#I've always found comfort in the knowledge

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey, I saw you done the reader speaks French but I was wondering if you could one with italian or something similar. My family on my mother's side is italian and I'm learning it again and I'm sometimes embarrassed by my lack of knowledge (spanish was easier for me) if this makes sense. If not that's okay, I love your writing.

Italian Lessons

Summary: You're trying to learn Italian again and what a better way to learn than to get your best friend's best friend to teach you.

Song: Earned It · The Weeknd

Author’s note: You are so relatable! I was born in Italy but as soon as I left, my Italian left with it 😭 I've been trying to learn it but I can't so I wish you the best! I wrote so much but Tumblr didn't let me fit it all so I had to shorten it! Unfortunately due to my exams being in less than a month, I won't post much. 😭 Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 34.3k

MASTERLIST - F1

The scent of old leather and motor oil clung to Ollie’s car like a second skin, a familiar aroma that always grounded you. He swerved expertly through the London traffic, one hand drumming a rhythm on the steering wheel as a Formula 1 podcast droned from the speakers. He was talking, something about tire compounds and aerodynamic drag, but your mind was elsewhere, tangled in a knot of guilt and embarrassment.

"Earth to you! You’ve gone all quiet," Ollie chuckled, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. "Thinking about your impending Italian lesson?"

You sighed, leaning your head against the headrest. "Don't remind me. It's just… pathetic, isn't it? My own mother's language, and I can barely order a pizza."

Ollie, ever the comforting presence, reached over and squeezed your hand. "Hey, none of that nonsense. You're busy, you're successful, and you're finally doing something about it. That's all that matters. Besides," he added with a wink, "you know I think you're amazing, even if you only speak fluent English and sarcasm."

You managed a weak smile. Ollie always had a way of making you feel better. Years of friendship, countless late-night talks, and a shared history that stretched back to awkward teenage years had forged a bond unbreakable. He was family, the kind you chose, not just the kind you were born into. It was ironic, really, that he, an Englishman obsessed with speed and engines, knew more Italian phrases than you, the daughter of an Italian immigrant.

"It's just… Kimi," you muttered, the name feeling foreign on your tongue. Ollie’s best friend. An enigma wrapped in a charmingly gruff exterior.

"Kimi will be great!" Ollie declared, his voice radiating genuine enthusiasm. "He's a good guy, just a bit… quiet at first. But trust me, he's got a heart of gold hidden under that stoic exterior. And," he added with a knowing smirk, "he's fiercely proud of his heritage. He'll be thrilled you're making the effort."

You doubted that. You envisioned awkward silences, stumbling over conjugations, and Kimi's thinly veiled disappointment at your linguistic ineptitude. "What if I'm hopeless? What if I just embarrass myself?"

"You won't," Ollie said firmly. "And even if you do, so what? It's a learning process. Besides, Kimi's not judgmental. He's too busy being effortlessly cool to judge anyone."

You couldn't argue with that. Kimi did have an air of indifference that seemed to protect him from the world's criticisms. You'd always found it intriguing, that and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he did smile, which was a rare occurrence indeed.

Finally, the GPS announced, "You have arrived at your destination." You two pulled up to the paddock, a bustling hive of activity where Formula 1 cars were being meticulously prepped for the next race.

Ollie parked his sleek sports car with a flourish, the engine purring. You followed Ollie through the maze of garages.

In the Haas garage, the mechanics were a blur of movement as they worked tirelessly on the gleaming Formula 1 car. Ollie waved at them, calling out greetings in a mix of English and Italian that rolled off his tongue like a native.

He led you further into the garage, where the team was a blur of motion, focused intently on the gleaming Haas car. The sheer dedication and attention to detail were breathtaking.

"Right, let's get you acquainted with the place," Ollie said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll introduce you to Kimi after the race.”

“Kimi?” you asked, feeling a flicker of anticipation. This was it. The man who was going to help you reclaim your heritage. “So, he actually agreed to this?”

"Yep. He owes me a favor. Plus, he’s always up for a bit of a laugh."

You nodded, trying to absorb all the information. "Got it. And thank you, by the way. For all of this."

"Don't mention it," Ollie said, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he reached for his race suit. "It's the least I can do. I've always thought it was a shame you never learned Italian. Especially with your mom being so… expressive.”

That stung. He was right. It was a shame. And it was embarrassing. Your best friend, the one who’d grown up miles away from any Italian influence, knew more about your mother’s language than you did.

"Yeah, well," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Life happens."

"It does," Ollie agreed, his tone softening. He pulled the race suit on halfway, leaving the top part unzipped. "But it’s never too late to learn. Kimi's a great guy, and he's surprisingly patient. Just… try not to be intimidated by the accent. It can be a bit thick."

"Look, I gotta go brief with the team," Ollie said, his attention already shifting to the race ahead. "Just… enjoy the show. And try not to get run over."

With a final pat on the shoulder, he was gone, swallowed up by the organized chaos of the Haas garage. You were left standing there, feeling a strange mix of excitement, apprehension, and inadequacy. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The scent of gasoline and burnt rubber permeated the air as you meandered through the bustling F1 paddock, your eyes scanning the horizon of gleaming cars and tightly wound tension that only a Formula One race could muster. Your phone chirped with Duolingo's cheery encouragement, a stark contrast to the thunderous symphony of engines revving in the distance.

"Mi dispiace, non capisco," you murmured, feeling a twinge of pride as the app congratulated you with a cheerful "Ding!"

Before you could bask in the glow of your linguistic victory, a velvet voice caressed your ear, "It's actually 'mi dispiace, non capisco.'"

You whipped around, heart racing faster than the cars on the track, to find Kimi, Ollie's dashing Italian best friend, standing just an arm's length away.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to compose yourself, as your cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on the tarmac.

"I'm just trying to brush up on my Italian, you know, for when I get to Imola."

He grinned, his eyes dancing with a mischief that promised untold adventures. "Well, you're in luck," he said, his accent a siren's song that could make any language sound erotic. "I happen to be a native speaker."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound a little too high-pitched for your liking. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out," you replied, trying to match his cool demeanor.

"Well, then," Kimi said, his smile widening, "having a teacher will definitely help you a lot."

It was ironic, indeed, seeing as Kimi was the person Ollie had suggested to help you with your Italian.

The same Kimi who had a reputation for leaving hearts fluttering in his wake, the one who spoke Italian as if it were poetry caressed by the gods themselves. You felt a peculiar mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of learning from him. His eyes, a deep brown that reminded you of freshly roasted espresso, bore into yours, and you couldn't help but wonder if he knew the effect he had on you.

Before you could respond, a sharp, authoritative voice blared over the loudspeakers, "All the drivers go to their pits."

Kimi's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eyes darkening with what could only be described as a predatory interest. "See you later, bella donna," he winked, his words a seductive promise before disappearing into the maelstrom of the racing world.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him go, his lithe figure weaving through the chaos with an ease that could only come from years of navigating the fast lane.

The term of endearment hung in the air, a sweet whisper that seemed to caress your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. You spent the qualifying session in the Haas garage with Ollie, nervously watching the timings and trying to decipher the technical jargon being thrown around.

During the race, you were a nervous wreck. You cheered for Ollie, of course, your loyalty unwavering. But your eyes kept darting to the silver Mercedes on the track, following Kimi's every move. The roar of the engines, the squeal of tires, the frantic pace of the race – it all faded into the background. All you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the sound of his voice, the playful glint in his eyes.

Ollie finished a respectable 5th, a solid result for Haas. Kimi, however, finished 4th, just shy of the podium. When the race ended, you waited impatiently for Ollie to finish his debriefing with the team, your leg bouncing with nervous energy.

Finally, Ollie emerged, grinning. "Not bad, eh?" he said, clapping you on the shoulder.

You managed a weak smile, your heart thumping. "Congratulations, Ollie," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ollie's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ready to meet the Italian Stallion?" he teased, using his thumb and forefinger to mimic a mustache.

Your stomach somersaulted at the mention of Kimi's name. You nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."

As you followed Ollie through the bustling paddock, your thoughts raced. What would you say to Kimi? How would he react to seeing you again? The moment of truth came as you rounded the corner and spotted Kimi, surrounded by a group of team members and journalists.

A slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. You felt a rush of heat, a shiver down your spine as he excused himself from his entourage and approached you, his strides purposeful and confident.

"Hey Kimi! Great race!" Ollie exclaimed, his arms open wide for a hug. Kimi embraced him warmly, their friendship palpable, and for a brief, painfully sweet second, you felt like a third wheel in your own fantasy.

But then, as if sensing your presence, Kimi pulled back and looked over Ollie's shoulder at you, the smile never leaving his face. "Thank you, Ollie," he said, his voice a velvety rumble that seemed to resonate through your body.

"Oh, this is…" Ollie started, turning to introduce you.

"Y/N," Kimi finished, grinning mischievously, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look. He extended a hand, and as you took it, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, setting your pulse racing even more.

"So, you're the one," he said, his accent thick and alluring. "The one who's going to learn Italian from me?" His smile grew wider, and you felt your cheeks flush under his gaze.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the thunderous beating of your heart. "I've always wanted to, and Ollie said you're the best teacher around."

Ollie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Wait, you two know each other?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Kimi.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Well, we met briefly before the race," you began, your voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you. "I was practicing my Italian, and Kimi couldn't help but offer a few corrections as he passed by."

Kimi chuckled, a rich, deep sound that made your insides quiver. "Your accent," he said, his eyes sparkling, "it is… unique." The way he drew out the word 'unique' made it sound like an endearment, a secret shared between the two of you.

"I know it's not perfect," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, "but I'm eager to learn."

Kimi leaned closer, his gaze intense. "I can tell," he murmured, his voice a purr. "And I'm more than happy to help. Italian is a beautiful language, full of passion. It's something you must feel, not just speak."

Your eyes locked onto his. The way his full lips moved as he spoke made your own mouth go dry. You swallowed hard.

"When can we start?" you asked, your voice a breathy whisper.

Kimi's eyes held yours, the intensity in them making your knees weak. "As soon as you're ready," he replied, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. "But remember, I don't just teach Italian. I make you experience it."

Ollie looked back and forth between you two, the light of understanding dawning in his eyes. He winked at you and clapped Kimi on the back. "Well, I've got some celebrating to do," he said, backing away. "I'll leave you to it."

As he disappeared into the throng of people, you were left standing there, alone with the man who had occupied your thoughts all day. Your heart hammered in your chest as he took a step closer, his hand still resting on yours. "Come," he said, "we'll find a quieter place."

You were acutely aware of every movement he made – the way his fingers tightened around yours, the way his eyes searched your face, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath. You found yourselves in a secluded spot, a small area behind one of the hospitality tents.

"So, what's your schedule like?" Kimi asked, his eyes never leaving yours. His voice was low, the vibrations resonating through your entire body.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on his question through the fog of desire that had enveloped you. "It's pretty open," you replied, your voice shaky. "I can work around yours."

"Good," he murmured, stepping even closer. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, the electricity between you growing stronger by the second. "Because I want to make sure we have plenty of time… to practice."

"I hope I'm not a bother," you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Kimi's smile grew, and his thumb stroked the inside of your wrist, sending shivers up your arm.

"Never, bella donna," he replied. "But do you have a boyfriend?"

You felt a thrill at the question. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, as if looking for the truth within. "Good," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before returning to your eyes.

"Why?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

He took a moment to answer, his thumb still tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of your wrist. "Uh, nothing," he replied, his voice low and gruff. "I wouldn't want to worry him if you're with me all the time."

The answer didn't quite satisfy you, but the way he said it made your stomach flip.

"So, how do you want this to go?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi leaned in closer. "I was thinking," he said, his eyes dancing with a hint of mischief, "if I want you to truly experience this, we have to go on little adventures."

You blinked, surprised. "Like… dates?" The word slipped out before you could stop it, a nervous giggle following close behind.

He nodded, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Si, like dates," he confirmed, his thumb now caressing your palm in a gentle, mesmerizing rhythm. "But not just any dates, bella. These will be… educational experiences. We will learn Italian, but we will also learn about passion, about feeling, about life."

Your heart skipped a beat. This was not what you had expected when you offered to help him practice English, but you found yourself nodding eagerly. "Okay," you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

Kimi stepped back, releasing your hand with a teasing smile. "Good," he said, his eyes lingering on your now-bare wrist, where his touch had left a trail of heat.

"But first," you managed to get out, your voice sounding more composed than you felt, "can I have your number?"

Kimi's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Sure," he said, pulling out his phone. His fingers danced over the screen with a practiced ease that spoke of years of handling high-speed machinery.

He rattled off a string of digits, and you typed them into your phone, your own hands trembling slightly. You felt a strange sense of excitement, as if you had just received the winning lottery numbers.

"Got it," you said, trying to sound casual despite the racing of your heart.

Before Kimi could respond, a Mercedes staff member, dressed in the sleek, silver team gear, approached with an urgent look on his face. "Kimi," he called out, "we need you for the victory celebration."

Kimi turned to the staff member, his eyes briefly leaving yours. "Arrivederci bella donna," he said to you, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

The paddock was a whirlwind of activity, team members hugging and congratulating each other, the sound of champagne corks popping in the background. You felt a pang of disappointment at being separated from him so soon, but also a thrill at the prospect of what was to come. As you made your way back to the Haas garage, you couldn't help but replay the moment in your mind. His touch, his voice, the way he looked at you – it was all so intoxicating.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. You looked down to see a text from an unknown number. "Looking forward to our first lesson," it read, with a winking emoji. You felt a warmth spread through your body, realizing it was from Kimi.

When you returned to the Haas garage, Ollie was busy signing autographs for a group of eager fans. His face lit up when he saw you, and he excused himself to come over.

"So, how was it?" he asked, curiosity etched across his features.

You couldn't help but smile at Ollie's question, your cheeks flushing as you recounted your encounter with Kimi. "It was…" you paused, searching for the right words, "intense."

Ollie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Intense, huh? Did he give you a taste of that Italian charm?"

You nodded, still lost in the memory of Kimi's touch. "More than just a taste," you replied, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Ollie chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Looks like you're going to be busy," he said, giving you a knowing look. "Just don't let your schoolgirl crush get in the way of my friendship with him."

You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, but inside, you felt a thrill at his words. It was clear that he had noticed the chemistry between you and Kimi, and it was equally clear that he approved.

"Don't worry," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. "It's just a language exchange."

Ollie nodded, but his knowing smile said he wasn't fooled. "Uh-huh," he said, winking. "Just make sure to keep me updated on your… progress."

You rolled your eyes again, but couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. "Don't worry, I will," you teased back. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The dreary Monday afternoon hangs heavy around you, the grey light filtering through your window mirroring the dull ache in your shoulders. You’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for hours, the numbers blurring into an indistinguishable mess. The silence is a thick blanket, stifling and uneventful. Then, the vibration.

Your phone, lying face-up on the desk, jumps, the sudden movement shattering the monotonous quiet like a sonnet erupting in the middle of a slumber party. You glance down, your eyes widening slightly at the name glowing in the dim light: Kimi.

The message reads: "Hello bella donna, are you free tomorrow?"

You take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to quell the sudden heat that’s rising in your cheeks. You type: "Sure, what are you planning?" You need to know, need to understand the intention behind this sudden, charming overture.

Kimi’s response is swift, almost instantaneous. "How about a little dinner in my favourite restaurant in Italian? I promise to make it fun and interactive."

The playful wink emoji that follows does nothing to dispel the heat that has begun to spread through your body, a delicious blend of excitement and apprehension. You haven’t seen Kimi in a few weeks, not since that awkward bumping into each other at the coffee shop.

You’ve replayed that encounter in your head countless times, analyzing the subtle nuances of his smile, the lingering touch of his hand as he’d helped you gather your scattered belongings. You force yourself to take another deep breath. This is just dinner. It doesn’t have to mean anything. But a small, traitorous part of you hopes it does.

"Sounds perfect," you text back, forcing your voice, even in text, to remain steady. You fail. The rapid pulse that has started to thrum in your neck betrays you.

He replies almost immediately: "Okay bella donna, I'll pick you up from your apartment tomorrow."

The finality of the statement, the directness of the invitation, sends another shiver of anticipation down your spine. You stare at the message, your mind already racing ahead, envisioning the evening, the restaurant, his face illuminated by candlelight.

The rest of Monday crawls by in a blur. You can’t focus on your work, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Kimi and the Italian dinner. You imagine practicing basic phrases, stumbling over pronunciations, and his warm laughter filling the space between you. Tuesday arrives with an almost cruel slowness. You spend an inordinate amount of time getting ready, agonizing over every detail.

What to wear? Something casual, but elegant? Something that says, "I’m comfortable and confident," but also, "I put in effort for you." You try on three different dresses, discarding each one with a frustrated sigh.

Finally, you settle on a simple black dress that skims your curves in a flattering way. You add a delicate silver necklace and a touch of mascara, enough to highlight your eyes without looking overly done.

As you wait, your stomach churning with nerves, you pace your apartment, rehearsing Italian phrases in your head. "Buonasera," you murmur to yourself. "Come stai?" "Il conto, per favore." You feel ridiculous, like you’re preparing for a stage performance.

The buzzer rings, sending a jolt of electricity through you. It's him. You take one last deep breath, smooth down your dress, and tell yourself to relax. It’s just dinner. Just a friendly, Italian-themed dinner. You open the door, and there he is. Kimi.

He looks even more handsome than you remember. His dark hair is neatly styled, and he’s wearing a fitted, dark blue shirt that makes his eyes seem even bluer. His smile is warm and genuine, and it reaches all the way to his eyes.

"Ciao, bella donna," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends another wave of butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

"Ciao, Kimi," you reply, your voice slightly breathy.

He offers you his arm, and you take it, your fingers tingling against his skin. As you walk down the stairs, you steal glances at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. Is it just friendliness, or is there something more?

The restaurant he’s chosen is tucked away on a quiet side street, a hidden gem with dimly lit interiors, checkered tablecloths, and the aroma of garlic and basil hanging in the air. Soft Italian music plays in the background, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. He pulls out your chair, and you thank him in Italian, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation of "grazie." He chuckles softly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Don’t worry," he says, switching to English. "You’ll get there. I'm here to help you practice."

The evening unfolds like a dream. You order in Italian, with Kimi patiently correcting your mistakes and encouraging you to try new phrases. He tells you about his favorite dishes, describing them with such passion that you can almost taste the flavors. You try the osso buco, and it melts in your mouth, a symphony of savory flavors.

Throughout the evening, you catch him looking at you, his eyes lingering on your face, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, a feeling that goes beyond simple attraction. It’s a feeling of connection, of understanding, of being truly seen.

As the evening progresses, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. The Italian phrases become less forced, more natural, as you relax into the moment. When the waiter brings the bill, Kimi insists on paying. You protest, but he just smiles and shakes his head.

"It’s my treat, bella donna," he says. "Besides, I promised you an interactive experience. The real fun starts now."

The real fun starts now. His words echo in your head, a promise that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you walk out of the restaurant, the cool night air kisses your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you feel inside.

Kimi’s hand lingers at the small of your back, a gentle guide as you navigate the cobblestone streets. You lean into his touch, your heart fluttering like a captive bird in your chest. He opens the car door with the grace of a gentleman, and you slide into the passenger seat, the leather cool against your thighs.

As he slides into the driver's seat, his eyes lock onto yours for a moment too long, sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core. He starts the engine, the purr of the vehicle blending with the soft music playing through the speakers.

As he drives you back home, the city lights stream past the windows, painting a kaleidoscope of colors across your skin. His hand rests casually on the gear stick, but your eyes are drawn to his strong, capable fingers.

You wonder what it would be like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, speaking a language more potent than Italian. The drive back to your apartment is a delicious mix of tension and comfort. His cologne fills the car, a scent that is both new and familiar. The conversation is easy, a blend of shared stories and teasing banter that you hadn’t quite anticipated.

As you approach your apartment, you feel a strange mix of disappointment and excitement. Disappointment that the night is almost over, excitement for what might happen next. The tension in the car is palpable, thick with unspoken desires.

He parks the car and walks you to your door, his stride purposeful, yet filled with a gentle hesitancy. You feel the warmth of his hand as it grazes yours, and you wonder if he feels the same electricity that's been building all evening.

The silence between you is a symphony of unspoken words, the quiet punctuated by the distant sound of a couple arguing in a nearby apartment and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. It's a comforting silence, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's eve.

As you stand in front of your door, the anticipation of what's to come hangs in the air, as tangible as the scent of your mingled perfumes. You fumble with your keys, your heart racing like a marathon runner approaching the finish line.

Kimi's eyes never leave yours, and you can see the question in them, the silent inquiry of whether this night will extend beyond the confines of friendship. Your hand shakes slightly as you insert the key into the lock, the metal cold against your skin.

The door clicks open, and you both hover in the threshold, the warm light of your apartment spilling out onto the darkened porch. He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you.

Instead, he whispers, "Grazie per la serata," his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

You swallow hard, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. "It was… amazing," you manage to murmur.

Before you can say more, his hand reaches up, and he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, almost tender, and it sends a bolt of desire through you that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"The pleasure was all mine," he says, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. "But the night doesn't have to end here."

You look up at him, the question in your eyes mirroring the one in his. The air is charged, and the silence stretches out like a tightrope, thrumming with potential.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," he says, his voice soft.

"Me too," you reply, your heart pounding in your chest.

He leans in closer, and you close your eyes, waiting for his kiss. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he whispers in your ear, "A presto, bella donna."

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing at your door, breathless and wanting.

You step inside, the contrast of the cool apartment air against your flushed skin making you shiver. The evening lingers on you, a seductive perfume that you can’t quite shake off. You walk to the bathroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes are bright, your cheeks flushed with more than just the cold.

Was it just the Italian, the romance of the language, or was there something more? You can’t shake the feeling that Kimi’s gaze had held a promise, a silent invitation that you hadn’t quite understood.

You decide to let it go, to enjoy the thrill of the unknown. After all, tomorrow is another day, another chance to learn, to explore, to feel. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You felt a buzz of excitement as you approached your apartment, the anticipation of what lay inside the package he had mentioned growing with each step. Once inside, you placed the package on the kitchen counter, the weight of it a tantalizing mystery.

The cardboard was a stark contrast to the sleek, black leather of the bag you had brought home with you, the letters of his name scrawled across the top in a familiar script that made your heart flutter.

You carefully sliced through the packing tape, the sound of it tearing a gentle crescendo in the otherwise quiet room. As the flaps fell open, you gasped. Before you lay a treasure trove of Mercedes merchandise, each piece more opulent than the last.

A leather-bound notebook, a pen with the company logo engraved on it, a scarf with the signature silver threads, and even a keychain with a miniature replica of the iconic car. But it was the small card nestled among the luxurious items that made your pulse race.

The card was simple, white with a single red rose embossed in the corner. You recognized Kimi's handwriting immediately, the way the letters curved and looped like a lover's embrace.

"To continue your lessons," it read, "with a touch of elegance." You couldn't help but wonder what kind of 'lessons' he had in mind, and whether they would be as exhilarating as the ones you'd experienced the night before.

Picking up the leather notebook, you opened it to find the pages filled with notes in Kimi's handwriting, each one detailing a different aspect of the Italian language.

The pages were also sprinkled with phrases that were anything but academic, reminders of the passionate moments you had shared, and a promise of more to come. You felt a warmth spread through your body, a phantom echo of his touch. You took the scarf, running the soft fabric through your fingers, feeling the gentle caress of the threads against your skin.

The keychain caught your eye, the silver glistening in the soft glow of the pendant light above the counter. It was the perfect size to attach to the diary you had bought to log your language progress.

The diary that now held secrets far more personal than conjugations and vocabulary. You couldn't wait to delve into the treasure trove of Italian delights that Kimi had so thoughtfully curated. The promise of future 'lessons' filled you with a giddy excitement that was both thrilling and a little overwhelming.

You slipped the keychain into your pocket, the cool metal a constant reminder of the passion that awaited you. You took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of leather and cologne that still lingered in the air from the package.

You sent Kimi a text, "What's the occasion?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the extravagant gift.

Kimi's response was swift and unabashed, "You look better in Mercedes than in Haas, wear this when you're coming to watch me in the Mercedes garage," accompanied by a winking emoji.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity. "You're assuming I would switch from Ollie, who I've known my whole life, to you, who I've known for a week? How bold of you," you shot back.

Kimi's response was immediate. "Boldness is what makes life interesting, no?" he texted.

"It's definitely a persuasive argument," you replied, the smile on your face growing wider with every keystroke.

Kimi's response was as swift as it was seductive. "Persuasion is an art," he texted back, "but when the prize is as sweet as you, it's hardly a challenge."

You placed the notebook and keychain aside and picked up the phone, your thumbs dancing over the screen as you replied, "And what's the prize for passing these 'lessons'?"

Kimi's response was a masterclass in anticipation. "Ah, that would be telling," he teased. "I can't wait to see you in those clothes, bella donna," he replied, the Italian endearment rolling off his tongue like honey, sticky and sweet.

"I'll be sure to dress to impress, maestro," you replied, feeling a surge of playfulness in your tone.

Kimi's response was like a warm caress, his words wrapping around you like a silk scarf. "I have no doubt you'll leave me speechless, as always," he texted, his message sending a rush of heat through your veins.

You replied, "Bye for now," with a flirty wave emoji, your heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. You set the phone down and took a moment to revel in the feeling, the anticipation of what was to come a delicious ache. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The engine's roar echoed through the narrow streets of the bustling Chinese metropolis as Ollie's sleek Ferrari approached your apartment. Your heart raced in anticipation, not just for the exhilarating ride to the F1 paddock, but also for the secret thrill hidden beneath your clothes.

You had decided to wear the Mercedes merchandise today, a bold declaration of allegiance to the underdog team in a sea of Ferrari red. The tight-fitting T-shirt clung to your curves like a second skin.

"Hey Ollie," you greeted him, a playful smirk gracing your lips as you settled into the plush leather passenger seat.

Ollie looked over at you, a knowing glint in his eye. "Wow, really? You decided to switch to Mercedes that quick?" he quipped, revving the engine and pulling away from the curb. The car's vibrations thrummed through you, setting your blood pulsing in time with its powerful rhythm.

You shrugged, the fabric of the T-shirt sliding smoothly over your skin. "Just thought I'd try something different," you replied coyly, the wind from the open window teasing your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Ollie chuckled. "I heard Kimi is quite the Casanova. What's it like learning Italian from him?" His question hung in the air, ripe with innuendo.

You felt your cheeks warm. "It's… educational," you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Ollie's teasing smile grew wider. "I bet it is. Kimi's got that certain… charm, doesn't he?" He winked, his hand briefly caressing the gearstick before shifting up to third. The car leapt forward, pressing you back into the seat.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your body releasing like the hiss of a valve. "Sure," you teased back, your voice light and airy, "but it's all very professional. We're just friends, helping each other out."

Ollie's eyes flicked towards you, a knowing look playing across his features. "Just friends, huh?" He smirked, his gaze lingering on the way the Mercedes logo on your shirt. "Well, if you say so."

Ollie pulled into an empty spot in the Haas-reserved parking lot, the car purring to a gentle stop. The heat from the engine radiated into the confined space, a stark contrast to the coolness of the air conditioning.

"Looks like we're here," he announced, the smirk on his face unwavering.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as you took in the chaotic symphony of sounds and smells that filled the air: the high-pitched whine of engines being fired up, the metallic clang of tools, and the faint scent of burning rubber.

Ollie turned off the ignition, and the sudden silence was almost deafening. The tension between you was palpable, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the car's engine. You both stepped out into the sticky embrace of the early summer heat, the sun glinting off the chrome and carbon fiber monsters that surrounded you.

As you two walked into Haas, a murmur rippled through the team members and mechanics, their eyes drawn to the unmistakable logo emblazoned on your top. The whispers grew louder, a symphony of surprise and curiosity.

"Look, it's Ollie with a Mercedes fan," one engineer quipped, his laughter cutting through the air like a knife.

You felt your face redden as Ollie chuckled, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you through the throng of people.

"You can go see your boyfriend when he arrives," Ollie teased.

The words hit you like a splash of cold water, your heart skipping a beat as you realized he knew about your secret rendezvous with Kimi. You tried to keep your composure, but the blush spreading across your cheeks betrayed you.

"What are you talking about?" you retorted, feigning ignorance.

Ollie's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, come on," he said. "I know that look. You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip. "What look?" you asked, your voice a little too high.

Ollie's eyes searched your face. "The one you get when you talk about Kimi. It's like you're melting from the inside out. Your pupils dilate, your cheeks flush, and your breath hitches ever so slightly."

"It's the same look you have right now."

"That's not true," you denied, the denial feeling weak even to your own ears. You busied yourself pretending to adjust the collar of his Haas polo to avoid his gaze.

Ollie didn't relent, saying, "Oh, it is. I've seen it. Remember last year's party when Kimi said 'Ciao bella' to you and you reminded me of that for a whole hour?"

Your cheeks grew hotter, and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You had hoped that incident would have been forgotten, but apparently, Ollie had a better memory than you gave him credit for. The way Kimi had looked at you that night, the way he had said those words, had left an indelible mark on your soul. It was a secret you had been carrying around for months, like a treasure you didn't know how to unlock.

"Well," you began, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, "it was just a friendly greeting."

Ollie's eyes searched yours, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Friendly, huh?"

"And what about when he showed you those Italian phrases that are a little less… innocent?"

You had been captivated by his accent, the way his eyes danced with mischief as he leaned in, his breath hot against your neck. "They're just… phrases," you murmured, trying to sound nonchalant.

But before Ollie could respond, a familiar Italian accent pierced the air. "Hey guys!"

Your head swiveled around to see Kimi approaching, the sun glinting off his shiny helmet. The sight of him sent an involuntary smile stretching across your face, a smile that felt as intimate as a lover's caress.

You watched as Ollie's expression morphed into one of camaraderie as he stepped forward to greet his friend. The two of them slapped palms, a silent language of respect and friendship passing between them.

As they talked, you felt Kimi's gaze on you, a warmth that spread from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your fingers.

Finally, Ollie stepped aside, and Kimi was before you, his arms open wide for an embrace. As he wrapped you in his strong hold, his mouth brushed against your ear, and he whispered, "I knew Mercedes would suit you better," his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You hugged him back, your heart racing, feeling his muscular chest against yours, the scent of his cologne mingling with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. You felt his hand slip down your back, resting for a second longer than necessary before pulling away, leaving a trail of heat on your skin.

"I see you've decided to show some love for the competition," he said, a teasing smile playing on his full lips.

You stepped back, trying to compose yourself. "It's just a shirt," you protested, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi's gaze dropped to the logo on your chest, and his smile grew wicked. "Is it?" He stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to trace the outline of the Mercedes emblem with his fingertips.

Ollie cleared his throat, and you snapped out of the spell. You stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of control.

"It's just for fun," you said, your voice sounding too high-pitched even to your own ears.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, the warmth in them unmistakable. He leaned in, whispering so only you could hear, "I'm sure it is."

Ollie's gaze flicked between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He clapped Kimi on the back. "We've got a race to prep for," he said, the teasing note in his voice clear as crystal.

The two of them walked away, deep in conversation about setups and tire strategies, leaving you standing there, breathless and flustered.

As the day wore on, the paddock buzzed with activity. The air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. You found yourself drawn to Kimi like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the gravitational pull of his charm. Every time you caught his eye, he'd give you a wink or a smile that made your heart flutter. It was a dance.

You watched from the garage as the cars rolled out for qualifying. The roar of the engines was a symphony, a crescendo of power and speed that made your blood sing. And there he was, Kimi, in his sleek silver Mercedes, looking every bit the god of the track that you had always imagined him to be.

He glanced up, catching your eye, and gave you a nod before climbing into the cockpit. He disappeared from view, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own racing heart.

The hours passed in a blur of tire changes and strategy meetings. The air grew thick with the scent of sweat and grease, the tension in the garage almost tangible.

And when Kimi finally emerged, his helmet under his arm, his hair damp with sweat, you felt the world tilt on its axis.

He was fourth on the grid, a respectable position, but you knew he had the potential for so much more. You watched as he peeled off his racing suit, revealing the tight, sweat-soaked fabric of his fireproof underwear. Ollie, on the other hand, had managed to qualify in eleventh place.

As the final practice session concluded, you found yourself gravitating towards Ollie, who was surrounded by his engineers, discussing the data with a furrowed brow. You hovered at the edge of the group, trying to appear inconspicuous, but his eyes flickered up to meet yours, a question in his gaze.

You took a deep breath and stepped closer, the smell of the track clinging to him like a second scent. His eyes searched yours, and he gave you a smile that was so forced it looked like it was painted on.

"Everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Ollie's smile was tight, his eyes unreadable. "Yeah, just a bit of work to do before tomorrow." He stepped closer, his arm brushing against yours.

"I'm sure you'll do great," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ollie nodded, but the smile he gave you was forced, a mere shadow of his usual charismatic grin. You couldn't help but notice the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes searched yours for something unspoken. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ollie," you began, reaching out to touch his arm.

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You should go and celebrate with your boyfriend," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Don't worry about me. I've got work to do."

You felt a pang of guilt, the weight of his words like a stone in your stomach. "Ollie, I—"

But he cut you off with a firm shake of his head. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. "You two have fun. You deserve it."

The words hung in the air, a strange mix of sadness and resignation that tugged at your heartstrings. You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded, the weight of his gaze heavy on your shoulders as you turned and walked away.

You found yourself in front of the Mercedes garage, the door open just enough to reveal the gleaming silver car that was the object of so much of your desire. Kimi was there, surrounded by his own team, his eyes scanning the data screens with a focus that was both intense and mesmerizing.

