready.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. “And… you think we’re ready?”

He held my gaze, his hand moving to cup the back of my neck. “I do. But it’s up to you. If you’re not ready, we can wait. There’s no rush.”

I took a deep breath, my mind racing. Meeting his kids was a big step, and the last thing I wanted to do was mess it up. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel like it was the natural next step. Hugh was such an important part of my life now, and if his kids wanted to get to know me, maybe it was time.

“I think I’m ready." I said, my voice steadying as I spoke. “I’d love to meet them.”

The relief on Hugh’s face was instant, and he pulled me into a tight hug, his lips pressing against my hair. “You have no idea how happy that makes me." he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

I smiled against his chest, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I just hope they like me.”

Hugh pulled back, his hands framing my face as he looked down at me with absolute certainty. “They’re going to love you. Just like I do.”

I bit my lip, my heart swelling at his words. “I love you too." I whispered, feeling the weight of those words settle between us.

Hugh smiled, his eyes soft as he leaned down to kiss me again, this time slower, more deliberate. “I know.”

We stood there for a few moments, wrapped in each other, the conversation lingering in the air. But as the sauce on the stove began to bubble, Hugh pulled back with a playful grin. “Alright, we better finish this before we burn the house down.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I turned back to the stove. “You’re the distraction, not me.”

Hugh stepped up behind me again, his arms wrapping around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “You know..” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always drove me crazy. “You could be right. But I think you like it and that we may need small breaks in between cooking."

I tried to focus on stirring the sauce, but it was impossible with him pressed up against me like that, his hands sliding up under my shirt, his touch warm against my skin. “Hugh.." I breathed, already feeling my resolve weakening.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. “You were saying?”

I let out a soft moan, leaning back into him as his hands tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. “You’re impossible." I managed to say, though my voice came out shaky.

“Impossible?” he echoed, his mouth moving down my neck, sending shivers through my entire body. “I think you like me just the way I am.”

I laughed breathlessly, trying to keep the sauce from burning as he continued to kiss my neck, his hands exploring every inch of me. “The sauce is going to- ” I started, but before I could finish, the sound of bubbling and sizzling filled the air, and I realized that it was already too late.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, quickly turning off the stove as Hugh stepped back with a satisfied grin on his face.

He laughed, leaning against the counter as I tried to salvage what I could of dinner. “I told you we needed a break.”

I shot him a look over my shoulder, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “This is your fault.”

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe. But I think you enjoyed it.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the stove. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Damn right, I am,” he said with a wink, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Even when everything else was up in the air - work, interviews, meeting his kids - knew that as long as we had moments like this, we’d be just fine.

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

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74

Next Part

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stayandot8 · 11 months ago

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Emergency Contact

Genre: comfort fluff, chan's having a rough time

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: slight swearing, Chan going through the stages of a panic/anxiety attack

WC: 2.4k

masterlist

The small moments I could sneak my boyfriend away from his work were few and far between. The few times it did work were a perfect storm of my big puppy eyes or a smile with just the right amount of head tilt and his need to get away from it all. Sometimes it was a member annoying him past his limit, sometimes it was his musical ear being drained and needing inspiration from the outside world. Other times, I was just too insistent and he couldn’t resist. Or so he said. But when he sat silently across the cafe table, watching the people pass by, I wondered which it was.

“Chris?” I nudged his foot with mine, his attention snapping back to me and my plastic cup of motivation to get the day done. His eyes were big, silently asking what I nudged him for then his shoulders slumped as realization hit him.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I’m not the best company right now.” His gaze landed on his untouched pastry in front of him. I glanced at it, a sad smile involuntarily creeping on my face. It’s not as though he was usually talkative, but at least he looked at me from time to time.

“It’s okay, you just seem more distracted than usual. Is it Han again? Do I need to have another talk with him? Or Minnie? Is he making more old jokes? I swear, with all the karma he’s banking, he’ll go gray before you do.” Finally. A chuckle. A small sigh of relief escaped me as I watched him break off a piece of the croissant in front of him. I didn’t even know if he had eaten earlier. “You left before I got up this morning. Or did you sleep at the studio again?”

“I tried to sleep with you for a few hours but I didn’t really sleep that well.”

“Have you eaten today?” His hand stopped, his face dropping. “Christopher.” He looked like a kid who had been caught stealing cookies. “Please tell me this croissant is not the first time you’re eating today.” He didn’t move. “Christopher! It’s four in the afternoon!”

He laughed sheepishly, slightly embarrassed by the pink tint to his cheeks. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, it wasn’t on purpose.” He shook his head at his lap. I could only shake my head at him, a mixture of slight disappointment and exasperation clear.

“Well you know I have to get another for you before you go, right? Even if I have to sneak it in your bag, you’re taking it. Maybe a sandwich too. Or a cake pop…”

“Hey now.” He broke me of my train of thought, that dazzling smile of his making my heart skip a beat. “I can buy my own food, thank you very much.”

“Well apparently not. Now do you want a sausage, egg, and cheese or a smoked ham?”

“I don’t want anything else than what I have in front of me.” He tried to wink at me too, but I was having none of it.

“Tell me which one you want or I’m getting both. And a cake pop.”

“Baby-” I got out of my seat and grabbed my wallet before he could continue his thought and half-sprinted for the counter, him hot on my tail. Luckily for me, the last person in line had just finished and was walking away, leaving the perfect window for me to rush straight to the girl behind the counter.

“Hi, can I get both the sausage egg, and cheese and the toasted ham breakfast sandwiches? Thank you.” As the payment terminal flashed with my total and within the two seconds it took to unzip my wallet, Chan had slipped his card on top of the screen. The terminal beeped with the acceptance of payment. I slapped Chan on his arm. Hard.

“Oh you’re so going to pay for that later.” He playfully smirked at me, staring at the screen to avoid my eyes.

“I thought I just did.”

*Incoming call from: Channie ❣️*

“Hello?”

Sniffles met me on the other line. My body immediately went still, ready to jump wherever I was needed. My world stopped when Chan was in trouble. Or anxious. Or pissed. Which, all of these emotions aside, he was a generally happy guy so it didn’t happen a lot. But when it did…

“Chris? Are you okay?” I whispered into my phone, trying not to let my voice carry to any prying ears that might be nearby. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk quickly finding a bench off to the side to sit and put my bag down. There were more wet sounds coming from the phone, which only worried me more. He tried to be strong for us, for me and his bandmates. He tried not to let his emotions out too much, but I made sure he knew that I would be there when he did need to let them out. And this was the first time he was letting me in.

“Send me your location, I’m on my way. Don’t move, okay? I’ll be there soon.” I gathered my stuff again, ready to put down my phone to see his location.

“Don’t hang up.” More sniffles. A little part of me felt guilty for feeling relieved at being needed by him. I had always felt it was me going to him for my big feelings about the world. But this… This was new.

“I won’t. Where are you? Can you tell me where you are?”

“Studio.” He choked out. I nodded like he could see me and started in a slight sprint, knowing the way from the store I had just left, picking up some last minute shopping for the holidays. Luckily, I hadn’t found much, so I didn’t have many bags to carry while I ran.

“Chris, I’m on my way. Just stay put, okay? I’m coming. I’m not hanging up. Just breathe for me, baby. Take a deep breath whenever you can.” I heard some small whimpers coming from what sounded like further away, like he had set the phone down away from him. Whether he was trying to hide whatever noise he was making or what, I didn’t know. He hadn’t done a very good job because I heard everything. My veins tightened with the sudden rush of anxious adrenaline washing through me. Some ragged breaths came through the phone as the tall building I was running for came into view. The big letters on the top loomed overhead, like a constant reminder of its founder and the expectations set forth by it.

Sometimes some of the members would talk about how said expectations were too much sometimes. They felt like they couldn’t be fully themselves under the wing of such close eyes, so they would find ways to channel that energy into other things. Most of the time it was through their music, others it was through vlogs or what they called ‘talkers’ or outings with each other. Concerts were a big thing with them too. They had less supervision on tour, so they felt they could get away with more on the road. Should they ever push it too far, there were always consequences waiting for them here at home, but never so severe that they stopped pushing their boundaries. I guess anyone would feel that way if they had to push down the parts of themselves that made them...them.

Pushing through that revolving door, I waved at the security at the front desk and grabbed my permanent guest badge that Chris had saved for me to come in whenever he was here. As long as he was, I was free to enter. I wasn’t sure what deal he had to cut to get me this pass, but I figured that in my case, ignorance was bliss. Holding the phone to my ear, I pointed to it and strolled/sprinted past them and into the elevator.

“Just keep trying to breathe for me, okay? I need you to try and take a breath. You might start to get a little shaky if you haven’t already. But I’m here, I’m getting in the elevator now, I’m coming.” As the elevator dinged open to let out whoever was in there, Han stepped out, head down in his phone and mask up and covering half his face. He looked up and nodded to me, clearly not surprised I was here. If he didn’t say anything to me, then I assumed he didn’t know anything that was happening to the boy on the other end of my phone line. He would’ve been a good one to call seeing as he dealt with this kind of stuff the most to my knowledge.

Whatever force that pushed him to call me instead of one of his members, I wasn’t going to question it. I knocked softly on the studio door and let myself in. I looked around in the recording room, looking for the same boy I had seen earlier, his familiar black hat and clothing not catching my eye. But what I did see was an open file on the computer, open with the music application and unfinished. I turned once more to see my boyfriend, curled up in a ball and rocking against the wall. His phone was balancing precariously on his knee that was tucked into his chest and his head was resting on the wall with his eyes shut, like he was willing himself to calm down and keep his breathing under control. He wasn’t doing a very good job. It looked like…well, it looked like the aftermath of a panic attack.

“Chris… Chris, baby, I’m right here.” I shoved off my bag and threw it on the couch, where it landed with a small thud. I tossed my phone on top of it. I knelt down to be eye level with him and placed my hands on his bare knees, his loose shorts had ridden up down near his upper thighs. I thought the skin contact would be better to ground him, letting him feel that I was there if he couldn’t hear me very well. I squeezed his knee with slight pressure, just in case. His cheeks were visibly wet while he tried to breathe through his mouth. I watched his chest try to rise and fall, stuttering on the way out. His lips pursed out as he breathed, his hands latching onto mine on his knees. He gripped them like he thought I would fly away if he let go. I turned my hands over to thread our fingers together and he lowered his knees and pulled me by our connected hands so that I was sitting in his lap. He only let go of my hands when I was fully in and he could wrap himself around me fully.

I started rubbing his back, letting my nails graze him while my other hand went to the back of his head. He tucked his head into my shoulder until his breath was tickling the tiny hairs on my neck. I kissed the side of his head that I could reach.

And we stayed there.

“Any idea what brought it on? Or did it just come on out of nowhere?”

We were still on the floor, not quite as entangled as we were before but I was still in his lap, chomping on the food we had ordered bit by bit. I wouldn’t let him stop until I felt like he had actually eaten what was close to a meal, especially when I saw both sandwiches from the shop we went to this afternoon untouched in his bag. I might’ve had to force the first couple bites on him but a girlfriend had to do what she had to do, especially when he then ‘playfully’ demanded she spoon-feed him herself. He still wasn’t back to himself, but he was getting there.

“No idea.” He said softly, chewing through his thoughts. “Nothing really happened, I just…” He trailed off.

“It’s okay, Chan. Shit just…comes up sometimes. I know, I get it. These things can come out of nowhere and grip you and not let you go until it’s run its course. Maybe today was just your day.” He nodded in agreement, staring at the wall.

He had one hand wrapped around my waist, half to keep me steady on his leg and half, what I believed to be the real reason, because he simply didn’t want to let go. But the other hand he was resting on his opposite thigh. Every so often he would pick at his cuticle with one of his fingers but quickly stopped, probably thinking I wouldn’t notice.

“Do you think it had something to do with the upcoming album? Is it finished?” I pondered out loud. He quickly shook his head though, diminishing the thought.

“No, the album is done and approved. It wouldn’t be that.” If I had known any better, I would think he was almost offended I would suggest such a thing. And in his normal state, he might have been. “Even the choreography is done. The concept art, the photocard selection, it’s all done. I don’t know what happened.” His voice was slowly getting stronger as he thought what could be the source of his panic. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“You know, not everything has to have a reason.” He shrugged, not really liking that answer. “But I’m happy you called me.” He smiled softly at the floor.