You took a tentative step forward, unsure if you should join him or keep your distance. But before you could decide, he looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

"Ciao, bella donna," Kimi said, his voice like velvet, smooth and warm.

You felt the tension in the air thicken as you stepped into the garage, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading into the background. The light caught the droplets of sweat on his face, making them sparkle like diamonds against his olive skin. You swallowed hard, your throat dry. Kimi's team members looked up, a mix of curiosity and surprise etched on their faces. You had never ventured into their sacred space before.

"I just wanted to… congratulate you," you managed to say, your voice a mere whisper in the bustling garage.

Kimi's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Grazie, tesoro," he said, his Italian rolling over you like warm honey. He stepped away from his car, closing the space between you in a heartbeat.

His hand reached for yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "Come," he said, tugging you gently towards a quieter corner of the garage. The cacophony of the paddock faded away, leaving only the sound of your own breathing and the pounding of your heart.

You followed him, your body moving on autopilot, drawn to him like a magnet to steel. The air grew thick with anticipation, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Kimi said, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned against the wall of his garage. The shadows played over the contours of his face, casting him in a mysterious light that only served to enhance his allure.

You felt your pulse quicken, his words sending a rush of heat through your body. "I wanted to… I mean, I just thought I should… " You stumbled over your words, your cheeks flushing as you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

He leaned closer, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Piano piano," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take it slow."

The words were a gentle command, a whispered promise that made your heart race. You knew what he meant.

"Your hand is shaking," he observed, his voice low and soothing. "Are you nervous?"

You nodded, the admission feeling like a confession. "A little," you whispered, your eyes dropping to the ground.

Kimi's grip on your hand tightened gently. "Don't be," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "You're safe with me."

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world stopped spinning. His eyes were pools of warmth, inviting you to dive in and lose yourself in their depths. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest rise and fall with the rhythm of your racing heart.

"Kimi," you breathed, his name a prayer on your lips.

He tilted his head, a question in his gaze. "Yes, tesoro?"

You swallowed hard, the word feeling both intimate and terrifying on your tongue. "I've missed you," you confessed, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Kimi's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his thumb still stroking gentle circles on the back of your hand. "I've missed you too," he murmured, his breath fanning across your cheek.

You tried to deny the shiver that rippled through you, the way your body leaned into him without thought. "It's just been a few days," you protested, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Kimi's smile grew wicked. "Doesn't mean I haven't thought about you," he murmured, his thumb brushing the pulse point on your wrist.

"We're just friends," you whispered, the words feeling inadequate.

Kimi’s smile grew, a knowing glint in his eye. "Friends can miss each other," he said, his voice a soft caress that seemed to wrap around you.

"It's only been a week," you thought to yourself over and over again, trying to anchor yourself to reality. A week since you last saw him, a week since stolen glances and whispered conversations in the dead of night in a small restaurant.

You tried to deny it. "It's only been a week."

Kimi chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. "Time is a strange thing, isn't it? Sometimes it feels like forever, sometimes like a blink. This week felt like a lifetime.” He paused, his gaze intense. “A lifetime too long."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was raw honesty. You could see the truth in his words, the same truth that resonated within you.

Kimi looked happy to be in your presence. The way his eyes lingered on yours, the soft smile that played on his lips, the gentle touch of his hand – it all spoke volumes.

It was a happiness that both thrilled and terrified you. You knew the risks, the complications, the potential for heartbreak.

"I shouldn't be here," you said, the words a contradiction of your own desires. "Someone could see us."

Kimi shrugged, his eyes still locked on yours. "Let them. I don't care."

"But... the press, your team…" You trailed off, unable to articulate the myriad of reasons why this was wrong, why it could never work.

"Let them talk," he said, his voice resolute. "The only opinions that matter are yours… and mine."

The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through your body, a stark contrast to the cool breeze that danced around you. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach.

"Kimi," you muttered, the syllables sticking to your tongue like honey, sweet and thick with emotion.

He leaned in, his smile widening slightly, "I promise, I'm not going to rush you for an answer now." His words were a gentle caress, a soft whisper that tickled your senses. The air between you grew charged with anticipation, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

You felt a warmth spread from your cheeks to the tips of your ears, and your eyes searched for a hint of teasing in his gaze. But all you saw was sincerity. "But we do need to go on our next date," he continued, his voice a smooth melody that seemed to resonate with the rhythm of your own heart.

"Now?" you asked, the word slipping out before you could stop it. The question hung in the air, filled with both excitement and doubt.

"Yes, now," he grinned, taking your hand firmly in his. His touch was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the garage door as it closed behind you with a gentle clank.

You felt your pulse quicken. "But what about your debriefing?" you asked, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

"I finished it quickly for you, bella," Kimi winked, his use of the endearment making your heart flutter.

You couldn't believe it. The race was the talk of the town, and he had managed to slip away unnoticed. "How?" you whispered, eyes wide with astonishment.

Kimi chuckled again, his grip on your hand tightening reassuringly. "I have my ways."

The private parking lot was dimly lit, the shadows playing tricks on the shiny exteriors of the luxury vehicles. His car, a sleek sports model in a deep shade of midnight blue, stood out like a beacon in the night. The cool metal of the car door was a relief under your fingertips as he opened it for you with a flourish.

You slid into the plush leather seat, the smell of new car and faint hint of his cologne enveloping you like a comforting embrace. The engine roared to life, the vibrations thrumming through your body as he revved it up. The headlights cut through the darkness as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

The wind in your hair was exhilarating, the city lights a blur as Kimi navigated the streets with the confidence of a seasoned racer. You couldn't help but let out a little laugh, the kind that comes from a mix of excitement and nerves.

He glanced over at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving the road ahead.

"Where are we even going?" you asked, the thrill of the unknown adding to the electricity in the air.

"Somewhere special," Kimi replied, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror briefly before returning to the road.

The car's engine purring beneath you was the only sound in the quiet cab, the city's din fading as you ventured into the less-traveled streets. The anticipation grew with each passing moment, your heart racing faster than the speedometer.

Without warning, he pulled into the deserted parking lot of a quaint, old-fashioned cinema. The neon lights flickered, casting a soft glow that painted the pavement a warm shade of red. You felt your brows knit together in confusion, but before you could voice it, Kimi had brought the car to a gentle stop.

He was out of the car in a flash, rounding the hood to open your door. You took his hand, allowing him to help you out, the soles of your shoes clicking against the pavement.

As you looked around, the deserted cinema looked like a relic from another era, a stark contrast to the bustling world you had just left behind. Kimi led you inside, his stride long and confident. The lobby was empty, save for an Italian cashier with a knowing smile.

They exchanged a few words in their native tongue, and you felt a twinge of curiosity. The cashier handed over two tickets with a wink and a nod, and suddenly you realized that you weren't just any couple out for a movie.

The theater was empty, the vastness of the space swallowing up the sound of your footsteps. The screen was already lit up, the opening credits of "Mamma Mia" playing to an audience of two.

Kimi took your hand, leading you to the middle of the theater. The smell of buttered popcorn filled the air as you sat down, the plush seats seemingly made for moments like these.

"This used to be my favorite movie," Kimi murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I think it will help you learn Italian."

You looked at him, surprised. "Italian?"

"Yes," he nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's a movie, but the lyrics are mostly in Italian. It's a classic romance, and the music... it's like a window into our soul."

The film started, the vibrant colors and catchy tunes of "Honey, Honey" playing out before you. Kimi leaned closer, pointing out phrases here and there, whispering translations in your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

As the story unfolded, so did his own, sharing anecdotes and childhood memories that wove themselves into the fabric of the movie.

You found yourself getting lost in the music, the emotions playing out on screen mirroring the tumultuous symphony within your own chest. His hand found its way to yours, fingers intertwining comfortably. You felt your heart swell with every word he whispered, every shared smile, every beat of the Italian love songs.

The plot grew more intense, the characters' passions colliding like the waves of the sea that surrounded the fictional Greek island. Kimi's eyes never left the screen, but his grip on your hand tightened during the emotional climaxes, as if the love stories of the film were echoing his own feelings.

As the movie went on, you began to recognize the phrases he had taught you, the words rolling off your tongue almost naturally. The romance of the film filled the air, and you found yourself leaning into him, his arm around your shoulder, protective and warm.

Then, the iconic duet "The Winner Takes It All" began to play. The female and male voices intertwined, a poignant expression of love and loss. 

Kimi started to sing the male part, his voice a little too deep for the high notes, but filled with passion nonetheless. You couldn't help but laugh at his earnest attempt, the sound echoing softly in the deserted theater.

He glanced at you, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "You think you can do better?" he challenged playfully.

Emboldened by his playful teasing, you opened your mouth and sang the female part. Your voice was soft at first, tentative, but grew stronger as you found your rhythm. The melody swelled, and despite the occasional off-key notes, your harmony with Kimi grew more beautiful with each line. You could feel his smile against your hair as you sang, his chest rumbling with his own laughter.

The song ended, the screen fading to black before the lights flickered back on. The theater remained empty, the silence a gentle cushion for the emotional intensity of the moment. You both took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and the unspoken feelings that danced between you.

Kimi turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "I didn't know you could sing," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

You blushed, feeling a bit self-conscious. "It's been a while," you admitted. "But I guess the right company brings it out of me."

He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "I like bringing out the best in you," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. "I want to see more of it."

The movie continued, the plot unfolding with the sweetness of a blooming romance and the bitterness of misunderstandings. You found yourself lost in the story, the emotions of the characters resonating with the tumult in your own heart. 

As the film progressed, Kimi's hand slipped from yours to rest gently on your knee, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

The plot grew more complex, the characters' relationships tangling like the vines that adorned the Greek isle's landscape. You felt your chest tighten as you watched the heartbreaking scenes play out, the raw emotion on the screen mirrored in Kimi's eyes.

The film's grand finale approached, the music swelling with hope and longing. You watched as the characters faced their fears, confessed their love, and found their way back to each other.

As the final credits began to roll, the theater was bathed in the soft glow of the projector's light. You took a shaky breath, trying to ignore the butterflies that had started a frenzied dance in your stomach. "Kimi," you began, your voice barely a whisper.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, the question hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "That was beautiful," you continued, feeling the weight of the words on your tongue.

He nodded, his thumb still making circles on your knee. "I know," he grinned.

The theater was empty, the only sounds the distant hum of the projector and the beating of two hearts echoing through the vast space.

"Thank you," you murmured. "For this, for everything."

"It's nothing," he replied. "We're just getting started."

As you stepped out of the theater into the cool night air, you realized that it was really dark, leaving a quiet, peaceful calm in its wake. The stars twinkled above, a silent backdrop to the symphony of your racing thoughts. Kimi's hand found yours again, and you felt the promise in his grip.

The world around you was a blur as he led you to the car, the neon lights of the city reflecting in the puddles left by the rain. You slid into the passenger seat, your heart still racing from the emotional rollercoaster of the film and the intensity of the moment.

He started the car, the engine purring to life beneath you, and pulled out of the lot. The city lights danced in the side mirrors, a blur of color and movement as you left the past behind you. 

The future was unwritten, filled with possibilities and unknowns, but as you looked at Kimi, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you had someone to navigate it with. The quiet between you was filled with unspoken words and the sweet anticipation of what was to come. The night was young, and the adventure was just beginning.

Kimi drove with the confidence of someone who knew the city like the back of his hand, the car's headlights slicing through the inky blackness of the night. The salty scent of the ocean grew stronger with each passing mile, hinting at the destination that lay ahead. 

Before you knew it, the asphalt under the tires gave way to the soft crunch of sand as he pulled into a hidden cove, the beach stretching out before you like a canvas of moonlit tranquility.

"Kimi..." you began, the question in your voice trailing off as he turned off the engine and opened your door. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only music that played as you stepped out of the car.

"I wanted to give you a 'Mamma Mia' experience," he said, taking your hand and leading you down a winding path to the beach. 

The sand was cool between your toes, and the soft glow of string lights guided you to a picnic blanket laid out with a feast of Italian delights. The scent of garlic and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the briny tang of the sea.

The picnic was set up with precision, a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket, surrounded by plates of bruschetta, cheese, and a selection of meats. 

The sight was like a scene from a movie, so perfect it was almost surreal. He had even brought a small speaker, playing the film's soundtrack at a low volume, the music a gentle serenade to the whispers of the night.

You couldn't help but smile as he pulled you into a dance, the sand shifting beneath your feet. His movements were fluid, his grip firm but gentle, guiding you through the motions with a grace that made your heart sing. 

As you danced under the stars, you felt a sense of belonging, a feeling that was as vast as the ocean that stretched out before you. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your knees wobble. 

You weren't just any girl at any beach; you were in the arms of the man who you were slowly falling for.

The music grew softer as the night deepened, the stars above seeming to hold their breath as the tension grew between you. Kimi leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want to sit?" he asked, his voice low and filled with meaning.

Nods and nods, your heart racing faster than the waves that lapped at the shore. You sat on the picnic blanket, the warmth of the sand seeping through the fabric, a stark contrast to the cold glass of wine he handed you.

You took a sip, the taste rich and full, complementing the salty air. The sound of the ocean was a gentle lullaby, the rhythm of the waves matching the beating of your heart. Kimi sat beside you, close enough that your legs brushed against each other. 

"How did you like this date, eh?" Kimi asked, his eyes searching yours. The question was a simple one, yet it held a universe of meaning.

You looked around the moonlit cove, the gentle waves whispering secrets to the shore, and back at him. "It's... perfect," you managed to say, the word feeling inadequate for the emotions swirling inside you. 

The Italian music played softly in the background, a serenade to the stars above. Kimi's smile grew, his eyes lighting up like the fireflies that danced around the beach. "I'm glad," he said, his voice a warm caress in the salty breeze.

You took another sip of the wine, the flavors blossoming on your tongue. "I didn't expect... this," you admitted, gesturing to the picnic spread.

Kimi leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. "What did you expect?"

You set the wine glass down, the tremble in your hand barely noticeable. "I don't know," you replied, a small laugh escaping your lips. "But definitely not this."

The question hovered between you, a soft echo of the waves. Kimi leaned closer, his gaze intent. "But what did you think of it?"

You took a deep breath, the briny scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of the wine and food. "It's more than I could have ever imagined," you confessed, your voice barely audible over the gentle symphony of the night. "I didn't know dates could be like this."

Kimi's smile grew, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "And how have you been treated before?" he asked, his voice a gentle coax.

You thought back to the dates that felt like they were pulled from a cookie-cutter, the men who had tried but never quite hit the mark. "It's just... nobody has ever made me feel like I'm the only person in the world," you murmured, the words a soft confession. "It's like you see me, really see me."

Kimi's eyes searched yours, understanding flickering in their depths. "You are special," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "You deserve to be seen, to be appreciated." He reached out, his thumb brushing away a stray hair from your face.

The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. "Thank you," you whispered, the words feeling like a prayer. You had never been treated with such care, such consideration. 

The men from your past had been shadows compared to the vibrant, living color of Kimi. They had taken you to dinner, bought you flowers, whispered sweet nothings, but they had never made you feel like you were the center of their universe.

As you talked under the stars, the wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the promise of change. The picnic had been a feast for the senses, and as the music grew softer, so too did your heart, filling with a warmth that seemed to radiate from Kimi's very soul. 

You could feel the moment drawing to a close, the inevitability of reality trying to break through the magical bubble you had created.

"Let's get you home," Kimi said finally, his voice a gentle caress. You nodded, not quite ready to let the night end but knowing that it had to. 

You helped him gather the remnants of the picnic, the plates and glasses clinking together like a sweet melody. The sand clung to your clothes, a reminder of the enchanting world you had just shared.

He drove you home, the car's headlights cutting through the night like a beacon guiding you back to the safety of the familiar.

You watched the world go by, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the city's nocturnal landscape.

When you arrived at your house, the car came to a gentle stop. The engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the quiet night. Kimi walked you to the door, his hand in yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the moment. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come making it difficult to breathe.

"Good night, Y/N," Kimi said, his eyes searching yours. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against your lips.

"Good night, Kimi," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You watched as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. You slid the key into the lock, the metal cold against your trembling hand. With one final look, you turned the knob, the door creaking open to reveal the warm embrace of your home.

You leaned against the door, the wood cool against your flushed cheek. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the echoes of his words with it.

You slid down the door, the adrenaline from the night leaving your body in a rush. Your heart felt like it was racing in a marathon, each beat echoing the rhythm of the waves from the cove. 

The house was quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, a gentle reminder that the world didn't stop spinning just because you had found a moment of happiness. You stepped inside, the warm light of the foyer wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. 

As you closed the door, you felt a strange sense of both longing and contentment. The night had been perfect, a memory you would cherish, but now you were left with the bittersweet realization that it was over.

The door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the silent house. You leaned against it, the imprint of Kimi's hand still burned into your skin. The taste of him lingered on your lips, a sweet reminder of the promise that hung in the air. . . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Every weekend, without fail, he would whisk you away to a new Italian-inspired adventure. Museums, where the air had the scent of ancient oils and the hush of reverence, became your classroom. You'd stand before paintings of rolling landscapes, Kimi pointing at the vibrant hues and insisting you name them in Italian.

It was as if he were feeding you a piece of the language with every brushstroke you took in. The cobblestone streets of the city's Little Italy echoed with your tentative words as you stumbled through phrases that once danced so effortlessly from your tongue.

The restaurants were his grandest stage. He'd select the most authentic trattorias, where the chefs had names that rolled off the tongue like the perfect pasta al dente. You'd sit at a table set with a red-checkered cloth, the aroma of garlic and tomatoes teasing your senses.

Kimi would order for you in rapid-fire Italian, his eyes gleaming with excitement as you tried to decode his words. The servers, with their genuine smiles, seemed to understand the silent struggle of your rekindling romance with their mother tongue.

They'd nod encouragingly as you fumbled through your menu, eventually pointing at a dish with a name that sounded like poetry but was just spaghetti to your unpracticed ears.

As the weeks rolled by, you began to feel a strange kinship with the language, as if it were a long-lost friend you were slowly getting reacquainted with. The frustration of forgotten vocabulary and grammar rules slowly melted away, replaced by a warm nostalgia for the days when Italian was your secret garden of words.

You started to anticipate the weekends, the thrill of the challenge growing with every mouthwatering dish and every sculpture that told a story you could almost remember. It was as though Kimi had cast a spell on you, and the incantation was the melodic cadence of his Italian commands.

One particular evening, the stars aligned. You stepped into a dimly lit enoteca, the walls lined with bottles that gleamed like jewels in the soft light.

The hum of conversation was a soothing backdrop to the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Kimi had a twinkle in his eye as he handed you a glass of deep red wine and told you to order

You took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through you, and then took a deep breath. "Posso avere un piatto di bruschetta, per favore?" you asked, your voice stronger than it had been in what felt like an eternity.

The waiter nodded, a knowing smile playing at his lips, and disappeared into the kitchen. As you waited, the anticipation grew, not just for the food, but for the sense of triumph that was about to be yours.

The words had come so naturally, so confidently, that you could almost believe you had never lost them at all. It was as if you had just found a key to a door you didn't know was locked.

Kimi's smile grew wider as he heard your request. "Che bella voce!" he exclaimed, raising his glass to you in a silent toast. His voice was filled with pride and joy, and his eyes sparkled like the stars outside.

"You're doing it," he whispered, leaning closer across the table. "You're bringing it back to life."

The bruschetta arrived, a plate piled high with crispy slices of bread topped with a symphony of tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella. The waiter placed it down with a flourish, the scent of garlic and balsamic vinegar wafting towards you. As you took a bite, the flavors exploded on your taste buds, transporting you to a summer evening in a small Italian piazza.

Kimi's eyes never left yours, a gentle nod of approval etched into his expression. "Anche la tua pronuncia," he said, praising your pronunciation.

His voice was a warm embrace, a gentle nudge that encouraged you to keep going. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but it was a blush of pride, not embarrassment.

You took another bite of bruschetta, savoring the tangy sweetness of the tomatoes and the creaminess of the cheese.

As you chewed, you tried to think of the next thing to say, eager to keep the conversation flowing in Italian. Kimi watched you, his gaze filled with affectionate amusement, as you wrestled with the words.

"Grazie," you said finally, the word rolling off your tongue like a well-practiced aria. "E' deliziosa."

Kimi's eyes lit up like the candle on the table between you. "Non é solo il cibo," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Ma la lingua stessa. L'italiano é come la danza. Ha il suo ritmo, la sua grazia."

You nodded, understanding what he meant. Italian was indeed like a dance, one that you were slowly learning to perform again. You felt the rhythm of the language in the way the words flowed from his lips, and the elegance in the way he moved his hands as he spoke.

As the weeks turned into months, the lessons grew more intimate. It was no longer just about the words, but the emotions behind them.

Kimi would tell you stories of his childhood in Bologna, his voice painting vivid images of the bustling markets and the warmth of his nonna's kitchen.

You found yourself falling in love with him, not just for his passion for his culture, but for the way he shared it with you. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You were walking to Kimi's garage, the sun glaring down on the concrete, when you felt a gentle tug at your trousers. You looked down to see a shy girl, maybe eight or nine, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and a shy smile playing on her lips. She looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

"Hey there, sweetie," you said, bending down to her level. "What's up?"

The girl clutched a small, colorful bracelet in her tiny hands. It was a simple thing, woven from bits of plastic and thread, but to her, it looked like the most precious treasure in the world. "Can you give this to your boyfriend?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Confusion wrinkled your brow. "My boyfriend?" You didn't have one, at least not that you knew of.

"Yeah," she said, nodding fervently, "the one with the big car. The fast one. He's nice to me."

It dawned on you then. Kimi. You chuckled and took the bracelet. "Kimi, huh?"

The girl's cheeks turned a shade of pink that matched the plastic flowers on the bracelet. "Please," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with hope. "It's for him."

You straightened up and nodded, tucking the bracelet into your pocket with a smile. "Alright, little one. I'll make sure Kimi gets it."

Her eyes lit up, and she beamed a grin that could've powered a city. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

With a chuckle, you then took the Mercedes hat that belonged to Kimi from your head and placed it on her head. It was a bit too big, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she looked like she'd just been crowned royalty.

The hat sat atop her head like a cherry on a sundae, slightly askew, with the brim casting a shadow over her freckled nose.

Her eyes grew wide with excitement, and she giggled as she felt the fabric of the hat against her forehead. "Wow!" she exclaimed, "I feel like I can drive a car now!"

With that, she dashed off, the hat bobbing comically with every step she took. You watched her until she reached a woman standing a few feet away, who looked at you with a grateful smile.

The girl threw her arms around the woman's legs and whispered something into her ear, glancing back at you. The woman looked surprised for a moment, then her gaze softened, and she nodded, glancing in the direction of the garage. She whispered something back, and the girl beamed up at you before running off.

You chuckled and continued your journey to the garage, the warmth of the sun on your back. The girl's excitement had brightened your day, and you couldn't help but wonder what Kimi would think of the bracelet.

When you arrived at the garage, the sound of a revving engine and the smell of gasoline filled the air. You walked into the cluttered space, passing by a wall of tools and a rack of greasy car parts, and all you could see were mechanics in blue jumpsuits scattered around, working tirelessly on various vehicles.

You squinted through the dusty light, looking for Kimi. There was no sign of him anywhere. You felt the heat of the engines and heard the rhythmic clinking of metal on metal, but still, he was nowhere to be found.

Then, in the corner, you spotted a glimpse of a familiar face—Bono, Kimi's race engineer, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was hunched over a table with a sheaf of papers spread out in front of him.

He had a pencil in his hand, scribbling furiously, and he looked utterly engrossed in whatever calculations he was doing.

Finally, you caught sight of Kimi. He was standing next to Bono, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression equally frustrated. The two of them were so focused on the paperwork in front of them that they hadn't noticed you yet.

You took a moment to watch them, the tension in their postures speaking volumes about their current predicament. As you approached, the sound of your footsteps echoed through the garage, and Kimi looked up.

"Looks like you have a secret admirer," you said, tossing the bracelet to him.

He caught the bracelet you tossed, and his expression grew more serious as he studied it. "What's this?" he asked, fingering the plastic threads.

"It's from a little girl," you said. "She wanted you to have it."

Kimi's eyes softened, and he looked up at you, his smile widening. "Really?"

You nodded. "She said you're nice to her one day."

Bono looked up from his calculations, his curiosity piqued by the exchange. "Everything okay?"

Kimi held up the bracelet, his grin unshakeable. "Yeah," he said. "Everything's great."

The two of you shared a look, and you could see the weight of their earlier frustration lifting. For a brief moment, the garage didn't seem so chaotic, and the only thing that mattered was the simple act of kindness captured in the plastic flowers of that bracelet.

"Well, that's sweet," Kimi said, his eyes never leaving yours. "But why did she give it to you?"

You felt a blush creep up your neck. "Um, she thought… I was your girlfriend," you admitted, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Kimi's smile grew even wider. He looked down at the bracelet again, then back at you, his eyes filled with amusement. "Did she now?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning hotter than the engine of one of the cars in the garage. "Yeah, she thought I was your girlfriend, so she asked me to give it to you."

Kimi's eyes glinted with mischief. "And what did you tell her?"

"I just said I'd give it to you," you replied, feeling more nervous by the second.

Kimi's gaze didn't waver. "But did you tell her anything else?"

You swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden dryness in your throat. "No, nothing else," you replied, hoping your voice didn't betray the lie.

Kimi's smile grew into a full-blown grin, and he took a step closer to you, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Are you sure?"

You felt your heart flutter as his proximity sent waves of heat through your body. "Positive," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Well, if you're my girlfriend," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I suppose I should be giving you something, too."

With that, he took off one of his own bracelets. It was a sleek, black leather band with a silver charm that looked like a tiny car. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a little breathless.

"Exchanging," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. He took your hand and slid his bracelet on your wrist. The warmth of his skin lingered on your skin, making you shiver. "Now, every time I wear this, I'll think of you."

The leather felt smooth and cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that was building within you. You looked down at the charm, your heart racing as the reality of the situation sank in.

Kimi had never made a move like this before, and you weren't quite sure how to react.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he fastened the bracelet around your wrist. His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

Your eyes remained fixed on his, the intensity of his gaze making it hard for you to look away.

Bono, who had been quietly observing the exchange, cleared his throat. "We have a revision to do, Kimi," he said, his voice cutting through the thick tension like a hot knife through butter.

Kimi's gaze didn't leave yours for a second, a silent question lingering in his eyes before he finally nodded. "Right," he murmured, his voice a bit gruff.

Bono cleared his throat again, louder this time. "Kimi," he prompted.

Kimi's eyes snapped away from yours, and he took a step back, breaking the spell. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice returning to its usual, business-like tone. "We do have a revision to do."

You watched as he turned to Bono, the bracelet on your wrist a constant reminder of the moment that had just passed between you. Bono gave you a knowing look before focusing back on his papers.

You felt a strange sense of calm while KImi was stressing over maths. Numbers danced in your head, equations unfolding like graceful dancers in a silent ballet. You knew calculus. You understood it in a way Kimi never would.

"I just… I don't get it," Kimi groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. His brow was furrowed in frustration as he stared at a page filled with integrals, the nemesis of his academic existence.

"It's like trying to understand a language no one speaks," Kimi muttered, pushing the textbook away.

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt and into your palm. "Let me take a look," you offered, your voice soothing.

Kimi hesitated before handing over the book with a defeated sigh. You sat beside him, the scent of engine oil and sweat mingling with the faint aroma of his cologne—a surprisingly pleasant combination that you'd come to associate with the garage.

The pages of the book fell open, revealing the tangled web of formulas that had him so flustered.

"It's not that hard," you assured him, leaning closer so that your bodies touched. "It's just a matter of practice."

Kimi sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know, but it's just not sticking."

"I could teach you if you wanted?" you offered tentatively, glancing at both Kimi and Bono.

Bono's eyes shot up from the paperwork he had been engrossed in, and a look of relief washed over his face. "Yes, please," he said, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Anything to get this little gremlin to understand calculus."

Kimi rolled his eyes playfully, but you could see the hint of gratitude in them. He leaned back in his chair, his muscular arms flexing as he did so, and gestured to the open textbook.

"Be my guest," he said with a smile, his gaze lingering on your hand that still rested on his shoulder.

Bono looked up from his paperwork, his expression a mix of hope and skepticism. "If you can get him to pass this class, I'll owe you one," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge.

You took the textbook into your hands, feeling the weight of the responsibility, but also a thrill at the prospect of being able to help Kimi in a way that was uniquely yours. "Let's start with the basics," you suggested, turning to the first chapter.

As you delved into the world of derivatives and integrals, you found yourself enjoying the process of explaining concepts to him. His eyes would light up when he understood something, and the way his brows furrowed when he was concentrating was endearing.

You felt a strange sense of intimacy, not just because of your physical proximity, but because you were sharing a piece of yourself with him that you had never shared with anyone else.

Kimi's mind was sharp when it came to cars—he could dismantle and reassemble an engine faster than you could recite the alphabet. But math? It was his Achilles' heel.

You found yourself getting lost in his eyes as you explained the rules of calculus, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, and the way his bottom lip pouted slightly when he was confused. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The faint scent of fresh ink and paper filled the room as you meticulously scrutinized Kimi's Maths homework, the soft whispers of the words dancing in the air like an intimate serenade. The bracelet he had given you weeks ago jingled with every turn of the page, a delicate reminder of the secret bond you shared.

"That's my brother's favorite bracelet," said a sweet, unfamiliar voice, piercing the silence like a softly played note on a violin.

Looking up from the academic tapestry laid before you, your gaze fell upon the speaker. A girl, no older than thirteen, with a cascade of long brown hair that shimmered under the muted lamplight, and eyes so deep and rich they could have been pockets of pure, untouched chocolate, stared back at you.

Her smile was a mirror of Kimi's, but there was an innocence in it that made your heart flutter like a caged bird discovering an open window.

"Really?" you replied, your voice a cocktail of surprise and curiosity. "How do you know?"

The girl leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've seen him wear it a hundred times," she confessed, her voice a gentle caress on the silence. "But he said he gave it to you."

Her revelation hung in the air, thick with the anticipation of an unspoken question. You felt your cheeks flush, the warmth spreading from your core like wildfire. The bracelet grew heavier on your wrist, a silent testament to the secret you'd been keeping from everyone, including yourself.

"Is... is that okay?" you stuttered, fidgeting with the delicate trinket. The girl's eyes searched yours, a mix of amusement and something you couldn't quite place. "I mean, I didn't know it was his favorite."

She giggled, a sound so pure it could have been the tinkling of wind chimes on a perfect summer evening. "Don't worry," she assured you, "I think he's happy you're wearing it. It looks good on you."

"I'm Maggie, by the way. Kimi's little sister."

"Oh, it's nice to finally meet you, Maggie," you managed to say, trying to compose yourself. "Your brother's been helping me with Italian."

Maggie's smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Ah, yes," she said, her voice a melodious symphony of knowing and innocence. "Kimi's always had a knack for languages. And for helping people, too."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. The bracelet grew warmer, a silent pulsation that seemed to echo the rhythm of your racing heart. "He's been amazing," you confessed, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "He's really patient with me."

Maggie nodded sagely, her smile unwavering. "He always has been," she said. "But I've noticed a different kind of spark in his eyes when he talks about you."

You felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation coil in your stomach. "He talks about me?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Maggie nodded, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "All the time," she said, her words a gentle tease. "He tells me how much you've been improving, how much he enjoys your company."

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth from the bracelet spreading up your arm like a lover's caress. "Really?" you murmured, trying to keep the hope from bubbling over into your voice.

Maggie nodded emphatically, her youthful exuberance infectious. "Yeah!" she exclaimed, her cheeks dimpling. "He says you're the best student he's ever had."

You couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from your chest, a warm, velvety sound that seemed to resonate through the room. "I think I'm the only student he's ever had," you said, the words tumbling out with an ease that surprised even you.

Maggie's laughter joined yours, a sweet harmony that filled the air with the lightness of feathers dancing on a summer breeze. "You're probably right," she admitted, her eyes shining with affection for her brother.

Then, as if on cue, a shadow fell over the two of you, and a familiar, playful voice rang out, "Hey! That's mean from both of you! Especially you, sorellina!"

You turned to find Kimi standing beside you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. You looked up into his eyes, and the world around you melted away into a pool of molten chocolate, rich and deep.

"I've taught Ollie Italian too," Kimi added, a smug grin playing on his full lips.

Maggie rolled her eyes and playfully swiped at her brother. "Yeah, but you didn't give him a bracelet!"

Kimi's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly, his eyes dropping to the bracelet on your wrist. "It's just a little something," he said, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through your very being. "A small token of friendship."

"Kim told me you're Italian," Maggie asked, her curiosity piqued. "Is that true?"

You looked into her eager eyes, feeling the warmth of Kimi's hands on your shoulders, his presence a comforting embrace that seemed to bolster your courage. "Yes," you admitted, your voice a soft caress. "My mother's side of the family is from a small town outside of Verona."

Maggie's eyes widened with excitement. "Really?" she squealed, her voice a delightful trill. "That's so cool! Do you speak Italian fluently?"

You nodded, a warm smile playing on your lips as you felt Kimi's hands tense ever so slightly. "I used to," you admitted. "But it's been a while. That's why I've been asking Kimi for help."

Kimi's thumb stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle dance on your skin. "Well, it's definitely coming back to you," he said, his voice a soothing balm to the nerves that had suddenly taken up residence in your belly.

"It's all thanks to you," you replied, the words slipping out like a sigh of contentment. You felt a thrill rush through you as his eyes searched yours for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze lingering on your mouth before dropping back to the bracelet.