“You were on my mind. You’re always on my mind. I just wanted to hear your voice. That was the only thing I could think of that might help, so I called you.” I couldn't fight my smile at that. And I tried hard.

“I would’ve been happy if you called anybody instead of facing it alone. You don’t have to face all your strong, negative emotions alone. That’s what we’re here for; your friends and me. We’re here for the good, bad, and ugly.”

“But I knew you would answer. I know… that I can depend on you when I need you.”

“And I’m so happy you know that now. As a fact, not just an idea.”

His arm grew tighter around me.

“If I ever go to the hospital or something, I’m making sure they call you.”

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havoc-7 · 6 months ago

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I wasn’t a die-hard Tech Lives believer (more of a “I HOPE Tech Lives” believer) but the end of the show has me grieving hard all over again, so here’s my little ode to Tech based on things I’ve noticed about him from rewatching the show:

Tech LOVES his brothers, and he genuinely misses Crosshair. When he has his heart to heart with Omega in the ipsium cavern, the way that he mentions Crosshair—even though that wasn’t even really what they were discussing—shows how often Crosshair is on his mind, so much so that he can’t really talk about people leaving and changing without bringing him up. When they get the Plan 88 from Crosshair, Tech is vocal and insistent about doing whatever they can to bring Crosshair back—because “he is still our brother.”

Tech is incredibly moral. Not that he’s any more moral than I think generally TBB is, but he’s not afraid to speak up when he sees something that he disagrees with fundamentally. “The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me.” “There’s a fundamental different between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice.” Even in just the first episode, we see how firm his opinions are, based on what he believes: that people are people, that HIS BROTHERS are people, that they deserve better, that there is such a thing as right and wrong.

Tech may be practical, but that doesn’t make him any less crazy than his brothers—in fact, I would argue he is one of the more unhinged members of the bad batch. His plans and ideas see everything factually, factoring in risk not as an emotional factor but as a numerical one. He knows their skills, and what they are capable of, and he pushes them to those capabilities, even if the resulting strategy is absolutely insane. The best part is, as insane as he may be, his brothers trust him, because, as Tech himself said, he is seldom wrong.

Tech has a beautiful sense of wonder and awe for the world around him. How many times do we see him go wide-eyed as he encounters something that absolutely fascinates him—even if that thing is a Zillo beast that just ate an entire Imperial crew.

Tech is INSANE. Not unhinged, like I said earlier, but skill-wise, ability-wise, he is an absolute powerhouse. I will forever be grateful to the writers of TBB who gave us a techy, intelligent character who is not your average scrawny computer guy that we get in action movies. You have to have a lot of guts to be the guy in your squad who turns your back on the fight to bend over a computer and hack into a file or break an encryption or alter the programming—already a delicate operation, but with the added risk of getting shot with your back turned. He frickin wields double blasters so that he can shoot more clankers more efficiently (if that’s not practical Tech, I don’t know what is). He DOESN’T WEAR LEG ARMOR SO THAT HE CAN CARRY HIS TOOLS WITH HIM INTO THE FIELD. In “Faster,” we see his hand inching towards his blaster, ready to defend and protect the second it’s necessary—and you know he would’ve beaten anyone to the draw. He fought a group of Imperial troopers!!! With a broken leg!!!!!

Tech was amazing, and I hate that he’s dead, that we never got to see him grow old, that he never saw Crosshair again. But WHAT A LIFE HE LIVED.

#sw tbb #tbb tech #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb

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miss-musings · 6 months ago

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It’s so funny how in The Bad Batch 3.01 “Confined,” Crosshair and Batcher are parallel characters:

• Omega visits both of them regularly. While they are confined, she has some amount of freedom within Tantiss.

• Both are initially closed off/withdrawn and antagonistic toward her.

• But, through continual positive interactions with Omega, they grow attached to her. (You could say she domesticated BOTH of them … as others joked about here! 😂)

• Both of them are hurt — Batcher, physically and Crosshair, emotionally/physically — and Omega helps them both to heal.

• Both of their lives are threatened because of Omega’s actions. Batcher is slated for termination after Omega domesticates her; and Hemlock threatens to kill Crosshair if Omega’s misbehavior continues.

• Omega eventually frees both of them, and they both prove crucial in their collective escape in Episode 3.03. (Note: all three of them escape Tantiss the same way — via Batcher’s kennel chute.)

• Both Batcher and Crosshair are always ready to Square Up ™️ anytime someone threatens Omega.

• “S/he deserves a chance.”

• Hemlock only ever uses their designations — CT-9904 and LH-201. Omega only ever uses their names.

• The irony of Hemlock saying “actions always have consequences — sometimes not in the ways we imagine”… He literally arms Omega with two individuals who help in her first escape, and pairs her with Emerie who helps with the second escape. And later, Crosshair and Omega team up with Hunter to kill Hemlock. None of this would’ve happened if Hemlock had supervised Omega more closely, or not given her as many freedoms during her initial stay.

• Same thing with “Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that” … considering it’s the Bad Batch’s love for each other that causes Hemlock’s downfall.

• Omega refuses point-blank to leave either of them behind throughout S3. “I wasn’t going to leave without you.” / “I’m not abandoning her.”

• Also, Batcher and Crosshair save Hunter together in 3.05. 😂

• Batcher almost exclusively follows Crosshair in 3.05. But, after he reconciles with Hunter and Wrecker in that episode, Batcher seems more comfortable hanging out with Hunter and Wrecker too. Like, she fully integrates into the family when Crosshair does.

• UPDATE: Hemlock’s line of “And your domestication of LH-201 only made her vulnerable” also applies to Crosshair, as I talk about more in my Allegorical Analysis of 3.05 “The Return.” Despite his attempts to push her away, Omega makes Crosshair feel emotionally vulnerable for the first time in ages. But, just as Omega ultimately protected Batcher *by* domesticating her, so too does Omega protect Crosshair emotionally through the bond they form on Tantiss. As I speculated about in my CrossDad Episodes Ranking, seeing Omega regularly on Tantiss is probably a big reason — maybe the primary or only reason — why Hemlock’s CX conditioning didn’t work on Crosshair. Yes, Omega made both characters “vulnerable” in a way they weren’t before, but she also ultimately saved their lives by doing so.

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narryffdreaming · 7 months ago

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A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — ONE

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

Author's note: You have no idea how much I love these characters and how nervous I am to finally share this story again. I posted ATTTF for the first time back in 2022 but never got to finish it, so I'm hoping I'll get to do it this time! If you read this, I hope you enjoy it, and please be gentle with them! (lol)

PART ONE: 5,4k words

The sky is still dark when the Uber driver drops Aurora off at Stansted airport.

The polite man, who just kept her company for an hour and a half, wishes her a safe trip, and Aurora smiles, waving him a last goodbye and wishing him a good day right before she shuts the door of his black Toyota Prius. Once alone, a light breeze tickles her shoulders, but she doesn't give it enough time to settle as she rearranges the strap of the navy duffel bag on her shoulder and turns around, then sets her feet into motion.

Hopefully, she isn't late. She doesn't think she is. She left the house forty minutes before she needed to, and the ride to get there was shorter than expected because of the early hour, so she shouldn't be.

Still, she wants to make sure.

Just in case.

You can blame it on the fact that she hasn't spent a weekend with her friends in years. Or that it is the first time she's going out since… Well, since everything in her life turned upside down.

The strap of her bag slips from her shoulder, and Aurora catches it between her fingers. She puts it back in place and tightens her grip around the soft fabric, turning sideways to squeeze herself between a group of people that's happily chatting on the sidewalk. An apology leaves her mouth as she runs past them, but they don't seem to care nor notice they're standing in her way — or in everyone's way.

Has the Stansted airport always been this crowded?

The lights are bright outside, and the glass walls reveal how equally well-lit it is inside the terminal building. When she reaches the automatic doors, they take a moment to open, and she stops. It gives her enough time to catch a glimpse of her reflection, and her stomach quivers. Her hair is messy, the sports bag she's carrying doesn't match the maxi dress she's wearing, and she's showing off too much cleavage for a woman her age.

Those are too many things to notice in one quick glance, and she wishes she hadn't. Still, it is too early in the morning to feel insecure about the way she looks, and she doesn't have time for that. She has a flight to catch.

(Also, she really needs to pee right now.)

So she breathes in deeply and darts her eyes down, then takes her free hand up to her chest and pulls the fabric up. When she moves next, she keeps her sight fixed on the floor, then grabs the pendant of her necklace between her fingers and walks through the doors, biting the flesh inside of her cheek and fidgeting with the gold disk as her feet drag her inside the airport.

Everything feels slow and heavy. And there's a mix of nervousness and anticipation that's building up inside her. It's unsettling, but it keeps her moving, at least.

Once inside, Aurora looks up again. She turns her head to one side, then to the other, short nails never letting go of her necklace.

The wide open area in front of her leads to multiple check-in desks from several different airlines, but she ignores all of them, aiming solemnly on the huge departure boards placed around the terminal.

She doesn't have any luggage to drop, and her boarding pass is printed and ready inside her bag — and, just in case, there's also a copy of it saved on her phone — but she wants to make sure she won't be running late if she takes another five minutes for a quick run to the toilets before standing in line to get through security.

Her determination drives her forward, and she only stops walking when she's right in front of the closest monitor. She blinks a couple of times, making sense of all the information while searching for the only flight she cares about. And it only takes her a minute till she finds it:

6:45, Ryanair, Naples.

She drops her shoulders, and a yawn eases from her mouth, along with a shaky laughter.

She is fine. Everything's just fine. Desks aren't even open for check-in yet, so she has plenty of time to go to the bathroom and wake herself up. There's no need to collapse.

At some point she'll have to face the fact that she didn't sleep at all last night, but she plans to keep herself together and entertained until she's settled on her 2 hours and 45 minutes flight.

Then, she'll sleep.

Aurora turns around, and wanders her eyes to find the nearest toilets. She can't tell when was the last time she's been at Stansted Airport, but everything feels different from what she remembers. Did they go through renovations? Or has it always been big and hectic like this?

Well, it's not like Aurora is familiar with airports, anyway. She doesn't travel that much, and London has too many of them for her to get familiar with. The last time she went somewhere — anywhere — was for Noah's birthday, when she and Zack took him to Disneyland Paris for a quick celebration. They took a flight from Heathrow, though, and that place was so big that it did nothing but overwhelm her. So much that she barely remembers it.

Her chest tightens, and she closes her hand in a fist around the pendant.

A lot has changed since Noah's third birthday. In fact, everything changed because of Noah's third birthday. And things never stopped changing since then. Not even a year and a month later.

Oh God… In a couple of years she is going to be sitting on a leather couch, facing the traumatizing memories she and Zack created for him and apologizing for ruining his childhood.

She knows she will. She can see it happening.

A man bumps into her, and Aurora stumbles forward. She looks over her shoulder and apologizes, but he isn't around to listen anymore. Sighing, she lets go of her necklace and shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other, holding the strap to keep it firmly in place.

What was she even—Oh, toilets!

Right!

She shakes her head.

It takes her another minute until she sees some directions that will help her get there, and then she's walking again.

The toilets she's heading to are placed in a much quieter area, where even the lights are dim. Only a few people are there, seemingly waiting for time to pass — some occupying themselves with their phones on the chairs, but most of them laying on the floor, sleeping next to their luggage or using their backpacks as pillows. A baby cries somewhere distant in the terminal, and there's some coughing coming from a corner behind her, but besides that, everything's quiet.

She reaches the door at the exact moment a lady is walking out, and she almost bumps into her. They exchange polite smiles, and Aurora takes a step aside to make room for her to walk by. Once the lady is off her way, Aurora moves inside, then lets the door shut behind her, and everything goes silent.

The room is bright again, and someone must've just cleaned the place, because the smell of disinfectant is fresh and strong.

Aurora sighs. She heads to the last stall, walking past a row of other six on her way there.

After relieving herself, she stops by the sinks and washes her hands, taking the opportunity to look around her. And mostly to look at her.