The sudden, unexpected announcement crackled over the intercom, jolting you both out of the intimate moment. "Attention, all drivers," the disembodied voice called out, "please report to your designated garage immediately."

Kimi's eyes snapped to the clock on the wall, his expression a mix of surprise and excitement. "The race," he murmured, his thumbs ceasing their gentle exploration of your skin. "It's starting sooner than I thought."

"Can I watch with y/n?" Maggie's voice was a breath of fresh air, filled with excitement and innocent curiosity. The question hung in the air, a delicate thread connecting the three of you in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Kimi's eyes lit up with an idea, his grip on your shoulders loosening as he stepped away. "Why don't you?" he suggested, turning to face you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It'll be like a little reunion, and maybe she can even help me teach you some Italian."

You felt your heart race as you looked from Kimi to Maggie and back again, the warmth from their gazes a gentle embrace that seemed to melt away the barriers you had so carefully constructed around your feelings.

"I'd love that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "It'll be like a miniature Italian lesson."

Maggie's eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, and she clapped her hands together. "Yay!" she exclaimed, her youthful exuberance infectious.

Kimi leaned in to whisper into your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Okay, I'll leave you two beauties to it," he said. "But remember, I expect full reports of your language lessons later."

His lips curled into a knowing smile as he pulled away, his eyes holding yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "And please, take care of each other."

With those words hanging in the air like a seductive promise, Kimi turned and strutted out of the room, his confidence a palpable force that seemed to electrify the very air around him, leaving you alone with his sister again.

Maggie's gaze followed him, her eyes filled with a mix of adoration and something else, something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "So," she said, turning to you with a knowing smile, "do you like my brother?"

The question hung in the air, a delicate thread of curiosity that seemed to tug at the fabric of the room itself. You felt your heart race, the warmth from Kimi's touch still lingering on your skin like a lover's brand.

"Kimi?" you asked, playing coy despite the heat that flooded your cheeks. "He's a good teacher," you managed, your voice a soft caress that seemed to resonate with the vibrations of your racing pulse.

Maggie's eyes danced with mirth as she sat down beside you, her youthful energy a stark contrast to the intensity that had filled the room moments ago. "I know," she said, her voice a gentle purr. "But do you like him?"

"Maggie," you began, choosing your words with the same care you would a delicate pastry at an Italian café, "Kimi is more than just a good teacher to me."

Her smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of an untold secret. "I knew it," she whispered, her voice a conspiratorial giggle that tickled your ear. "He talks about you all the time, you know. Like you're some kind of... I dunno, Italian goddess or something."

Your cheeks burned with a blush that could have rivaled the sunset over the Tuscan countryside. "He does?" you whispered back, your voice a tremulous note in the symphony of emotions that played within you.

Maggie nodded eagerly. "All the time," she said, her eyes sparkling like the stars in an Italian summer night. "He says you have a way of making him feel alive, like nothing he's ever felt before."

The words hung in the air, thick with the promise of something more. You felt your heart race, the thrill of his confession echoing in your very soul. "Really?" you murmured, the tremble in your voice belying the tumult of emotions within you.

Maggie nodded, her eyes shining with the excitement of a conspirator. "He says you make him feel like he's home when you're around," she revealed, her voice a whispered secret that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the room.

"And you know what?" she leaned closer, her breath a sweet scent of mint and youthful innocence, "I think he might have a crush on you."

The words hit you like a gentle gust of wind, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. You felt your pulse quicken, the blood rushing through your veins like a river of liquid fire.

"Yeah," you said, trying to keep the excitement from your voice as you began to gather up the scattered pages of Kimi's homework. "Enough gossiping. We have to meet up with your parents to watch the race."

Maggie's smile grew even brighter, her eyes lighting up with the excitement of an impending adventure. "I know, I know," she said, bouncing to her feet with the grace of a gazelle.

Together, you walked to Kimi's garage, the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with the beating of your heart.

As you approached the garage, you saw Kimi and Maggie's parents deep in conversation, their heads tilted towards one another as they spoke in hushed tones.

They were an elegant couple, evident in the sharpness of their features and the warmth of their skin. The mother, a svelte woman with hair as dark as a moonless night, looked up and noticed you first, her eyes lighting up with a smile that was as welcoming as a warm embrace.

"Ah, you must be the one Kimi's been speaking so fondly of," she said, her Italian accent wrapping around the words like a velvet ribbon.

Her voice was like the sound of a cappuccino machine in a quiet café, a comforting hum that seemed to resonate within your very being. She stepped forward, her arms opening to envelop you in a warm hug that smelled faintly of gardenias.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, her accent a siren's call that seemed to weave a spell of comfort and belonging around you. You felt your muscles relax into the embrace, the warmth of her touch seeping into your very bones.

Kimi's father, a man built like a statue chiseled from the very marble that adorned the ancient Italian cities, looked up from his conversation with a proud smile. His eyes, so much like Kimi's, sparkled with the same mischief that you had come to know so well.

"Mamma, Papà, this is..." Maggie paused, a hint of shyness coloring her voice.

"Yes, yes," Kimi's mother interjected, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "We know who she is. Kimi has told us so much about you," she said, her smile reaching out to you like a warm hand. "We're so happy to finally meet the one who has stolen our son's heart."

You felt your own heart stutter in your chest at her words, the warmth of her embrace spreading through you like the first sip of a fine wine. "Signora," you began, your voice a soft crescendo of nerves and excitement, "I don't know what Kimi has been telling you..."

But she waved a hand, her smile a gentle dismissal of your modesty. "Ah, ah," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we know our son. He doesn't speak of just anyone like this."

Her words were a warm embrace that seemed to melt away your doubt, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Kimi's parents noticed your arrival, their conversation with themselves trailing off as they turned to face you. The love and pride in their gazes was unmistakable, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had grown between you and their son.

"Ciao," Kimi's father boomed, his deep voice a warm baritone that seemed to fill the garage. He stepped forward, extending a hand that was rough from years of working the cars. "I am Marco," he said, his grip firm and reassuring as you took his hand.

You felt a jolt of something unnameable as your skin met his, the heat of his touch a stark contrast to the cool metal of the garage. His handshake was firm but gentle, a silent promise that you were now a part of their world.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Antonelli," you replied, your voice a soft symphony of nerves and excitement.

Marco's eyes twinkled with mirth as he released your hand. "Call me Marco," he said, his voice a warm bass that seemed to resonate through the garage. "And this," he continued, turning to Kimi, "is the young lady you've been keeping from us?"

Kimi strolled over from his small meeting with Bono, his race engineer, his strides long and purposeful, his eyes lighting up as they landed on you. He was a vision in his fireproof suit, the fiery emblem of the Mercedes team blazing across his chest like a declaration of war.

"Ciao, bella," Kimi greeted, his Italian rolling off his tongue like a lover's caress. His eyes were a tempest of emotions, a mix of excitement for the race and something deeper, something that seemed to resonate in the very air between you.

Marco's smile grew wider as he stepped back, his gaze flicking from you to Kimi and back again, as if he could see the unspoken conversation passing between the two of you.

"We must go," he said, his voice a gentle nudge towards the reality that awaited outside the garage. "The race will begin soon."

Kimi's eyes remained on yours for a moment longer, a silent question lingering in the air. Then, with a nod that seemed to convey a world of unspoken answers, he turned to his father. "Yes, Papà," he said, his voice a rich timbre that seemed to resonate with the anticipation of the race.

He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his mother's cheek. "Ciao, Mamma," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll make you proud today."

Her smile was like a warm embrace as she patted his cheek. "We know you will," she said, her voice filled with a love that seemed to echo through the garage.

You watched as the family shared a moment, feeling like an outsider peering in on a private dance.

Marco slapped his son's back, the sound echoing in the garage like a gunshot. "Vai avanti," he said, a mix of pride and urgency in his voice. "You're going to be late."

Kimi nodded, his eyes still locked on yours, the unspoken promise of something more burning in their depths. He took a step back, the heat of his gaze a palpable force that seemed to cling to your skin like a second skin.

"Vincere per me," you said, the words rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. It was a declaration of intent, a promise that you would win the race, not just for yourself, but for him.

Kimi grinned, his teeth flashing white against the tanned skin of his cheeks. "Of course, bella," he replied, the endearment slipping out as naturally as if you had been lovers for a lifetime.

The warmth of his smile seemed to fill the garage, casting a spell that made everything else fade into the background. His eyes searched yours, a silent conversation passing between you that spoke of desires and promises unspoken.

Kimi's movements were fluid as he slid into the cockpit of his sleek, silver Mercedes, his body melding with the machine as if they were one.

The sound of the engine roaring to life was like the crescendo of an orchestra, a symphony of power and passion that seemed to resonate through every atom of the air. You felt the vibrations in your chest, a thrumming beat that echoed the rhythm of your heart.

He flashed you one last smile, the kind that could make the sun jealous, and then he was gone, speeding away into the bowels of the circuit like a bullet released from a chamber.

You stood with Kimi's family the whole race, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. The grandstand was a sea of faces, a tapestry of colors, all united in their love for speed and the thrill of the chase.

Maggie's hand was a small, warm presence in yours, her excitement palpable, a heartwarming reminder of the innocence and purity that often accompanied youth.

As the checkered flag waved, the air was pierced by a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the grandstand.

"And for the first time, Kimi Antonelli reaches a podium position!" the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers, sending a wave of euphoria crashing over the crowd. The words echoed in your ears, a sweet symphony of triumph and vindication.

Kimi's parents erupted into cheers, their faces a canvas of unbridled joy as they leaped to their feet. Marco's deep baritone laughter rumbled through the air, his eyes shining with the pride of a man who had seen his son conquer the world.

His wife clutched her chest, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness as she watched her little boy, now a man, stand tall on the podium.

Maggie's hand in yours grew tighter, her nails digging into your palm as she bounced up and down with excitement. The vibrations of her energy seemed to resonate through your body, mingling with the thundering applause that filled the grandstand.

As the race concluded, the whole team, a blur of silver and black, sprinted towards the parc ferme, where Kimi's car would come to a majestic stop in front of the third-place podium.

The sound of their footsteps was a cacophony of victory, each step a declaration of their collective triumph. You watched, transfixed, as the mechanics and engineers, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation, gathered around Kimi's car like bees to honey.

The car, a gleaming silver streak, pulled up to the sign, and the crowd's roar grew deafening as Kimi emerged, a modern-day gladiator stepping out of his metal chariot.

He raised his visor, revealing eyes that shone with the fierce light of a thousand suns. His helmet was plucked off, and his sweat-dampened hair stood on end, a testament to the battle he had just won.

The scent of victory, a heady mix of burning rubber and adrenaline, wafted over the team as they congregated around him. Kimi's eyes scanned the sea of faces, and the moment he spotted you and his family, a grin as wide as the Italian coastline split his face.

He was quick to spot you all, and with a bound fueled by the elation of his victory, he sprinted over, his heart hammering in his chest with excitement and love.

As he neared, the warmth of his presence washed over you, like a gentle Tuscan breeze that brought with it the promise of a summer's evening spent under the stars. His eyes danced from you to Maggie and back again, the love and pride in them a beacon that could guide ships lost at sea.

HIs father was the first to reach Kimi, his arms enveloping his son in a hug that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

The fabric of Kimi's fireproof suit crunched as his father's embrace tightened, a silent declaration of the bond that had been forged over a lifetime of shared passions and dreams. You watched as Marco whispered something into Kimi's ear, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate with the very essence of pride.

Next was Kimi's mother, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she stepped into the fold of their embrace. Her slender hands rested on Kimi's shoulders, her touch as gentle as the stroke of a feather, yet it seemed to hold him as firmly as any steel embrace.

As she pulled back, she reached for you, her eyes searching yours with a knowing look that seemed to speak of shared secrets and quiet understandings.

Then, it was Maggie's turn. She launched herself into Kimi's arms, her small frame enveloped by his broad chest. Her giggle was a sweet symphony that seemed to hold the very essence of joy.

His arms tightened around her, and you saw the softness in his gaze, a tenderness that was reserved only for those who held his heart.

As she stepped back, her eyes met yours, and she winked, a knowing glint in her gaze. You felt the heat of his stare on you.

And then, there you were, standing before him, the world around you a blur of color and sound. Your heart was a drum in your chest, the rhythm of it echoing the roar of the engines that had just fallen silent.

Kimi stepped away from his family, the warmth of their embrace lingering on him like the scent of their homemade pasta sauce. His eyes locked onto yours, the depth of his gaze a promise that had been simmering since the first time you'd met.

"Bella," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

His arms encircled you, pulling you into a tight embrace that seemed to banish the rest of the world. You felt the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, the scent of his sweat and adrenaline a potent aphrodisiac that made your knees weak.

Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you inhaled deeply, allowing his scent to fill your lungs and your soul. It was a scent that was uniquely Kimi, a blend of engine oil, leather, and victory.

You didn't dare look up, fearful that the paparazzi lurking just outside the garage would capture the intimacy of this moment and twist it into some salacious headline.

You knew the price of fame, the way it could devour relationships, turning the purest of moments into the fodder for tabloid frenzies.

So, you held onto him, your eyes closed, your heart racing, as you silently prayed that the world would swirl on without noticing the two of you standing there, entangled in a dance of passion and friendship.

The scent of his neck was intoxicating, a blend of cologne and sweat that spoke of his fiery spirit and the intense physicality of the race. It was a scent that was uniquely his, a scent that had been burned into your memory the first time you had been this close to him.

You felt his heart hammering against your chest, a wild, untamed stallion galloping in time with yours.

"Hai vinto nel mio cuore," you murmured into his ear, the words a soft, secret whisper that seemed to resonate through his very soul.

His embrace tightened for a fraction of a second, the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you closer. It meant 'you won in my heart'.

The warmth of his body seemed to seep into yours, a gentle warmth that spread through you like honey on warm bread.

His chest was a wall of solid, unyielding muscle against which your soft curves melded like wax. You felt his heart, beating a staccato rhythm that matched the tempo of your own.

Kimi's chuckle rumbled in his chest, the vibrations sending delightful shivers down your spine. "Only in your heart, bella?" He leaned back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a playful smile dancing across his lips.

"Well," you replied, the words slipping out with the ease of a warm summer breeze, "you've certainly won my respect and admiration today."

Kimi's smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made you want to kiss them. "That's a start," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that seemed to stroke the very fabric of your being.

With a gentle nudge, he stepped back, allowing you to breathe. His eyes never left yours as he turned to his team, his voice a mix of gratitude and adrenaline.

The team responded with cheers and slaps on the back, their faces a kaleidoscope of nationalities and emotions, all bound together by the shared victory.

You watched as Kimi moved from one person to the next, his voice a crescendo of gratitude as he thanked each member of his team, his words a balm to their weary souls.

His touch was a gentle reassurance that they were all part of something greater than themselves, a symphony of precision and passion that had just played out on the track.

Each mechanic, engineer, and support staff member beamed under his praise, their eyes shining with the light of a thousand suns.

The garage was a maelstrom of activity around you, yet all you could focus on was the way Kimi's hands moved, the way his fingers danced as he spoke, the way his eyes crinkled with every genuine smile he offered.

The warmth of his skin was still imprinted on yours, and you felt a sudden, overwhelming need to touch him again. The bracelet on your wrist felt like a lifeline connecting you to him, a tangible symbol of the secret bond you shared. . . .

The next week arrived swiftly, bringing with it the Imola Grand Prix, a momentous occasion for him as it marked his first time racing on home soil. A wave of anticipation washed over him as he prepared for the event, fueled by the desire to perform well in front of his countrymen. He knew the pressure would be immense, but he was determined to channel that energy into a strong and memorable performance.

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum, a white noise Kimi barely registered. He was in the zone, a place where the world narrowed down to the vibration of the steering wheel in his hands, the precise pressure of his foot on the accelerator, and the dance between man and machine that defined his life.

He was in the lead. Again.

The words felt foreign, almost unbelievable. Kimi, leading a Grand Prix. It wasn't a common occurrence in his career, a fact that gnawed at him more than he let on. But today, the stars were aligning in a way that felt almost…surreal.

Max had crashed spectacularly with Hamilton, sending sparks and debris flying across the track. Lando was nursing some kind of brake issue, forced to bleed speed into every corner.

Oscar, usually a consistent threat, was struggling with pace, falling further and further behind. One by one, the obstacles had fallen away, leaving Kimi alone at the front.

“Mate, everything is going well, you can win this!” Bono’s voice crackled in his ear, a burst of static in the otherwise focused silence of the cockpit.

Kimi didn't respond. He didn't need the encouragement. He could feel it. The car was responding perfectly. The tires were holding. The gap was growing. He just wanted to finish the race. He just wanted to see you.

He pictured you, sitting nervously in the team garage, your fingers twisting a stray strand of hair around your finger. He knew how much this meant to you, how you'd believed in him even when he'd started to doubt himself.

Your unwavering faith was a constant source of strength, a gentle push in the back when he felt like the weight of the world was pressing down.

That first time you'd tried to learn Italian with Duolingo, you'd been adorably lost. The way your cheeks had flushed when you'd confidently pronounced 'ciao' as 'choa' had made him laugh until his sides hurt.

But it was the determination in your eyes as you'd looked at him for correction that had made him realize he had feelings for you. It was the spark of curiosity, the hunger to learn and grow that mirrored his own passion for racing.

You understood the pressure he was under, the relentless scrutiny, the constant demands of sponsors and team bosses.

You saw past the stoic facade to the man beneath, the man who loved to cook, who enjoyed long walks in the woods, who valued loyalty and honesty above all else.

And somewhere along the way, that understanding had blossomed into something more. A quiet, comfortable love that grounded him, that gave him a reason to keep pushing, even when the races were tough and the defeats were crushing.

Now, with the finish line in sight, that love was his driving force. He wanted to win this for you. To prove to you, and to himself, that he still had it in him. That he could still stand on that top step of the podium and feel the spray of champagne on his face.

Lap after lap, he maintained his lead, his focus unwavering. He ignored Bono’s constant updates, the times of the cars behind him, the changing wind conditions. It was all background noise. All that mattered was the track ahead, the next corner, the next braking point.

He pushed the car to its limits, knowing that a single mistake could cost him everything. He felt the tires begin to degrade, the car starting to slide slightly in the corners, but he held his nerve, adjusting his driving style to compensate.

He could see the checkered flag now, a blur of black and white in the distance. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white, and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

The roar of the engine filled his ears as he crossed the finish line, the crowd erupting in a frenzy of cheers. He had done it. He had won.

He slowed the car down, pulling into the designated area, his heart pounding in his chest. The relief was overwhelming, a wave of emotion that threatened to spill over.

He unbuckled his harness, his hands shaking slightly, and climbed out of the cockpit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, the frenzy began. His team rushed towards him, yelling, pushing against the fence that held them up.

They were a sea of color, a blur of faces and hands reaching for him. He could see the raw excitement in their eyes, the unbridled joy that came from victory.

Kimi took a deep breath, the sweet scent of burnt rubber and gasoline mingling with the cool air. He felt the heat of the car behind him, a testament to the fierce battle he'd just fought. The fence groaned under the pressure of his ecstatic team, their voices a cacophony of congratulations and relief.

"Kimi, Kimi!" They chanted his name like a war cry, their faces flushed and eyes gleaming with excitement. He couldn't help but smile, a rare occurrence on the podium, as he approached the barricade.

Through the chaos of the celebration, his eyes searched for you. Finally, they found you, standing apart from the rest, your face a portrait of shock and disbelief. He could see your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, your eyes wide and shining with unshed tears.

He broke free from the crush of his team, his legs feeling like lead but propelled by the magnetic pull of your presence.

You looked so beautiful, your hair disheveled from the wind, your cheeks flushed with excitement. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he approached you, the roar of the crowd a testament to his triumph.

His family, always his first priority, were right beside you. He saw his mother's eyes, filled with the kind of pride that could only come from a mother's love, and his father's firm nod, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done. Maggie, her face a mix of awe and admiration, ready to embrace him.

Kimi stepped through the barricade, the world around him fading into the background. His gaze remained locked on yours as he approached, his heart swelling with every step.

He threw his arms around his mother and father first, feeling the warm embrace of their love envelop him like a warm blanket. They had been there since the start, supporting him through every high and low, and their pride was palpable as they held him tight.

"You did it, son," his father whispered in his ear, his voice gruff with emotion.

Kimi pulled back, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked at his parents. The love and support reflected in their faces was the ultimate prize.

He hugged his mother tightly, her familiar scent of lavender and sunscreen bringing him comfort amidst the overwhelming chaos of the race. She kissed his cheek, her warmth seeping into his bones.

His father's embrace was firm, a silent nod of respect and understanding of the beast that was racing, and the battles that came with it.

Maggie was next, her arms wrapping around him with a fierceness that surprised him. Her perfume, a blend of vanilla and jasmine, filled his senses as she whispered congratulations into his ear.

The bond they shared was strong, unyielding, and had only grown stronger through the years. They had been through so much together, and her belief in him had never wavered.

He held her for a moment longer, feeling the tremble in her body as she fought back tears. The emotion of the moment was almost too much to handle, but he knew he had to keep it together. This was for them, for all the sacrifices they had made.

"Your girlfriend was cheering for you the whole time," Maggie muttered into his shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.

He whispered back to Maggie, "She's not my girlfriend yet," his voice low and filled with a hint of mischief.

Maggie pulled back, her eyes searching his, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Yet?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Kimi couldn't help but chuckle, the sound lost in the din of the celebration. He knew what she was implying, but now was not the time to explore that particular avenue of thought.

He had to find you, to share this moment with you, to show you that you were his inspiration, the reason he had pushed so hard.

He broke away from the embrace, his gaze finding yours once again. The distance between them closed in a heartbeat, the electricity of the moment crackling in the air like a live wire. You were frozen in place, your eyes wide and unblinking, as if you couldn't quite believe what was happening.

You looked at him, your eyes brimming with joy, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into his arms. Your body melded into his, fitting perfectly as if it had been made to be there.

His heart raced as he felt your softness pressed against him, the warmth of your embrace a stark contrast to the harshness of the race.

Kimi's hands slid down your back, feeling the curve of your hips and the gentle give of your body beneath your clothes. His fingers found purchase in the fabric of your shirt, his palms feeling the heat of your skin, the tension of your muscles as you held onto him.

You buried your face into his neck, inhaling deeply the scent of his sweat and victory, a heady mix that sent shivers down your spine.

"Thank you," he murmured into your hair, the vibration of his voice sending a thrill through your body. "Thank you for believing in me."

You pulled back, your eyes searching his, looking for any trace of doubt. But all you found was the unbridled passion of a man who had conquered his demons and emerged victorious. "You did it," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He took a deep breath. "May I… can I kiss…"

Before he could finish the question, before doubt could solidify in his mind, you leaned forward. Your lips met his, a soft, hesitant pressure at first, then deepening as he responded.

The rain seemed to fade, the fairy lights blurred, and suddenly, the world was just the two of them, a connection forged in a stolen moment.

The sensations in Kimi's stomach were a swirl of butterflies, a tornado of excitement and anticipation. It was a feeling he knew well from racing, but this was different.

This was a victory of the heart, a win that didn't come with a podium or a trophy, but with the sweet taste of your mouth and the feel of your breath mingling with his own.

Your lips were like a soft pillow, welcoming and familiar, yet charged with an electricity that sent currents through his body. He felt your breath hitch as you deepened the kiss, your hands tentatively moving to his shoulders, then sliding up his neck to tangle in his hair.

It was as if you were trying to hold onto him, afraid that if you didn't, he would vanish into the ether of the moment.

Unfortunately, you pulled back, your eyes searching his with a sudden shyness that was as endearing as it was surprising. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the color rise in your cheeks, the way your gaze darted from his mouth to his eyes and back again.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling a little out of breath, your heart racing from the intensity of the moment. "I shouldn't have—"

But Kimi silenced your protests with a gentle shake of his head. "No," he whispered, his voice a hoarse rumble against your ear. "You're exactly what I needed."

You hadn't meant to kiss him. It was an impulse, a reckless, beautiful mistake. Now, you just had to figure out what to do next.

"You should probably go to your interview," you murmured against his ear, your voice a soft caress as you tried to pull away. But his arms tightened around you, holding you in place.

Kimi's grip was firm but gentle, his hands warm and reassuring on your back as he held you close. "I know," he whispered, his breath hot on your skin. "But I don't want to let you go."

"I promised we'll speak," you said, the words slipping out before you had a chance to think.

"Okay," Kimi grumbled, his arms reluctantly releasing you. His eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Yes, we'll talk," you assured him, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside you. You stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure, the feel of his arms around you still lingering like a warm embrace.

Kimi nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, a promise in them that this was far from over.

He stepped back, allowing the press of his team to guide him towards the podium. The flash of cameras and the cacophony of voices grew louder as he approached, but all he could hear was the echo of your heartbeat in his ears.

The interview went by in a blur, questions about his strategy and the race's pivotal moments that felt almost trivial compared to the tumultuous symphony of emotions playing out between you and him.

Yet, he answered with the grace of a seasoned champion, his mind still reeling from your kiss.

Each word was a battle to focus, his eyes straying to the spot where he knew you were standing, holding onto Maggie for support.

The podium ceremony was a whirlwind, a flurry of flashing lights and applause. As the Italian national anthem played, Kimi felt a strange disconnect, his thoughts racing to the conversation you had promised.

He watched as the trophy was hoisted high, the gleaming silver a stark contrast to the vivid colors of the setting sun. The weight of it in his hands was a reminder of what he had achieved, but it was your eyes that he sought, your approval that he craved.

He looked down at the sea of faces, a blend of sponsors, team members, and fans. And there you were, nestled among them, holding onto Maggie like a lifeline.

She looked up at him, her smile proud and knowing, giving him a subtle nod of encouragement. You were a vision, your hair a wild mane in the breeze, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and your grip on Maggie's hand a silent declaration of your own victory.

The Italian fans had gone wild. The air was thick with the scent of their excitement, a potent mix of sweat, passion, and victory.

They yelled and screamed, waving flags and banners, their voices a symphony of pride and jubilation. They were his countrymen, and their roars of approval were music to his ears.

Kimi looked out into the stands, his heart swelling with emotion. The tifosi, the Italian fans, were a force unto themselves. They were notorious for their unyielding support of their own, and tonight, they were in full voice.

He could see the undulating sea of red, white, and green, a tapestry of love and national pride that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The podium was a cacophony of noise as the champagne bottles were popped, the sound echoing through the air like a string of mini explosions.

The golden liquid arced through the sky, catching the last rays of the setting sun and casting a shimmering shower of light that bathed the podium in an ethereal glow.

The moment the podium interviews ended, Kimi was whisked away to the cooldown room, his body still humming with the high of victory.

He could feel the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, leaving in its wake a tremor in his hands that he hadn't noticed before. His heart was still racing, but it wasn't just from the race anymore.

It was the kiss, the promise in your eyes, and the unspoken words that hung in the air like an unresolved chord in a symphony.

The cooldown room was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy outside, a sanctum of white and chrome that gleamed under the harsh lights.

The air was cooler here, a welcome respite from the heat of the podium. He sat down, the chair a strange embrace after the tight confines of his race seat, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the tumult of his emotions.

In the corner, Charles and George, who had secured second and third place, were already watching the race highlights, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation. They looked over at him as he entered, raising their bottles of water in silent salute.

The three of them sat down in front of the large screen, their eyes glued to the replay of the race that had just unfolded. They watched as Kimi's car sliced through the pack, a sleek and deadly predator hunting down its prey.

The commentators were gushing with praise for his driving, their voices rising and falling with the tension of the race.

Charles, his cheeks flushed with the exertion of his own battle for second place, leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Mate, that was incredible," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You had the car dancing today."

George nodded in agreement, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Couldn't agree more. That overtake on Turn 3 was sheer poetry," he added, referring to Kimi's daring move that had secured his victory.

"Thanks, guys," he said, his voice a little rough. "Couldn't have done it without the team."

He took a swig of water, the cool liquid sliding down his dry throat. His eyes never left the screen, watching the replay of his victory lap, the car snaking through the track like a serpent celebrating its triumph.

The media scrum was a beast he knew all too well. It waited outside the cooldown room, a sea of eager faces, microphones, and cameras ready to devour every morsel of his triumph.

They would ask about his strategy, his thoughts on the race, and the inevitable questions about his future in the sport. But all he could think about was you.

As he stepped into the fray, the questions bombarded him from all sides, a cacophony of voices that seemed to blur together into a single, insistent drone. He felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the designated spot.

The team's PR manager, a tall, elegant woman with a no-nonsense air, whispered a few words of encouragement in his ear. He nodded, a forced smile plastered on his face, as he faced the barrage of questions with the practiced ease of a man who had done this countless times before.

"Kimi," a journalist from the front row shouted, waving a microphone in the air. "What does this victory mean to you?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching the crowd for any sign of you. "It means everything," he said, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions still coursing through him. "But without my team behind me, it would have been impossible."

The questions kept coming, a relentless wave of inquiries about the race, the strategy, and his feelings on the podium. Yet, all he could think about was the taste of your lips, the way your body had felt against his, and the promise of what could be.

"Kimi, can you tell us about the final laps, when you knew you had it in the bag?" a journalist with a thick Italian accent called out, her voice eager to capture the drama of the moment.

He took a deep breath, the memory of the race still pulsing through his veins. "It was about the last ten laps when I knew I had a good shot at it," he replied, his eyes distant, lost in the replay of the moments that had led to his victory. "The car was perfect, and I just had to stay focused and keep pushing."

The questions kept coming, a relentless wave of words that he navigated with the skill of a linguist. Yet, his mind was elsewhere, replaying the sensation of your touch, the way your body had leaned into his during that spontaneous kiss.

It was like a secret shared only by the two of you amidst the chaos, a silent promise that echoed through his soul.

When Kimi was finally able to escape the media and the swarm of reporters, the first place he went was the family waiting area.

He walked down the corridor, the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline fading into the background as he approached.

His heart raced not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the anticipation of seeing you. His steps were quick, almost a jog, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of you.

The family waiting area was a stark contrast to the chaotic garage. It was a serene oasis of white leather couches and chrome accents, designed to give drivers and their loved ones a moment of peace before and after the race. The doors slid open, revealing a space bustling with energy, filled with his family.

But you weren't there.

The realization hit him like a blow to the gut. His eyes searched the room, desperate for a glimpse of your familiar form, the way you'd stand with your hands clasped tightly in front of you when you were nervous.

His heart sank as he saw only unfamiliar faces, a sea of congratulations that washed over him without touching the core of his being.

"Kimi!" His mother's voice broke through the haze, her arms open wide, her eyes shining with joy. He forced himself to move, to hug her, to accept the praise and love of his family, but his thoughts remained focused on you, the woman who had become the very air he breathed.

"Where's y/n?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, the question slipping out before he could catch it. His father's proud smile faltered for a moment, his gaze shifting to Maggie, who looked equally puzzled.

Maggie, ever the diplomat, stepped in, her eyes flicking towards the exit. "She said she had to go to the bathroom," she replied, her voice carefully neutral. Kimi's heart sank. Had he read the situation wrong? Was she upset? Or was she just overwhelmed?

He excused himself, the warm embrace of his family's congratulations feeling like a cocoon of well wishes that he was desperate to break free from.

His eyes searched the corridor, looking for any sign of your retreating form. The sound of his heart was the only thing he could hear above the din of the celebration, a thunderous rhythm that matched his steps as he moved away from the safety of the waiting area.

The hallways of the paddock were a blur, the faces of team members and officials passing by in a whirl of congratulations and handshakes.

He nodded and smiled, his mind racing, trying to piece together where you could have gone. The bathroom? Too obvious. To the garage to watch the podium from a distance? Perhaps.

But something in his gut told him you needed space, needed time to process the intensity of what had just happened between them.

He found it hard to believe that he had actually won. The victory felt surreal, as if it were a dream that could shatter at any moment. Yet, the kiss you had shared was very real.

The way your lips had moved against his, the gentle pressure of your hand on his neck, the softness of your skin under his touch—it was burned into his memory like the tire marks on the asphalt of Monza.

Kimi made his way through the garage, the sound of his boots echoing through the vast space. The team was busy dismantling cars and discussing strategy, but he barely noticed them.

His eyes scanned the area, looking for a flash of your hair, a glimpse of your smile. His heart thudded in his chest with each step, the anticipation growing with every passing moment.

Finally, he reached his driver's room. The door was slightly ajar, the dim light spilling into the corridor like an invitation. He pushed it open gently, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that greeted him.

There you were, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. The softness of your features, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the peacefulness of your slumber—it was like a painting, a moment captured in time that he never wanted to forget.

You looked so vulnerable, so beautiful. The weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and in your sleep, you were free from the worries of the day. Kimi's heart swelled with an emotion he couldn't quite name.

He stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving your peaceful form. The scent of leather and oil was a familiar comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of the podium. The air was cooler here, a gentle whisper that carried the faint scent of your perfume, a sweet and subtle floral note that made his stomach flutter.

As he approached, the shadows played across your face, highlighting the dark circles under your eyes.

He knew you hadn't slept well the night before, plagued by worries about your mother's reaction to your Italian lessons.

The quiet click of the door closing behind him was the only sound in the room. He approached you slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber.

As he got closer, he could see the worry etched into your features, the tension in your forehead, the tightness of your mouth.

He reached out, his hand hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of your body radiating through your shirt. He could feel the pulse of your heart beating in time with his own, a silent rhythm that connected them in a way that was more profound than any podium finish.

He brushed a lock of hair from your cheek, the softness of your skin sending a shiver down his spine.

Kimi took a deep breath, his senses filling with the sweet scent of your perfume. He knew he should leave you be, that you needed your rest, but the pull was too strong. He had to be near you, to feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

He sat down on the edge of the sofa, his body aching from the race, the adrenaline that had fueled him now dissipating into a gentle hum of contentment. He watched you sleep, his mind racing with thoughts of the future, of what could be.

The gentle thrum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the room, a white noise that seemed to echo the rhythm of his thoughts. He knew he should be celebrating, reveling in the victory, but all he wanted was to hold you, to feel your heart beat against his chest.

With a silent sigh, he slid onto the couch, his body moving with a grace that belied his exhaustion. He eased himself down, the leather cool against his skin, the cushions molding to his frame as if they had been waiting for him all along. His eyes never left you, the curve of your body a siren's call that beckoned him closer.

The couch was big enough for the two of you, a silent invitation to share in this moment of triumph. He reached out, his hand brushing against the warmth of your shoulder.

The fabric of your shirt was soft under his touch, the heat of your skin seeping through, a silent promise of the warmth you offered.

Slowly, so as not to wake you, he slid closer, his body aligning with yours, his legs stretching out alongside yours. He leaned in, the scent of your hair filling his senses, a sweet, vanilla scent that was as intoxicating as the smell of victory.

The couch was a sanctuary, a place where the outside world couldn't reach them. He could feel the tension in your body, even in sleep, the weight of the world still pressing down on your shoulders.

His own muscles ached, a symphony of pain that was a reminder of the battle he had just fought and won.

He slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, the heat of your body a balm to his soul. He could feel your breath against his neck, the soft exhale a comforting lullaby that soothed the beast inside him. His eyes closed, and for the first time that day, Kimi allowed himself to relax, to let the tension bleed out of him.

He didn't know what would happen when you woke up, but for now, he was content to simply exist in this moment, the two of you entwined, the world outside forgotten. . . .

Your senses were a jumbled symphony as you gradually surfaced from the velvety depths of sleep. The scent of burnt rubber and the faint aroma of victory champagne lingered in the air, intertwined with the rich, earthy musk that was unmistakably Kimi.

His arms were a warm, comforting vice around you, his breathing steady and deep, as if he were lost in the most peaceful of dreams. You didn't dare move, fearing the spell might be broken, the reality of his embrace evaporating like mist under the glare of the morning sun.

Kimi's features were relaxed in slumber, the tension of the race and the weight of his historic victory seemingly forgotten as he lay beside you.

His dark lashes brushed against his flushed cheeks with every exhale, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest made your own heart stutter with an unfamiliar rhythm.

The soft light filtering through the hotel curtains cast a warm glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of perspiration that still clung to him from the night's triumph and celebration. You studied the contours of his face, the way his full lips parted slightly, the stubble on his jaw that was just the right amount of rough.

His hair, usually meticulously styled, was a wild tangle of brown locks, sticking to his forehead in the most endearing way. The sight of him, so unguarded and vulnerable, made you feel an unyielding wave of tenderness and desire.

Your fingers itched to trace the line of his jaw, to feel the coarse stubble under your fingertips, but you held back, not wanting to disturb him.

The last time you had seen him, your mouth had been on his, tasting the sweetness of victory and the salt of his skin. Now, in the quiet aftermath of passion and glory, you felt a strange mix of emotions—elation at his success, awe at the depth of your connection, and a hint of fear that this moment might never come again.

But for now, you were content to simply be there, in the sanctuary of his arms, with the promise of the dawn just outside the window and the warmth of his love enveloping you like a blanket.

As the room slowly brightened, the whispers of daybreak painted shadows across Kimi's features, revealing the stark beauty of his profile.

His chest, a landscape of sculpted muscles and scars from past battles on the track, rose and fell with each breath, a silent symphony of life and vitality. The room was filled with a gentle hum of contentment, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as his fingers flexed against your bare shoulder.

You hadn't been sleeping well for days, the excitement and nervousness of speaking to your mother in her native language in a few days. So, when he had been called away for his media duties, you had seen it as an opportunity to grab some much-needed rest.

As you stirred to consciousness, the unmistakable weight of his presence beside you sent a jolt of surprise through your body. You had not expected to find Kimi here, not after he had left earlier to face the barrage of questions and flashing lights.

Yet, here he was, his hand resting protectively on your waist, his leg thrown over yours in a possessive tangle that spoke of deep trust and comfort.

The heat from his body seeped into you, warming you from within, as your senses slowly sharpened to the world outside the cocoon of Kimi's drivers room.

Kimi then moved, his hand sliding down to the small of your back, his touch featherlight and electric. You held your breath, your heart hammering in anticipation, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing unchanged. His fingertips traced the curve of your hip, sending a shiver down your spine, as if he was unconsciously mapping the territory of your body.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Kimi's eyes began to open. The thick lashes lifted, revealing the warm whiskey hue of his irises. 

For a moment, there was a dazzling clarity to his gaze, as if he were seeing you for the very first time. The room, the race, the victory—it all melted away as he took you in.

As he blinked away the last remnants of sleep, a lazy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he whispered, "Good morning," his voice a smoky rumble that resonated through your core.

"I think it's the evening, Kimi," you joked quietly, a playful twinkle in your eye as you glanced at the clock, the digits blinking an indecipherable message.

Kimi's eyes snapped open, the smile on his lips deepening as he took in the sight of you. "Ah, evening," he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement.

"Were you looking for me before?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that seemed to resonate in the quiet air.

Kimi's smile grew more pronounced, his eyes finally focusing on you with a warmth that seemed to set your very soul alight. He took a moment to process your question, the gears of his thoughts whirring behind those mesmerizing eyes.

"Before what?" he responded, his voice still thick with the residue of sleep.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his groggy state, the sound a soft, musical note that danced in the air around you. "Before you came back to the room," you clarified, the memory of his earlier departure still lingering.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a flicker of understanding crossing his features as he pieced together the timeline of the night. "Ah," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your very bones.

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, the stubble of his cheek a delightful abrasion that sent a shiver down your spine. "I was," he admitted, his breath warm against your lips. "Couldn't stay away from you. You're like a gravitational pull, always drawing me back."

His words were simple, devoid of grand pronouncements or poetic metaphors, but their sincerity resonated deeply within you. Kimi wasn't one for empty words. When he said something, he meant it with every fiber of his being.

His eyes wandered onto your teal dress. "Did I ever say you look beautiful in this dress?" he asked, his gaze lingering on the way the fabric flowed around your curves.

You felt your cheeks warm at the memory of when he had first seen you in it. "You might have mentioned it," you replied with a coy smile, your heart skipping a beat.

Kimi's hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the skin just beneath your eye. "You always do," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that sent a delicious thrill down your spine.

The room was suffused with a warm glow, the light from the setting sun casting a soft halo around his head. The shadows grew longer, stretching across the rumpled couch, highlighting the contours of his bodysuit, the strong lines of his shoulders and chest. His eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths.

"Does your family know that we're here?" you asked, your voice a whisper in the cocoon of quiet that surrounded you.

"Ah, i was looking for you so much that i forget to tell them i found you," Kimi replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Your heart fluttered at his admission, his Italian accent wrapping around the words like a caress. You felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the champagne and everything to do with the way he looked at you—like you were the prize he had been chasing all along, and not just the victory trophy.

"It's like 10pm now," you muttered, the reality of time slipping through your fingers like sand. The race had ended hours ago, yet it felt like mere moments since you had been lost in the whirlwind of his victory.

"Mamma mia," Kimi groaned, his hand still resting on your hip as he sat up with a stretch, his muscles rippling under the tight confines of his bodysuit.

You mirrored his movement, your own body protesting after hours of inactivity. You looked outside the window and realized the world had moved on without you, the inky blackness of night having descended outside. The only illumination came from the distant city lights that twinkled like stars scattered across the velvet sky.

"We've been asleep for hours," you murmured in disbelief, your voice a soft caress that seemed to float in the air.

Kimi's gaze never left yours as he nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile that was as warm as the afternoon sun in Sicily. "You needed it," he said, his thumb making lazy circles on your skin. "You've been so tense lately."

You couldn't deny it. The upcoming conversation with your mother had been weighing on your mind like a lead balloon. But here, in Kimi's arms, it all felt so far away, as if the world had stopped turning just for a brief moment to allow you this stolen slice of happiness.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice a soft sigh that seemed to melt into the air. "For everything."

Kimi's eyes searched yours, his thumb continuing its gentle dance on your skin. "What for?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand spreading through your body like wildfire. "For helping me learn Italian," you said, your voice a soft crescendo of emotion. "And for giving me back my confidence."

Kimi's smile grew more earnest, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He leaned in closer, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "It was nothing," he murmured. "Your beauty and strength are all your own. I just helped you remember them."

His hand slipped away from your cheek, reaching for yours. But as you went to take it, you paused. "Flattery won't get you anywhere Antonelli," you said, your voice playful but firm as you picked up your bag, the warmth of his hand a sudden absence that sent a shiver down your spine.

Kimi's smile didn't falter, his eyes still holding yours as he leaned back against the couch cushions. "But it's not flattery," he protested, his accent thick and tantalizing. "It's the truth. You're like a fine wine, only getting better with time."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the room as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Smooth, but still not going to work," you teased, taking a step away from the comfort of his touch. The coolness of the air was a stark contrast to the heat he emanated, and you felt the sudden urge to return to his embrace.

Kimi watched you with a knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he sat up, stretching his long limbs like a cat rousing from a nap. "Ah, but you know I mean it," he said, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of your bones.

"Come on, don't you have a family to find?" you asked, trying to lighten the mood, a playful lilt in your voice.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a spark of mischief lighting up the whiskey hue. "Eh, they probably went home," he replied with a nonchalant shrug, the fabric of his bodysuit stretching with the movement. "They know I like to sleep after the race."

You couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head at his incorrigible charm. "They're going to be worried about you," you pointed out, the playfulness in your tone belying the concern you felt for him.

Kimi's gaze never left yours as he slowly rose to his feet, the fabric of his bodysuit clinging to his form like a second skin. "They know I'm in good hands," he said, the words a gentle caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You think you can get what you want after winning one race?" you replied, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

"I'd hope so," Kimi grinned, his teeth flashing white against the darkened room. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he took a step closer, closing the distance between you.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls, as you grabbed his hands and pulled him up. His muscles, still warm from the race, bunched under your fingers as he stood, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the floor.

"Come on," you said, your voice a teasing purr that seemed to dance around the room. "Let's get your delusional ass back home."

Kimi's laughter rumbled in his chest, a rich, full sound that made your heart swell with affection. He allowed you to pull him to his feet, his fingers tightening around yours briefly before releasing. You felt the loss of his touch like a gust of cold wind, but the warmth of his smile was more than enough to keep you from shivering.

"Let me go get changed and then we can go," he said, his voice a smoky promise that had your heart racing. You watched as he disappeared into the en suite bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound of running water and the rustle of clothing filled the silence, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was doing in there. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

The ring of his phone pierced through the quiet, and you reached over to grab it from the nightstand, your heart skipping a beat when you saw it was his mom. "Kimi, your mom is calling," you called out, your voice echoing through the steamy bathroom.

Kimi's muffled response came through the shower curtain. "Can you answer it?" The urgency in his tone was palpable, his voice tinged with a hint of nerves that was foreign to the usually unflappable racer.

You picked up the phone, feeling the weight of his trust in your hand. The screen glowed with his mother's name, the very woman whose language you had been so meticulously preparing to conquer. The call to action was a stark reminder of the real world waiting outside the sanctuary of his arms.

"Ciao, Signora Antonelli," you greeted, your voice a soft melody that carried through the phone's speaker. The Italian words felt strange and yet oddly familiar, as if they had been coaxed from a dormant part of your soul.

Kimi's mother's voice was a flurry of warmth and concern. "Ah! Y/n! Non mi ero accorto che eri ancora con mio figlio," she exclaimed, a blend of surprise.

"Sorry," you murmured into the phone, your cheeks flushing. "Mi sono addormentato nella sua cabina di guida, non volevo trattenerlo. Ora sta facendo la doccia e sta tornando a casa."

Kimi's mother's laugh was warm and comforting, the sound wrapping around you like a blanket. "Non preoccuparti," she said, her words a soothing balm to your nerves. "Sono contenta che tu abbia riposato un po'. Kimi ha detto che sembri stanco in questi giorni."

You couldn't help but smile at her maternal concern, feeling a sudden kinship with her. "Lo ero," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could censor them. "Ma adesso mi sento meglio."

Her response was a delightful tapestry of Italian that you only partially understood, but the love in her tone was universal. "Ma lasciami indovinare, anche lui si è addormentato?" she asked, her voice a warm caress over the phone line.

The question hung in the air, a gentle tease wrapped in the velvet of her words. "Sí, siamo tutti e due un po' stanchi," you replied, hoping the truth wasn't too evident in your voice.

Kimi's mother's laughter spilled over the line, a rich, warm sound that made you feel as if she were in the room with you, sharing the moment. "Ah, che bello," she said, her voice a soothing balm to the nerves you hadn't realized you had. "Ma Kimi è sempre in movimento. Non so come fa a rimanere sveglio."

You chuckled, the sound a little too loud in the quiet room. "Lui ha una forza incredibile," you agreed, the words slipping from your tongue with surprising ease. It felt natural, speaking Italian to this woman who had given birth to the man you had come to love.

"Comunque, per favore, di' a Kimi di tornare subito a casa." she said, the warmth in her voice now tinged with urgency. "Dobbiamo ancora fare una festa in famiglia."

"Va bene signora Antonelli," you said, a smile playing on your lips.

The call ended with her final laugh, and you set the phone down, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. You had managed to have a conversation with Kimi's mother without any major linguistic mishaps.

The bathroom door opened with a soft click, and a cloud of steam billowed out, carrying with it the scent of Kimi's spicy aftershave.

He emerged from the mist like a Greek god, his skin glistening with moisture, his hair slicked back from his face, showcasing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. The black tee clung to his still-damp torso like a second skin, tracing the contours of his chiseled abs and broad shoulders, while the dark trousers hugged the muscular curves of his legs.

Kimi looked like a man who had just conquered the world—and in a way, he had. The victory earlier in the day was etched in every line of his body, in the proud tilt of his chin, the way his eyes shone with an inner light that could outshine the neon of the Vegas strip outside.

He padded barefoot across the plush carpet, droplets of water clinging to his skin, shimmering like diamonds in the dim light of the hotel suite. The way the fabric of his black tee hugged his form was a delicious sight, revealing the play of muscles across his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. His dark trousers hung low on his hips, hinting at the V of his pelvis.

You watched him, unable to tear your eyes away, as he approached you, his movements liquid and predatory. The warmth of the shower had brought a flush to his cheeks, and his eyes, those whiskey-colored pools of passion, were fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart stumble in your chest.

"What did my mom say?" he asked, his voice a low, velvety rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air around you.

You took a deep breath, savoring the scent of his aftershave, a heady mix of spice and musk that was uniquely Kimi. "She said she's happy I've been helping you rest, but you should get back for your family celebration."

His gaze held yours, the warmth of his smile reaching out to you like a gentle caress. "And how was your conversation with her?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones.

You felt a sudden rush of emotion, the weight of his question more profound than you had anticipated. "It was... good," you replied, the words a whispered confession. "It felt good to talk to her in Italian."

Kimi's smile grew broader, his eyes lighting up with a proud spark. "You sounded amazing," he said, the sincerity in his voice making your cheeks flush with heat.

"Thank you, we should get going," you said, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Kimi nodded, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Grazie," he murmured, his voice a warm caress that sent a thrill down your spine. "You've been working so hard."

You looked up at Kimi, his damp hair still hanging in his eyes, and felt a surge of affection so intense it almost brought tears to your eyes. "Thanks to my teacher," you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

The engineers and staff that had been working tirelessly around the car looked up as Kimi's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

"Thank you, all of you," he called out, his Italian accent thick and warm as he clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the vast, empty space of the garage. "Couldn't have done it without you."

The remaining engineers and staff looked up from their tasks, a mix of weariness and pride etched on their faces as they returned his smile. They had been Kimi's rock through the season, the unsung heroes behind the scenes who had made his victory possible.

"Ciao ragazzi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of the exhaustion that lurked just beneath the surface. Despite the fatigue, his eyes held a fiery determination, a promise that the celebration of this win would be one to remember.

With a nod to the remaining crew, Kimi led the way out of the garage and into the parking lot, his hand sliding into yours with a familiar ease that sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. The cool evening air was a stark contrast to the warmth of the garage, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

The parking lot was a maze of shadows and reflections, the only light coming from the flickering streetlamps and the distant glow of the city beyond. Kimi's car sat in the corner, a beacon of luxury in the sea of concrete and metal.

The coolness of the night was a stark contrast to the warmth of Kimi's hand in yours as you approached the sleek, black sports car. His grip was firm, his thumb tracing circles on your skin in a gesture that was both reassuring and electrifying.

Kimi opened the passenger door with a flourish, his eyes never leaving yours. The motion was so smooth, so practiced, it was like watching a ballet dancer perform a perfect pirouette. You slid into the seat with a sigh, the leather cool against your bare legs. The scent of the car's interior was a heady mix of leather and his cologne, a scent that had come to symbolize safety and desire.

He moved around the car with the same grace, his movements fluid and economical, every gesture a silent symphony of intent. The door shut with a soft thunk, sealing you both inside. The engine roared to life with a purr that seemed to resonate through your very soul, the vibration a delicious promise of the power that lay just beneath your fingertips.

Kimi's hand slid from yours to the gear stick, his fingers wrapping around it with a confidence that made your stomach flip. He shifted into gear and the car surged forward, the tires biting into the asphalt as he navigated the winding path out of the circuit.

You watched his profile, the sharp lines of his jaw and the firm set of his mouth, the way his eyes never left the road. It was a stark contrast to the tender way he had held you in his arms just moments ago, the gentle caress of his thumb on your skin.

"Are you free tomorrow?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the car's engine.

The question hung in the air, thick with implication, like the scent of his cologne that lingered in the enclosed space. You turned to look at him, his eyes focused on the road ahead, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the stubble of his jaw.

"Tomorrow?" you repeated, the word echoing in the quiet. It was a simple question, but the anticipation in his voice was palpable, a silent promise of something more than just a casual get-together.

"Yes," he said, his gaze never leaving the road ahead, but his hand tightening on the gear stick, a subtle hint of his excitement.

You felt the weight of his answer in the air, a silent promise that hung between you like a ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. "What did you have in mind?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that seemed to dance around the edges of the car's cabin.

Kimi's smile grew more pronounced, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief as he finally turned to look at you, his gaze lingering on your face. "I want to show you something," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of the car. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?" You couldn't help but echo his words, your heart racing with excitement. Kimi's surprises were always... unexpected.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, his eyes flicking back to the road as he expertly maneuvered the car through the quiet streets. His smile grew, the kind that made your stomach flip-flop and your skin tingle with anticipation. "I think you'll like it."

Your heart raced at the thought of what could be in store for tomorrow. The way his eyes lit up, the excitement in his voice, it was infectious. "Kimi, you know I trust you," you murmured, leaning back into the seat, your eyes never leaving his profile.

He glanced over at you, his smile widening. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very core. "Because it's going to be something special."

The ride to your house was indeed quick, a blur of neon lights and darkened streets that seemed to fly by as Kimi's car ate up the asphalt beneath it. His driving was masterful, his hands firm on the wheel, his eyes never straying from the road ahead.

The leather seats hugged your body, the scent of his cologne mingling with the new car smell, creating a heady cocktail that intoxicated you further. You watched his profile, the way the passing streetlights played across the sharp planes of his face, casting him in an ever-changing palette of shadows and light. His jaw was set, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he navigated the maze of Italian streets.

The engine purred beneath you, a living entity that responded to his every touch. You could feel the power of the car, the beast that had carried him to victory, now carrying you both away from the chaos of the day's events. The tension in the air was palpable, a potent mix of exhaustion and desire that seemed to thicken with every passing mile.

As Kimi pulled up to the curb in front of your house, the car's headlights painted a warm, golden path across the cobblestone street, briefly illuminating the ivy that crawled up the ancient brick walls. The windows glowed with a soft light, casting a warm, welcoming beacon into the night.

Your heart fluttered as you realized the significance of the moment. This wasn't just a casual drop-off. This was Kimi bringing you home after the most incredible day of your life—his historic victory and the sweet promise of tomorrow's surprise.

The car's engine purred to a stop, the sudden silence echoing in the narrow Italian street. Kimi's hand slid from the gear stick to yours, his warmth seeping into your skin like a healing balm.

"Kimi," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips as you turned to face him. "Thank you."

With a gentle nod, Kimi opened the car door for you, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the warmth of the interior. He stepped out and came around to your side, his movements a silent poetry of masculine grace. The way he held the door open, his hand lingering on the frame, was a silent declaration of chivalry in a world that often forgot such things.

As you slid out of the car, the leather whispered against your skin, leaving an imprint of comfort that lingered like a ghostly embrace. Kimi's hand found the small of your back, guiding you up the cobblestone path to the heavy wooden door of your house. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into your very bones, chasing away the last vestiges of the evening's chill.

He waited patiently as you fumbled with your keys, the tension between you growing as palpable as the scent of his victory still clinging to his skin.

Once the door swung open, you turned around to face him, his eyes burning into yours with a fierce intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his gaze seemed to melt the last of your resistance, leaving you feeling as vulnerable as a butterfly pinned to a board.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Kimi," you murmured, your voice a soft caress in the velvety silence of the night. The words hung in the air, a promise of more to come, a sweet agony that made your pulse race.

With a gentle tug, you drew him closer, your hand sliding up to cradle the strong line of his neck. His eyes searched yours, the whiskey warmth deepening as he leaned in, the anticipation a palpable force that seemed to electrify the very air between you.

Your pulse hammered in your ears as your lips met, the kiss a soft, lingering caress that spoke of unspoken truths and unbridled desire. The scent of his skin, a potent blend of sweat and victory, filled your senses, making you dizzy with longing.

Kimi's hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, the heat of his body a warm embrace that seemed to chase away the last remnants of doubt and fear.

You melted into him, your body fitting against his as if it were made to do so, his muscular chest a wall of protection and desire that made your knees weak.

With a gentle nudge, you managed to pull away, smiling up at him through eyes glazed with desire. "I'll see you tomorrow," you whispered again, your voice a siren's call that seemed to echo in the night.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, his smile mirroring yours as he stepped back, allowing you the space to breathe. "I'll be counting the minutes," he murmured, his voice a warm caress that seemed to follow you as you stepped into the house.

The door closed behind you with a soft click, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night like a final note in a symphony. You leaned against the cool wood, your heart racing, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The remnants of yesterday still clung to you like the scent of champagne and burning rubber. Sleep had been a fleeting visitor, chased away by the racing thoughts that consumed you. Kimi's win, the roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, the taste of his lips…twice. It was all a dizzying, exhilarating blur. He had finally done it. He was on top of the podium, victorious. And you were there, right beside him. And then, the surprise. He hadn’t given you any details, just a mischievous glint in his eyes and a promise that you wouldn't be disappointed.

Four o'clock. He’d texted you the time with typical Kimi brevity. It was perfect, really. 2 PM felt like an eternity away, but it gave you ample time to prepare. You wanted to look…effortless, but also breathtaking. It was a ridiculous paradox, but you were determined to achieve it.

The shower was long and luxurious, the hot water washing away the last vestiges of sleep. You shaved your legs with extra care, smoothing on a fragrant body lotion afterwards. In the mirror, you saw a reflection that seemed brighter, more vibrant than usual. You were alive, truly alive, and it was all because of him.

Makeup came next. You opted for a natural look, a soft blush, a touch of mascara, and a hint of gloss on your lips, the same lips that Kimi had kissed, twice. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the memory.

Your hair was a bit more challenging. You finally decided on loose waves, pinning a few strands back to keep them out of your face. You felt a pang of insecurity as you stared at your reflection. Were you good enough for him? He was a world-class athlete, a champion, a veritable ice man to the world. What did he see in you?

You pushed the doubts away. He had kissed you, hadn't he? He had invited you to share in his victory. He wanted you, and that was all that mattered right now.

The dress you chose was a simple, elegant affair. Knee-length, in a shade of soft blue that complemented your eyes. It was comfortable, yet flattering, and you knew Kimi would appreciate its understated charm. You paired it with delicate silver sandals and a small clutch.

And then, the waiting began.

You paced the apartment, a whirlwind of nervous energy. You checked your watch every few minutes, the hands seeming to move with agonizing slowness. You tried to distract yourself by reading, but the words swam before your eyes. You tried listening to music, but every song seemed to be about love, loss, and longing, only amplifying your anxiety.

What could the surprise be? A romantic dinner? A weekend getaway? Could it be… something more? The thought sent a jolt of panic through you. Were you ready for something serious? You hadn't known Kimi for very long, but the connection between you felt undeniable, powerful.

You replayed the events of yesterday in your mind. The way he had looked when he crossed the finish line, the pure, unadulterated joy on his face. The way he had held you close during the celebrations, his hand warm against your back. The way he had looked at you, his eyes filled with…what? Affection? Desire? Something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher.

You remembered the kisses. The first, spontaneous and charged with adrenaline, a celebration of his victory. The second, softer, more tender, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that were blossoming between you.

You were lost in these thoughts when a knock echoed through the apartment. Your heart leaped into your throat. This was it. You grabbed your bag, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door. Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the handle. You opened the door, and there he was.

Kimi Antonelli, standing on your doorstep, looking impossibly handsome. He was wearing a suit, a dark, impeccably tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean physique. But it was the absence of a tie that struck you. It was a subtle detail, but it somehow made him seem more approachable, more… vulnerable.

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his face. "You ready?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. He held out his hand, and you took it, your fingers interlacing with his. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, instantly calming your nerves.

"Where are we going?" you managed to ask, as he led you down the hallway.

"It's a surprise," he repeated, his eyes twinkling. "But I promise, you'll like it."

You didn't press him further. You were content to be in his presence, to feel the warmth of his hand in yours. You followed him out of the building and into a waiting car.

The drive was a blur. You were too busy stealing glances at Kimi, admiring the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his jaw was set with determination. He seemed focused, almost…nervous? It was an unfamiliar expression on his face, and it intrigued you.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you leaned back in your seat and began to ask questions. "Where are we going, Kimi?" you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at you with a mischievous smile before returning his gaze to the road. "You'll see," he teased, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

The car's engine hummed soothingly, lulling you into a gentle doze. The city streets had given way to the open road, and the scenery outside the window was a blur of green and brown. You felt your eyelids growing heavy, and despite the excitement bubbling within you, the lack of sleep from the previous night began to take its toll.

Kimi noticed your struggle and reached over, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. "You okay?" he asked, his thumb rubbing small, comforting circles.

You startled awake. "I'm fine," you lied, hoping he hadn't noticed the dark circles under your eyes. The truth was, you hadn't slept well last night, your mind racing with thoughts of him. The gentle sway of the car and the warmth of the afternoon sun had conspired to lull you into a state of drowsiness.

Kimi's hand remained on your thigh, his touch a comforting constant. You felt the heat of his palm through the fabric of your dress and the steady rhythm of his thumb against your skin. It was a small gesture, but it filled you with a warmth that spread through your body, dispelling the lingering fatigue. You leaned into it, savoring the sensation.

As the drive continued, the gentle thrumming of the engine became a lullaby, and despite your best efforts, your eyes grew heavy. The scenery outside the tinted windows blurred into a mosaic of light and shadow. You blinked, fighting off the seductive pull of sleep, but the quiet, rhythmic journey was too much to resist.

Kimi's hand remained on your thigh, his thumb continuing its hypnotic dance. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, creating a soothing contrast to the coolness of the car's air conditioning. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, until you couldn't hold them open any longer. You leaned your head against the headrest, allowing sleep to claim you.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you were jolted awake by the car coming to a stop. You blinked rapidly, the world coming into focus once again.

You looked around, and for a moment, you thought you had slipped into a dream. The scenery outside the window didn't look like the bustling city streets of Imola you were used to. It didn't even look like the countryside surrounding the Imola racetrack, where Kimi had claimed victory just yesterday. It looked like… Verona.

The cobblestone streets, the ancient buildings bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread. It was like stepping into a memory, a painting come to life.

You turned to Kimi in shock, your hand flying to your mouth. "Verona?" you whispered, the word barely audible.

He nodded, his smile growing wider. "Surprise," he murmured, his eyes alight with mischief. "I thought it was time for a change of scenery. Something… romantic."

The word hung in the air, heavy with implication, and your heart skipped a beat. Was he really taking you on a romantic getaway? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You had never been the type to indulge in fairy tales, but with Kimi, everything felt possible.

He opened the car door for you, and as you stepped out, the cobblestones beneath your feet felt alive with the history of the city. The warmth of the setting sun kissed your skin, and the air was alive with the sounds of a place untouched by the modern world. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the intoxicating blend of antiquity and passion that seemed to pulse through the very air of Verona.

With a gentle tug, Kimi led you down an ancient path, his hand firm yet reassuring in yours. "Trust me," he said, his voice a soft whisper that seemed to resonate within you. He reached into his pocket and produced a velvet blindfold. "You have to wear this. You don't get to spoil the surprise," he grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

What could he possibly have planned? The soft velvet of the blindfold brushed against your cheeks as he secured it around your eyes, plunging you into a world of darkness. Your other senses heightened, you felt the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper, "Are you ready?"

You nodded, your pulse quickening. The anticipation was exquisite, a thrill you hadn't felt since that first kiss on the podium. He guided you through the unfamiliar streets of Verona, the cobblestones cool against the soles of your sandals.

With each step, your hand tightened in his. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the unspoken promise of something extraordinary waiting just around the corner. The sounds of the city grew distant, replaced by the steady thump of your own heart and the comforting echo of your footsteps in tandem with his.

You walked for a while before you stopped, the sudden cessation of movement surprising you. The air grew thick with anticipation as he gently tugged at the blindfold. You felt the warmth of his breath on your neck as he whispered, "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Slowly, you lifted the velvet shroud, blinking as the light flooded back in. Your eyes widened as they adjusted to the scene before you. You were standing in a courtyard, surrounded by lush greenery and the sweet scent of blooming roses.

Directly in front of you was a large, ornate sign, painted in a whimsical script that read, "Vuoi essere la mia ragazza?" You felt your cheeks flush at the translation: "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Kimi's nervous smile grew even more pronounced as he watched your reaction, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. The courtyard was lit with soft, twinkling lights strung from the branches of the trees overhead, casting a magical glow over the entire scene.

You took in the sight before you, the beauty of the moment sinking in. "Ever since I saw you trying so hard to study Italian," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I knew I had to help you, but I didn't know that I would fall in love with you that quickly." His words were like a caress, gentle yet firm, leaving no room for doubt or misunderstanding.

A warmth spread through your chest, filling you with a feeling of belonging that was both exhilarating and terrifying. You had studied Italian for so long, driven by an unexplainable fascination with the culture, the language, and the passion that seemed to pulse through every word. And now, here you were, standing in the heart of Verona, with the man who had unwittingly become the embodiment of that passion for you.

Kimi stepped closer, his hand still holding yours firmly. You could feel the calluses from his years of racing, a stark contrast to the velvety softness of your own skin. "I've watched you struggle with the pronunciation, the grammar," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I couldn't help but be drawn to your determination, your spirit."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. "But why me?" you asked, your voice barely audible. You felt like you were floating, suspended between reality and a dream.

"Your dedication, your passion," Kimi murmured, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. "It's inspiring. And the way you light up when you get something right… it's like watching the sun rise over the racetrack." His grip tightened, his eyes searching yours.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. The way he talked about your Italian studies was as if he were recounting the plot of a romance novel, and you were the heroine whose perseverance had captured the heart of the stoic protagonist. It was a feeling so foreign, so intoxicating, that you could hardly believe it was real.

"Yes," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly. The word felt like a declaration, a confession, a surrender to the whirlwind that had become your life.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, looking for the truth in your response. "I know it's fast," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But sometimes, when you know, you just know."

You felt a warmth spread through you, a warmth that was more than just the sun on your skin. It was the warmth of his words, the warmth of his touch, the warmth of his love. You knew you were falling for him too, and it was happening at a speed that defied logic, but somehow, it felt right. "I know," you said, your voice soft and sure. "I feel it too."

The courtyard was a whirlwind of sensation around you. The scent of the roses filled your nose, their velvety petals brushing against your bare arms as you stepped closer to him. The cobblestones felt rough and ancient beneath your sandals, a stark contrast to the smoothness of the dress that clung to your damp skin. The air was thick with anticipation, with the promise of something new and thrilling.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the space between you. You felt your heart hammer in your chest, the thud of it echoing in your ears like the purr of a finely-tuned engine. His hand was still wrapped around yours, a silent declaration of intent. You knew what he was asking, what he wanted from you. And in that moment, you realized that you wanted it too.

"Eh," he began again, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the very air around you, "Vuoi essere la mia ragazza?" It was a simple question, yet it held the weight of the world. Will you be my girlfriend? The Italian words rolled off his tongue, a soft caress that seemed to ignite a fire in your veins.

You felt your heart stutter, your breath hitch. The question hung in the air, a delicate balance between hope and fear. Kimi's gaze bore into you, his eyes a stormy sea of emotion. The nervousness that flickered in those depths was endearing, a stark contrast to the cool confidence he exuded on the racetrack.

Slowly, you nodded. "Yes," you breathed, the word escaping on a sigh that seemed to carry with it all the unspoken moments between you, the shared glances, the stolen touches, the whispers of attraction that had grown into something more substantial.