The mirrors are big, almost covering the entire green wall between the sink and the ceiling, from side to side. To be fair, staring at her reflection doesn't sound like a good idea, but she promised she would try her best to go into the weekend with a positive mindset, and she can't do that while feeling so insecure about herself.

She lets the duffel bag slide down her arm and places it between her legs, then crouches to find her washcloth inside it. Holding the soft fabric between her fingers, she closes the zipper and stands up again.

Public toilets aren't the ideal places for skincare routines, but she's determined to do the best of whatever she can get. She places the washcloth on her shoulder and grabs the hair tie from her wrist, pulling her locks into a bun and getting them out of her way. Hunching down, she turns the tap on and puts her hands together, filling them with water before splashing it on her face. The coldness makes her wince, but it also makes her shoulders relax, and she pulls her lips into a timid smile.

She repeats the same process three times before grabbing the washcloth again and placing it against her skin. She doesn't rub it, but instead lets the fabric soak in the dampness. Finally putting her hands down, she looks at her reflection in the mirror, and bites the insides of her cheek. Her face looks more alive now that she's freshened up, but the rest of her body doesn't feel the same.

When she'd put that maxi dress on, an hour before leaving her house, she didn't think she would end up regretting the outfit. It's been probably a decade since the last time she's put it on, sure, but it used to be one of her favorites, and she always went for it when she didn't know what to wear. She used to consider it her safe choice.

And yet, wearing it now feels everything but safe.

It also doesn't feel nearly as comfortable as it used to. Maybe it's because of the straps… She never wears sleeveless outfits anymore, let alone something that's held by such a thin string of fabric. And the V neck… Oh God. How did she walk around London showing off her chest so comfortably? How did she go to class not bothering about people being able to see the curve of her breasts?

Even its color shade looks weird now, and she's not sure she enjoys how that rust red looks on her anymore. Her body hasn't seen the sun in a really long time, and her skin doesn't look very appealing — it's dry, and filled with stretch marks.

Honestly, the full length and loose fit are the only things she can still appreciate from the dress — although around her waist it doesn't feel as loose as it used to feel before.

Shit. Did she even pack one thing that's going to make her feel good about herself in Italy?

No, of course she didn't. Because Madison was the one who helped her pack for the weekend, so of course all of her choices included the tiniest, brightest and most provocative outfits that were hidden and forgotten inside of her closet since… Well, basically since Aurora stopped being single, to be honest.

"You need to loosen up," she'd said. Along with "you're divorced, not dead," and "your tits need to see the sun; they are gorgeous, they deserve it".

Alone inside the restroom, Aurora rolls her eyes at the memory of her best friend's words. Obviously, the whole chit-chat did nothing to convince her. Most of the old clothes Maddie had found hadn't seen the light of day in almost a decade, and Aurora doesn't have the same body she used to have back then to simply put them on again.

Not to mention she doesn't want Noah to ever see her wearing any of those outfits. It's not the image of a mother she wants him to remember. And she's been already messing up so many things for him, that she doesn't need to add "being an embarrassing mom" to the list — and she won't add an accusation of excessively exposing her son to his own mother's naked body in those future therapy sessions she already knows she'll be paying for.

Call it damage control, if you want to. After all, that's how she's facing it herself.

But then Maddie had put her hands on her shoulders, stared deeply into her eyes, and said: "it's going to be us. Just us. It's the perfect and safest place to have some fun and try out of your comfort zone. And you and I both know how much you need it right now." And Aurora couldn't fight her on that, so she said yes and agreed to put all of her jeans and t-shirts away for the weekend — which she can now confirm was a terrible, terrible decision.

She sighs. Again.

It's going to be a long weekend, isn't it?

Still examining herself, she turns around and looks over her shoulder, facing her back on the mirror. Fortunately, it doesn't show too much skin, although the flesh of her armpits could be more covered.

There was a time when Aurora felt breezy and comfortable on her own body. When she looked at herself and felt beautiful and free. Even sexy. Now, though, the simple thought makes her laugh. It sounds ridiculous, and she can't even make sense of it.

Biting her lip, she turns around one more time, and something catches her eye. She stops midway, narrowing her eyes to find out what it is, and then, she raises her eyebrows, and a spark of hope ignites inside her — she completely forgot about the adjustable straps!

Fully turning around, she squats down and puts the washcloth away, then stands up, already reaching both hands towards her back to tighten and shorten the strings. It isn't easy, and for a moment she even considers to hide inside of a stool and take the dress off to do it more comfortably, but eventually she succeeds, and the slight change instantly makes her chest feel more covered.

It's a small win, but Aurora is serious about making the best of whatever she can get that weekend, so she takes it, and smiles at her reflection.

The gold disk shines on her chest, and she takes it between her fingers, pulling it to her mouth and placing a soft kiss to it. She's really going to miss spending the weekend with Noah, but she knows she needs to take care of herself to be able to take care of him, and that it's also important for him to spend some time with his dad. Besides, it's only going to be three days — not even that. By Sunday afternoon she'll be back home with him, and everything will go back to normal.

Yes, see? That's it: two days.

Two relaxing and fun days with her friends, and then everything will go back to normal.

The line to get through security is huge.

Aurora stops behind a chatty and cheerful family of five, and sighs. She puts her frizzy hair down, then crosses her arms under her chest and lifts one hand to fidget aimlessly with her pendant.

Honestly? She can't wait to get to Italy. She can't wait to finally see that beautiful ocean in the Amalfi Coast. It's a trip she always dreamed about, but also one she didn't think would actually happen — and one she's sure she wouldn't be actually embarking on if she hadn't been forced to by her friends.

Aurora's mouth turns into a smile, and she looks at the ground, taking the pendant to cover her lips.

Despite everything that went wrong with her own marriage, she is happy for Lucy and Theo. She truly is. Just because things didn't work out for her, it doesn't mean they won't for them. Besides, their relationship is the only thing between all of them that hasn't changed since their graduation, so who knows? Maybe they'll have better luck than her and Zack. Maybe Lucy won't mess things up like she did, and maybe Theo won't—

"Auri?" a deep and low voice calls. Aurora furrows her brows and takes her hand down from her lips, putting her necklace back to its place. "Aurora?"

She turns on her feet, finding flamingos on a loose black shirt. Blinking a couple of times, she darts her eyes up, and meets the face of a friend she hasn't thought of in a really long time.

She widens her eyes, and places the palm of her hand on her cheek.

"Oh my God," she whispers. She raises her eyebrows, and her mouth curves into a smile at the same time it falls open. "Harry!"

She breathes out a laugh and takes a step forward, then stands on her tiptoes and throws her arms around his neck.

The duffel bag on her shoulder follows the movement of her body, hitting Harry's stomach before she can stop it.

"Ouch," he groans into her ear.

Aurora pulls away. "Sorry, sorry—"

He chuckles, hunching down slightly and placing his hands in the middle of her back.

"'S okay, c'mere," he says, pulling her body closer and crossing his arms around her waist, embracing her into a tight hug.

Heat takes over her body, radiating through her chest and tingling from head to toe. It's so good to see him! She can't help the smile that lightens up her face, so she closes her eyes and rests her chin on his shoulder, circling his neck with the same affection he's putting into his hold.

"What are you doing here?!" she asks, still too excited to let him go.

Did he get even taller?

Or is he just stronger than he used to be?

"Probably the same thing as you?" Harry chuckles.

Shit. She's so stupid! Of course Harry would be at Lucy and Theo's party. Of course! After all, he was part of the group, too. Sure, maybe the last to join and the youngest of them all, and also the only one living across the world, but still… He was—he is part of the group. And Lucy and Theo would invite him, too. Of course they would. How didn't she think of him when thinking about the weekend?

"Don't wanna break the moment," Harry murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down her back, "but I think we gotta walk."

Aurora jumps away, holding her weight on his shoulder and twisting her neck to see the line ahead of her. She slides her fingers down, watching as the family of five gathers their things. They aren't rushing, though, and it doesn't seem like they'll be taking more than two steps forward.

Still smiling, she bites her bottom lip to keep her excitement down, then looks back at him.

Harry is standing with his arms loose on each side of his body, chin down while he stares down at his chest.

Following his sight, Aurora finds her own hand, and she widens her eyes. She's clutching at the second button, where both sides of his black shirt with pink flamingos meet. His hairy chest is on display, just like tiny bits of black ink tattooed on his skin and the long golden string of a necklace.

A rush runs through her fingers, and she withdraws her arm.

"Sorry," she whispers, pulling her hand to her own chest and squeezing it into a fist.

Harry clears his throat.

"'S okay," he murmurs. Without looking at her, he straightens his back and stretches an arm, pointing out to the empty space in front of them. "Shall we?"

Aurora moves quickly, shuffling on her feet and nodding in silence. She turns around, and the strap of her bag falls from her shoulder, dropping to the crook of her arm. She winces, and stumbles a little.

"Shit."

"Here," Harry says, and the weight on her elbow disappears. "Let me."

Frozen, she watches — and feels — the way he gently grabs her wrist and takes her bag out of her arm, pulling it to himself.

"Harry…" She drops her shoulders. "You don't have to."

"Just walk, c'mon. We're holding the line."

Aurora peeks over his shoulder, and certainly people don't seem friendly while watching them. She sighs, but turns around and walks.

It only takes them three steps to reach the family of five once again, though, and she's back to facing him.

Harry is rearranging the straps on his shoulders, holding two duffel bags now — his own, and hers.

"Okay," she says, stretching her arm to him, "now give me that."

He chuckles, and dodges her. "Nope."

"C'mon!" She rolls her eyes, but a smile dances on her lips. "I can carry my own bag, okay?"

Harry shrugs. "Never said you couldn't."

She sighs, and tilts her head. "Harry…"

"Will you stop being stubborn?"

Harry grins widely, contrasting his words, and his eyes brighten with amusement.

Aurora lifts her brows and parts her lips. A shaky chuckle coming out of her mouth. "I—Excuse me?"

Harry diverts his eyes somewhere behind her, and he tilts his chin up.

"C'mon, we gotta walk again."

Lifting her left eyebrow, Aurora crosses her arms, and stares silently at him.

Harry glances back at her, then presses his lips together, watching her for a moment as he wanders his eyes around her face. He purses his mouth, and then he cracks into soft, genuine laughter.

"Ha!" He throws his head back for a moment, chuckling lightly, then looks back at her. "I totally forgot you could do that."

Aurora's beaming, just like him, but her heart is racing, and her breath gets stuck in her throat. His smile is really contagious, framed by deep dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles all around his eyes. It's hard not to feel mesmerized by it.

"Uh…" She blinks a couple of times. "Do what, exactly?"

He walks, prompting her to walk along with him. Still smiling, he points a finger up, right to her face. "The thing… Y'know. With your eyebrow."

"Oh…" Aurora widens her eyes for a second. "Right."

She laughs and shakes her head, relaxing the muscles of her entire body, including her face.

She takes one hand to her forehead, and rubs the tip of her middle finger on her left eyebrow. Even though it's something she used to intentionally do pretty often when she was younger, usually to prove a point, it was also something that came up so naturally to her that she never paid too much attention to it. And a habit that, with time, she left behind. However, now that she found out Noah thinks it's super cool that his mom can lift only one eyebrow while most people can't, she's been consciously doing it more often. She never cared about being a cool mom, to be honest, but lately it seems the title started to mean something to her.

They stop walking, much closer to the metal detectors now, and Aurora stretches her arm again. She doesn't say a word, simply reaching for the strap of her bag on his shoulder.

"Auri..." Harry chuckles. He grabs her wrist between his fingers, then slides his touch to her hand, taking it to his mouth. He places a single kiss on her knuckles, and looks at her. "Please, 's nothing. I promise."

Aurora presses her lips together tightly, words getting stuck on her throat. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to keep the warmth of his lips lingering onto her cold skin.

"Okay." She nods. Her voice is softer, and she looks down to smile. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he says, taking her hand down and gently letting it go. "Did you bring a jacket?"

Raising her head, Aurora narrows her eyes, and meets his stare. "What?"

"Your hand's really cold." He shrugs. "Do you want my jacket?"

Aurora chuckles, and waves him off. "Oh no, I'm fine. My hands are always cold."

Harry pulls his brows together. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it again.

"Anyway…" She clears her throat. "How are you? We haven't talked in… I don't know… Five? Six years?"

Harry looks down and nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Around that, yeah."

"Hmm… Well, I had no idea you were back in the UK!"

"Uh, yeah." He shifts on his feet, and shrugs. "Came back a couple of weeks ago, actually. Haven't seen anyone yet."

Taking one hand out of his pockets, he lifts his arm and scratches his jaw. The movement draws Aurora's attention to the facial hair he seems to be growing, but also to his chipped yellow nail polish and the three rings he's carrying on his fingers. And when he rakes the same hand through his curls, pulling his hair away from his face, she notices the amount of new tattoos covering his slightly tanned skin.

His movements are subtle, almost timid, but Aurora is hypnotized. She hasn't seen him since… Damn, when was the last time she saw him? He was at her wedding, she remembers that, because she remembers the floral-printed suit he was wearing, and that his hair used to be longer than—

Aurora gasps, and Harry jolts.

"What?"

"Your hair!" Uncrossing her arms, she takes a step forward. She stands on her tiptoes and reaches for his head, touching the tips of his short curls while switching her voice to a soft murmur, "It's so… Short."

Harry shoves his hand back inside his pocket, but doesn't say anything, and Aurora entertains herself stroking the hair at the back of his neck, and then pulling some longer bits around his ears.

"Oh my God…" she murmurs again.

For as long as she's known Harry, she's known him with curls long enough to french braid, pull into buns and even attempt some ponytails — he hated the last ones, by the way. The girls used to tease him for having softer and shiner hair than any of them, and they all even went through a phase of trying to use the same hair products as him.

And yet, looking at him now, she's not sure if there's length enough for even a hair clip. Well, maybe a tiny one, to keep those curls that fall into his forehead out of the way… But still…

"The line," Harry murmurs.

Aurora pulls her arm to her chest, and lands her heels back on the floor.

"Right."

She turns around and takes a couple of steps forward, and an unsettling feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. It squeezes her lungs, and it makes her mouth go dry, so she presses her lips into a hard line and swallows. Then, she takes a deep breath in. And another one.

There's silence between them, until Harry clears his throat.

"I cut it as soon as I left," he explains, and Aurora glances at him over her shoulder. "I think this is the longest it's been since then." He shrugs. "I'll probably do something about it next week."

Aurora hums, and curls one side of her mouth up.

"You got a lot of new tattoos, as well."

Harry smiles, albeit sheepishly, and nods once. "Guess I did."

Facing away from him, Aurora can't help but smile again.

What a weird thing it is, to stand in front of Harry after so many years and find everything about him so familiar, yet completely different and strange at the same time. To have grown so distant from his friendship, and yet feel as close to him as she's ever felt before.

How could she forget about him?

How could she go through life without thinking about a friend? Without wondering about how they are, or what's going on with their lives?

Shit.

Tapping one foot on the floor, she grabs her necklace between her fingers.

She can't spiral into this right now. She hates coming face to face with the person she's become, and this weekend isn't for her to swell into guilt and drama. She's supposed to have fun. She's supposed to let things go. She's supposed to—

"Auri?"

Aurora stops the steady movement of her foot, and looks at him over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

Someone from security calls the next passenger, and she follows Harry's movements to walk forward, not even bothering to look where she's going.

"Nothing." Harry shakes his head, dismissing the subject, but Aurora can see the way his brain is working hard to figure something out. Noah tends to do the same a lot of the time — he'll have questions, and when he doesn't understand the answer, he'll purse his lips and shift his eyes around him, as if looking for a different explanation.

It appears Harry is going through the same process, because he keeps staring at her arms, and at her hands. And when he pinches at his bottom lip — something she recognizes as an old habit of his — it's enough for her to confirm her suspicion.

"Harry…" She chuckles and rolls her eyes, making sure to keep her voice soft as she calls him out. "Don't be silly. Just say what's on your mind, c'mon."

An amused and short laugh leaves his chest, and she smiles at the way his entire face lights up again.

"'S nothing… I was just… Because you… I mean, you don't seem to be taking a lot of stuff… Then I realized you… Well… I was wondering…"

There's a bit of silence, and it quickly becomes clear he won't complete any of his half-sentences.

Aurora half-smiles. "Yes?"

"Sorry." He shakes his head. "Is your husband coming, too?"

"Oh…" She lifts her brows, then puts them down again.

She nods once, understanding where he's coming from. It is a genuine question, a very reasonable doubt. After all, the last time they saw each other was at the wedding — her wedding — and not many people know about the many changes in her life since then. So she can't expect him to know, nor blame him for asking.

She doesn't want to say the words out loud, though. Is there a way to tell him without actually telling him?

"Hm, no," she tries. "It's just me. Zack's with Noah."

Harry hums. He gives her a lopsided smile, and nods.

Aurora frowns, and turns around to face the line.

That probably wasn't helpful. It didn't announce Zack isn't in her life anymore. It just seemed like he stayed home with Noah.

Which he did, yes, but he isn't at home with Noah. He is at his own place, a very fancy apartment he didn't struggle at all to buy after their divorce.

Ugh! Why is it so hard for her to announce to the world that Zack isn't her husband anymore? He hasn't been for a while now, and it's not like she wishes he would still be. Honestly, figuring out her relationship with Zack keeps being exhausting, no matter how much distance she puts between them.

Will that ever change? Will things ever get easier for her?

"How's he, by the way?" Harry's voice sounds behind her. "Noah, I mean. Just turned four, right?"

Aurora bites her lip, but it isn't enough to hold back the grin on her face.

People move forward, and they walk a couple of steps. There are only three passengers left in front of the family of five.

Aurora nods.

"Yes, he's four now. And he's the most adorable kid in the world! So, so, so sensitive, and so smart" —she walks forward again, but doesn't stop talking— "and now he's getting into this stage of trying to do things by himself, and it's just so endearing to watch! And he's really chatty, too, oh my. He loves telling stories, so he keeps—"

Aurora widens her eyes, and turns around.

Harry is beaming at her, and she covers her mouth with one hand.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles against her palm, then puts it back down. "Sorry, sorry. I'm so—I mean, I know, I'm one of those mums now."

"What?!" Harry laughs. "I was loving it! Was even hoping you'd show me a couple of pictures."

Her cheeks warm up, and she looks at her feet.

"Right."

Her hair falls to her face, and she takes both hands to put it behind her ears.

Please, don't blush.

Please just keep it together.

"Hey, I mean it." He places one hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. His hand is warm, but his rings are cold and her skin tingles with goosebumps. Shit. Now, her earlier prayer becomes a silent cry of help for him not to notice her reaction. "He sounds a lot like you, by the way."

Her lips twitch, and she bites her bottom lip to hold back the stupid smile that keeps looming on her face.

"Well… Would you really like to see some pictures? 'Cause I have plenty of them."

Peeking up at him, she finds him staring and smiling. Harry's hand is still on her shoulder, but it promptly circles her neck, grabbing her opposite side and pulling her forward.

Aurora holds her breath, crushing against Harry's chest as he squeezes her body and kisses the top of her head.

"God," he groans, his lips brushing her hair as they move, "you're so adorable. 'S so good to see you again."

Hii! If you're here, thank you so much for reading part one :) it truly means the world to me! I care a lot about this story and these characters, so I'd love to know your thoughts about it — and I hope you'll feel comfortable to share them with me!

Once again, thank you for reading! :)

Dani

PART TWO

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles writing

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gyorouis · 9 days ago

Text

𐙚 FROM ME TO YOU.

— beomgyu looked up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set, painting the world in soft pink and oranges.

genre: heavy angst, slice of life, tragedy, strangers to friends

pairing: patient!beomgyu x patient afab!reader

warning: major character death, terminal illness, grief, emotional distress, let me know if i forgot anything !!

wordcount: 2k

now playing: the 1975 — about you ୨ৎ

beomgyu met you on a day that smelled of antiseptic and the crisp, too-clean air of a hospital ward. he had just been transferred from another wing, still getting used to the new surroundings, when he noticed you by the window in the common area. you were sitting alone, gazing out at the world with an expression he couldn’t quite place—a mixture of calm acceptance and quiet yearning. when you caught him looking, you smiled, a gentle curve of your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was warm nonetheless.

“new here?” you asked, your voice soft, as if you didn’t want to disturb the stillness around you.

“yeah,” beomgyu replied, walking over to sit across from you. “just moved from the east wing. i’m beomgyu.”

“nice to meet you, beomgyu,” you said, your eyes returning to the window. “i’m y/n. this place isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

and so, it began. every day, beomgyu found himself drifting back to that window, where you would be sitting, waiting for him with that same serene smile. he started bringing snacks with him—chocolate-covered almonds, your favorite, he learned after a few conversations. soon enough, it became routine for beomgyu to stop by your room, snacks in hand, ready to share another afternoon with you.

“you’re spoiling me,” you teased one day, accepting the almonds with a grateful smile.

“just making sure you’re not stuck with the hospital food,” beomgyu grinned, opening the pack for you. “besides, it’s more fun eating with someone.”

you laughed, a sound that seemed to brighten the sterile room, making the cold, clinical space feel a little more like home. it was easy, the way you two fell into step with each other. beomgyu didn’t know much about your illness, and you didn’t offer any details. it was an unspoken agreement to focus on the present, to savor the time you had together without the weight of what might come.

the hospital grounds became your escape. every afternoon, you and beomgyu would sneak out, sometimes with permission, sometimes without, to find a quiet corner in the garden. there, under the shade of a large oak tree, you would sit and talk for hours, sharing stories about your lives outside these walls. beomgyu told you about his friends, his dreams, the things he missed most while being stuck in the hospital. you listened intently, asking questions, laughing at his jokes, and sharing your own stories in return.

“when i get out of here,” beomgyu mused one day, lying on the grass with his hands behind his head, “i’m going to eat the biggest bowl of ramen i can find. no more bland hospital food.”

you chuckled, sitting beside him with your knees drawn up to your chest. “ramen sounds amazing. i think i’d go for a huge slice of chocolate cake. with extra frosting.”

“we’ll do it together,” beomgyu said, turning his head to look at you. “first meal after we’re both out of here.”

“deal,” you agreed, though there was a hint of sadness in your smile that didn’t go unnoticed by beomgyu.

as the days turned into weeks, your bond grew stronger. you became each other’s lifeline in that place, finding comfort in your shared moments. beomgyu’s health improved, his strength slowly returning, but you... you were growing weaker. it was subtle at first—the way you needed to rest more often, the way your laughter became softer, less frequent, and the light in your eyes dimmed bit by bit. but beomgyu noticed, and the realization gnawed at him.

one evening, as you both sat under the oak tree, watching the sun set over the hospital grounds, you turned to him with a seriousness that made his heart clench.

“beomgyu,” you began, your voice quiet, “there’s something i need to tell you.”

he sat up, concern etching lines across his forehead. “what is it?”

you took a deep breath, your eyes fixed on the horizon. “they’re going to try surgery. it’s... it’s risky, but it’s the only option left.”

the weight of your words settled between you, heavy and suffocating. beomgyu reached out, his hand finding yours, squeezing it gently.

“you’re going to be okay,” he said, more to reassure himself than you. “you’re strong.”

you smiled at him, but there was a sadness in your eyes that he couldn’t ignore. “i’m scared, beomgyu. but if this works... maybe i’ll get more time. more time with you.”

“we’ll get through this,” beomgyu promised, his voice thick with emotion. “and when you’re better, we’ll go eat that ramen and chocolate cake, okay?”