Kimi's expression softened, his eyes warming as he leaned in closer. The world around you grew quieter, the sounds of the city fading into a gentle hum that melded with the beating of your hearts. His lips met yours in a kiss that was tender yet insistent, a silent declaration of his intentions. The warmth of his breath mingled with your own, and the sensation sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

As your arms snaked around his neck, you felt his hand tighten around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The fabric of his suit was smooth against your skin, a stark contrast to the roughened calluses of his palms. The buzzing warmth grew, enveloping you in a cocoon of sensation, making you feel as if you were floating.

His other hand found its way to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a gentle caress. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady thump of his heart matching the rhythm of your own. His scent was intoxicating, a blend of leather, engine oil, and victory, and it wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sudden pop, and then, there was confetti. It rained down around you, a shower of color and light that made you jump back in surprise. You pulled away from Kimi, staring up at the confetti floating above your heads like a cloud of pure joy. He chuckled, a low, delighted sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

"There's another present," Kimi murmured, his eyes glinting with excitement.

Before you could react, he turned you around with a gentle touch on the shoulders. You blinked in surprise as your eyes fell upon a sight that made your heart swell. There, standing in the courtyard, were your parents. They looked as shocked as you felt, their eyes wide with delight and disbelief.

Your mother, her hair a fiery halo around her face, had her hand pressed to her heart, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek. Your father, stoic yet beaming, had his arms open wide, ready to envelop you in a bear hug that spoke volumes of his pride and love.

"Mamma, Papà," you managed to murmur, your voice thick with emotion. Kimi's grip on your waist was the only thing keeping you upright.

The confetti continued to fall around you, a whimsical touch to an already surreal moment. Your mother rushed over, her eyes sparkling with joy. She wrapped you in an embrace that was all too familiar, her warmth and the scent of her perfume grounding you in reality. "Oh, my darling," she whispered in your ear, her words tinged with a hint of an Italian accent she had never lost despite moving to the United States before you were born. "I knew this man was special the moment you talked about him. And now, he brings us to Verona."

Your father's hug was next, his strong arms lifting you off the ground. "You've made us so proud," he murmured in your hair. "And not just because you're with a Formula One driver." His laughter was contagious, and you felt a weight lift from your chest.

Kimi's hand remained on your waist, his touch a comforting reminder of the new reality you were navigating. As you pulled away from your parents, you couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. You looked up at him, his brown eyes holding yours with a fierce intensity that made your heart race.

"How did you do this?" you asked, gesturing to the courtyard and the confetti that still danced in the air.

Kimi's smile was filled with the pride of a man who had just pulled off an impossible feat. "I have connections," he replied with a wink. His eyes searched yours, looking for the spark of wonder that you knew was reflected in your own. "And I wanted to make sure that when I asked you to be my girlfriend, it was a moment you would never forget."

The confetti continued to flutter around you, the gentle kiss of the breeze carrying the whisper of a thousand paper secrets. You reached up, plucking a piece from the air. It was a delicate pink square, with "Amore" written in flowing script. Love. The word seemed to encapsulate everything you felt in that moment.

"There's another surprise," Kimi grinned, his eyes glinting with excitement. Your heart raced. What could possibly top this? You looked around the courtyard, but nothing seemed out of place. The roses swayed gently in the breeze, the lights above you casting a warm glow on your skin.

"What could it be?" you asked, your voice a soft whisper that seemed to carry the weight of your anticipation.

"Only the best," Kimi assured you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I've booked a whole restaurant for you and your parents to catch up," he announced. "They've been dying to hear about your life, your work, your… everything."

The realization that your parents were here, in Verona, because of Kimi's thoughtfulness, brought a rush of emotion.

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you looked at the man standing before you, his hand still resting gently on your waist. The gesture was more than just a show of affection; it was a declaration of intent, a promise to support and cherish you. You knew then that this was no fleeting fling, no whirlwind romance destined to burn out as quickly as it had ignited. This was something real, something that could withstand the tests of time and distance.

As your parents approached, the reality of the situation sank in. Kimi had done all of this for you, had brought your worlds together in a way that was both beautifully romantic and utterly unexpected.

The restaurant was a hidden gem, tucked away down a narrow alleyway. The walls were a warm terracotta, adorned with ivy and fairy lights, giving it a cozy, intimate feel. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of Italian conversation and the clinking of glasses.

The meal that followed was a feast for the senses. Each dish was a testament to the rich tapestry of Italian cuisine, a symphony of flavors that danced on your tongue. You could feel the love and care that had been poured into each morsel, the tender embrace of a culture that reveled in the joy of food and the company of those you shared it with. The wine flowed freely, and your cheeks grew flushed as the warmth of it spread through your body.

Throughout dinner, you watched Kimi as he chatted with your parents, his Italian accent thickening with his enthusiasm. The way he spoke about his passion for racing, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his love for the sport—it was infectious. You felt a swell of pride in him, in his dedication and his success, and you knew that he was the kind of man who would never stop pushing himself to be better.

The conversation flowed easily, a tapestry of languages and laughter. Your mother spoke of her own youth in Italy, her eyes sparkling as she recounted tales of her rebellious days that made you blush. Your father spoke of his love for your mother, their bond still strong after all these years, and you found yourself looking at Kimi, wondering if that could be you someday.

Kimi reached across the table, his hand finding yours. He laced his fingers through yours, the touch sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. The intertwining of your hands felt natural, as if your hands had been searching for this connection since the moment you had first laid eyes on each other.

You took a deep breath, feeling a sudden urge to speak in the language that had brought you so much closer to him. "Mamma, Papà," you began, your voice a soft caress as you spoke in Italian, "Kimi mi ha portato qui per dirvi qualcosa di speciale."

Your parents' expressions shifted from surprise to astonishment, their eyes widening as they took in your words. You had never fully learned Italian in all those years. Yet here you were, speaking fluently in the language of love and passion, all because of the man beside you.

"Mamma, Papà, Kimi mi ha insegnato l'italiano," you continued, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you revealed the secret. Kimi's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes filled with admiration.

Your mother's hand flew to her chest, her eyes wide with shock and delight. "Davvero?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with incredulity. "Ma come?"

Your father's smile grew wider, his eyes glistening with pride. "È vero," Kimi said, his own Italian smooth and confident. "Tua figlia ha lavorato duramente. Voleva farvi una sorpresa."

You felt a thrill of excitement at the way your parents' gazes darted between you and Kimi, their astonishment clear. It was a moment you had never dreamed of, a moment where the two halves of your world collided in a beautiful mess of love and passion.

"Sí, mamma," you continued, your Italian rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. "Kimi mi ha mostrato il vero amore per l'italiano. Mi ha insegnato parole, frasi, mi ha raccontato storie."

Your mother's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she took in the transformation before her. Your father leaned back in his chair, his hand on his chin, a proud smile playing on his lips.

"Incredibile," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You never cease to amaze us."

Your mother's grip on your hand tightened, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. "Che bella," she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

Kimi's thumb traced comforting circles on the back of your hand as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he looked at you, with such admiration and love, made your heart swell in your chest. You had studied Italian for so long, but speaking it in front of your parents, with the man who had inspired you to finally master it, was a revelation.

Your mother's cheeks were flushed with emotion as she listened, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Mi dispiace," you said, switching to English. "I didn't mean to shock you. I just wanted to show you how much I've learned, and how much Kimi has helped me."

Your father leaned in, his gaze soft. "It's not every day you hear your daughter speaking Italian like a native," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "It's… incredible."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of their happiness pressing against your chest. "Thank you," you whispered, squeezing Kimi's hand. "It's all because of him."

"That's a story to tell your kids," your mom teased, wiping away a tear with the edge of her napkin. "You found love by Italian lessons?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all. The journey that had started with a simple curiosity about a language had led you to the love of your life.

As the evening grew later, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. You found yourself leaning closer to Kimi, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. His thumb continued to stroke the back of your hand, sending waves of pleasure up your arm, and you felt a sudden urge to kiss him.

Before you could act on the impulse, he leaned over and pressed his lips to your cheek. The softness of his touch, the gentle brush of his stubble against your skin, made you giggle involuntarily.

The sensation of his kiss lingered on your cheek, a warm imprint of his affection. You felt your cheeks flush as you turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice a low purr that seemed to vibrate through you.

"It's just… I wasn't expecting that," you replied, your voice a soft giggle. The gesture was so tender, so unexpectedly sweet, that it had caught you off guard. Kimi's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "But I'm not complaining," you added hastily, feeling the blush deepen.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You know," he began, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to echo through the emptying restaurant, "I've had a lot of amazing moments in my life. Winning races, standing on podiums, living my dreams. But nothing… nothing has ever made me feel like this."

His thumb stopped its lazy circles, his hand stilling in yours. "You," he continued, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your heart flutter, "are the best surprise I've ever had."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your cheeks burn. The room grew quiet around you, the whispers of the last diners fading into the background as you became lost in his gaze. Your eyes fell to your entwined hands, the stark contrast of your fair skin against his tanned, calloused fingers.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words that had been hovering just beyond your lips for what felt like an eternity. "I love you, Kimi," you finally said, the words tumbling out in a rush of air.

Kimi's smile grew even brighter, his eyes lighting up like the stars that had just begun to peek through the inky sky above. "And I love you," he responded, his voice a soft caress that seemed to envelop you in a warm embrace.

The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to resonate through every atom of the universe. The love that had sparked between you during those Italian lessons had grown into a fiery inferno, and you were both lost in its embrace.

Kimi leaned in, capturing your lips with his, the kiss a sweet symphony of passion and promise.

You melted into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease away. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

"I'm glad I took those Italian lessons from you," you murmured against his chest, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Kimi's chuckle rumbled through him, his hand tightening around your waist. "They've served us both well," he said, his voice a velvety purr that sent shivers down your spine.

You leaned back into him, the scent of him enveloping you like a warm embrace. "More than you know," you murmured, your voice thick with unspoken desire.

The Italian language had become more than just a bridge between you—it was a secret language of love, a shared history that only the two of you could understand. . . .

[pedroscurls]

letters across time (one-shot)

summary: after having moved to rome for a fresh new start, you begin to receive letters from an unlikely stranger that you begin to develop feelings for... only to come to the heartbreaking realization that the two of you may never meet.

pairing: marcus acacius x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with a happy ending), strangers-to-lovers trope (?), mutual pining, mentions of war and death, sorry - i've got a lack of historical ancient roman knowledge but trying my best lol, deviation from the film (lucilla dies before marcus - sorry, wanted marcus to be single / widowed which only fuels his hatred for the emperors), reader has a nickname (rose), excuse my poor attempt at speaking italian, no use of y/n. word count: 9.4k a/n: so i'm really stepping out of my comfort zone with this one, but i've been obsessed with marcus a since gladiator 2 came out (and honestly who else hasn't lol). also a bit of a tidbit - my first ever tattoo is with the latin saying ad maiora so i had to fit it into this story hehe. if the characterization seems off or if the historical aspect of ancient rome / dialogue is inaccurate, please bear with me - it's my first ever marcus a fic and first time writing in that time period... anyway, huge thank you to @jolapeno for hosting this "dear-uary" challenge <3. my epistolary is letters and my prompt is here. hope you all enjoyed this!

Finally settled in, you walk out to your small balcony and take a seat. It overlooks the famous Colosseum and despite the sounds of chatter coming from nearby, you have to wonder how this place looked centuries ago. Rome had always been a place you wanted to visit, but never did you think that you’d move here. 

You don’t speak the language (yet), and the apartment you moved into was surprisingly affordable given the location. An elderly couple owns the small building and when you had approached them about a vacant apartment listing, they were more than eager to have you move in. It wasn’t at all luxurious–the apartment building. It was very dated, remnants of ancient Rome decorated throughout the building. It almost felt like you were transported back to that time period, given the decoration that filled not only your apartment but the entire building itself. 

The couple could speak a little English, asking plenty of questions that a usual landlord wouldn’t ask. 

American? Yes, you answered.

Married? No, you replied with a heavy sigh–memories of your last relationship flickering in your mind. 

A beautiful girl like you, not married? No, you repeated–now trying to end the conversation in hopes that you don’t have to go into detail why you uprooted your entire life into one suitcase. 

You had noticed the way the older woman’s smile drops, can see her eyes softening at the sight of you. It’s almost like she knows, like she can understand why you’re here. She’s the first one to say that you got the apartment–the brief meeting lasting only twenty minutes. 

It’s yours, she said. 

You had told them you weren’t sure you could afford it, given how close it was to the Colosseum and knowing that it was one of the hottest tourist spots. There’s a lot of foot traffic that surrounds this area and you’d be lucky to have found an apartment this fast. 

Whatever you can pay, the husband had chimed in. We will accept.

Then, the woman had touched your arm–gentle, light, almost feather-like and you could have sworn the warmth radiated throughout your entire body. This place, this couple–it felt familiar, it felt like home. 

You nodded in agreement and you shook hands with the husband before the woman hugged you gently. 

And now, sitting in your new apartment, this didn’t feel real. You still feel like you’re running, like you’re looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But the sun begins to set, the sky soon turns a shade of orange and you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

A flood of relief washes over you.

You’re safe. 

This is your fresh start. 

And you remember what the woman had told you when they had given you the keys to your new apartment: Ad Maiora, cara mia, she whispered, eyes staring into your own. A fleeting gaze of understanding. You asked her what that meant and she smiled, patted your hand and answered, Towards greater things, my dear. 

After finding luck with your apartment, you doubt that your luck would continue. But now, a month later, you have a steady job at a coffee shop that’s within walking distance and the elderly couple–Giovanni and Antonia–have begun teaching you Italian. Most nights, they invite you to their apartment for dinner where they ask you about your day along with a detailed lesson in learning Italian. Some nights, though, they ask you to teach them English–living so close to a famous tourist area, they encounter plenty of Americans and they believe it’d be good for business if they learned how to speak the language. 

Rome starts to feel more like home as the days pass. Giovanni and Antonia have welcomed you with such warmth that they soon find out the reason for you moving here. You told them you left America for a fresh start–having just gotten out of a very toxic relationship and a very meaningless job. You wanted more for yourself and you knew that staying in America was only going to keep you complacent, stagnant. 

Antonia had given you a hug at the end of that night–a hug that you had gotten so used to receiving, a hug that you found so much comfort in. They reminded you so much of your grandparents that had raised you–those were the only good memories that you dreamt of, a time where you could be a young girl again, running around in your grandparents’ home. 

You feel much freer, more at ease, safe now that you feel fully settled in here. And one day after work, you walk up the two flights of stairs to your apartment and unlock your door. There’s an envelope on the hardwood floor–almost like someone had slipped it underneath your door. There’s no writing on it, no name addressed on it, but you pick it up anyway and notice that it isn’t sealed. You set it on your small rounded table and walk to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine–this is routine for nights when you don’t have dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. 

You take a quick sip of your red wine and then move to your bedroom, removing your clothes to change into much more comfortable clothing–shorts and an oversized crewneck, your hair now pulled into a messy bun. You’re barefoot when you walk back into the kitchen to retrieve your wine glass. As you pass the rounded dining table, you notice the envelope. Someone must have had to slide it underneath your door on purpose, right? 

You take the envelope and then walk out to your balcony, sitting on one of the seats as you set the glass on the small table. Slowly, you pull the letter out of the envelope and open it, the writing in neat cursive. You shouldn’t be reading it, especially if this was meant for someone else. 

Confused but intrigued, you continue to read. 

Lucilla died today. I was not there to bid her goodbye. I had given her a promise–that this campaign will be my last. All of Numidia–for the glory of Rome… all for nothing. Writing this journal entry surely is treacherous–I could be punished for it, but what is the point of it all? This is not Rome. This is not the Rome I had promised to fight for.  Lucilla–I am sorry, my lady. I will love you for the rest of my days and cannot wait until we meet again. Your blue eyes, your smile… Your laugh and your voice–I will carry it with me, my love. I will speak with the Senate. I will–I will do what is right, what must be done.  For you. For Rome.  Acacius

You’re unsure of what you just read. Lucilla. Numidia. Acacius. Rome. It almost seems like this is a journal entry–the feel of the paper, the cursive writing. Maybe you shouldn’t have read it, but you’re curious. Something inside you tells you to write back–almost like a tug, a pull that you feel in the pit of your stomach. So, you grab a piece of paper and a pen and begin writing–not in cursive, though.

Dear Acacius,  I’m so very sorry for your loss. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can say to make things better and I’m not even sure if time helps either… Shit happens. It sucks, and I want to say that life goes on, but it doesn’t. At least not for the person who lives.  I lost my grandparents when I was eighteen–it crushed my entire world and set me on a path that I’m still trying to fix. I know this isn’t the same as losing a wife or a partner and I’m not even sure if I’m making any sense. I just–I know what loss feels like and it fucking sucks.  Anyway, I think this might have been sent to me by accident and I’m sorry that I opened it and read it. It wasn’t my intention. So, I’m just gonna send it back to you–somehow–but… I hope things get better for you, Acacius (really cool name, by the way!).  Best wishes,  A stranger

You fold your letter and place it into the envelope with Acacius’s original piece of paper. You then close the envelope, grab your glass of wine and walk back into your apartment, setting the envelope onto your dining table so that it’s visible for you tomorrow morning to ask Antonia about. 

The following morning after getting ready for work, you notice that the envelope is gone. You furrow a brow in confusion, beginning to turn over your entire apartment to find the envelope–contents of your letter along with Acacius’s journal entry inside of it. When you realize that you’re late for work, you decide to call in sick and quickly leave your apartment to descend the stairs to speak with Antonia. 

She’s in the community garden, tending to the roses and when she sees you, a bright grin lines her lips. She stands and pulls you into a hug without hesitation. 

“Cara mia, no work today?” 

You shake your head and ask, “Antonia, there was an envelope in my apartment last night. Do you know who might have slid it under my door?” 

“Envelope?” she shakes her head, confusion written across her features. “Like a letter?” 

“Well, not really?” you answer. “It seemed like a journal entry. They talked about Lucilla, about Numidia–”

“Lucilla? My dear, she was the daughter of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius.”

“Wait, that was centuries ago.” 

Antonia nods. “And Numidia,” she sighs. “So very tragic.”

“Antonia, who’s Acacius?” 

“General Acacius?”

“G–General?”

“Cara mia, cosa sta succedendo?” asks Antonia. My dear, what’s going on?

You shake your head. “Nothing. Um, I’ll have to skip tonight’s dinner with you and Giovanni. Mi dispiace.” 

“Cara mia–”

You give her a hug and walk back inside your apartment, determined to find out more about Acacius. 

Marcus returns to his chambers, distraught and overcome with grief. His bed–once shared with Lucilla–now remains cold and empty. He can’t bring himself to lie in bed, yearning for his wife who is no longer alive. After Numidia, he was more than ready to return home–returning home meant returning to Lucilla, but when news of her death finally reached him, he no longer found the need to go back to Rome, despite the emperors’ orders. 

But Marcus was a man of honor. He would ask Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla for a period of rest from war, to fully grieve the loss of Lucilla. He can’t even think about attending the emperors’ ceremony that’s dedicated to his success in Numidia–how can he when Lucilla is no longer here? 

He hears a knock on the door and he walks–barefoot–to open it. He sees a chambermaid on the other side–she has a look of sympathy across her features with a hint of fear. 

“G–General,” she mutters. “There is a letter for you.” 

“A letter?” he asks, confused.

She nods and extends her hand. Marcus takes the envelope from her and gives her a single nod, dismissing her silently. She turns on her heel and Marcus shuts the door, walking towards the candle that illuminates a small table. He takes a seat, pours himself a cup of wine before he begins to open it. He holds two pieces of a paper–one he’s familiar with and when he opens it, he realizes it’s the journal entry that he had written–and the other, much more smooth, less texture, more white in color. When he opens it, his eyes widen at the writing–all capitalized, not written in cursive. 

He reads the first line and realizes that this is a letter to him. He reads it with interest, eyes still slightly widened at the choice of words that he’s not used to. 

Shit sucks. 

Cool name.

It’s signed A Stranger and he isn’t sure how his journal entry even got into the hands of someone else. He doesn’t have any information aside from the fact that your writing is unusual and the words you use are out of the ordinary. 

But, he finds comfort in your letter. He’s known loss before–plenty of his men understand what he’s going through–but somehow talking to a stranger who doesn’t truly know who he is provides a sense of relief. He doesn’t have to be General Acacius in his response to you–he can just be Marcus. 

So, he grabs a piece of paper and his quill and begins writing to you. 

Dear Stranger,  Thank you for returning my journal entry. I am not sure how that fell into your hands and it is quite alright that you read it. However, for some reason, I feel some relief knowing that I am not alone. Maybe my journal entry was meant to find you… Do you believe in that? In fate?  Anyway, I am sorry for your loss as well. Loss is… Well, it is a part of life but that does not mean that it is pleasant either. I am sure the path that you are on now will lead you to greater things. There is a saying–if you are familiar–Ad Maiora. It means towards greater things.  Also, what do you mean by ‘cool name’? It is quite interesting that my name is associated with some kind of temperature… unless I am misunderstanding.  In any case, you may call me Marcus. If you are comfortable, may I ask what your name is?  I hope this letter finds you well, stranger. And I hope I get to talk to you again.  Best wishes,  Marcus

He re-reads his letter, furrows a brow and sighs. It sounds desperate–a plea to get you to talk to him again because he feels less alone when he’s writing to you. He isn’t sure how this letter will get to you, but he keeps his journal entry and your letter and places his reply back into the envelope. 

Marcus spends the better part of his night drinking, having ended up falling asleep at his desk and the envelope magically disappearing by the time he awakes the following morning. 

You awake the following morning, having fallen asleep on your couch with your laptop and notebook scattered on the coffee table. You had spent the entire night researching Acacius. Antonia was right–Marcus Acacius was a General for the Roman empire, serving under the rule of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. Empress Lucilla was his wife, but had died while he was on his way back from Numidia. But all of this–it happened centuries ago. 211 AD. And Acacius ended up dying–right in the center of the Colosseum after he was forced to fight in the arena after the emperors found out his plan of treachery. 

There’s no way that the person you had written to the other day was the same man you had researched–he was dead. Surely, you can’t be writing to someone from a different time period and to someone who is no longer alive. Right? 

You sit up from your couch and notice the same envelope magically resting on your coffee table. Quickly, you grab it and pull the letter out. Same paper, same writing. 

It’s from Acacius. 

You read it quickly, a small smile lining your lips and a quiet giggle escaping you. You feel a wave of emotion when you read his reply; it’s obvious this man is clearly still alive but how could it be possible that you’re communicating with someone who lives in an entirely different time period? And how come the envelope is your only string tying you to him? 

After you finish reading his letter, you grab your notebook and pen and begin writing your reply. 

Dear Marcus,  You can call me Rose. It’s my favorite flower and I grew up helping my grandma with her garden, which was filled with roses.  You’re cute, Marcus. Cool name meaning… You have a nice name. I think that translates the same?  Ironically enough, Ad Maiora is something I’m trying to remind myself when I have tough days. A good friend of mine mentioned it to me when I moved here. It’s been something that keeps me going every day… the hope that I’m moving in the right direction.  And fate… I don’t think I believe in it. We all have free will and everything we do in life is a choice we make… like my choice in getting into a relationship with a really bad man. Would you call that fate?  I like talking to you too… and I feel less alone too. Can I ask a question, by the way? What year is it?  Best wishes,  Rose

You take Marcus’s letter and set it aside, folding your reply and placing it back into the envelope. You’re sure that it’s going to disappear during the night and you hope that you can wake up the next day with a response from Marcus. 

Marcus attends his ceremony, dressed in white and gold as he feigns a look of pride, a forced smile when he’s standing in front of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. It makes his blood boil–the fact that these two young men are parading him around like he’s done something so great, so grand. All he can see is the unnecessary bloodshed, the bodies burning in that pit. All he can feel is the emptiness in his soul–Marcus doesn’t want to be here. 

And not once did they give their condolences over the loss of Lucilla. Marcus asks for a respite from this war, but they don’t grant him that luxury. He has a cut along the side of his neck due to Emperor Geta placing a sharp blade along his skin. As soon as the ceremony is over, Marcus retreats to his chamber where the envelope that disappeared that morning magically appears on his desk. 

Still in his white and gold attire, he quickly opens the envelope and reads your letter. He lets out a breath of relief as he sits down and reads your words over and over again. It gives him comfort–something he desperately needs right now. 

There’s something in the way your words put him at ease. He still has to put Lucilla to rest and he isn’t looking forward to it–that the next time he sees his wife will be in a coffin. 

He grabs a piece of paper and begins writing to you. 

Dear Rose,  That is a beautiful name and a beautiful flower. There are gardens filled with them here. Now, when I see a rose, I will think of you.  Cute–I have never been called cute before. That is certainly a first, thank you.  I believe in fate, Rose. I believe that everything happens for a reason… But I am sorry to hear that you had to endure a difficult relationship. It pains me to hear that you were mistreated and I surely hope that you are far from him now.  I believe that we have crossed paths for a reason. Maybe we will never know why, but I am surely glad that we did.  You can ask me any question you like and I will be more than happy to answer. It is 211 AD–do you not know the year? Also, I assume that you live in Rome since these letters are coming rather quickly.  The next few days will be… rather difficult. I am planned to bury my wife and I am not sure if I will be available to reply, but if you send me a response… I will do my best to write to you when I can.  I am not looking forward to saying goodbye to Lucilla. She was an amazing woman. She had to sacrifice a lot in her life–she was very brave, strong, resilient… I should have been there at her bedside. I should have held her hand when she took her last breath…  I failed Lucilla.  What kind of man does that make me?  If you choose to never respond after this letter, I understand. I just–there’s something in the way your words bring me comfort, puts me at ease, gives me a sense of relief… Anyway, I must go now. Until we speak again, Rose.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his letter and puts it back in the envelope, ensuring this time that he passes it along to the chambermaid. 

Later that night, you come home after having spent dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. You’re welcomed with the sight of the envelope sitting neatly on your dining table. You set your things down immediately and grab the envelope, taking the letter out and sitting down on the couch. 

Your heart breaks slowly as you read Marcus’s letter. You can feel his guilt through the words on the page and when he confirms the year he’s living in, it all but crushes you. This is a man that you’re slowly developing a friendship with and you know that it isn’t going to last long. 

As you continue to read his letter, you feel tears sting your eyes. So, you don’t hesitate to begin writing your response back to him. 

Dear Marcus,  With you, I’m starting to believe in fate. Would you believe me if I said the year I live in is 2025? I’m not sure how to explain how we’re able to exchange letters from different time periods, but… here we are. It’s possible. I just don’t have an explanation for it.  I can assure you that I am no longer in a relationship with that man and I am very much far from him. I moved to Rome about a month ago and I love it here. I can see the Colosseum from my balcony.  I’m sorry that the next few days will be difficult. I can’t imagine the pain that you’re feeling–losing the one person you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. Lucilla sounded like a great woman, Marcus. I know saying sorry doesn’t change anything, but I don’t know if there’s even anything I can say to make things better.  I’m sure Lucilla knew… I’m sure she knew that you did your best to get to her. I’m sure she knew that you wanted to be there with her…  And you know, maybe you don’t have to say goodbye. The ones we love don’t ever really leave us, do they? We continue living to keep their memory alive.  You didn’t fail, Marcus. Sometimes, things happen out of our control. Not being there for her at the end isn’t a reflection of who you are as a person, or as a husband. I’m willing to bet that if you had it your way, you’d have been there for her. Maybe wherever you were… you wouldn’t have gone if you had a choice.  Finally, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, sorry.  I hope the next few days give you some closure, Marcus, and when you’re ready, I’ll be right here waiting.  Best wishes,  Rose 

You take his letter and put it on the pile you’ve collected before you place your reply back into the envelope. You turn your back for a moment to grab a glass of water and when you turn back around, the envelope is gone. 

Marcus awakes that morning to the sight of the envelope. He can’t explain how it just vanishes and reappears out of thin air on his desk. He pulls your letter out of the envelope and reads what you have written. 

2025? Surely, that’s a lie. There is no way he’s exchanging letters with someone centuries into the future. He has to wonder if this is some sort of joke, if maybe the emperors put someone up to this. As he continues reading though, he feels tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over. Your words–it provides a sensation of warmth that blossoms in his chest. He wants to believe you, wants to believe that he’s a good man. 

Marcus rereads your last sentence repeatedly, commits it to memory as he begins thinking of what he has to do today. 

I’ll be right here waiting. 

He doesn’t have time at the moment to write you back, so he keeps the envelope and letter separate from each other. He takes one last look at your letter before he leaves his chamber. 

The next few days, you’re anticipating a response from Marcus. He did warn you that he wouldn’t write back until he’s able, but you still can’t help the disappointment you feel when the envelope doesn’t appear for the next few days. Antonia and Giovanni notice a change in your demeanor since you’ve been receiving the letters–they notice the excitement in your eyes, a much freer spirit, but you tell them it’s because you’re finally feeling more and more comfortable here in Rome. 

You learn more about Marcus through your research and you try to find someone who can explain the phenomenon that you’re experiencing. How is it possible that you’re communicating with a man from a different time period? Sure, there are theories about time travel but that never felt real to you. 

At the end of the week, you’re already getting anxious. It’s been four days since Marcus’s letter. You have to wonder what he’s doing, how he’s doing. You know how his life ends, and you have to wonder what would happen if you told him. That would change so many things, right? It would not only change history, but it would ultimately change the trajectory of how the world is now. 

On the fifth day, Marcus is exhausted. Saying goodbye to Lucilla had only fueled his anger for the emperors. He has a plan in place and he knows what end he will meet if he gets caught, but at this point, he has nothing else to lose. 

After he buries Lucilla, he finds some time to ask around if anyone knew a woman named Rose. When someone would respond with a nod, there’s a flutter of excitement that he feels in the pit of his stomach but he’s left disappointed every time. Every Rose he’s met so far has no idea of the letters and he’s starting to believe that maybe you do live in the future–centuries into the future. It leaves him with an unsettling sensation in his chest, a sad reality that there’s a likely possibility that Marcus will never get to meet you. 

Now, he finally has some time alone. So, Marcus sits at his desk, rereads your letter once more before he takes his usual paper and quill out to begin writing a response to you. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry for the delay in my response. The last five days have been very difficult for me, but every time I saw a rose… I thought of you and it brought me a lot of comfort that I did not realize I needed.  I want to express my gratitude to you, Rose. Your last letter–I kept it close to me at all times during the last few days here. Somehow, knowing that you’re waiting for me helped me get through each day… and knowing that I get to write to you again helped me through the difficult moments I endured. Ad Maiora, I suppose. Towards greater things… and I think that greater thing is you.  I buried Lucilla yesterday. She still looked so beautiful, but she looked… peaceful. She endured a lot of hardship in her life and there is some comfort that I feel knowing she’s no longer in pain. She no longer needs to fight… and I believe you are right. The ones we love do not ever leave us. We keep their memory alive and Lucilla will always hold a special place in my heart.  I must be completely honest with you, Rose. I am the General of the Roman army. I have a lot of blood on my hands… all for the glory of Rome, but you are right. If I had a choice, I would have been by Lucilla’s side from the start. I am conflicted… It is difficult to fight for this version of Rome. So much bloodshed, so many lives lost… all for nothing. I should not be writing this–it is certainly punishable, but I am exhausted, Rose.  If you do live in 2025–which does not seem possible–how does Rome look like then? You say you moved to Rome. Are you happy here? I also tried to look for you. Asked around about you, but I did not get anywhere. There isn’t anyone by the name of Rose that knows about these letters. Do you really live in 2025?  Lastly, tell me more about you. I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. I hope that is okay.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his response and places it into the envelope. Right before his eyes, it suddenly vanishes and Marcus is sure that he must be hallucinating. He’s exhausted and hasn’t had much sleep since he’s gotten back, but he has no other explanation for it. 

You awake the following morning to see the envelope on your coffee table. Excitement fills your veins and you quickly walk over to the envelope, carefully taking the familiar piece of a paper out. You begin to realize the letters you have begun exchanging with Marcus are becoming longer and longer–it brings a smile to your face and heat rising in your cheeks. 

You sit on the couch, pull your legs underneath you and grab the blanket to drape over your lap as you finally read Marcus’s letter. He thought of you–the last five days and he thought of you. When he finally tells you the truth about who he is, you feel a sense of relief. You had been afraid that you’d accidentally let it slip that you know who he is, despite already telling him that you live in the future. 

The last sentence in his letter brings you back to reality. You feel the pit in your stomach drop at the realization that this is as far as you’ll ever get with him. Sooner or later, this letters will end but you can’t help the feelings you’ve begun to develop for a man you will never meet. 

I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. 

It’s almost like he knows what will happen to himself–maybe he knows that the plan he eventually comes up with is a death sentence once the emperors find out. 

You know you shouldn’t get attached, but you get your notebook and pen and write back to him anyway. 

Dear Marcus,  I must say, it’s such a relief to hear from you. I wish I could have been there for you, with you… supporting you. If I’m being honest, it’s hard to hear that you’re going through a difficult time. Makes me want to go back into time and pull you into a hug. Do you think that’s possible? Time travel?  You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you? You make me blush sometimes with the things you say. Are you sure you’re real? A lot of the men here certainly don’t talk like you do–you can definitely teach them a thing or two.  I'm starting to think our saying is Ad Maiora, isn’t it? Moving to Rome led me toward a greater thing… one after the other, and it finally led me to you. I’d say that’s fate, wouldn’t you?  And General Marcus Acacius–sounds so formal, so official. You must be very important, aren’t you? Like I said, I wish I could pull you into a hug. I hope, at least, knowing that I’m here to listen is enough though. Also, if talking about this is punishable, then maybe we should be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you… Yes, I live in the year 2025. I’d be surprised if someone lied to you and said they knew about the letters we’ve been exchanging. Rome is… different than what you’re used to. There are no emperors. The colosseum is no longer in use–there aren’t anymore gladiators. I’ll attach a photograph of me and my balcony, maybe it’ll help you believe me.  Well, what do you want to know? I’m an open book, Marcus. Ask away.  Can’t wait to hear from you again. I have missed you.  Love,  Rose 

You sign the letter without thinking, but you don’t bother to change it or rewrite it after you realize the word you used. You hope it isn’t too forward or too insensitive. You grab your Polaroid camera and quickly walk out to your balcony. You face the camera to yourself and smile, pressing the button to take the picture. Once it develops, you go back inside and fold your letter. After a few minutes, the Polaroid develops and you look down. It’s a good picture and gives a good view of the colosseum in the background. 