“okay,” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

the days leading up to your surgery were filled with quiet moments and unspoken fears. beomgyu tried to stay positive, cracking jokes and keeping the conversation light, but the tension was palpable. you spent more time in your room, resting, and beomgyu would sit by your side, holding your hand, talking to you even when you were too tired to respond.

the day of the surgery came too quickly. beomgyu was there when they wheeled you away, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you disappear down the hallway. “i’ll see you soon,” you had said, giving him a weak smile. “don’t worry about me.”

but he couldn’t help worrying. hours passed, each one dragging slower than the last. he paced the waiting room, unable to sit still, his mind racing with all the things he hadn’t said, all the moments he wished he could relive.

when the doctor finally emerged, the look on his face told beomgyu everything he needed to know. the surgery had failed. they had done everything they could, but your heart had given out.

the world seemed to stop in that moment. beomgyu didn’t hear the words that followed, didn’t feel the hands that tried to offer comfort. all he could think about was the promise he had made to you—a promise he would never get to fulfill.

your room, once filled with your presence, was now empty, stripped of the warmth you brought. your mother came to collect your things, her face a mask of grief. it was then that she found the pink envelope tucked under your pillow. “to my bravest beomgyu,” it read in your familiar handwriting. she handed it to him with trembling hands, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

beomgyu’s heart clenched when he saw the small note on the back. “please open this after one year :)).”

he didn’t know how he managed to get through that first year without you. everything reminded him of you—the oak tree in the hospital garden, the chocolate-covered almonds he couldn’t bring himself to eat, the ramen shop you had both planned to visit. he missed you with an intensity that took his breath away, a hollow ache that never quite left him. nevertheless, he waited.

and then, the first anniversary of your death arrived. beomgyu found himself standing by your grave, the pink envelope clutched in his hand. the sun was warm on his skin, the sky a clear, endless blue. with trembling fingers, he opened the letter, unfolding the paper carefully as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

dear beomgyu, if i die, i will make sure that you will get shaded by every cloud wherever you go. remember that day we spent hours in the sun, complaining about the heat? you joked that the clouds should be more considerate and give us some shade. i’ll make sure they do that for you.

beomgyu’s breath hitched as he remembered a day last summer when he was out running errands. the sun had been unbearably hot, and he’d thought of you, wishing you were there to complain with him. out of nowhere, a cloud had drifted over, offering him the perfect shade just when he needed it most. it had felt like a small miracle, a fleeting comfort that now made perfect sense.

if i die first, i will make the prettiest flowers bloom every summer because i know how much you love how they smell. the tree by your house—do you remember? you told me it hasn’t bloomed in years, but i’ll make sure it does. i’ll make sure it’s full of the brightest flowers, and their fragrance will remind you of me, of us, of the times we laughed until we couldn’t breathe.

tears welled in beomgyu’s eyes as he thought of the old tree in his backyard. it had been lifeless for years, barren and dull. but that summer, the summer after you passed, it had suddenly burst into bloom, its branches heavy with the most vibrant flowers he’d ever seen. the scent was intoxicating, filling the air around him, he could almost hear your laughter in the rustling leaves. and every time he walked past it, he had thought of you.

if i die first, i will be the brightest star in the sky, guiding you home on nights when you feel lost. when you can’t sleep, look up. i’ll be there, twinkling just for you, reminding you that you’re never alone.

there had been nights when beomgyu couldn’t sleep, nights when the emptiness of his room was too much to bear. he would go outside, sit on his porch, and stare up at the sky. one star, brighter than the others, always seemed to catch his eye, its light unwavering. it had brought him a strange comfort, a sense of peace, as if you were right there with him, watching over him.

if i die, i will be the song that plays on the radio when you least expect it, making you smile when the world feels heavy. music was always our escape, wasn’t it? i’ll be that familiar melody, bringing back the memories of our time together, making you laugh at the silly lyrics we made up.

and then, there was that song. it was a quiet afternoon, the kind where the world felt just a little too big and a little too empty. the radio played softly in the background, and then, out of nowhere, your favorite song came on. the same song you used to hum when you thought no one was listening, the one you both sang along to on those rare, carefree days. he hadn’t heard it in so long, but as the familiar melody filled the room, he felt a warmth in his chest, a comfort that wrapped around him like a blanket.

if i die, know that i wished for more time. i wished we had met before i got sick, before all this. but even in this short time, you made my life so much brighter, so much fuller. thank you for being my friend, for being my light in the darkest days.

and most importantly, if i die first, i will make sure to be waiting for you when your time comes. so, don’t be afraid. live your life fully, and know that when you’re done, i’ll be there, waiting with open arms, ready to show you all the places we didn’t get to see together. love, always, from me to you.

with tears streaming down his face, beomgyu clutched the letter to his chest as his hands trembled, his heart breaking all over again. tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t try to stop them. he sat there for hours, reading and re-reading your words, feeling your presence with him even in your absence. your words, your promises, they filled the empty spaces in his soul, offering him a solace he hadn’t known he needed.

as he sat by your grave, beomgyu looked up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set, painting the world in soft pinks and oranges. he smiled through his tears, whispering to the wind, “thank you.”

and as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, he felt a gentle breeze brush past him, as if you were there, right beside him, just like you promised.

gyo's note: hello, everyone. this story is another heavy one. today, while I was walking in the sun, i noticed how a cloud seemed to follow me and give me shade. it made me think of my late dog, as if they were still watching over me. that thought inspired this story, where the presence of a loved one lingers, offering protection and comfort even after they’re gone. i hope this story resonates with you as much as the idea did with me. if you made it to this part, thank you so much for reading. you will be loved, xoxo!

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part 17)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

When an invitation to Tommy's wedding arrived, it was like a tsunami of feelings struck your spirit, shocking you to your core and leaving you breathless even after it passed.

Deep down you knew, deep down, that you would never forget the consequences that would run through your family's very roots if you turned down the invitation to his wedding. However, in the midst of this profound insight, your contemplative mind wondered if the heavy weight of emotional turmoil that this occasion bore was truly worth the endurance and perseverance it required.

Your father Arthur had gone silent, not a word exchanged, for months on end. He did not know about your secret yet, namely that, several months ago, you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. In fact, no one knew other than Ada and, luckily for you, Ada vowed to honour her commitment of utmost secrecy to you, valiantly concealing her own penetrating doubts about the progenitor's identity, yet lacking verifiable certainty.

Two months had passed since her last visit, when destiny laid bare the truth before her very eyes. The arrival was an unforeseen surprise but, she has been supporting you ever since. Being a single mother herself, she understood what you needed and this was emotional support and encouragement especially after you told her that you never intended to carry this pregnancy to term.

By a cruel twist of fate, it was discovered at the last minute that you were expecting your uncle's child. Termination was an unthinkable option by this point and one that you fiercely denied as you had already carried your son for twenty weeks without showing. It was confusing to you having to go through this alone but, in the end, you managed surprisingly fine.

Then, after you gave birth, in the midst of a maze of people, you met a kind hearted doctor named Robert who looked after your son after he was born.

Rich and well-connected, Robert seemed like a perfect match for you. He was kind and loving, treating your son as if he was his own. He was a man of unwavering dependability, someone you could always count on. However, a sense of unease crept over you when he expressed his desire to accompany you and your son on the imminent journey to Birmingham.

Robert was blissfully ignorant of the fact that your son was born out of the covert union between you and your very own uncle as, for months, you had been entwined in a web of forbidden passion and secrecy. He also had no idea how powerful your family really was and that their illegal activities could potentially put him into danger. Thirdly, you knew deep down in the pit of your heart that Tommy and your father would never approve of him.

“Robert, I am not sure if you coming to Birmingham with me is really such a good idea,” you thus said cautiously as Robert looked up into your eyes with a hint of doubt on his face.

"Y/N, please," Robert said with genuine sincerity. "I will be extremely happy to become acquainted with your family, especially if you should ever feel inclined to accept my marriage proposal,” he went on to say, causing you to sigh.

"We talked about this, Robert," you said coolly, looking into his sincere eyes. "My heart and mind aren't ready to dive headfirst into the world of commitment just yet,” you told him before taking a moment to collect your thoughts and attempting to unravel the complex web of your family's past.

“You see, Robert, my family is not like other families. They have a certain toughness that comes from running those factories and gambling dens I told you about,” you casually disclosed, hinting at the lawful ventures conducted under your family's wise leadership, rather than their illegal and illicit endeavours.

Robert dismissed the statement with a casual shrug of his shoulders and said, "So what? They export machinery and take bets on horses”, causing you to nod. “There are worse ways to make money," he then told you reassuringly, cupping your face before telling you a disturbing story of young desperation. He described a terrifying reality that had occurred just the day before. Two frail spirits, who were both gently starting their fourteenth year, had fallen prey to the deadly grip of cocaine's seductive appeal. But even before his depressing words could fill the room, you spoke up, breaking the heavy silence.

"Alright, alright! I will take you to meet my family, but you need to promise me not to bring up stories like this when you are around them. No mention of drugs and no mention of...anything to do with the prohibition and...just keep it simple...small talk only," you stammered nervously, not wanting him to create a conflict within your realms.

Robert nodded understandingly, his eyes reflecting the love he had for you. "I promise, Y/N. I will be on my best behaviour and avoid any topics that may cause discomfort or conflict. Your family's approval means the world to me, and I would never want to jeopardize that."

***

As the days passed and the date of Tommy's wedding drew near, you couldn't help but feel a mix of resentment and nervousness. The thought of introducing Robert to your family, specifically your unpredictable father and secretive uncle, made you tremble with apprehension. But evermore so, the fact that Tommy was getting married to Lizzie made you sick with nausea.

You despised her and, unbeknownst to Robert, you still loved him. You were in love with your very own uncle who was a dangerous man and the father of your son, whom he knew nothing about.

This incestuous relation had kept you captivated against all odds. You had often dreamt of the day when these secret encounters would turn into an actual romantic relationship, though you realized that this will never happen.

And there lay the crux of your problem – your undying infatuation towards Tommy amidst the growing bond with Robert, even after all the heartache Tommy had caused you.

The torrid dance between love and hate played out ceaselessly inside your restrained psyche now, consuming you entirely again.

On one hand, you never wanted to see your uncle Tommy again but then, on the other hand, you longed for him more than anything else. It appeared almost inconceivable how deeply enmeshed you were in the intricate snarl of these raw, fervent emotions. And, unfortunately, as much as you hated yourself for harboring these feelings, you simply couldn’t deny them.

Love or lust, whatever it was - it was intense. Every time you heard his name, every thought of him sent waves of arousal coursing through your veins, a constant reminder of your last few nights together before you were sent to America.

One night, in particular, was engraved in your memory like a tattoo and even though, that night, you were furious about his will to send you away just over elven months ago, you resolved whatever tension there was simply by being honest with each other.

That night, Tommy told you that he loved you more than life itself but, just like life, love wasn't always fair.

Backflash...

In a backflash, you remembered how, just the night before you left for Boston, Tommy took you to a place had never taken anyone else before.

It was his sacred place, his sanctuary, nestled among ancient trees where memories whispered softly in the wind.

Located on long abandoned land which he purchased without the knowledge of his family, a Gypsy wagon stood amongst wild flowers. Inside, candles flickered softly casting dancing shadows upon rough wooden walls covered in paintings depicting scenes from his past. There, hidden from prying eyes, he felt safe enough to express himself freely and vulnerably.

"Why did you buy this land?" you asked him quietly as you dismounted your horse and secured it against one of the large trees while looking around the peaceful scenery.

Tommy's voice sounded deeper than usual, touched with emotion, as he explained his reasoning behind purchasing the land. "Because I needed somewhere quiet to think sometimes, someplace where I didn't have to worry about anyone finding me," he told you as he approached and cupped your face tenderly.

His thumb caressed your cheekbone, the tenderness evident in his gaze as he stared intently into your eyes. "Away from everyone and everything," he continued softly, his fingers brushing across your lips. "Just one more time… let us forget about who we are, eh? Let's enjoy ourselves here tonight..." Tommy went on to say and you couldn't resist the intensity of his stare nor his touch, the warmth in his voice drawing you closer to him.

"Why do I have to leave, Thomas?" you questioned him sadly, unable to mask your sorrow.

"Because, unless one of us does, I will not be able to resist this constant temptation that pulls us toward each other Love," he admitted solemnly, regret etched on his brow. His eyes held yours steadfastly, refusing to look away, seemingly willing you to understand why it must be done.

"Then don't resist!" you urged passionately, stepping forward to press your body against his firm frame. Desire surging between you two, like an electric current sparking alive every cell within your bodies.

"You know it's not that fucking simple, eh?" Tommy growled, frustration seeping into his tone. "You are my fucking niece and we both know that this needs to stop," he declared forcefully, trying to suppress the desire threatening to consume him whole. But instead of withdrawing from your embrace, he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate, hungry kiss. It was as if the very essence of his soul sought release through your mouth, through your body.