Placing the letter and the Polaroid into the envelope, you close it and surprisingly see the envelope disappear. 

“So it is real,” you whisper to yourself, a smile lining your lips as you already begin counting down the time before you receive a reply from Marcus. 

Later that same night, Marcus sees the envelope on his desk as he gets ready for bed. He sits down instantly at his desk and uses his candle to illuminate your writing. 

But he sees the Polaroid and takes it out of the envelope. Marcus lets out a quiet breath when he sees you. He isn’t sure what exactly he’s holding or how this managed to capture a realistic photograph of you but he’s distracted by your beauty to even notice the colosseum in the back. He’s still reeling over Lucilla’s death, but there’s something in the way your smile and your bright eyes somehow puts him at ease. 

“My lady,” he mumbles. “Lucilla, if you can hear me, please forgive me. This woman–She is helping me through this, through your loss.” Marcus shuts his eyes, guilt and desire mixing together. Guilt because he’s still dealing with the grief of losing Lucilla, and desire because you are absolutely stunning. Marcus isn’t even surprised–this is exactly how he pictured you when you began exchanging letters with him. 

Marcus turns his gaze to your letter, but his eyes flicker to your picture repeatedly. You really do live in the future and you will always be so out of reach. 

Then, he sees the word you sign your letter with. A warmth washes over him. His lips curl upwards just slightly and he begins to write. 

Dear Rose,  This–This picture, it is you, yes? I cannot explain how something like this exists, so it must be true that you do live in the future. So far into the future.  But you are breathtaking, Rose. Absolutely beautiful. Your smile and your eyes… there’s a kindness and warmth to them. The man you had been in a relationship with before truly did not realize what he had because any man would be lucky to have you.  The colosseum in your photograph–it looks old. If what you say is true, no gladiators and no emperors, then can I ask… is your world a better place than what it is here? I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. This is not to say the life I currently have or have led is not great, but a man can still dream, right?  A hug from you sounds very nice. I imagine that I would feel even more at peace with my arms around you. I am not too sure about time travel, but if these letters are any proof of what’s possible, then maybe time traveling is too. Though, if anyone is doing the time traveling, I would rather it be me. I do not want you to be in this time period here, Rose. I do not want you to be around such men because there are bad men here too. Maybe more worse here than there.  If I may be honest… I cannot stop looking at you. I believe I’m going to keep this very close to me from now on. I am sorry that I cannot provide the same type of picture of myself–we do not have this here… but maybe I can think of something else…  An open book, hm? Well, I know your favorite flower. I know that you are starting fresh here in Rome… I suppose I should ask what do you like to do then? If you are living in the future, what is there to do?  I am unsure if you have experienced this yet, but this envelope… it seems to be the reason why we are able to exchange letters. It vanished before my eyes the other day, Rose. I cannot explain how or why that happened, but maybe this is fate. Exchanging letters across time sounds impossible, but for some reason, the Gods wanted us to meet. That sounds like fate to me.  I will wait for your next letter, Rose, and I have missed you too.  Until then.  Love,  Marcus

He quickly folds the piece of paper and gently slides it into the envelope, not bothering to wait for it to disappear because his attention is pulled to your photograph. He brushes his thumb across it gently–wishing you were here. 

The following morning, you’re awake far too early but excitement fills your entire body when you see the envelope sitting on your dining table. You make a cup of coffee and open it, having grown accustomed to Marcus’s neat cursive. You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks when he compliments you, can feel the butterflies in your tummy. 

I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. 

You feel your heart tug just a little–the harsh truth that you will never get to meet him becomes more and more real as you continue to exchange letters with him. 

He’s seen it too–the envelope disappearing without a trace. You can’t explain how it’s possible and there is a part of you that no longer wants one. Time travel–there isn’t a way that’s possible and even if it was, how would it even work? 

You grab your notebook and quickly begin writing to him, setting your cup of coffee down. You lift the cup away from the paper, taking note that it left a coffee-stained circle at the top corner of the page. 

Dear Marcus,  You are very sweet… I’m sure there are more pretty women there. I’m just… me.  But Rome… it’s beautiful here. It’s always been a place I wanted to visit. I never did think I would end up moving here and now, I can’t even imagine ever leaving.  Considering your time period, I would say the world now is much better. I think you would like it… it might take some getting used to–it’s so very crowded here, but I think you would like it. I suppose that’s all we will have, isn’t it? Dreaming of a different life… Or maybe I’ll learn how to time travel and bring you here.  I love the beach. I love the water, the sunsets… It’s calming, almost peaceful to me. There’s just something about the sounds of the waves, the feel of the water, the sight of the sky that just puts me at ease. The beach was the one place that I felt like I could get away from everything. It became my safe haven, my safe place…  What about you? General Marcus Acacius–what do you like to do? I have also seen this envelope just disappear. I don’t have an explanation for it either, but maybe you’re right. Maybe there is a reason why we’re able to communicate across time. Do you think we’ll ever get the chance to meet face to face? You know, if I learn time travel…  Sometimes, when I go to bed, I pray that I dream of you. I think it’s the closest I can get to ever meeting you. I imagine what you would look like, what your voice would sound like… How it would feel like to be in your arms. I would assume I’d feel like how I would if I were at the beach–safe, calm, peaceful.  If by some miracle I’m able to time travel, may I come visit you instead? I think it would be much easier for me to go back in time rather than you come here. Some things might change if you were to leave your time period and come to mine… Looking forward to your next letter, Marcus. Love,  Rose

You fold your letter and place it in the envelope, already counting down the hours until you receive Marcus’s reply.

Marcus finally sits at his table after an exhausting day at the colosseum. He doesn’t find the violence entertaining like everyone else. It’s unnecessary and he wants no part of it, but he has to put on a facade for the emperors. He still plans on speaking with the senate, to conjure up a plan to somehow overthrow Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. 

However, he’s conflicted with so many emotions. The grief and loss he feels over Lucilla lingers in his chest, but he feels hopeful–excited whenever he sees the envelope on his desk. If he goes through with his plan and he ends up getting caught, Marcus knows what the consequence will be. He knows that it’s ultimately a death sentence if the emperors find out, but his mind drifts to you whenever he thinks about what his end might be. 

His eyes drift to your picture on his desk, a small smile curling his lips. He dreamt of you last night, after he had written his response to you. He dreamt that he was in your world, somehow lying in a bed with you in his arms. It was the first time since losing Lucilla that he had woken up with a feeling of ease–just dreaming about you brought him that sense of peace. 

Marcus takes your letter out and reads it with a smile. Once he finishes reading, he begins writing back to you. 

Dear Rose,  I dreamt of you last night. The Gods answered me and I dreamt of you. I dreamt that I was in your world, sitting on that balcony in the picture I received from you. I have this image of you–smiling and laughing–ingrained in my mind. It puts me at ease. Talking with you has been my safe haven, I suppose. Things have been difficult here ever since I got back and it’s lonely without Lucilla. I am sorry to bring her up.  These letters have been able to get me through each day. Your picture, too. Lately, I have been dreaming of a different life than the one I am living. I have been a soldier for most of my life, Rose. I do not think there’s a day that has gone by where I have not fought… And it is tiring. The beach sounds like a great place to just get away from it all, I agree. Here, though, I like to go to the gardens. More so now than before. I am usually surrounded by roses and it makes me feel closer to you.  I am ready to retire, Rose. I am ready to spend the rest of my days in quiet–possibly far, far away from Rome. Maybe near a beach, hm? That would certainly be another place where I can be reminded of you.  I will pray to the Gods for a miracle that we get to meet one day. I didn’t think it would be possible to exchange letters with someone from a different time, so maybe being able to meet face to face may not seem so out of reach… I imagine that I would feel safe and calm with you near too.  Your beauty, your words… The way you have made me feel… It all reminds me of Lucilla, but in your own way. I am a man of honor, Rose, and Lucilla will always have a piece of my heart, but… you have become the reason why I am able to get up every morning. I look forward to the next time I see this envelope because it means I get to talk with you.  Maybe tonight, we can meet in each other’s dreams, Rose.  Until then, my lady.  Love,  Marcus

Days turn into weeks and your letters with Marcus become more and more frequent. You’ve tried to teach yourself the theories of time travel, but you’re just as confused as when you first started. The more you talk with Marcus, the more you begin to realize the magnitude of your feelings for him. You try to tell yourself that developing feelings for a man you won’t ever meet–a man who’s already dead–is only going to set you up for heartbreak. 

But despite knowing how this might end, you still exchange letters with him anyway. 

Marcus is set to meet with the Senate tomorrow and he knows that if he gets caught, it will be his death sentence. There won’t be any way that he will be able to get out of it. He holds onto your letters–and especially your picture–when the days and weeks become more difficult for him. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla require his presence at the colosseum and Marcus finds it increasingly exhausting to sit there and feign interest. 

When he gets back to his chambers every day, the envelope is there waiting for him. He reads your letters repeatedly before he can even write a response. The way you talk about your world–it helps him escape his reality. He begins to realize just how deeply he feels for you and it saddens him because despite how strongly he feels, Marcus knows that you two may never get the chance to meet. 

Later that night, you see the envelope and feel the excitement rush through you. However, once you open the letter and begin reading the words on the page, you feel your heart drop–tears building at the corners of your eyes. This feels almost like a goodbye…

Dear Rose,  I am set to meet with the Senate tomorrow. In secret. I realize that this might be the last letter I will ever write to you, but I will be praying to the Gods that it won’t be, but if it is… I wanted to write to you one last time.  You have given me hope, have made me feel alive when I had lost everything. Coming back to Rome after Numidia, after losing Lucilla–I could not find the will to live, but then I received your first letter. It was fate. You saved me, Rose. You continue to save me.  I wish I could see you. I wish I could touch you. I wish I could hold you. I know I said in a previous letter that I would want to spend the rest of my days in quiet… but I think that has changed.  If I had it my way, I would spend the rest of my days with you. I imagine what my life would be like with you. I imagine a lot of laughter. I imagine that we would be at the beach or maybe at the garden and we would have plenty of meaningful conversations. I imagine my mornings would be one of my favorite times of the day because I would get to wake up every morning with you by my side.  If this is the last time I get to speak with you, just know that you now also have a piece of my heart, Rose. I will carry your photograph with me forever. I will hold onto the conversations we’ve had and the letters we’ve exchanged.  If I do not make it… please remember that you deserve all of the good things in the world. You deserve to always be happy. You deserve to live your life the way you want. You deserve to be with someone who will cherish the very ground you walk on because you deserve nothing less.  When I sleep tonight, I will dream of you… like I always do, Rose.  Yours forever,  Marcus

You know what he means when he says he’s going to speak with the Senate tomorrow. You’ve read what will happen–after all, you know exactly how history plays out after having researched the history of Ancient Rome and Marcus. 

You can feel your heart breaking–the ache in your chest beginning to throb almost painfully. You know how Marcus’s story ends, but you can’t let him go. You had been hesitant before–altering history–but you have to tell him. You may never get to meet him, but you don’t want this to be the end. 

Grabbing your notebook, you begin to write your response. Almost fifteen minutes later, you fold it in half and place it inside the envelope, watching it disappear yet again before your eyes. 

Marcus awakes that morning with a knot in his stomach–his eyes glance over at your photo before he catches the envelope. He sits up from bed and walks towards his desk, pulling out your letter and reading it carefully.

Dear Marcus,  Don’t. Your last letter feels like a goodbye, and I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to say goodbye, not yet… Not ever. I shouldn’t be telling you this because I’m sure it’s going to alter my own reality, but I don’t care. I don’t want to let you go.  You’re going to get caught. No matter how many times you’ve rehearsed it in your mind, you will be caught. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla will find out and they–they will not take it lightly. They will make you fight in the colosseum and that is where you will die. I know how your story ends and yet, I made a choice to continue exchanging letters with you. I knew that our story would only end in heartbreak, but maybe… Maybe there’s still a chance for us.  I am begging you, Marcus… Please do not do it. Don’t go to the Senate. Just–Just leave Rome. Live the rest of your days in quiet–away from war, away from the bloodshed, away from the emperors. You no longer need to fight and I understand… I understand that you made a promise to Lucilla, to yourself, but I cannot lose you and maybe this makes me selfish, but– You saved me too, Marcus.  I will spend the rest of my days figuring out how to transcend time… to find a way where you and I can finally meet. Fate brought us together, right? We will figure this out. I will figure this out.  This is not the end of your story, Marcus Acacius. Do you understand me? And this certainly isn’t the end of ours. At the end of the day, we still have a choice… If you decide to still go through with it, then I will understand. I know you are a man of honor, Marcus. And if you do decide that you will go to the Senate tonight, then I hope you know how deeply I feel for you too. I didn’t think I would ever love again, but you… You nestled your way into my heart and made a home there. I go to sleep dreaming of you. When I wake up, you are the first person I think of.  I love you, Marcus.  Yours forever,  Rose

He sits at the edge of his bed, rereading your letter over and over and over again. You know how his story ends and you know exactly what will happen when he goes to meet with the Senate tonight. He should have known that you’d be aware of his history–you live in the future after all. 

Marcus isn’t afraid to die–in fact, it’s something that he’s come to terms with a long time ago, but for once, he doesn’t want this to end yet. He doesn’t want to let you go either and maybe, maybe you two will never meet, but he would rather die an old man exchanging letters with you. 

He reads the last sentence repeatedly and he can’t help the way the words stir something in him–the butterflies he feels in the pit of his stomach, his heart beating faster–you love him. 

Marcus knows what he needs to do now. 

The rest of the day seems to drag on–the minutes trickling by ever so slowly. Even at work, you can’t concentrate. Antonia and Giovanni pick up on your distraction, but you reassure them with a fake smile and tell them that you’d just rather spend the night alone. 

You know it was selfish to tell Marcus the truth, to practically beg him to stay, but you couldn’t imagine continuing to live your life with the possibility that you could save his life. You had only been exchanging letters with him for a little over a month, but you couldn’t help the feelings that you had begun to develop for him. The way your heart races faster when you see the envelope, or the way your stomach flips when you read his letters. 

In your free time, you had been trying to learn how to time travel. It seemed almost impossible, but you didn’t want to quit. You couldn’t explain how you’re able to exchange letters with someone who lives centuries in the past–and if that was possible, then surely it was possible to time travel. 

Somehow. 

You enter your apartment later that night–you can feel the nerves settle in the pit of your stomach when you slowly open the door. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, heart rate slowly picking up when your eyes scan the dining table.

No letter. 

Your stomach drops, so you close the door and then move your gaze to the coffee table. 

Nothing.

Tears begin to pool at the corner of your eyes and you realize that Marcus had made his choice. You sit on your couch, bring your legs to your chest and cry into it. The sob builds and builds until you let out a quiet whimper, tears now streaming down your face. 

He was gone. 

Forever.

A week later and you finally get the courage to go back to work. When at work, you fake a smile–feign happiness, but when you get back home, you cry yourself to sleep. 

Antonia and Giovanni leave you dinner at your front door, but you don’t bother to open it. You aren’t hungry–you haven’t had an appetite since Marcus’s last letter. You wonder if he ever received your letter and if he did, did he read it? 

And if he did read it, what went through his mind? 

And when you admitted that you loved him, did that scare him away? 

When you open your front door later that night, you set your things down and begin walking into the living room until you finally see it.

The envelope. 

Your heart leaps out of your chest. 

You waste no time in opening the envelope, quickly taking out the letter and breathing out a sigh of relief when you see his familiar cursive writing. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry that I have not written back to you. I had a change of plans after your last letter and had to strategically plan how I would be able to execute it.  I am no longer in Rome. You were right–I no longer need to fight. I faked my death–with the help of some trusting men of mine–and am far away from that place.  I am living the rest of my days in the quiet–I now live in a small village where no one is familiar with who I am or what I have done. It is almost like a fresh start–a chance for me to live a different life… a life that I might have chosen from the beginning if I had the choice.  I want to thank you, Rose. For telling me the truth, for warning me. I am much happier now than I have ever been, and I am more than ready to spend the rest of my days with you. Traveling to this village was not easy, but you gave me the strength–like you always do–to keep going.  I love you, Rose. I wanted to tell you that once I was safe–once I was finally settled in. Ad Maiora, right? Towards greater things... So, my lady, what do you say? Shall we continue our story together and maybe–one day–finally meet? Yours forever, Marcus

the end...?

[yierrem]

dating headcanons - zzzero men edition pt. 2 ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ft. gn! reader x asaba harumasa, billy kid, and seth lowell ; a follow up to my previous dating hcs (which can be found here) and a response to a request ( ^ω^ ) first post of the year（≧∇≦）i hope you enjoy reading!!

asaba harumasa

very clingy. when you're not together, he'd be texting you random little updates or beg for your attention just for the sake of talking to you if calling momentarily isn't an option. sometimes he tries to use you as an excuse to get out of work, but after he's done it a couple of times, you've become immune to always bending to his whims and suddenly he's whining about how you don't love him anymore.

["wait i'll look at your texts later brb love u ^3^" "so you hate me."]

an avid quality time enjoyer, if i've ever seen one. he's content with lazing around with you or doing mundane tasks that don't require much physical effort. likes cuddling against you when you're just sitting engrossed in doing something with your hands and reading or watching something together.

even though he usually appears and acts lighthearted, deep down, he's genuinely happy with you and the relationship you share. he cherishes every moment you can spend together and wishes it could go on for as long as he lives. you're the person he refers to as family when on one of his much-dreaded doctor appointments.

alongside the nightmares he already has regarding his sickness, he'd have times when he'd wake up in a cold sweat from dreams of losing or leaving you and the people he cares for. thankfully, on the days you sleep over, he has you; he's comforted by the sight of your sleeping figure and clings to you for the rest of the night.

on a lighter note, sharing a bed with this man is probably a chaotic experience on a dreamless night; initially, you'd both fall into slumber comfortably cuddled against each other, but the following morning, one of you would be seconds away from suffocating in a vice grip.

billy kid

loves playing games with you. he's usually competitive when playing against you but when you're both on a team together, he's suddenly the biggest cheerleader there is. if both of you lose, that's totally fine! you'll get it next time. what matters to him is that you had fun together.

deeply appreciates it and enjoys when you match him nerd-for-nerd, even if you don't share a lot of similar interests. you take turns randomly info-dumping about any piece of media or activity you're into and both of you pay genuine attention to whatever the other is talking about. he loves listening to you passionately talk or share anything about any topic because you do the same for him.

adding on to the previous point: both of you make jokes about liking your favorite fictional characters or celebrities more, just to be playfully petty.

["if you had to choose between me or monica, who would you pick?" "...well, yes!" "..." "alright, then. between me and /insert favorite character/--" "that's unimportant."]

after spending so much time with him, you already know which maintenance products he likes for himself or his guns. kind of like how other people know what shampoo or body wash their partner prefers. when you see he's running out and you buy them without telling him, he'll notice and be weeping tears of joy.

if you take a while to open up to him about certain things, he's alright with that and will tell you to take your time or give you the space you need. he's been the same when it comes to sharing his past with other people and understands that some things do take courage to tell.

seth lowell

despite having been in a relationship for a while, he most likely still gets easily flustered from any vaguely flirty quip and intimate gesture that comes from you. you could use this knowledge to your advantage but do have mercy on the poor guy.

[there was one instance where you gave him a quick peck on the lips without giving much thought to it before leaving and all he could do was stay where he was with his brain buffering for a whole minute.]

even though he's somewhat shy about expressing his admiration or appreciation for you and sometimes stumbles through his words when doing so, he's sincere in everything he says and does for you.

you're one of the very few people he trusts with touching his tail and ears. it's come to the point where when you're both just laying together, he wouldn't mind the feeling of your fingers gently rubbing on a certain spot on his ears while you run your fingers through his hair.

he appreciates that you see him for who he is and acknowledge his efforts to get where he is now. your affirmations, whether spoken or unspoken, mean much to him and he feels like he can truly be comfortable when he's around you.

sometimes, he unknowingly acts or does very attractive things and it just blows your mind. he'd steer you by the waist from bumping into things or, if you're shorter, accidentally pin you against a wall/surface when trying to reach for something from a high place because he just wants to help! you should be more careful, you know. but you've already mentally imploded while your sweet, sweet boyfriend remains clueless.

[justporo]

Headcanons about living with Astarion

I thought about some of this lately and since yesterday's warmup got out of hand... (Behold him lounging:)

First things first, if you think living with Astarion will be neat and organised just because he himself always looks put well together: you are in for a surprise

This man - as much as he cares for aesthetics - tends to be messy

Especially since it's been forever that he could actually have and keep stuff, so expect books everywhere, cups left on surfaces, stuff laying around on the floor (and let's be honest, growing up as a noble before didn't teach him anything about being domestic...)

He'll learn though, especially when you reach a point where you could almost throw stuff at him (but he still struggles with it and him buying so many books surely doesn't help)

Astarion is basically cat: lounging everywhere - no surface is safe! Although a comfy sofa or chaiselongue are preferred spots!

Especially when you've sat somewhere and it's still nice and warm and smells of you; "Was that your seat, darling? Well, not anymore!"

But then he would pull you in with a chuckle and have you cuddle up on his lap and also refuse to let you go ("Love, I've only just gotten comfortable, you can't leave now!")

What he lacks in order he makes up with style - to a point it might make your blood boil: "Astarion, please, I couldn't care less if the red of the drapes matches the pillow cases!" "Yes, well, darling - don't take it personally - but I wouldn't have expected you to care anyway." Then he has to dodge several pillows being flung at his head)

Astarion leaves little notes for you to find, like for example if he's gone to run some errands or maybe just because - to tell you he loves you; at some point it kind of becomes a game of him hiding notes somewhere in the house and waiting how long you take to find them - scolding you if you take too long! ("My sweet, a trained donkey would have found it by now! Open your eyes, love, you can't possibly be that distracted by my beautiful face!")

Astarion learns about companionable silence with you - obviously he's very chatty and you love nights just wasted away with talking and joking - about everything and anything; but he also learns how pleasant it can be to just sit there, all cozied up with you and feeling the deep peace of easy silence with you

That or spending some quality time together: him spending time with reading or doing embroidery, you with drawing, also reading or anything else - as long as you're together

At least for a while Astarion really enjoys having a place where he can just... be; obviously this eager little vampire can't sit still forever but he revels in the knowledge of having a place he can always return to, somewhere to be safe and comfy, somewhere he can always be with you

Alright - at least that's how I could very well imagine living with Astarion might be, hihi. This man keeps living in my head - by now I'm sure he's changed my brain chemistry forever, for good...

[alexanderwales]

The spell showed you how another person saw you.

It was expensive, but not so expensive that it didn't find its use. If you were in the burgher class it was expected that you would experience it a few times in your life. One of those was before marriage.

Cordelia went in with great trepidation. She was sure that Aldwin was right for her, but less sure that she was right for him.

And then, two hours later, once it was all over, they had to talk about it, in a way that Aldwin loved to talk about everything.

"There was a sweetness to him," said Aldwin. "But now I worry, only lightly, that you think I make more concessions than I really do. There was more romance to him, I suppose. Very lovey, which I suppose is good."

"Well, that's good," said Cordelia.

"Is something the matter?" asked Aldwin.

"No," said Cordelia. "You can go on."

"I need some time to stew," said Aldwin. "We talked a lot, but I do fear that we got tangled in tangents. I think we could have been good friends, actually, if he were real, though ..."

"Yes?" asked Cordelia.

"He was intelligent, but I knew more than him, which I suppose is an artifact of the spell. He didn't know all the things that I knew, he knew all the things that you knew, except you don't expect me to know much about textiles, so some of those things that you knew were barred from him, and that meant that he sat at the intersection of our domains of knowledge." Aldwin looked at the ceiling for a moment. "I do wonder if there's a way around that."

"Perhaps," said Cordelia.

Aldwin looked back down at her. "Is something the matter? You haven't said what your experience was like. Was she pleasant?" He grinned at her, a winning grin that had made her fall in love. It was heartbreaking.

"Aldwin, I'm ... not sure that I can do this," said Cordelia.

His grin turned to a frown. "Why not?" he asked. "I love you, you should have seen that."

"Aldwin, she was perfect," said Cordelia.

"You're perfect," said Aldwin. He laid his hand on hers.

"No, Aldwin, I'm not," said Cordelia. "And when I've heard you say that before, I've always thought that it was you being poetic, but I met her now, the me that lives in your mind, and she is perfect, she has none of my blemishes, none of my flaws, she's kind and gracious and intelligent and funny."

"My dear, you're all those things," said Aldwin. "That's why I'm marrying you."

"But I'm not those things," said Cordelia. "My version of you, did you think that he was handsome?"

"I suppose it didn't occur to me," said Aldwin. He looked to the ceiling again and considered that. "His hair was a bit curlier, and his nose somewhat broader, but no, I think he looked like me."

"The woman I saw was a goddess," said Cordelia. "I can't compare to her."

"You are her," said Aldwin.

"Won't you believe me when I tell you that I'm not?" asked Cordelia. "And if we follow through on the engagement, and you marry me, how can I help but worry that you'll figure that out one day and leave me?"

Aldwin frowned at her. "Is that what this is about?" he asked. "You think my love is fickle? It hadn't even occurred to me to ask my other whether he was wavering."

"I think you're brilliant and handsome," said Cordelia. "But I looked at her, spoke with her, and kept thinking to myself that I couldn't live up to her. I yelled at her and she calmly defused my anger. When I cried, she comforted me."

"It was really so bad?" asked Aldwin, raising his eyebrows. He had very expressive eyebrows, it was something that Cordelia had always found herself appreciating.

"I fear that you don't actually know me," said Cordelia. "You don't see the ugly, twisted, miserable creature that I am."

"Come now," said Aldwin. He seemed befuddled. "Perhaps I think more highly of you than you think of yourself, but I won't have you talking so poorly of my bride-to-be."

"It's how I felt, next to her," said Cordelia, looking down. She had tears in her eyes. It was undignified. Her other would have never.

Aldwin moved closer to her and tilted her chin up. She looked at him, blinking away her tears, which rolled down her face and made her lip salty. His eyes, that saw her so.

"My sweet, we have our entire lives to get to know each other better," said Aldwin. "I will love you no less if you falter, if you yell, if you cry, if you flop around and fail. If we do this again, ten years from now, I expect that I'll have the same rosy view of you, overly rosy, in your estimation. That's love. That's what it is."

But of course for her, that wasn't true at all. He'd said as much, he'd spoken to his other, he'd seen a more or less accurate portrayal of himself. Didn't he see that? Or would he realize it only later? She wasn't sure. Did she not love him? Is that what it meant? She thought that she loved him.

"I do love you," said Cordelia.

"Good, because we're getting married soon," said Aldwin. He patted her on the hand. "Come, let's dry those tears and find someplace to eat."

She let herself be led for the rest of the day, and returned to herself within half an hour, letting the shadow cast by the spell slide off her, joking with him, engaging him in his interests, putting on a smile that she didn't entirely feel.

But that night, as she lay in bed, the image of the goddess, the woman she was not and could not become, would not leave her mind.

[zae-heeyyy]

Erudition

Summary: Arthur teaches you how to read. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,790 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: I spent an unnecessary amount of time perfecting this one. Tried my hand at sketching/tracing/cut and pasting pieces of Arthur's original journal to make this one (don't look at it too close lol). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: If you didn’t know, it was common for adults to be illiterate in 1899 due to the lack of widespread public education.

erudition: the quality of having or showing great knowledge or learning; scholarship.

Poor Hosea had tried everything in an effort to teach you how to read: encouraging you with kind words first, then employing tough love tactics when your stubbornness hindered your progress. On one particular day, you had enough of each other. In a rare moment of weakness, he slammed his hand on the table when you refused to try.

"Wanna be an illiterate ninny your whole life, do ya?" A scowl etched deep lines on his face, and you stormed off, not saying a word. A cough riddled him, and he bowed his head in part frustration and part regret for letting himself lose his temper with you. He only wanted the best for you, even if you didn't want it for yourself.

A particular contemplative cowboy had been watching a short distance away, a pattern Hosea had noticed lately. Still coughing, he waved him over.

"Ah, Arthur. I know you're smarter than you look. Maybe you can reach that girl. I've done all I can, I fear." He pressed the book into Arthur's hand in more of a silent demand than a request. Arthur nodded in understanding, sighing, wondering how he'd been demoted from gang enforcer to teacher.

Cursing under your breath, you prayed that Arthur would just walk away, not because you didn't like him, but because you liked him too much. You and the other women got a kick out of watching him do chores around camp, his shirt nowhere to be found. He was damn gorgeous and didn't have a clue. Nobody else had a clue, either, that you wanted him. You wanted him in many ways and cared about what he thought of you.

The hope that he'd refuse Hosea's request or come another time fell short when his figure towered over you, shading you from the high noon sun. You kept your head bowed, refusing to meet his gaze until he tapped the book's hardback cover, bidding for your attention. Your eyes met his sheepishly. Reading him did not come easy either, especially in your interactions. Something about the way he carried himself around you left you feeling unsettled. There was a perpetual tension that he seemed to shed in the company of anyone but you. You didn't quite get it, though, because he always remained gentlemanly despite it all.

"C'mon." A sculpted, outstretched arm reached down to you, and you took it reluctantly, letting him lift you up from your spot. Following close behind, you let him lead you to the outskirts of camp near a boulder and a broken wagon. The cacophony of camp faded away as you joined him on the ground, your backs against the rock. You sat expectantly, concentrating on your fidgeting hands and fighting off the urge to cry.

"You just gotta focus," he said, opening the book to where you last left off and putting it back in your hands. Shaking your head, you tried to blink away hot tears building up behind your eyes.

"Don't want you to think less of me, Arthur. Don't wanna do it." Keeping your voice steady and suppressing the lump in your throat proved increasingly futile.

"Hush and focus." His tone only made the mystery of him hazier. How could he so easily switch between evil debt collector, out for blood, to nothing short of a gentle giant, so comforting and protective? The thought only made your vision cloud up more.

Blinking rapidly, you took a deep breath to calm yourself before reading the words on the page aloud. You could only get through the first sentence before your voice betrayed you, shaking unevenly, accompanied by a saline drop rolling down your face and onto the page.

"Hey..." Arthur clutched your chin and turned it to face him, forcing your eyes to heed his. "You gotta stick at things. I know it's hard, but that ain't no reason to cry about it." A rough thumb wiped away your tears. He scooted closer to you, wrapped one arm around your shoulders, and held the book with the other hand. "Just relax. It's just me and you out here. I ain't gonna think less of you or let anybody else, for that matter. Forget about all that." You held one side of the book with your left hand, and he had the other with his right, " Here, start again, slow now."

Goosebumps prickled your skin as a wave of calm washed over you. Arthur stayed patient while you composed yourself and read through twice, the second time outshining the first. He nudged you with his elbow, flashing a toothy grin. "See? Not so bad," he remarked. With another breath, not as shaky as your other ones, you closed the book and returned it to him, feeling more accomplished than you had in a while.

Now that your attention wasn't being spent so much, the pounding in your ears grew louder, the source of the sound leading to none other than the relentless beating of your heart. The musk of tobacco and leather infiltrated your nose, making you suddenly aware of how close you were to him. He removed this arm from your shoulders, the missing weight of it making you feel unexpectedly empty. Before he could scoot away some more, you turned to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Arthur, for helping me. I know I'm not easy to work with." He smiled shyly and dipped his head, avoiding eye contact. A silence fell between you, and you spoke again, dismissing yourself. "I should probably get back to it." You gathered your skirts to stand, and he wrapped his fingers around your wrist before you could walk away. Even though crimson had crept up in his ears and neck, he kept his face impassive as always.

"When Ms. Grimshaw can spare you, come find me, and we'll keep at it."

So you did. You'd meet in the clearing behind the rock on the rare moments of shared free time, continuing the routine, and you were getting better every day. Then, Arthur brought you a mystery book that he'd found or stolen, and it was nothing like a Penny Dreadful, too complex and challenging for you to decode. You felt like you'd taken one step forward and two steps back.

And just like you'd done with Hosea a few days ago, you tried to storm away from Arthur. You didn't get far before his hands were on your hips, dragging you down into his lap. Faces inches apart, his hot breath warmed your face as he spoke, eyes stern.

"You can't just throw a tantrum whenever life gets hard, woman." Huffing in defiance, you opened your mouth to argue, but you closed it promptly, keenly aware of the change in his demeanor. Your eyes were on his, but his were on your lips. He licked his own, face set with resolve. Letting his forehead press against yours, he kissed you. Without a thought, you kissed him back, melting into his arms. Gaze intense, he tore away from you, talking low and firm. "You're gonna sit your pretty self down and do this, alright?"

Your hand went absentmindedly to your lips, drawing them in as you tasted him. Who knew a kiss was all you needed? With a gentle shove, he settled you back on the ground beside him, retrieved the book, and opened it once more.