As your tongues tangled, he delved deep inside, probing and exploring, seeking something neither of you fully understood. With each thrust of his tongue, he seemed to find a part of you, awakening new sensations and passions.

"Don't you dare push me away for good, Tommy" you murmured breathily, clutching at his waist, digging your nails into his skin.

"We can't go on this way Love," he groaned, sweat trickling down his temple. "I want to protect you, and the rest of my family," he insisted, pulling back slightly, yet still maintaining eye contact with determination. "We need distance," he added.

He pushed you further against the tree behind you, pinning you there as he ravaged your mouth once more, his hands roaming eagerly over your curves.

Swept up in the moment, you lost track of time, the space around you falling away until there was only him—his scent, his taste, his touch. As his hand skimmed teasingly down your throat, stopping at the base of your neck, the feeling of being desired by this man consumed you completely.

He pressed harder against you, the heat radiating off his hard body causing your nipples to pebble beneath your clothes. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you ground your hips against him, silently begging for relief.

"Please, Tommy," you pleaded, gasping for air, begging him to take you.

Tommy paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain control of his ragged breathing. Gathering what little composure remained, he ran his calloused finger down your neck, tracing its curve towards your shoulder blade, creating goosebumps along your skin.

Reaching beneath your skirt, he pulled down your panties roughly, exposing your feminine folds to the cool evening breeze, sending shivers running down your spine. Your legs began to quiver involuntarily.

His hot breath tickled your ear as he muttered huskily, "just one last time, eh?" before unbuckling his belt swiftly. He then unzipped his pants and pushed them down, causing his erection to spring free, thick and hard, demanding attention.

Without warning, he pushed up your skirt and made you lift your right leg so that it would wrap around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to align his manhood with your soaking wet core.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him position himself. Desire, excitement, and fearsome anticipation melded together inside you, creating a potent mix of emotions. Your thighs trembled violently, preparing themselves for his penetration.

In spite of his best efforts to retain self-control, the animal instinct rose to the surface when Tommy grabbed hold of your ass and yanked you flush against his rock-hard cock. Then, he gave it a slight push, forcing entry into your tight, moist cavern.

"Ah! Oh god yes!" you cried out loud, welcoming his fullness with sheer bliss.

Feeling the warmth of his flesh spread throughout your entire being, you moaned, reveling in the pleasure you were experiencing.

Your head fell backward against the tree trunk as you absorbed the powerful sensations pulsing through your body.

Every nerve ending came alive with exquisite pleasure as Tommy began to move rhythmically inside you. The moonlight cast a soft glow on his rugged features, illuminating the raw passion consuming him. The air filled with the primal sounds of ecstasy as your lovers joined together in their most fervent union.

As the fire ignited between you both grew stronger, Tommy wrapped his arms securely around your waist, locking you tightly against him. He moved with deliberate precision, ensuring he hit all the sweet spots with each thrust.

"Fuck Love, you feel so good," his voice rumbled low in his chest, resonating deep within your core.

"Tell me how good my cock makes you feel, tell me how much you want it."

Panting heavily, you managed to reply, "Oh God, Tommy... I can barely stand it anymore... I want it so bad, so fucking badly... you make me feel things I've never felt before."

Tommy grunted with satisfaction, increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so fucking much," he said hoarsely, reaching down to cup your breast, rolling your already swollen nipple between his fingers.

"I love you too, Tommy" you moaned as the pressure built up gradually, becoming almost too intense. Sensations flooded your body, culminating in a wave of pure bliss that coursed through you as you reached orgasm. Throwing your head back, your cries echoed around the woodland clearing, filling the silence with your rapturous release and, within seconds, Tommy followed suit.

His movements became erratic, his breath coming in short bursts. Grunting audibly, he poured every bit of pent-up energy into the act, leaving nothing left for tomorrow. The earth shook beneath you, trees creaked and rustled, and birds scattered as the primordial forces took hold, claiming its prey.

Drenched in perspiration, Tommy cradled your face, tears streaming down his own as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"Promise me, no matter what happens in America, you won't forget our time together, eh" he whispered, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Never," you replied earnestly, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "Our connection runs far deeper than just blood. It may change form, but it shall always remain," you said without knowing that your forever continuing connection would be through the birth of your son.

Tags:

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blueberrypancakesworld · 11 months ago

Text

Supporting them - Amanda, John, Mark and Lawrence

warning : angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, kissing, mentioning of self-harm

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amanda : The sweet but addicted Amanda is punished by life and resurrected by Jigsaw to start a new life. But this is easier said than done since she tasted the metal and the blood, something has broken inside her and has come together in the form of emotionality and emotional outbursts, all under the cover of fear that she will not be able to live up to John or be left alone by him. Which is why, especially after Mexico and the first game, she seemed all the more nervous, but her partner was there to help her. Whether it was just words of praise or reassurance when the black-haired girl was too nervous. A hand on her shoulder or on her, ,,Just breathe it will be fine" she heard the voice of her lover when she felt her emotions boiling over. A hug behind closed doors and the encouraging gestures. A small snack or just a look was enough to tell her that everything would be alright. They are small things but they help her immensely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John : Jigsaw himself, as strong and effective as his actions are, is vulnerable when reduced to a human being. An elderly man who has terminal cancer and is dying of it. gets robbed of life for changing other people. And yet. But he had his favorite. His partner who helped him with everything Amanda couldn't help with. Sitting together on the couch in his house in the evenings, one hand resting on his in his lap. Showering him with stories of better times and telling him how good he was. That everything was going to be fine, making him warm tea and getting his medication ready. Maybe even try to force him to sleep and continue the drawings. Do everything so that he didn't overexert himself, he had suffered enough. ,,Don't worry John, we'll manage...your work will go on until the end" he heard the words and a small smile came to his lips as he looked at the person with love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark : The policeman, scarred by the life of the bear trap and the death of his sister, had lost everything for a time in his life. Alcohol was his best and only friend until he met not only John but also his lover. The thoughts of the darkness that surrounded him were not only tinged with brutality and a slight arrogance, but also with devotion. He loved the little gestures you did for him. A coffee in the evening, a little note, a hug when he came home and a cuddle when his mornings were hard. ,,My strong policeman... you are everything Mark, understand? I will always help you," said his favorite and hugged the older one. The older one replied that he was glad to have someone still worth loving but for everything that had happened he was grateful to have his partner. Someone he could kiss, someone who was there for him, someone he could trust after everything that had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lawrence: The divorce from his wife, the loss of his daughter, the death of his friend Adams and the loss of his mentor and his failure with Jill. It was a time when he needed help, help to deal with his body and the loss of his leg. But it was also a time when he met his angel, his partner who not only helped him cope with his prosthesis but also with the process of his daughter. The nights were usually longer and he was afraid that the plans would not turn out right. But when he felt the reassuring hand of his darling on his shoulder, smelled coffee and felt a warm blanket around him. ,,Don't get cold, sweetie... go to sleep, I'll stay with you okay," he heard the voice and smiled slightly. They were small cares and yet they were gestures that showed him that nothing was in vain. He still had hope and love by his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@callmeklarise

#saw movies #saw franchise #amanda young #john kramer #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #amanda young x reader #john kramer x reader #mark hoffman x reader #lawrence gordon x reader

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12-seconds-to-live · 1 year ago

Text

Laniel.jpg and Charlotte

Pairing: DR3 x LN4 x F1 female driver

Warnings: none, just my happiness with Daniel and Lando

NICE AIRPORT - TERMINAL 1 @15:20

"You look cute today" I stop looking to my phone to look at Lando. Well, that's new

"You say it like it's weird of me using a dress"

"It is" He smiled

"I'm gonna ignore you from now on"

"It's not common, even when we go to parties you use jeans, so, I have a point"

"The real point here is that we are in the middle of the summer and if I put a raw egg on the floor it will cook"

"But what about the jet? It's going to be cold in there"

"I have my enchanté sweater" Lando made a loud gasp "It has cute peaches and it's purple"

"I sent you a full box of my merch last month, mean"

"Cry about it, Daniel thinks that I have a pretty face so everybody is going to see me in the new enchanté collection"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I asked him months ago, even I helped with the design of one of the pieces"

"Well, congratulations. You should look who's coming" I turn my head and a very smiley Daniel Ricciardo was walking to our direction

"You knew?"

"I invited him to flight with us, I know how important you were for him these moths away from racing so I..." I interrupted him with a hug and a kiss in the cheek

"You're the best, Norris" Lando didn't expect that reaction, now he can feel his cheeks burning

I got up and run to Daniel. After Silverstone, I decided to wait for Danny's test with Pirelli. After he finished a call from Helmut Marko was all we need to know that he got the seat for the rest of the season. Even if I have a good relationship with the australian, I organized a few days off with Lando, Max, Nyck, some frineds and myself to let Nyck know that we're his friends and friends support each other.

"It's been only a week, you know?" He said laughing

"I don't care, I'm happy. These past 7 months had been like going on a rollercoaster over and over again so, you know. Even if it's AlphaTauri, you have your way back home, you never left, you just have to travel the world over in search of what you need and then return to find it"

"I know Char and thank you for everything" His eyes got glossy so I hug him "Do you like my design?" He said ponting to his sweater

"No, it is..." I gasp

"Yes, kiddo. Tommorrow a million boys are going to see you wearing the new collection"

"Ha ha, funny, you know that I have my eyes on someone"

"Someone a bit brainless. Hey Lando, I guess you were waiting for me"

"Yeah, let's go"

Once in the airplane

"I have to say that this is a very important moment and pretty faces like yours should be able to broke the internet" I said taking Lando's camera and pinting to them "New wallpapers for your fans"

They looked at each other and start with their goofiness and well... I guess they really missed each other. Maybe Carlos and I have competition.

"We are pretty good looking guys, you know?" Daniel said with a smile on his face

"Even you could use us as your wallpaper" said Lando

"Good offer but nothing can beat my photo with Tom Holland" I said with a side smile and ready to take a nap before we arrive in Budapest

"When are you gonna tell her how you feel?" asked Daniel looking at Lando

"I don't know what are you talking about" he answer looking at the mirror

"Kids, always scared of love"

DRIVE TO SURVIVE EP.4 S.6 NICE GUYS ALWAYS COME BACK

"Hello Charlotte"

"Hi Netflix, can I have some tea? I been walking around doing interviews and stuff and I couldn't finish my lunch"

"Sure, mint?"

"Yes, please" I smile to the interviewer "We can't start, I'll wait for the tea"

"Ok, what were you doing when the news drop?"

"Oh, ha ha, I was with the main character. I can do anything, even work as emotional supporter, PR, car mechanic, you know" one member of the staff approached me with the cup of tea "Thank you"

"How do you feel about this?"

I made a pause thinking and trying not to burn my lips "I think that this a great moment to tell you what happen after Abu Dabi. Well, I sign my contract with McLaren, I was feeling bad about the decision, just for Danny and I spent the night with him and his girlfriend just talking and at some point we got more serious and I just told him and without knowing about Red Bull: What is a home if not the first place you learn yo run from?"

I smiled to the camera "Then he told me about the third driver offer and I felt different, by the time he leave in 2018 I guess that he felt that he was destroying everything and he just needed to slip quietly to the back door without causing to much noise and then not stop running. And maybe that was he needed more than what he really wanted, let go the feeling of wanted to go back and remember what you once had and what you once where "

"But then I told him that it's funny that the feeling of leave home and being far away make us wander our choices but for Danny is something else. He's back home and ready to no longer remember which tale of his past is true and which is an invention. Outside he's the same on the inside he's the same kid that leave Australia looking for a dream"

"I guess he's your favourite person between the drivers" asked the producer

"No, Daniel is my brother and I know he feels the same about me"

📍Budapest

Liked by charlotterjones, daniel3.jpg and 943.501 others

landonorris We’re photographers. We’re back.

📸: @charlotterjones

user1 ARE YOU KIDDING ME. STOP THIS CUTENESS

f1mia need a landan.jpg account plz

charlotterjones This is a piece of art ❤️

landonorris including the photographer danielricciardo our favourite girl

user2 "dude we’re getting the band back together״

user3 we missed daniel button --->

I got inspired! This little story is linked with my current story called (Un)Lost

Hope you like it!