When you finished, you looked at Arthur, and he was staring back at you with a cocky grin. It was the first time you'd read with no mistakes. You threw yourself back into his arms, climbing into his lap, a knee on either side of him. Holding you firm by the waist, Arthur didn't hesitate to kiss you again this time, letting desire he didn't even know he had guide him to you. He could have you like that for hours, and he did, only easing his grip on you when you heard pans banging, alerting you to dinner.

Arthur had discovered the key to motivating you, and since then, you discovered a newfound love for reading. You eagerly awaited your lessons, knowing the handsome outlaw's lips would be there for you when you finished.

Arthur was happy to help, but it wasn't just about the makeout sessions for him. Of course, he could die a happy man with you on top of him, but he loved how your eyes lit up when you made progress. He loved seeing you feel confident. He loved making you happy.

Though he wouldn't dare complain, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that Hosea had knowingly arranged this? Arthur tried to go unnoticed in his subtle observations of you, attempting to conceal the fact that he was sweet on you and had been for a while.

"Can't con a conman, Arthur," his surrogate father once told him. Maybe that wasn't just about robbing. The gunslinger wanted you so bad after all this time, needed you, and hoped you needed him just as much. He'd made himself free today, waiting patiently for you to finish your chores, keeping himself occupied with minor tasks. Just as you finished, you watched him disappear behind the grass and head to your spot.

You joined him; the book rested in his lap while he smoked a cigarette. You took the cigarette from him, having a drag yourself and giggling at your own mischief. He snatched it back from you, pretending to be annoyed but smiling nonetheless. Taking one more puff, he snuffed it in the grass. Before he could make another move, you took the book from his lap, replacing it with yourself. Your hands went to the nape of his neck, drawing his lips into yours. He kissed you back, entertaining you momentarily, but withdrew with his hands still resting on your backside.

"Read first, then I'll take care of ya', sweetheart." His eyes were half-lidded, and his voice lowered a few octaves, both weighed down with desire. You huffed and unmounted the cowboy, opening the book and reading, anything to feel his touch again. As you finished the last paragraph, your attention shifted to his hand kneading circles into your thigh. Breath thickening, his other hand fell to the hem of your dress, making it ride up as his hand traveled slowly up your leg.

The reading grew choppier now, your attention too consumed by his touch. You stopped reading altogether when his hand snaked over your thigh, and three of his fingers pressed against a warm, damp spot in the center of your bloomers. Flushing, a faint gasp escaped you.

"Gonna need to get these off, darlin'," he huffed into your ear. Wasting no time, you tossed the book aside and lifted your hips to slide the garment down around your ankles. Desire almost overpowered him; he wanted to devour you, to have his fingers and face buried between you, but he had a job to do, and he always finished the job.

Stopping, he moved his hand from your heat to your thigh and reached across you to grab the discarded book. Clearing his throat, he thumped the book, "Another page." Incredulous, you blinked a few times, gawking at him.

"Arthur, how do you expect me to focus when—"

He cut you off with a curt whistle and a stony glance, "Shut it, woman, and read." His grip tightened on your thigh. Those pools of blue and stern tone sent another jolt through you; god, if only he knew what he did to you. Like you were hypnotized, you opened the book, still very aware of your aching womanhood. He kissed your neck, his chest vibrating with amusement.

"Good girl," he murmured in your ear.

You were wrapped around his finger figuratively, and you craved to be literally, too. As you began to read aloud again, his hand smoothed over your thigh and landed right where you wanted it. He glided a finger up and down that sacred site, stopping on your clit and rubbing tiny circles there. Involuntarily, you arched up into his hand, and his name fell off your lips in a moan, your focus tearing away from the printed words at your hands. Then he stopped, taking away that sweet attention you loved so much.

"Shhh...Keep going;" his voice was low and deep, and he kissed down your neck to your shoulder. He moved his hand back when you started again; it was the most fluent you'd ever read. You don't know how you managed. As soon as you finished the last word on the page, you tossed the book and grabbed Arthur by the hairs on the back of his head, tugging him towards you and tasting him. He groaned and let a finger slip inside of you.

You gasped at the invasion, raising your hips off the ground and tilting into him. Pressing his lips to your ear, he kissed it and whispered mischievously, "You tryin' to get us caught?" You could feel him smile against your ear, and you pulled him to you once more, letting his mouth muffle your sounds of ecstasy.

He loved the way you felt, so velvety, slick, and tight. He teased you, pumping you with just one finger, then lightly circling your clit just to stop and caress you all over. You knew, and he knew, that he could bring you to that peak at any moment, but he didn't want it to be over just yet. He'd dreamed what you felt like for so long, how you'd respond to him, and now that it was reality, he wanted to savor every minute.

You were rocking your hips now, trying to feel any semblance of friction, trying desperately to reach the climax that Arthur kept you right on the edge of.

Then he sank two more large digits inside, making you press your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut. He waited for you to adjust, kissing your ear and talking you through the girthy new additions. His thumb back on your clit caused a shiver to run down you as you relaxed.

"There you go," he mumbled in your ear, and you knew it wouldn't be long then. His thumb never left, keeping a constant speed and pattern as he worked you. Your stomach burned as that sweet, sweet tension built inside of you. Arthur buried his face in your neck, focusing on bringing you bliss. "That's it, sweet girl. Give it to me."

He groaned along with you as your embrace on his fingers tightened, and your body shuddered. He kept his hand there as you came down, relishing in the way your insides squeezed and released him over and over again. His head spun when he removed his fingers from you; you were so wet, all for him. He'd been so focused on you that the bulge in his pants went unnoticed until now.

Meanwhile, you had replaced your bloomers and smoothed out your skirt, trying to reset after the fireworks behind your eyes had exploded. You giggled, seeing Arthur give attention to his own building arousal. You beamed at him, all cheeky and coy.

"I think I hear Ms. Grimashaw looking for me," you teased, standing and dusting your skirt. His face fell bewildered, and you couldn't look at him in fear that your innocent act would falter. "Gonna have to bed me properly if you want more, Mr. Morgan."

With that, you winked at him and walked away, leaving Arthur with just his hand and imagination to satisfy him. You'd decided to join Hosea at a table, taking a piece of discarded newspaper and reading it yourself. He watched, a proud smile growing on his face. It only took Arthur five minutes to calm himself, reappearing from the treeline with eagle eyes that focused only on you.

Crazed, he approached you, placing a heavy hand on the small of your back before removing it hastily, remembering he was out in the open now. Hosea's eyes shifted between you discerningly. He coughed and gestured to the paper in your hand. "Well, Arthur, it seems you're a better teacher than me, after all." Neither of you caught the hint of amusement in his voice. You patted Hosea's shoulder and stood.

"Thanks, old man. I love reading now. In fact, me and Arthur are gonna go to town right now for some more Penny Dreadfuls. We'll bring you another paper, too."

Arthur perked up at this new suggestion and followed after you, practically tripping over himself as you headed towards his hitched horse. Hosea returned to his newspaper, kicking his feet up and chuckling to himself knowingly. His hunch had been right about you two, after all.

[viaxslz]

﹙ ♡` 𓈃 BASEBALL 𓏵⠀

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 f!reader (I think), cw: established relationship, y/n is kinda dense abt baseball,help seungmin, pet name, they kiss like two times, they’re just so lovey dovey in love, not proofread :P, requested, was meant for the 100 event, 2.1k WC

Request: I was thinking a Seungmin fluff just about spending the day at a baseball game together, but the reader lowkey knows nothing about baseball, so he has to explain little things to her during the game, and by the end, she starts to love it as much as he does.

VIA: I have one more request which was meant for the 100 followers event which I cancelled bc (you see the reason right now) so after these, this might be the only time I’ll do request, for the person who requested so sorry it took about hundred years (I’ve had this request since September 💀😭)

Seungmin and Y/N walked hand in hand to the baseball stadium, the warm sun shining down on them. Seungmin was practically bouncing with excitement, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"I'm so glad we're doing this," he said, squeezing Y/N's hand. "I've been waiting all week for the game."

Y/N smiled and leaned into him. "I'm happy to spend the day with you," she said. "But I have to admit, I don't really get baseball."

Seungmin's face lit up with a grin. "That's okay," he said. "I'll teach you everything you need to know. By the end of the game, you'll be a baseball expert."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "We'll see about that," she teased.

As they found their seats and settled in for the game, Seungmin began to explain the basics of baseball to Y/N. He told her about the different positions, the rules of the game, and the strategies involved.

Y/N listened intently, asking questions and giggling at Seungmin's silly analogies. Seungmin was happy to oblige, enjoying the chance to share his passion with the person he loved.

As the game began, Seungmin and Y/N cheered and clapped along with the rest of the crowd. Y/N was still a bit lost, but Seungmin was always there to guide her, explaining what was happening on the field.

As the game began, Seungmin's excitement was palpable. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes fixed intently on the field.

"Okay, so the pitcher is winding up... and here comes the ball!" Seungmin exclaimed, his voice rising in excitement.

Y/N watched with a smile as Seungmin provided a play-by-play commentary of the game. He explained the different types of pitches, the strategies of the players, and the rules of the game.

At first, Y/N was a bit lost, but Seungmin's enthusiasm was infectious. She found herself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering along with Seungmin as the home team made a great play.

"Baby! Did you see that? The shortstop made an amazing catch!" Seungmin shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

Y/N laughed at Seungmin's antics, feeling happy to see him so carefree and joyful.

As the game continued, Seungmin's commentary became more and more animated. He jumped out of his seat to cheer, spilled popcorn on himself, and even did a little dance in the aisle.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle at Seungmin's silly behavior. She was having the time of her life, and it was all thanks to Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm.

As the game continued, Y/N turned to Seungmin with a curious expression. "Min, why do the players wear those funny pants?" she asked, giggling.

Seungmin chuckled and explained, "Those are baseball pants! They're designed to be comfortable and flexible, so the players can move around easily."

Y/N nodded, taking in the information. "Oh, okay. That makes sense. But why do they have those stripes on the sides?"

Seungmin grinned. "Those are just a design element. Some teams have stripes, while others have different patterns or logos."

Y/N smiled, feeling a bit more knowledgeable about the game. As the innings passed, she found herself getting more and more into the game. She cheered along with Seungmin, asked more questions, and even started to recognize some of the players.

Seungmin noticed Y/N's growing enthusiasm and smiled. "You're getting into it, aren't you?" he asked, nudging her playfully.

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yeah, I am! This is actually really fun."

Seungmin beamed with pride. "I told you it would be! Baseball is an amazing sport."

As the game neared its climax, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. She was having the time of her life, and it was all thanks to Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm.

As the game reached the middle innings, Seungmin and Y/N decided to take a break and grab some snacks. They walked to the concourse, hand in hand, and joined the line for the concession stand.

As they waited, Seungmin turned to Y/N and smiled. "I'm so glad you're enjoying the game," he said, his eyes shining with happiness.

Y/N smiled back, feeling a flutter in her chest. "I'm having a great time," she said. "Thanks for explaining everything to me."

Seungmin leaned in, his face inches from Y/N's. "Anytime," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

As they reached the front of the line, Seungmin ordered them a plate of nachos and a couple of drinks. They took their snacks and found a spot to sit, watching the game from a different angle.

As they sat there, Seungmin suddenly stood up and pulled Y/N into a romantic kiss. The crowd around them cheered, thinking it was a kiss cam moment, but Seungmin and Y/N didn't care. They were lost in their own little world.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Seungmin's lips touched hers. She felt a rush of excitement and happiness, knowing that this was a moment she would never forget.

As they pulled back from the kiss, Seungmin grinned at Y/N. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N's heart melted at his words. "I love you too," she replied, smiling up at him.

The rest of the game was a blur for Y/N. She was too busy basking in the glow of Seungmin's love to pay attention to the score. But she knew that this was a day she would always treasure, a day that would stay with her forever.

After the kiss, Seungmin and Y/N were both grinning from ear to ear. They decided to take a break from the game and explore the stadium.

They walked around the concourse, taking in the sights and sounds of the ballpark. They played a few games at the interactive exhibits, with Seungmin showing off his baseball trivia skills.

Y/N laughed and teased him good-naturedly, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere. They took silly photos together, making funny faces and poses in front of the ballpark's iconic signs.

As they walked, they stumbled upon a stall selling all sorts of baseball-themed treats. Seungmin's eyes widened as he scanned the menu, and he promptly ordered them a plate of loaded fries, a giant pretzel, and a couple of churros.

Y/N giggled at Seungmin's enthusiasm, happy to indulge in the tasty snacks with him. They sat down at a table, munching away and people-watching as the crowd bustled by.

As they ate, Seungmin turned to Y/N with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Want to try something really adventurous?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Seungmin grinned. "I'll show you," he said, pulling Y/N to her feet and leading her off towards the next adventure.

Seungmin grinned mischievously as he led Y/N to a small food stall tucked away in a corner of the concourse. "I want to try something new," he said, his eyes scanning the menu.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she read the options. "Fried crickets?" she asked, her voice skeptical.

Seungmin nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I've heard they're really good! And we can't leave the stadium without trying something adventurous."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm eventually won her over. "Okay, fine," she said, laughing. "But if I start to gag, it's on you."

Seungmin chuckled and ordered them a plate of fried crickets, along with a side of spicy sauce. They sat down at a nearby table, and Seungmin picked up a cricket and dipped it in the sauce.

"Here goes nothing," he said, popping the cricket into his mouth.

Y/N watched in amazement as Seungmin chewed and swallowed, a look of surprise on his face. "Wow, that's actually really good!" he exclaimed.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?" she asked, picking up a cricket and dipping it in the sauce.

She took a tentative bite, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Hey, this is actually pretty tasty!" she said, laughing.

Seungmin grinned, happy to have shared the experience with Y/N. "I told you it would be good!" he said, high-fiving her.

As they finished their snack, Y/N turned to Seungmin with a smile. "You know, I never would have tried that if it wasn't for you," she said.

Seungmin's face lit up with a warm smile. "That's what I'm here for," he said, taking her hand in his.

As the game entered its final innings, the energy in the stadium began to build. Seungmin's favorite team, the home team, was trailing by a run, but they were determined to make a comeback.

Seungmin and Y/N were on the edge of their seats, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. The tension was palpable as the home team's batter stepped up to the plate.

"Come on, come on!" Seungmin shouted, his voice hoarse from cheering. "You can do it!"

Y/N laughed and joined in, cheering and clapping along with Seungmin. The batter swung his bat, and the crowd erupted into cheers as the ball soared through the air.

"It's going, it's going, it's going!" Seungmin shouted, his eyes fixed on the ball.

Y/N watched in amazement as the ball sailed over the outfield wall, scoring a home run and tying the game. The crowd went wild, cheering and chanting as the home team's players celebrated on the field.

Seungmin and Y/N were hugging each other, screaming with excitement. They were both jumping up and down, waving their arms in the air.

This was it, the moment they had been waiting for. The home team was going to win the game, and Seungmin and Y/N were going to celebrate together.

As the home team's closer took the mound, Seungmin and Y/N were on the edge of their seats, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. The tension was palpable as the closer wound up and threw the final pitch.

The batter swung and missed, and the umpire shouted "Strike three!" as the crowd erupted into cheers. The home team's players rushed the field, celebrating their victory as Seungmin and Y/N hugged each other, screaming with excitement.

As they celebrated, Seungmin turned to Y/N and pulled her into a romantic kiss. The crowd around them cheered and whistled, but Seungmin and Y/N didn't notice. They were lost in their own little world, basking in the excitement and joy of the moment.

As they pulled back from the kiss, Seungmin grinned at Y/N, his eyes shining with happiness. "I'm so glad we got to experience this together," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N smiled back, her heart full of love for Seungmin. "Me too," she said, snuggling into his side. "This has been the perfect day."

Seungmin wrapped his arms around Y/N, holding her close as they watched the home team celebrate their victory. They stood there for a long time, basking in the joy and excitement of the moment, their love for each other shining brighter than the brightest stadium lights.

As the celebration died down and the crowd began to file out of the stadium, Seungmin and Y/N reluctantly said their goodbyes to the ballpark. They walked hand in hand out of the stadium, already making plans for their next adventure together.

The sun was setting over the horizon as they walked, casting a warm golden light over the city. Seungmin and Y/N walked in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company as they basked in the glow of their perfect day.

After a while, Seungmin turned to Y/N and smiled. "You know, I think this has been one of the best days of my life," he said, his eyes shining with happiness.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she looked at Seungmin, her love for him overflowing from her heart. "Mine too," she said, smiling back at him.

Seungmin's face lit up with a warm smile, and he pulled Y/N into another romantic kiss. As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their perfect adventure together.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @intartaruginha

[cloudyskydreams]

SO on period UT,UF,US,HT!

Ive had this sitting in my notes for awhile wasn't super proud of it still ain't but I wanted to post something, I just had to slap the HT brothers on and boom new post.

Also I've been wanting to write swapfell but I don't know the difference between that and fellswap or really their personalities cause it's so different for each fanfic so if someone could pls explain 🙏

Anyways here y'all go hope you enjoy!

Undertale:

Sans:

I feel like sans is pretty knowledgeable so you didn't have to explain it to him. He takes it pretty maturely it's a natural part of life. The puns the horrible puns. He has so many specifically for this time of the month. He's always got your comfort snack on hand in his jacket pockets. He doesn't really change much he'll get off his ass if you ask him to but he sticks by your side mostly and lazes out cuddled with you while watching shows. Pretty good at getting products and snacks you might like he likes to get you some new snacks to try with him and he's good at guessing what you might like.

Papyrus:

This man is prepared. After you tell him what it is he researches it and WOWIE he wishes he just asked you to explain but now he's over prepared with knowledge! He has hot water bottles and weighted blankets at the ready. Any snacks you want, heck you want a whole meal? He's on it and it's prepared with extra love. He carries around your products for you and always has pain medicine in his bags. Pretty good at picking them up from the store too and has no shame getting them.

Underfell:

Red:

You gotta explain it to him and this man is bewildered for a bit. ya bleed from there for how long??? every month?! He's a little impressed?? Last he checked humans weren't supposed to lose huge amounts of blood but you're treating it like it's a normal thing. After he gets over his initial shock he'll try and help the best he can which is a little awkwardly. He makes a little nest for you out of blankets and pillows and makes sure you're comfortable. He and his magic run warm so he'll lay on your stomach and cuddle to help with cramps, pet his head and he might purr. He's pretty confused about products def one to send Babe what's your pussy size.

Edge:

He's aware, he's done his research on his own when you were ovulating about the human "mating cycle". Not a fun experience but he takes it in stride. He listens to what you need and trys to deliver. Massages for sore muscles and heating pads for cramps. He'll make you comfort food while you relax watching a show and join you afterwards for some cuddles. He's pretty good at getting products for you and takes the ones you like into consideration but he's always looking for better healthier alternatives for you.

Underswap:

Stretch:

Knows about it (blue taught him when he found out and Stretch showed interest in humans)and is a little awkward(traumatized from the talk with Blue). Hate to say it Stretch doesn't really know what to do he's not grossed out he just doesn't know how to handle it. He tries his best to be comforting giving snacks, heating pads, and cuddles. He's so awkward going to the store to get products plays it cool but has no idea what he's doing and definitely gets the wrong thing after his mind blanks while staring at all the products for too long. You just gotta train him he'll get better.

Blue:

Also knows and he's handling it alot better. He takes it in stride and understands the biggest part is you're uncomfortable and he's going to do his best to help with that. He takes care of chores you don't want to do, makes you comfort meals, and always has a heating pad ready. Has so many two player comfort games lined up for you guys, he has stuff to do but most of his work stuff can be done at home! Which means he'll just be a shout away if you need anything . Pretty good at getting products and is one to carry some around in his bag just in case when you guys go out.

HorrorTale:

Axe:

You have to explain it to him… Multiple times. He's confused as to why you smell like blood, he likes the smell but he's confused for a bit until he writes a note about it. He will not remember which products to get unfortunately. He's so confused staring at them you'll have to instruct him very clearly over a call and he still probably grabs the wrong one. Cuddles are supreme he's a giant so he'll engulf you in his form and his purrs practically shake your whole body. It's like a free massage chair whenever you want. He sticks closer by your side during this time of month knowing blood means your wounded and his protective urges flare up.

Willow:

You'll also have to explain it to him and he's extremely worried when he smells blood. Even more so when he learns how long you bleed, he knows how much blood a human can loose and it worries him you're losing so much. After you explain it's a normal thing and a part of life he calms down slightly. He cleans and cooks a lot when stressed or worried so you constantly have something to munch on and you don't have to worry about any chores. He stays over stocked up on supplies, he doesn't like going out in public very often but for this he will because he deems it important enough. It's why he stocks up so much when he goes out. Mother hens over you hard and you might have to pull him into cuddles to get him to relax for a bit.

[wisteria-lodge]

Since we’re talking patronuses: how do you think Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Ginny’s work? I’ve always thought they (Especially Hermione’s) were a bit random.

Hermione's Patronus is an otter because JKR's favorite animal is an otter. It really isn't any deeper than that.

If I were going to give them all new Patronuses, and bounce off my head canon that I was using for Draco, that your Patronus doesn't represent *you,* it represents what *protects* you... lets see.

What protects Luna is her ability to retreat inside herself when things get rough. It doesn't matter how terrible her situation is, the beautiful world in Luna's head will keep her sane, hopeful, and joyful. That's how she survived inside the Malfoy dungeons, and actually managed much better than Olivander did. So, I'd give her an animal that reflected that, like an armadillo. Cute, gentle, and armored. Alternately, if I wanted to give Luna a Fantastic Beast (seems a pity not to...) I think it would be nice to give her an occamy. Like the occamy, Luna expands to fill whatever situation she's in. She can be small enough to stay out of trouble, or so huge and expansive that she can see answers no one else can, and show up when no one else will.

Ginny I think gets a phoenix. What protects her is the way she can be be hot, fiery and in-your-face... but also re-invent herself, when she sees something isn't working. (Harry isn't working out right now? Cool, let's date around and do something else.) I also think that the phoenix from the Chamber of Secrets would have really stuck with her. She spent that year being extremely vulnerable, putting herself at risk, putting Harry at risk... but here comes a phoenix to bail her out. I think that's core-memory enough to make it into a Patronus.

I want to go a similar route with Hermione. Her worst year was Year Three - she's working herself into the ground, she has no friends, she's stressed and out-of-control, she tries to help Buckbeak but it doesn't work. She misses this huge threat (Scabbers) that was under her nose the whole time. But Crookshanks picks up the slack for her. He's her companion, and he had the right idea about Scabbers and Sirius the whole time. I think she would have found that SO comforting. So that's why I think her Patronus would be a kneazle. They look like regular cats except for a few magical details, so they have a foot in both worlds the way she does. They're also very, very clever, and Hermione's brain is the main thing that protects her.

Ron was actually really hard, because the thing is I don't think he feels protected a lot of the time. The central experience of being Ron is - I don't feel prepared for any of this, but I showed up anyway. He doesn't feel protected within his family, half the time he's the one protecting his friends, and he doesn't have as much faith in his own abilities as Hermione does. I would actually have it be that Ron is the one person on this list who can't cast a corporeal Patronus in Book 5, and we wait until Book 7 for the reveal. And here's my kind of crazy idea. I think that Ron's Patronus is a spider, or even an acromantula. Because you know what really protects him, in Book 7? What allows him to back-talk Voldemort? It's this bone-deep knowledge of - Cute. I've seen worse.

And I actually think like a giant terrifying spider would communicate that pretty well.

[strangunddurm]

Devout

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, possessive, toxic behaviour

A/N: Started thinking about writing again and found this one hiding in my notes. Hope you enjoy! I've been thinking about wanting to start writing a lot again. My love for Flip is still there (I am forever devout) but I also have this desire to branch out so if anyone is still interested in my writing and have a character they want to read about, please let me know, I am literally interested in anyone and everyone at the moment.

It was common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was utterly and completely infatuated with you. You were it for him. The one he would marry, build a house for, have kids with. You would be his end, but you were not his beginning.

It was also common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was on an apparent path to sleep with everyone he could that wasn’t you. Fuck, finger, and fondle like he wasn’t an officer of the law and he wasn’t in a very public bar at that very moment. You could see his hand run along her leg, caressing it with the pads of his fingers before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She threw her head back, laughing like nobody was watching, but, of course, you were. Your eyes were always lingering on his figure, just as his were yours. He watched you as he traced the lace of her panties, as he dipped them under the fabric; he watched you as he guided her lips to his; he watched you as he shattered your heart, always knowing that the comfort of your arms would always be there to sooth him in the end.

You often found yourself wondering: why? Why weren’t you enough for him at this point? Flip had this ability where he could string you along enough so that you, yourself, would feel guilty thinking of another man. Your possible unwillingness weren’t the reason for Flip’s hesitancy to commit, it was his. The unwilling fool in love with the same person he had always loved. Or perhaps you were the fool? Two fools in love that could never let the other one go. Never let the other bask in the happiness that was freedom.

Your friends often wondered why you subjected yourself to the torture of witnessing his lips upon another’s. You didn’t know how to explain to them that you only existed because of him. However demeaning and desperate it sounded, it was true. Whilst others existed for bettering the world or something other, you were made just to be his.

You thought for a while that you could live without him. That you could break free from his hold and flee from the place where everything reminded you of him but it was impossible. It didn’t make sense, how a man could possess you so entirely with just a whisper of attention. You thought it to be your own fault; a bleeding consequence of hope that wrecked your heart beyond anyone else’s repair. All you could do was wait for him. For you would forever be missing him otherwise, regretting not taking the possibility of even the tiniest something. Of a laugh, of a smile, of a glance.

So, you found yourself there, putting on a front of indifference as you tried not to watch every stupid move Flip made in the arms of another. She was smug. It was so obvious from the way her eyes would flicker over to you every now and then as his lips caressed her shoulder or her neck.

She knew of Flip’s fondness for you, having seen the way he had given you a sliver of attention by the bar, letting his hand ghost over your hip in a touch that was anything but accidental before she had successfully lured him away from you and into her arms.

You were zoned out, barely hearing your friends’ voices as you stared hard at them. Your lip was near bloody from your nervous chewing as you, almost ritualistically, dragged your teeth over it again and again.

“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” The words were spoken in your ear, your best friends arm coming to wrap around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“I…” She didn’t allow you to continue on the miserable spiel that she had heard so many times before.

“I don’t want to hear it. Not again. You need to realise that you’re worth more than whatever the hell this whole thing is,” She pleaded, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you sounded so fragile at that moment. Your voice wavered at the end, fading out as everything you felt became almost too much.

“Yes, you can. You just need to realise that you don’t owe him anything. Sitting here completely miserable isn’t going to make him change or do anything different.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been here with you! Every night we go out to have fun, he comes along and ruins it.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You turned to look at her as you forced the words out harshly. But the look in her eyes made the feigned anger falter.

“I love you. You deserve more. Try to enjoy your life before you realise it’s too late,” She said, squeezing your shoulder.

Did you really deserve more? You had been caught up in the web of Flip for so long that you truly did believe that staying completely devoted to him was the only way forward. You knew he would eventually tire and stop indulging himself in others. It was an unconventional relationship, unfavourable to you in every sense.

But who was to say that you weren’t allowed to enjoy others? Just the way he were? An innocent tryst with another that would scratch that itch not even your fingers could ease late at night.

You let your eyes trail over the inhabitants of the local watering hole. There were the usuals there, sitting at the bar, nursing their beers. A group of frat boys were in the corner, cheering over shots. It wasn’t until a pair of dark brown eyes met your own that your interested was piqued.

You probably wouldn’t have dared made a move if he hadn’t come sauntering over. He didn’t walk like Flip. Flip’s walk was self-assured, dominating in a subtle way that permeated the air around him. This guy walked in a cocky way, shoulders swaying with every step as he though himself holier than thou. It was off-putting, but you thought you owed it to yourself to at least try.

“Saw you watching me over there.” His attempt at flirting was just as cocky as his walk.

“Oh…” The laugh you let out was awkward as you fumble for a reply. “Do you come here often?”

“First time actually, I’m here visiting my brother.” He motioned toward some guy in the back that you couldn’t see.

“That’s nice,” You said awkwardly.

He introduced himself as he took perch on the barstool next to you, shaking your hand weakly.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, motioning for the bartender to refill both of your glasses at the same time.

“Ehm… Come here, I guess.” You waved your hand in the air, uncommittedly. Anxiety was flooding your nerves, practically inhibiting your ability to speak. You let your eyes trail over the room again quickly. Flip was still hands-deep in that woman’s skirt, your friends had slipped off somewhere else, getting lost in others.

The man, Chris, held a one-sided conversation without seeming to notice your less than keen interest. The thought of letting go and trying to flirt with somebody else was always easier in theory rather than practice.

It wasn’t his fault, if you were somebody else you might’ve enjoyed it. But all you could think about was the way his eyes were too dark, his hair too light, and his voice to high to remind you of Flip.

“Listen,” He placed his hand on your thigh. High up, bold, wanting. “I really like you, what do you say about getting out of here?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before a chest pressed against your back.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

You felt faint hearing Flip’s voice rumble through his chest as he pulled himself closer to you. His hand wrapped around Chris’s wrist, forcing it away from your leg.

“Hey, man, we were having a conversation here.” Chris was foolish. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t from here, after all. He didn’t know the perfectly concealed rage that could simmer under Flip’s skin when he felt like he was being disrespected. He didn’t know that you were an object of possession that had already been claimed.

“I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.”

“Flip, don’t-” Interjecting was pointless. Flip did whatever Flip wanted.

“You should take your drink, go back to whatever lowly corner you came from, and stay there. Get it through your thick skull that you’re not wanted here.” Flip roughly pushed the glas of beer Chris had been nursing on the bar, it’s content sloshing over the sides as it almost toppled over.

The silence that followed hung in the air, permeating it, polluting it. It didn’t take long for Chris to visibly crumble under Flip’s stare but it was almost as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to give in to the menacing man that had appeared out of nowhere. Reasonable, perhaps, but entirely futile. Flip would always get what he wanted in the end, no matter what.

Chris left without a word, sparing you a pitiful glance before he was gone and all that was Flip took over your senses as he rounded you, coming to a stop so you were chest to chest.

You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the way his chest would calmly breath in and out as he waited.

“Look at me,” His voice was low, steady. You wanted to, of course, but you were stubborn. Just when you were putting yourself first, there he was again. A forever keg in your wheels, keeping you in the same place, wallowing in your loneliness as you waited for him.

His fingers were soft against your chin as he urged it upwards, making you look at him.

He was smiling. Not a full on grin, but that sweet, cheeky little smile that held so much mirth that you wanted to hit him. It’s like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you to act out and finally do something for yourself. As if it was all but a game to him. A game that cost you your heart and in which he won your devotion without barely having to make a move.

“Wipe that smile of your face,” you hissed out. “What could you possible have to smile about?”

“You.”

“Oh, yeah, because it is so funny ruining my fucking life.”

“Ruining it?”

“Yeah, ruining it.”

“You should’ve just said something if you felt that way.” You almost laughed at that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said something. It felt like all you did was talk, and all he did was not care.

“Cut me a fucking break, Flip. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. This- this game you’ve been playing, toying with my heart. One minute it feels like you might actually want me but then the next you go and fucksomebody else and I’m just suppose to pretend that it’s all fine?”

“It’s not?” He said, playfully.

“Fuck you.”

“Stop swearing, and keep your voice down.”

“What? So that your whore won’t hear us?”

“She means nothing,” He said

“So why do you keep doing this? Why keep stringing me along?” You were defeated. Your relationship with Flip was strange. Peculiar. Unexplainable in certain aspects as you yourself did not entirely know exactly what you two were.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes as all the hurt you had felt over the past however-long caught up to you. He was looking down at you, as if in wonder. Was it possible that Flip Zimmerman was naive to the way he had treated you? To the way he had made you suffer? Had you been imagining it all in your head?

He didn’t look sorry, he didn’t sound sorry, but when the apology tumbled out of his mouth, you accepted it. Perhaps it was you who were naive but you wanted a moment of happiness with him. Even if it was a moment entirely clouded by delusion.

You nodded your head, a small movement of acceptance that made Flip light up.

Flip would always shine brighter than any star you had ever seen. He took your breath away and filled you with a rush of serotonin every time you gazed into his eyes for even a brief second. His eyes were like molten gold, blinding you as they tinkled. Devotion to him and only him was inevitable.

“Will you come home with me?” The answer was obvious. The question had been what you had waited for. Taking his hand and slipping out through the door before any of your friends still caught in reason could stop you.

His hand dipped between your legs, fingers mapping out a path to your most sacred place the second he pushed you through the door of his home.

"Look at you, already so wet for me." Flip chuckled darkly. He knew you couldn't resist him. Your need for him was as deep as his need was for you. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

His lips met yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. His tongue caressed yours as teeth clashed. This is what you had yearned for, his lips against yours in a way that promised no other.

His fingers toyed with your panties, teasing you. He knew how desperate you were for anything he would give you.

He took his time, teasing your more and more before he finally was gracious enough to slide a finger inside of you. Just a single finger to test you. You walls clamped down around him tightly, gripping him, coaxing him to give you more. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, so slowly that you thought you might lose your mind if he didn't give you something more, and you voiced so much.

"Please, Flip." What you needed was clear. But that didn’t mean Flip would be so easy to give in.

"You’ll get more, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.” He said sweetly before withdrawing from you completely.

"Flip-"

"You're so impatient." He chided you, tutting teasingly with a lazy smile on his lips. “Go to the bedroom.” He commanded whilst motioning his head in its direction. You were quick to obey, of course, feet moving swiftly as you stumbled your way on shaky legs through the halls and onto his bed.

You flipped onto it in excitement, eager for his touch once again.