Taglist: @evans-dejong @omgsuperstarg @bibissparkles @hoely-maria @mochimommy2002 @noope306 @eugene-emt-roe @80sloverry @rens-daylight @summerslike11 @matildrry

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amberjazmyn · 4 months ago

Text

slipping through my fingers 🫶

pairing : charles leclerc x fem!leclerc reader

summary : it's the day of charles leclerc's younger sister madaline's wedding to her long-time fiancé. charles and the f1 grid are way more emotional about it than they all thought they would be. they realised that their little sister was growing up and almost as though she was slipping through their fingers. especially when twelve hours before, marianna was utterly frightful of getting married to her fiancé.

warnings : other than some tears, older brother x charles leclerc, mentions of the losses of jules bianchi & herve leclerc, wedding fluff but not much

a/n : this is the third time i'm rewriting this and i love it so much so i decided to rewrite it for the one and only charles leclerc because this is my fave abba song. also, this is not to disrespect the losses of herve leclerc and jules bianchi, it is so saddening that charles has lost those two important men in his life as well as others like anthoine hubert and this is not to be rude or any of the sort.

madaline was absolutely mortified and she couldn't understand why she was so scared. was it because she was twenty-three years old and was getting married to the love of her life in literally less than twelve hours? or that she was getting married without two of the most important people there with her? for as long as she could remember, her biggest fear was the prospect of something bad happening to her parents and her family. yet, within two years of one another, madaline lost her brother charles' godfather, jules, to an f1 crash and then their dad two years later to a terminal illness, their mum the last parent left. and now, at this point, she had absolutely no idea about who she was going to get ready with for her wedding, who was going to walk her down the aisle or anything of that sort. come to think of it actually, madaline felt and knew exactly the fear, stress and anxiety that sophie sheridan from mamma mia was going through during the movie. and honestly, this isn't something that the poor girl ever thought she'd be feeling twelve hours out from her wedding. she genuinely thought she'd be jumping up and with the utmost excitement, more than she had ever been before. however, she couldn't even think about jumping up and down or be a tad bit excited and it was all because of the fact her mum, pascale, was focusing on helping the groom. not because she hated her daughter but because she knew that it was best to have her girls with her. that and she didn't have her dad, herve or jules, to walk her down the aisle and give her away to her husband-to-be.

madaline felt like her head was travelling and spinning at a million miles per millisecond and she couldn't do anything to stop it, even if she tried. even if some of her bridesmaids told her to relax and that she was going to be okay, she physically couldn't and it genuinely caused some arguements. and that was something everyone had been hoping and trying their hardest to avoid the entire time. so, as tears began to cloud the young girl's eyes, chaos freely flying around her mind, she ran to the only other two people she knew would be able to help her clear her mind, making her judgement clearer.

holding back sobs, madaline helplessly beat down on the bedroom door of charles and his girlfriend alexandra and when no noise of acknowledgement came back, the distressed bride-to-be nearly slid down the door in complete hysterics. before madaline suddenly squealed, the door opened however charles nor alexandra opened the door. kika and lily did, the girlfriends of pierre gasly and oscar piastri.

"...madaline? are you okay sweetheart?" kika questioned, lily reaching her hand out for madaline to hold as the girl's teary eyes grew wide as she tried to hide her tears

both kika and lily knew their "sister" and could immediately tell that the young bride-to-be wasn't okay. however, both lily and kika didn't need to wait that long before madaline shook her head.

her eyes closing as her body shook from her sobs before being immediately scooped up in a hug by the two girls, "oh, madaline, baby girl, what's wrong?" kika whispered, softly rocking the distressed girl side to side, lily moving side to side as well

allowing the girl to calm down properly, the girls waited patiently for an answer, taking in a breath, madaline responded, "the wedding...it...i'm scared, kika, lily...ah..sorry for the tears--"

"--don't apologise, sweetpea, not to us especially...why are you so scared, madaline? i think instead of this just being between the three of us, we should tell charles, arthur and lorenzo or pascale even?" lily stepped in this time, offering the girl options as to who else she could talk to about her wedding fears as madaline managed a small smirk in gratitude for kika and lily

"thanks girls and could i tell you and charles, please?" madaline almost whispered, sounding almost ashamed for being so fearful of the event that she was once so excited about and was now so terrified of

"oh, of course, you can darling! sit tight here for a bit, alright and we'll grab charles..." as lily and kika went to both leave the room to get charles, one of madaline's brother, they were stopped by that very girl who refused to get go of the girls' hands scoffing softly, kika spoke up this time as she turned around,

"...darling, we can't get charles if you don't let go of me and lily," kika spoke softly as madaline shook her head

the girls quickly recognising the fear in madaline's as the same one they first saw when the news broke out about the deaths of her dad herve. breaking the hearts of both kika and lily - since it was a look they hadn't seen since that day.

"can...ah...shoot...could you both stay here?" madaline stammered out shyly as both kika and lily immediately nodded their heads, kika grabbing her phone to shoot charles a text instead

"of course, i can mads," kika smiled softly, the text quickly sent as she pulled her distressed bff in for another hug whilst they all, kika, lily and madaline waited for charles

the three girls found their way to charles' bed and sat there quietly when they suddenly heard the quick footsteps of charles. it sounded like he was panicking and running so, they knew right away they needed everyone to be calm and collected. so, with the help of kika and lily, madaline took in some deep breaths and tried to reduce and get rid of as many tears from her face as possible. however, the moment charles entered the room, it seemed like he could already tell what was stressing his little sister out and it truly devastated him and he didn't even need to think that hard to figure it out either.

catching his breath back, charles gently went down to his knees and held his sister's hands, "je sais pourquoi tu as peur madaline mais je veux que tu me le dises. qu'est-ce qui te tracasse, chérie ? qu'est-ce qui vous empêche d'être si enthousiasmé par ce qui sera le plus beau jour de votre vie et de celle de votre fiancé ? tu étais tellement excité ces dernières semaines, qu'est-ce qui a changé?" charles whispered in french as kika and lily slowly backed away, allowing the brother and sister to have this talk in private, madaline's chin wobbled as she shrugged her shoulders i know why you're scared madaline but i want you to tell me. what's bothering you, honey? what's stopping you from being so excited about what's going to be the happiest day of your and your fiancé's life? you were so excited the past few weeks, what's changed?

truthfully, she didn't want to tell her brother the reason, even though she knew he knew since he just explained that he knew but wanted to hear it from her. she just felt like if she said it out loud, it would be true and she didn't want it to be true. madaline, in some ways, still refused to believe that their dad and charles' godfather were dead, as childish (and possibly delusional) as it was, she still hated the thought that she, at twenty-three, only had her mum left apart from her three brother's, lorenzo, charles and arthur. she despised that she was the only leclerc sibling out of all four of them that wouldn't get the chance to have their dad walk her down the aisle and have jules there like she always dreamt they would. whilst lorenzo was the only other sibling married, it still was upsetting that madaline that her dad would never get the opportunity to walk her down the aisle and she'd never get the opportunity to tease jules for being so emotional over it during the reception. wait, depised isn't the right word at all. it absolutely killed her that her dad and jules weren't alive to see her get married to the man who truly saved their youngest daughter's life more times than countable on two hands. however, charles wanted to be told so then he could help his sister because he knew how hard it was to plan a wedding with your parents involved so, he knew that it would be even harder without.so, he wanted to do every single thing, big or small, he could to help his little sister with the most important day of her life.

charles sighed softly, picking himself up off the ground and sitting beside his sister on his bed, "est-ce que ça a à voir avec le fait que papa et jules ne soient pas là ?" charles whispered softly, emotion wavering in his voice for it was also emotional for him to talk about the fact that their dad and godfather weren't alive for the wedding as madaline's staggered breath and nod of the head confirmed charles's question has it got to do with dad and jules not being here?

madaline closed her eyes, leaning into her brother as the tears she had tried so desperately hard to hold back just exploded down her face as she covered it with her hand. charles held his sister as tightly as he could as his heart broke even more. this was basically the first time since losing their dad and jules that madaline had actually cried over their deaths. which is why it was hitting the girl all at once with her wedding being less than a day away and knowing that dad and jules wouldn't be there to be witness to it.

even though it was more than charles just being an emotional person, he could also feel tears stream down his own cheeks as he hugged his sister tightly as she just fell apart in his grip, "je t'aime, madaline. tout ira bien, je le promets," charles whispered as he started to soothe madaline's cries as she started to take in some deep breaths to control herself i love you, madaline. we'll be okay, i promise

"je t'aime aussi, charles... et tu le penses vraiment ?" madaline whispered back as charles nodded his head, his grip not once weakening i love you too, charles...and you really think so?

"je le sais, madaline! quoi qu'il arrive, ils seront toujours avec nous, dans nos cœurs et cela ne pourra jamais nous être enlevé!" charles responded as madaline hummed, a small smile gracing her lips as she nodded her head in agreement i know so, madaline! no matter what, they'll always be with us, in our hearts and that can never be taken away from us!

"personne ne peut l'enlever..." she trailed off as she and charles stayed in one another's embrace no one can take that away

❘༻༺❘

𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲

her head was swirling with regret, madaline had just blurted out to her brother's girlfriend, alexandra if she could help her get ready for her wedding alongside kika, lily and kelly. it originally looked as though alex didn't want to do it, that is, until tears welled in her eyes and she smiled.

tearing up, alexandra spoke up, "...you want me to help you get ready, mads?" she nearly whispered as her voice caught with emotion, madaline nodding her head with the sweetest smile after she relaxed

"is that okay, alex?" madaline questions with the biggest smile as lily, kika and kelly stand behind the girl with smiles on their face

alexandra nodded her head, her smile big, "of course! i'd be honoured, madaline! thank you for even asking me let alone lily, kika and kelly! do the other girls in the bridal party know we're helping you?" alexandra questions as madaline smiles, nodding her head

"yeah, that's why maman's with them. she's getting ready with them right now. we'll be seeing them after though during the first look alongside charles and the groomsmen," madaline smiled as alexandra sighed, pulling her sister-in-law in for a hug and smiled

lily, kika and kelly also smiling and immediately decided to get the young bride ready in an instant, the rest of the bridal party getting ready next door.

and because it was all of a sudden too quiet, the girls decided to play her wedding playlist they had specifically created and hit shuffle. and, like it was fate, the very first song that played was none other than abba's slipping through my fingers. smiling softly as kika started her makeup, madaline started to sing and hearing her sing made the other girls smile at her. especially since the girl's favourite movie was mamma mia, the movie from which this song is from.

schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning, waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile, i watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness

madaline smiled as she sat on the makeup chair whilst kika did her makeup whilst lily, kelly and alexandra watched on in pure joy at the girl's happiness when just not even a day earlier, she was terrified and sobbing in her older brother's arms about it.

it hadn't taken kika that long to do madaline's makeup when she smacked the bride-to-be's bum and told her to move over to lily's. sitting in lily's lap, lily started to paint madaline's toenails since her nails had already been done days beforehand alongside kelly.

and, it was at this moment that madaline realised why weddings were so emotional and so stressful because there was a sort of innocence that she'd be losing because she'd be growing up. but, at the same time, madaline was the happiest she had ever been and she was just so excited to be married that she kind of tried her best to soak in and savour all the emotion so that she'd never forget it.

and i have to sit down for a while, the feeling that i'm losing her forever, and without really entering her world, i'm glad whenever i can share her laughter, that funny little girl

whilst doing madaline's toes, lily started to sing along with her to slipping through my fingers as it truly did feel like the f1 grid was losing their little leclerc baby after a short twenty-three years. and six of those twenty-three years, she had been dating her husband-to-be. so, for the rest of the f1 grid seeing their little baby finally marry her husband made it real for them. it made it real that she was growing up and entering into the new life that they all had been in for more than two decades at this point.

even though he knew he wasn't allowed to be actively looking for his sister, charles just couldn't help himself to stay when he heard madaline and lily, along with kika, kelly and alexandra, all sing together. it almost made him teary-eyed when he realised the song... who was he kidding, it totally made him cry when he heard the song as he rested his head against the door as he too also started to quietly sing along to the song. this song is really meaningful to charles now that he really started to feel like his younger sister was slipping through his fingers and finally growing up and getting married.

slipping through my fingers all the time, i try to capture every minute, the feeling in it

charles sang softly as he closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he rested his head against the door of the room where his sister was getting ready with the help of his girlfriend alexandra and the other f1 wags. the wedding photographer was also in there but seemed as though she was also joining in with the singing and having fun.

charles smiled tearfully as he continued to sing, grateful that even though madaline was missing their dad and jules. who were sadly no longer with them on earth, she was still positive and allowing herself to fully be present and have all the fun in the world. no longer upset or scared about her wedding.

slipping through my fingers all the time, do i really see what's in her mind? each time i think i'm close to knowing, she keeps on growing

as charles sang softly on the other side of the door, lily had finished painting madaline's toenails so kelly was now taking care of madaline's hairstyle before finishing it off by having alexandra help assist madaline into her wedding dress.

the girls continued to sing whilst the photographer continued to snap some candid photos of kelly curling madaline's hair before braiding two sections and forming it into a bun at the base of her head. "...wow kelly, this looks perfect and it's only just started..."

slipping through my fingers all the time

madaline smiled at the mirror as kelly finished doing her hair. her long blonde locks were curled and put back with a braided bun that was decorated with baby's breath. now that her hair, makeup and toenails were done, all that was left was to get her into her ceremony dress since madaline realised she couldn't choose between two. so, instead of having to choose which one to say no to, she decided which one to wear for the actual ceremony and then which one to wear for the reception afterwards.

"...thank you girls! i cannot thank you enough for helping me get ready!"

charles' pov

i could tell from the window next to madaline's room that she was getting changed into her ceremony dress with the help of my girlfriend, charlotte. turning away from the window, i sat down and rested against the door as i softly started to sing the next verse of slipping through my fingers. i hadn't realised until this very moment that the girls had been playing it and singing to it that i really related to it. in the same way, dad and jules surely would have related to it, because it was finally madaline's wedding day, i truly realised and felt like she was all of a sudden just slipping through my fingers and growing up way too quickly for my liking.

going back through our childhood together, before my motorsport really took off and took me away from my family, i remember always telling madaline to just slow down. because, before she knew it, she'd be getting married and having to do the adult stuff like pay for bills and work tirelessly so she should be thankful that she was still young. and for her to stay young for as long as she could and now, she was an adult. i mean, she has for the last few years, only a year younger than me and she was getting married. and there was no way i could just press a button that stopped time and stopped my sister from getting any older.

and i'm not saying this because i never want madaline to grow up or get married or create her own family. nah, that just sounds a tiny bit creepy. it brings me so much joy to see madaline grow up and get married to her beautiful husband-to-be and have a family with him. it just makes me sad that she's no longer that spunky, bubbly, innocent little girl like she used to be. i just sometimes wish she could stay this little forever as selfish as it sounds, i just know it's something that dad and jules would be begging madaline about because i know they'd also want their little girl to stay as little forever as i'd want her to.

but, that's the thing, she can't stay that little forever and, she has to grow up and get married and have her own family. otherwise i don't think madaline would be as happy as she is now if she wasn't moments away from getting married to her husband-to-be.

sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table barely awake, i let precious time go by. then when she's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling and a sense of guilt i can't deny

i smiled as i sang, even though i knew i'd start crying and just let myself reflect. i was remembering those days when madaline and i were younger than we are now, obviously, sleep in our eyes and the both of us eating our breakfast together before going our separate ways to school and whatever it was i was doing with karting and motorsport. and now, i've realised the precious time that i just let slip away now that she's gone and just as donna sings to sophie, i feel that same odd melancholy feeling and guilt that i wasn't able to deny.

as the girls continued to sing, i knew i had to leave since i also had to get ready due to the wedding being less than an hour away at this point. walking away, i could faintly hear madaline and the girls sing the next verse making me smile at two of my best girls.

what happened to the wonderful adventures, the places i had planned for us to go? well, some of that we did, but most we didn't and why, i just don't know

knowing that i had been crying before walking back into the room where the groomsmen and best men were getting ready, i wiped away my tears as best as i could and took in a deep breath. mainly because i knew if madaline's husband-to-be saw me crying, he himself might start freaking out and that wasn't something that was needed at this point. especially now with so little time before the actual ceremony taking place. however, as soon as the lads were all ready and just chilling at this point, resting in our hotel room after so many photos had been taken, a small knock was heard on the door.

due to being the closest to the door, pierre opened it to see his girlfriend, kika's gorgeous smile straight away, "hey kika, what are you doing here?" pierre spoke up as kika smiled before giving an apologetic look to noah, madaline's husband-to-be

"i am so sorry noah but, is it okay if i just steal your guys for a moment? madaline has requested to have a small little moment with them before the ceremony..." kika trailed off as all of the groomsmen (me, pierre, lando, max, daniel, oscar, taylor and damien, two of noah's brothers) all lit up in excitement as noah smiled

"...of course you can, kika, it's not a problem at all," noah smiles as kika sends him a wink and grabs my hand whilst the rest of the groomsmen filter out behind us in a mix of confusion and excitement as to why we were suddenly being summoned

❘༻༺❘

by the time the groomsmen and kika had made their way to a gorgeous floral archway, they stopped and in confusion, charles spoke up asking kika why they had been dragged all the way over there.

"...kika, what are we doing here?" charles questions with a soft giggle as francisca smiles lovingly at her best friend

knowing that madaline wouldn't have the chance of a first look with her dad and to be walked down the aisle by him, she thought this was the perfect time to let madaline have a first look with her husband-to-be's groomsmen. which included her brother and also have him walk her down the aisle.

smiling, kika spoke up, "do you trust me, charles?" charles smiled and nodded his head at his best friend almost immediately - of course he trusted her, how could he not?

"of course, i trust you, kika!" charles answers in a matter-of-fact tone which makes the group giggle as francisca smiles back before responding

"good because i'll need you guys to close your eyes and keep them closed until i tell you to open them again, okay?" kika announces which slightly worries them but they listen and close their eyes

francisca noticed that all the guys had closed their eyes and weren't trying to peak or try to see what was going on so she gestured for madaline to come out of her hiding spot and walk over to the groomsmen for the first look.

slipping through my fingers all the time, i try to capture every minute the feeling in it

taking in a deep breath, madaline stood in front of her husband-to-be's groomsmen which literally included her older brother, charles and the other f1 grid racers that her husband was friends with. this was originally a moment she had been waiting for and dreaming of doing with her dad and jules. however, due to their untimely deaths, she wasn't able to do that. so, noah, madaline and francisca decided that as a compromise, madaline would instead do a first look with the groomsmen and then ask charles if he could walk her down the aisle since their dad wasn't able to do it.

francisca gave the girl some comfort knowing this whole situation was emotional and bittersweet for the girl before giving her a slight head nod, signalling that she could tell the guys to open their eyes.

"...you can open your eyes now..."

slipping through my fingers all the time, do i really see what's in her mind? each time i think i'm close to knowing, she keeps on growing. slipping through my fingers all the time

...as soon as madaline spoke up, letting the guys open their eyes, they did just that and then all fell silent as soon as they realised who was in front of them. standing in front of noah's groomsmen stood madaline all dressed up in her wedding dress and looking exactly how charles had imagined his baby sister would look like on her wedding day.

silence filled the floral outdoor archway for a few more moments before a tearful charles spoke up in french, "...tu es si jolie, madaline," he sniffled quietly as he smiled wide as madaline sighed out of relief as she giggled softly you look so pretty, madaline

"thanks, charles, you guys look so good as well!" madaline giggled in english as she swayed side to side shyly before charles walked forward

grabbing his sister's hands, he lifted one up as she smiled in slight confusion before understanding what he was doing when he started to twirl her to see the rest of the dress and the back of her hair. holding back a sob with his free hand, charles spoke up again as everyone else watched on with smiles.

"dad and jules are for sure kicking themselves that they're not here to see this," charles' voice broke as tears welled in his eyes and madaline nodded her head, her facial expressions softening

"i know, charles. i bet they are roaring mad that they're missing out but, i know they're here, i can feel them. they may not be alive but they're here!" madaline smiled as she pulled her brother in for a hug, giving him a quick kiss on the head

she then moved to pierre, lando, max, daniel, oscar, taylor and damien for hugs before moving back over to her brother to ask him a very important question.

"...charles, i have a question i wanted to ask you..." madaline trailed off in english so the others could understand since not all of them spoke or understood french as she held her brother's hand as he smiled, nodding his head

"...what is it bug?" charles replied with a smile on his face as everyone else watched on in suspense, everyone but kika, obviously

"well, since dad isn't here, and mum focusing on all of her other jobs making sure lorenzo and arthur are behaving, i was wondering if you wanted to walk me down the aisle and give me away..." madaline trailed off as charles' eyes once again filled with tears as a shaky breath left his mouth

"...are you sure?" charles whispered as his voice broke and madaline nodded her head, a big smile on her face

"i'm serious, i'm not marrying noah if you don't give me away, please charles. and before you ask, i have already asked mum, lorenzo and arthur but they have all kindly refused, wanting it to be you. so, please, will you walk me down the aisle, cause, truthfully, i'm too scared to do it alone..." madaline trailed off softly, her voice in a tone that wasn't at all pleading as charles gulped

he had no idea that their mum and two other brothers had refused to walk their daughter and sister down the aisle because they wanted him to do it instead. he wasn't hesitating because he didn't want to walk his sister down the aisle, he was hesitating because he knew that this job was supposed to be their dad's, not his. however, charles quickly came to his decision and wiped away his tears, smiling and nodding his head.

"even though i wish dad was here to do this, i'll be honoured to walk you down the aisle, mads," charles breathed out with a smile, madaline smiled brightly as she was brought into a hug by charles

❘༻༺❘

sometimes i wish that i could freeze the picture, and save it from the funny tricks of time, slipping through my fingers...

madaline smiled as she and charles walked down the aisle, her husband-to-be, noah patiently waiting for them. staring at her in complete awe, noah felt tears well in his eyes but he kept his cool even when he saw the tears well in his soon-to-be brother-in-law's eyes as he held his younger sister's hand as tightly as he possibly could.

the song that charles and madaline were walking down the aisle to was amazed by lonestar since it was the song that had been pre-picked by jules and herve years ago, before noah and madaline were even old enough to consider being married. it only made sense that that song stayed unchanged as it now paid tribute to them both.

the brother and sister had now made it halfway down the aisle and that was when they finally decided to share a sweet, comforting look with one another. both of them acknowledged that whilst today was a happy occasion, it was still upsetting and bittersweet that their dad and jules weren't alive to see it take place.

leaning to her ear, charles spoke up in french, "ça va, bug?" he whispered as madaline smiled and lightly nodded her head, so as not to alert the guests that they were talking you alright, bug?

"mhm, je vais bien charles," she mumbled back as charles smiled and took in another deep breath, comforted by the fact that his sister was okay mhm, i'm okay charles

"slipping through my fingers all the time. schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning, waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile,"

tears filled charles' eyes as he gave his sister away to marry noah, ignoring the way the bridal party, groomsmen and guests watched in complete awe. standing with his girlfriend with the rest of the bridal party, he couldn't help the tears that fell down his cheeks watching his sister get married to her husband without their dad and jules there at the wedding since their deaths.

halfway through the ceremony, madaline turned her head and made eye contact with her teary-eyed brother. understanding her brother's emotions, she smiled comfortingly and gave him a little wave before returning her attention back to the ceremony and her husband who gave her a sweet smile.

charles never realised until now that madaline had well and truly slipped through his fingers and it no longer bothered him because it wasn't like she'd never return ever again.

fin

this was so much fun to write for a third time! anyway, i love this one-shot so much that i'm going to do like a part two that follows the reception part of madaline and noah's wedding and have it include the best man speech and all that jazz. it may also follow an abba song or something but i don't know yet but do keep your eyes peeled as it will be a good one.

#formula one #charles leclerc x sister reader #fluff #weddings #happy tears #f1 grid x platonic fem!leclerc reader #no trigger warnings

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