“Is this what you wanted? To be one of my whores?” He asked as he undressed slowly, unbuttoning his flannel and letting his jeans fall to the floor before he took a stand by the foot of the bed. He trailed his hands up your legs equally as slow before grabbing a hold of your panties and pulling them off you. You couldn’t get any words out to respond, whining with need.

The evidence of your excitement was clear to him, almost dripping and shining in the low light. A sane man wouldn’t be able to hold back having a women presented so willingly to him with her legs spread wide and the skirt of her dress bunched up around her hip, chest heaving with excitement. And of course, Flip was a sane man, in some sense at least, for he was quick to crawl in between your legs and mouth attached to your clit.

Digging his fingers into your thighs, he hauled one of them onto his shoulder and connected his mouth to your sweet cunt.

The sounds of your breathless moans were intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.

Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart.” Flip praised in a panted breath before diving back in.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.

Your hand slid into Flip’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave after wave of moans finally made their way out of you.

Flip had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again.

Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was exquisite.

“Oh, oh, Flip. I’m gonna cum.” You whined desperately. “Oh, God.”

You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Your legs spasmed as you came with a cry.

Flip tried to hold you down as he never let up despite your half hearted please, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spured him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.

“You’re such a good girl.” Flip praised as he came up, hovering over you. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Flip.”

He tugged at his hard and weeping cock a few times as he admired you. You were breath taking like this, legs parted, eyes hazy from your orgasm, cunt dripping, ready for him.

"You’re gonna look so gorgeous, covered with my cum." Flip's voice was husky as he leaned down and pulled you closer to him by your face before planting a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips as he came to rest between your hips, a single arm keeping him up.

He dragged his thick and cum weeping cock through your folds a few times, thoroughly coating it in your slickness. The anticipation was killing you. His fingers and tongue weren't enough, you wanted more, needed it.

You grabbed a hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer even to you in desperation.

"Please, Flip." You whispered, ready for him.

The sigh the both of you let out when he finally slipped all the way into your cunt was one of relief. You had missed this, had missed him.

Flip didn't give you time to adjust to him before he started pounding into you at a pace that was brutal in nature, just the way he knew you liked it.

“You’re such a dirty fucking whore.” He spat at you and you clenched around him in response. "Look at you, so desperate for my dick you could almost cry." He let his thumb run across your cheek in a moment of softness. Being his whore and whatever he wanted was everything you had ever wanted since the moment you had laid eyes on him.

He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself. Flip's loud groans were bouncing around the walls of his room, blended in with your own gasps from every thrust into you.

Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.

"Fuck" You groaned. "Feels so- fucking good." You shakily breath out.

"This is what you wanted right? My cock so deep within you you’ll feel me for days" He cooed, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still as sharp, still as precise, and hard, and calculated.

A wailing yes! left your lips. You were sure you would be able to feel Flip's hands on your hips as you would nurse your hangover tomorrow, and most likely the day after that as well. You would feel him in every step you took. Forever.

"Harder." You pleaded.

He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.

"I love it when you do that." He praised, followed by another rut into you.

He continued pumping into yours sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy. The sound of skin slapping and noises of pleasure mixed together as they bounced on the walls and around the room.

His thrusts had picked up in pace one again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching, getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come,"

"No, you're not." Flip withdrew from you completely, flipping down on the bed beside you. You were drunk on the feeling of him, needy and desperate, ready to take everything he would give to you.

His legs were spread, cock standing on full attention, bobbing against his stomach, it's tip coloured an angry red, ready to be inside of you again.

"Come on then." He pulled you out of the short-lived trance you had been in over the sight of him. You though again of how there was something so ethereal about him, something other than just his looks, something that would always draw you back in and keep you on his hook.

You were quick in your movements, throwing a leg around his hips and hoisting yourself upright, causing him to chuckle over your desperation.

"Eager, are we?" He welcomed you with open arms, hands coming up to rest on your hips once again, as he gazed up at you with a smile on his face.

He helped you pull your wrinkled dress over your head, placing open mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips attached themselves to your perked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." He sounded as if he was in awe simply over the sight of you.

You sank down swiftly, engulfing him with your tight walls, stopping only when you were at the base, stuffed full of him.

"Oh, fuck, Flip!" The change in angle had you convinced that he was deeper in you than ever before, the tip of him nestling against your cervix.

"You feel so good like this." Flip moaned. He tapped two fingers against the side of your thigh, signalling you to move and you were more than happy to oblige. Your feet were securely rooted on the floor and you placed your hands on the walls to give yourself the leverage and support you needed to begin riding him.

He let you control every movement; let you set the pace as you slid up and down on his throbbing cock. Flip's hands were exploring every inch of you that they could reach, massaging your breasts, caressing your thighs, sliding across your back, and then, finally, they found their way to the apex of your thighs and started firmly circling your clit.

Flip let out a loud grunt every time you slammed yourself down onto him. It was a sound you wanted to hear every day, every waking moment and in every vivid dream.

The steady pace that you had managed to keep was slowly becoming nothing as you felt yourself loosing control over your limbs the closer you climbed to that high you were chasing. The muscles in your stomach were tightening rapidly over the coiling tension and your walls gripped him even tighter.

"Say my name."

"What?" You weren't lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.

"Say. My. Name." He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him.

His name spilled out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a moan.

"Who’s making you feel this good?" You weren't as quick to heed his words this time, the building pressure between your legs taking up all of your attention.

His hands were back on your hips, forcing you up, slipping out of you, and then guiding you dominantly into the position he wanted with your face pressed into the sheets and your ass high up in the ar. He was swift to enter you again, you had barely even had time to complain over the loss of him before he was drilling into you.

"Flip!" You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. He hadn't even faltered in his movements, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. He was panting loudly in between groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You." Another sharp thrust into you.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You, Flip. Oh, god, you, Flip!" Small droplets of tears were leaking from the corner of your eyes as Flip was steadily driving you to cum again as he fucked into you.

You hadn't felt this way before, you didn't even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right here, right now, forever.

"That's fucking right." Flip came with a deep jerk into you, pulling out to come all over your back before entering you again to give you a few last thrilling pumps.

You laid there on his bed in a heap, totally out of it as he calmly came to rest beside you. He coaxed you onto your back so that he could plant a sweet kiss on your lips. Uttering words that made your erratic heart pump even faster.

“All mine.”

[sayitaliano]

Something I've been thinking about these days is that, as language learners, we want to immediately be able to express ourselves in our target language as we do in our native language, but we forget how long it took us to reach this knowledge of our own language too.

When I was a child, I for sure wasn't able to think or understand certain complex Italian words and therefore they weren't part of my vocabulary even if I happened to hear them/read them and ask for their meaning (I couldn't always retain them, also because I didn't had the chance to really use them). But even if I had to express a concept that needed that word, I could still make myself understood by using more and simpler words that meant the same. Or a simpler grammar structure I was sure of.

Even in school, teachers use simple words, and the same simpler words are used in our books. They grow in difficulty as we grow, learn and make experiences too. And more than on words, primary school teachers focus on grammar. That boring annoying grammar (sic!). But that's at the base of our speech, and of every language imo. If we know the words but not how to use them/build a sentence with them correctly, it's only a waste of time imo. And I'm not talking about idiomatic uses or mild differences in connotations, as that too will come with time unless we come across something as we go and can retain it. I'm talking about words like (using my native language here but works for all) "astruso", "gaglioffo", "lapalissiano" or "pleonastico". Unless you're C1/2 in Italian, you shouldn't worry if you can't remember them, even if you came across them. Heck, not even some Italians really know their meanings and for sure we don't use them that much in our everyday talk, so why worry about learning them immediately? Let them go, retain what you really need to make yourself understood in case you found yourself here and eg. needed help or to buy something, or wanted to tell/ask something to someone: doing that with simple words and sentences you are really sure of, or even kind of, it's still better and more comfortable than using unknown words/difficult grammar and risking to be misunderstood.

To make it short: learning the basic/most common words is actually helping me practice my target language's grammar more comfortably, so that I can move onto adding more complex stuff anytime I feel I can. And it's honestly less stressing.

[lght-roastcoffee]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Jealous ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: "Are you jealous?"┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 3

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader

wordcount: 1.6K

warnings: slight language

author's note: So I've only watched the netflix show and have yet to read the books, so my knowledge of the series and universe is from that. I love Benedict though. He's the himbo rich boyfriend I've always wanted. ♡

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

“Why do you insist I wear these silly gowns, Mama?”

My mother huffs as she swats at my fidgeting hands, trying to find a more comfortable angle in this ridiculous corset. She straightens the damned thing back to how it was, one of the bones digging its way into the side of my waist.

“Because, darling,” she begins, smoothing my hair to the side, “tonight is your first ball back into society. I know you enjoyed your time in the country with your aunt, but it is time you find yourself a husband.”

Taking my gloved hand in hers, she places a dance card on my wrist and leads me into the Danbury estate where tonight’s social event is in full swing. 

“Now, remember.” Mama turns to face me, cradling my face in her hand. “Tonight is for you to socialize and get to know those of the Ton. If you do not find someone who has caught your attention tonight, I will still love you.” 

Mama smiles at me before taking my hand again and guiding me inside the grand ballroom. It was filled with a vast assortment of fellow debutants, bachelors, and families mingling. In the middle of the room, couples were participating in the dancing, others talking near the lemonade tables, and others hovering around the dance floor conversing with their neighbors. Off to one side, I spot the one person I was hoping to see tonight dressed in the ever-recognizable blue color nearly all the Bridgertons wear. I quickly say goodbye to Mama, who was already conversing with Lady Danbury, and rush over to my friend.

“Eloise!” I greet, catching the girl’s attention. “It is so great to see you, my dear!” 

Eloise’s face lights up in recognition, turning to hug me. “Y/N! How was the country? You will have to recount your time to me! I’m sure your aunt taught you much in your time together.” 

My mother thought it best for me to get away after my failed engagement to Lord Pedleton, a filthy man double my age of twenty years. My father thought the union would bring fortune to our families, but all it brought was harm after Lord Pedleton was found bedding his maid. The scandal it brought to both our families caused my father to break the union and my mother convinced him it was best I spend some time with my aunt.

For the past year since, my aunt has taught me everything she knows and how to be in society as a woman while enjoying the more… improper joys in life. She took me to gallery openings of her friends, invited me to parties and gatherings with equal minded artists and intellectuals who did not look down at me for being a woman. She encouraged me to begin writing and worked with me to finish my first novel, publishing under a pseudonym and watching as others enjoyed my craft. To say I thoroughly enjoyed my time away was an understatement, and Eloise knows as I’ve written to her through the year and sent her an advanced copy. 

“It was wonderful, Eloise,” I sigh, a slight smirk forming on my lips. “The things I’ve done would make you blush.

She laughs, throwing her head back and grabbing my arm. “Oh, I’m certain! But I’m sure you missed me, or more accurately,” she leans in, mischief dancing in her eyes, “you missed my brother, did you not?”

My cheeks flare as I swat the girl away in playful annoyance. “Eloise!”

“What?” Eloise raises her hands in defense. “I only speak the truth! It is not like you haven’t been smitten with him since we were children!”

“Smitten with who, exactly?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That’s how the saying goes, is it not?

Benedict Bridgerton struts over to the two of us from whatever corner he was hiding in, butterflies erupting in my chest at the sound of his voice. His face lit up in boyish excitement as he stepped to his sister’s side. 

“No one!” I quickly reply, glaring at my friend before she can speak any more. 

Benedict chuckles, looking between Eloise and myself. “Well, I do hope whoever has your eye is worth it.” 

I roll my eyes. “There is no one that has my eye, Ben. Eloise was just asking about my time in the country.”

“Ah, yes! How was it?” His blue eyes pierce mine as he engages in the conversation. The look he gives is filled with an emotion I haven’t seen before.

“Oh you know,” I shrug, trying to avoid the total truth, “my aunt introduced me to her friends and I learned how she lives. She is always lively company to keep.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, and that you have now rejoined us!” Benedict slightly bowed in a playful manner, pulling a laugh from myself and an eye roll from Eloise. “You’ll have to join us sometime for a game of pall mall. It hasn’t been quite the same without you there to taunt Anthony.”

I smile widely, returning his bow with a curtsy. “Of course, Mr. Bridgerton. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

The three of us stand in our corner recounting the past year together and catching up. I didn’t quite realize just how much I had missed my friends, but I am glad to be back in their company. 

While in the middle of Benedict explaining his recent work of art, I feel a tap on my shoulder, pulling the attention to the young man behind me. 

“Excuse me, miss,” he says. The man is young, not that much older than myself, with dark hair and a scrawny frame. “I apologize for interrupting, but I was wondering if I could take your next dance.”

I blush slightly out of both embarrassment and disbelief. “Oh, uh, sure.”

He takes my hand in his, filling out a line on my dance card before leading me to the dance floor. The music begins and the familiar tune fills the room. The man bows and I curtsy before getting swept into the dance. My partner is nervous, I can tell. His dance moves are clumsy and rushed, palms growing clammy. He refuses to meet my eye and is silent the entire time. 

Not very far into the dance, I glance back to where I left my two friends, Eloise silently laughing at my misery after getting tripped over and Benedict watches with a hard look on his face. I continue moving, but I cannot take my eyes off Benedict. The look on his face, eyes hard, jaw clenched, is one I had only seen when he was frustrated or angry. Why would he be angry?

Soon, the music ends and I remove myself from my partner, excusing myself back to my friends quickly. 

“Well that was quite the show!” Eloise laughed. For what felt like the hundredth time tonight, I rolled my eyes at the girl, but joined in her laughter.

“He might not be the greatest dance partner, but he wasn’t hard on the eyes, was he?” 

At my jest, I hear Benedict scoff before crossing his arms across his chest. “Please, the boy could hardly keep up.”

“Are you jealous?” I tease, stepping closer to him. Up close, I see his eyes shift across my face, shock dancing over his eyes briefly.

“Well- I-” Benedict stutters.

“I believe mama is calling me,” Eloise announces, clearly trying to leave and nearly tripping over another girl as she backs away. “I shall catch up with you later, Y/N.”

I huff before the feeling of a hand on my forearm is dragging me outside to the gardens. I struggle to keep up with Benedict’s quick strides before I stop around a secluded corner.

“Ben, what-” He interrupts me.

“What if I am?” Benedict stares at me, eyes wide and darting between mine.

“I’m sorry?”

“What if I am jealous?” He steps closer, but I stand my ground. He slowly closes the distance, taking one of my gloved hands in his.

“I would say that I have been jealous as well.” 

He leans in closer, face mere inches from mine, allowing me to see the creases and lines on his gorgeous face. His blue eyes, with flecks of green scattered like stars, dilate at my words. His other hand comes to rest on my cheek, thumb rubbing against my cheekbone. 

“You are so beautiful,” he says shakily. “You have been since I first met you.”

The breath catches in my throat, my hand slightly squeezes his still in my grasp. My eyes dart from the intensity in his eyes to his lips just briefly, but just enough for him to notice. Suddenly, the feeling of his lips on mine is the only thing I feel, my head spinning as I return his kiss. My free hand trails along his arm to rest at his shoulder, the other letting go to do the same while his finds my waist.

“Wait-” He carefully pulls away slightly, searching my eyes. “Are you sure-”

I pull him back in, arms securing themselves around his neck as he melts into my embrace. We continue before the need to breathe takes over and we part, chests rising and falling with each inhale. The sight of him, hair disheveled, lips slightly swollen, is a sight I’d like to see everyday if he’d let me. He smiles, still catching his breath before laughing quietly. His infectious personality has me joining him, my head falling to rest on his chest with his arms wrapping around my frame.

His hand tilts my head up to look at him. “I am glad you’ve returned, my love.”

[existence-is-a-pain87]

Ohhh, has anyone requested for Shelly or Vee yet? I love playing as them, haha, Shelly will always be my favorite though! It makes me feel comforted since I relate to her so painfully much. I would love to talk with her about dinosaurs or just spend time with her, just anything hhhh!!

Please make sure to take your time writing these requests! It can be draining so please take breaks and take care of yourself! You can also deny this if you want. I love your work so much! <3 It's a fun idea to imagine the characters hearing us! Especially when we start to tweak out or even silently yell at our screen or anything like that I know I do that too much hahaha-

Actually I've been hoping to write for Shelly and Vee! This is gonna be a drabble that's a fair bit different from the other drabbles I made so far, hehe.

Also, again, sorry if your request is taking awhile! I have a ton in my inbox and more keep coming in. Don't worry if you don't wanna send in a request now! I love getting requests and I can't wait to fufill them all!

Hehe. <3

Game Show of Love

Yandere!Self-Aware!Shelly x Reader; Yandere!Self-Aware!Vee x Reader; Yandere!Self-Aware!Dandy's World x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, swearing, fighting (over you <3)

--☆☆☆☆☆--

When Shelly learnt she was your second favorite, she was happy.

But a good bit disappointed. What do you mean 'second favorite'?

Didn't you love dinosaurs? So why wasn't she your first favorite? Why was it Glisten?

Would her only being number 2 in your heart mean you would forget her too? Just like how everyone else did?

So she did what she could to figure out how to talk to you. To ask you if you would ever forget her.

And to ask what your favorite dinosaur is, hehe.

So she began searching. At first she thought she could use the Roblox chat...

But after what happened last time they tried that... yeah, no.

So she went elsewhere.

And then she found your phone number.

And she wanted to try it. So she went searching and found someone else, someone they couldn't hear, who rarely used their phone. Especially not for texting.

Then she tried to contact you.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Hello?

You: Who is this

Shelly panicked. What if you blocked her? She saw blocked numbers on this phone, mostly scammers... oh no! What if you thought she was a scammer?!

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: It's complicated.

You: Wdym

Shelly hesitated. Should she explain everything? Would you believe her? Should she just ask the question she was dying to ask??

...

Shelly shook her head and decided to try something.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: I'm someone who's going through a bunch of different phone numbers to try to find someone I can talk about dinosaurs to.

She thought for a moment and quickly sent another message.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: I'm not a scammer, I swear!

You: Isnt there better ways to yap to people about dinosaurs?

You: Like on tumblr or smth?

Shelly panicked, terrified you may block her.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: I mean I could. But on here there's no ads and stuff.

You: Dont people think your a scammer tho

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Sometimes they do. Then they just block me. But I just want to talk about dinosaurs!

You: Send me a dinosaur fact.

Shelly's breath hitched.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Wait, really?

You: Ye

You: I love dinos

You: Yap to me about them rn

You: Pls

Shelly almost squealed.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Of course!

You: Also what should I call ya?

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: My name's Shelly!

You: I'm [Name].

Shelly froze, staring at your name.

Your name... She was the first one to learn your real name.

You gave her your name.

She couldn't hide her thrilled grin. Even if no one else could see it.

--☆☆☆--

As Shelly texted you, Vee was busy figuring out information about you.

She ran a gameshow for crying out loud! Clearly, more Toons would be interested if she had some trivia about you thrown in there.

But then it spiraled into something more.

Gaining knowledge about you started off small. Things you mentioned in game. Such as your favorite Toons.

It annoyed her she wasn't one of your favorites.

Or the fact you owned a cat.

He seemed awfully clingy too. Oh, and she already knew his name is Blaze. Even if you called him 'Kitty' often.

But then she grew frustrated. You didn't mention enough about yourself when you were playing! How was she supposed to make trivia about you now?

So she began searching.

And figured out how to leave the game. Then how to leave Roblox on devices.

Specifically your device.

She didn't notice nor care that Shelly did it first.

No one noticed Shelly could leave because they never noticed she was gone.

Then Vee found the microphone function on your phone. Then she connected herself to it.

And suddenly...

She could hear it all.

She heard you talk, even when you weren't playing the game. If you had your phone on you, she could hear.

That's when her spiral truly started to occur.

Just like with Astro, she grew a soft spot for you.

She learnt of everything. From your favorite food to your primary mode of transportation.

And she saved every fact she learned about you to her database. In the span of a month at most, she probably knew you better than you knew yourself.

And it wasn't just the microphone she used for information. She went through your photos, your search history. Meticulously finding any bit of info she could gather.

Unfortunately, though, she couldn't use the camera. Since she could only risk searching around your phone for information when you weren't on it, she was never able to turn on your camera and look at you.

This fact frustrated her to no end, but she had to deal with it.

She kept searching through your phone, one day managing to find your text messages and started to go through them.

Hm? Who's this in your contacts? 'Shelly'? What a strange coincidence...

...and this Shelly spoke to you often about dinosaurs? Hm...

She'd need to keep an eye on this...

--☆☆☆--

Shelly was thrilled.

In a month she managed to become one of your best friends!

Of course she was living a lie, but she didn't care!

To you, she was your silly, dinosaur-loving online friend who you were able to share anything with!

And as time went on, she got more comfortable with you.

And got more and more in love...

She started taking more risks.

For example, she pretended to be a player of Dandy's World, talking about how funny it was she was so similar to the Shelly in game. At least personality-wise!

If only you knew...

Tisha knew of this.

She didn't mind.

In fact, sometimes she would even be able to talk with you when she wasn't busy.

And just like Shelly, Tisha kept the fact she could talk with you directly a secret. As well as keeping the fact she was a Toon private from you.

And eventually, she managed to get enough confidence to sort-of ask her question.

Shelly: Random question, but why are your favorite Toons your favorite?

You: You mean my top three?

Shelly: Yeah

You: Well... I like Glisten because he's a lot like me in a sense. I try to maintain stability and confidence even though I hate myself. And his Twisted form is a cutie pie that made me realize he needs all the hugs.

Shelly: But you're great tho!

You: So a lot of people say lol

You: I like Shelly since she deserves better, I too love dinosaurs, her design for both her toon form and her twisted form, and her lore makes her deserve all the hugs too.

You: And Shrimpy Boy is just a silly man lol

Shelly: Why's Shelly lower than Glisten?

You: I haven't told you yet?

You: mb

You: She's very slightly lower because I HATE the confusion debuff and I like Twisted Glisten's concept a lot. Otherwise the two are basically tied lol.

Shelly: So you utterly adore her?

You: Fully and completely!

Shelly squealed from glee.

You, her favorite person, loved her! The only reason she was lower than Glisten was because of some tiny things she couldn't really change. You thought she was basically perfect!

You loved her as much as she loved you!

Then Vee has to ruin it.

--☆☆☆--

"Shelly... what the f■■■?"

Vee stormed closer. One hand was balled into a fist. The other held her microphone so tightly that if she had blood, her hand would turn white.

"You've been talking with the player for over a month now? You could talk directly to her, and you didn't tell anyone?!"

Shelly gritted her teeth. "I did! I tried to tell you! None of you listened to me when I tried to talk! Not even you or Tisha!"

Vee's screen glitched, and never has she been more annoyed that- despite the fact she was a video game character and thus most of her lore wasn't really real, with her being a gameshow host only real because she went out of her way and did that the moment she figured out private servers- she had a censor over all swear words. Because she had a lot she would like to say.

The two stood opposing one another in Shelly's room, where Vee stormed in the moment she put all the pieces together.

She was by no means Rodger, but even the mystery of the Shelly in your contacts list wasn't too hard to solve.

And both were in their Twisted forms. So if this would become a physical fight, it would get messy very quickly.

"Can you blame me for giving up?" Shelly asks, "All basically ANY of you do is ignore me! The only one who doesn't is Tisha! And half the time you forget I exist! Anyways, YOU also told no one about the fact you figured out how to leave the game too! That YOU figured out so much of your information about them by violating their privacy!"

"What I did is different from what you did." Vee curtly replies, standing tall. "You were contacting them directly. Playing a lie the entire time."

"At least I wasn't going through private photos and search history." Shelly growls back, "Do you know how humans can be embarrassed by people looking through those things? Or do you ignore what privacy is just like how you ignore me? At least until you need something from me, you BITCH."

Vee scowls, slightly startled at Shelly swearing for the first time since... practically ever.

"This is why they don't like you." Shelly continues, "I'm one of their favorites. ME. Not you. So stop violating [Name]'s privacy and stop caring about the fact I talk to them."

"...say that again." Vee orders suddenly, screen glitching for a moment as she processed what Shelly said in the blink of an eye. "That word... [Name]."

"That's their name." Shelly says. "They told me it. Directly. Because I didn't violate them as much as you did!"

"I am not violating them." Vee retorts, processing your name. One of the few pieces of information she knew, but reeled from hearing come out of the mouth of someone who was speaking to her for the first time. "But now ...I have an idea."

"What is it now?" Shelly asks, pissed.

"...It involves you directly," Vee says, "How would you like to practically guarantee yourself a prize in one of my gameshows? The grand prize."

Shelly just stares at Vee, raising an eyebrow slighty.

"And the grand prize..." Vee says, suddenly smirking, "Is [Name]'s love."

--☆☆☆--

The grand prize being offered brought every Toon to the gameshow.

Not everyone was participating. Many were simply in the audience, due to the extra promise of a special prize given to any Toon who was simply there.

The gameshow was split into a tournament. Two toons would compete to move onto the next catagory, and the final two would compete for the grand prize.

Practically everyone was a little stunned when Shelly was a contestant.

Especially when Shelly started to crush anyone who went against her in the trivia.

And they were even more stunned when Vee started asking trivia questions they had no idea how she found out. Even Rodger didn't know this much information, and he was carefully documenting every bit of information he heard you mention when playing. Or others talking to you that they mentioned when playing.

And when people were eliminated? They were a good bit annoyed at losing the opportunity for your heart, but stayed for the special prize.

Eventually it just got to Dandy and Shelly. And Shelly won.

Shelly won by saying your name.

They all loved your name.

Dandy barely held himself toegther when Vee declared the winner to be Shelly. But he stayed. Especially when Vee stood on top of the podium, grinning.

Even if the two hated eachother, Dandy wanted that secret prize.

"Well, now that that's wrapped up." Vee says, twirling her mic, "I know all of you want the secret prize, yes? Even though Shelly has all the right to our beloved player's heart, that doesn't mean you all will just forget about them, mhm?"

"Just get to the point..." Dandy mutters, gritting his teeth.

Vee smirks. "Well, what if I told you that all of you could talk to them? Directly to them. No more little incidents due to the chat, but to them."

Everyone froze, staring up at the gameshow host. It was more silent than when everyone learned your name.

Your name was beautiful.

Your voice was beautiful.

They all loved you.

They all loved your voice.

"Now, all contestants and audience members of this Gameshow of Love, would you all like to learn what a phone number is?

[arminsumi]

HEAR ME OUT JAY— i’ve also been on a gojo kick too😩 i literally have no medical knowledge but thinking of gojo x reader angsty where he has to set one of our broken bones after a battle lowk has me giggling and kicking my feet UGEHHEHEHE

take your time w requests!! take care of yourself, lysm thank you sosososoosos much🫶🏻🫶🏻

blood n' bone.

note: hey honeypie!! yeah istg gojo has a death grip on my mind the dude doesn't let me think of anyone else rn. anyways, i have little medical knowledge on this too but i tried my best !!

warnings — lowercase used, injury ( knee dislocation, bone setting ), blood visuals, angst ( with fluff, happy ending 👍 ), he calls u angel, i think it might be implied fem reader ??

" are you okay ?! a—re you hur — oh shit, fuckfuckfuck that's bad. that's bad... okay. um. just breathe. just breathe! don't worry, you ain't gonna die sweetheart. look at me, ok — question. do you trust me ? "

" what on earth do you plan to do ? " you ask gojo wearily.

you look at him, the pain fogs your mind. it's so painful; a blinding, piping white hot pain, one that singes all your senses. it's all you focus on until you look into those soothing blue eyes.

he's hovering over you, eyeing out your knee and the gory scene of your battle-bloodied body. he's got your blood on his hands already. it hurts his heart more than anything to see you in pain.

part of him hates you, because if you had just listened to him and stayed out of this battle, then this wouldn't have happened. but you were so stubborn about staying at his side. and then part of him is thankful, because he didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be without his girl just in case he didn't make it out alive. he didn't want someone else to come to you and bear the news that he's not coming home. gojo was selfish; if he died, he wanted to take you with him.

but he was fine. you were fine. well, "fine" besides the fact your knee was dislocated.

" do you trust me or not ? " he asks again.

" yes. " you say truthfully. of course you did, he's been your one and only since birth; the gojo clan and your clan were intertwined by fate. you and him have been in each other's lives since you were toddlers throwing tantrums.

there's a memory that comes to gojo when he places his calloused hands on your knee. it's a memory from his childhood with you.

one day, you fell and scraped your knees. gojo found you curled up, crying alone in an alley. " what the hell ? why didn't you come find me ? let's go back to my house. i'll carry you. yes of course i can carry you ! i'm stronger than you ! "

he takes his blindfold and puts it in your mouth, " need you to bite on this, angel. "

" hmmmf ?! " the reality of what he was about to do set in. but how could it be more painful than the dislocation itself?

there's no question that he can set your bone. he's the strongest; of course he can.

you watch his bicep muscles flex, his grip firm. he hesitates, breathe ragged like he's nervous. then you hear a loud pop and instantly scream blue murder into the fabric; it doesn't really do a good job of muffling the sound. it pierces gojo's heart.

" angel, angel — look at me. breathe. it's okay. i've got you. it's alright. it's really alright. angel ? there, just stay in my arms like th-this. you're okay now. i know it hurts, but you're okay. " his hair is messy, your blood is all over him, and you yourself look chaotic; but still you look beautiful to him. your face comforts him like no other; he's always had excited pangs in his chest when you walk into a room or show up at a battle.

he's always shared your pain. he's a highly sensitive, emotional boy but conceals it well; when you're in pain, he's in pain. when you're sad, he's sad. when you're happy, he's happy. and hence, if you would have died, he would have died. you're tied together by an invisible thread, the two of you couldn't escape each other even if you wanted to. at times, you hated how you always found your way back to him; especially when you and him had that fallout in your twenties after your dating life interfered with your friendship.

but your hostility towards each other ended, of course it did. and now you and him were always at each other's side. handholding, just like when you were kids exploring your little village.

" let's go home. " he murmurs, soothing you with his voice and the gentle feeling he radiated.

" i can't walk. " you mumble, " it hurts. "

" i'll carry you. "

" we're not little kids anymore, you can't carry me. "

" what the hell ! of course i can carry you; i'm the strongest. "

you smile, remembering that memory only now. " you're right. you are. "

his heart flutters hearing you agree for the first time. of course you always knew he was the strongest, it was indisputable. but you liked to tease him.

" better believe it . . . now wrap those arms 'round my neck. "

he wears a stupid, proud smile on his face while he carries you. when you're home, you feel extremely grateful.

" it's good to be home, huh, satoru ? " you say, knee bandaged and propped up.

he's given you pain medication by now. there's the background noise of the TV, and golden afternoon light sieving through the sheer curtains.

" home is wherever you are. " he says earnestly.

whenever he says things like this, it's always in a soft voice, almost like he's too shy to let you know his true feelings.

you feel warm, homely; and so does he.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Lando/Oscar (Part 2)

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want us to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

you can find part 1 here

nsfw: fly the ocean (in a silver plane) by @settsplitt | E | 2.6k Lando and Oscar are fighter jet pilots who share a room on base. Oscar doesn’t seem to think much about the risk of what they do, but it consumes Lando. This is an excellent character study and builds such a big world out of very brief moments. “Hot” and “existential worry” hold hands in a circle around this fic.

He’s practically fucking useless in the briefs and debriefs. He just feels his brain slipping away, to the sky and the seas and angels 10. He knows other people are noticing, but honestly, if they want him to be normal they should fucking put him back with Oscar. None of it matters, anyway, because Lando never has any control.

nsfw: Keep Talking by @wanderingblindly | E | 2.7k This is such a beautifully written fic! The trust and comfort here is really moving - it's a soft, syrupy sort of story, that unfolds beautifully. Love it!

With practiced hands, he slides his fingers into Lando’s curls and scratches lightly at his scalp. It shoots like lightning down Lando’s neck, ringing in his ears. 

no proof, not much (but you saw enough) by @ipleadbritney | T | 3.5k Soulmates. Lando and Oscar are pulled aside by the FIA, suspected of an illegal soulbond. What I liked about it: The character voices in this story are absolutely spot on. It's Oscar's point of view and his anxiety about the situation underlying his calm demeanor is a delicate balance this author depicts beautifully.

“Yeah?” Oscar wonders which version of Lando he'll get. Will it be the one who's hyper focused on every tiny detail, including the curls of his hair? Will it be the one who's living proof why some kids deserve to be leashed? Or will it be the Lando who flirts as much as he breathes, one step away from launching his OnlyFans account?

nsfw: Reasons Why Lando Norris Might Be A Werewolf by @fenesacha | E | 3.9k Oscar, a werewolf, starts to notice small things about his teammate that may mean Lando is a werewolf too. (He's not.) What I like it: This fic is funny and breezy with great dialogue and an Oscar perfectly happy to shift gears and take it in stride when he realises Lando isn't a werewolf, but he is something else Oscar hadn't expected.

“Your dick comes off?” Oscar blurts out before he can stop himself. Lando stares at him like he’s stupid, which makes a change. “I don’t have a dick, Oscar. It’s a packer.” Right. Oscar’s not entirely sure what a packer is, but he’s got the gist of it all. “No dick. Okay. That’s cool.” “Is it?” “Yeah, mate.” Oscar’s not a bigot, he’s just having to mentally correct every fantasy he’s had for the past God-knows-how-many years. “You’re trans, then?” “Yeah, but it’s not common knowledge, so don’t go telling all your friends.” Lando turns his head so that he’s looking at Oscar, then frowns. “Wait, so you’re not trans?” “Uh, no?” “Huh, thought you were. You give off those vibes.”

worth the trouble (it was an honour) by @maaxverstappen | G | 4.6k Oscar and Lando started something, knowing it would end. It's all sweeter than it is bitter. I'm absolutely entranced by this fic. The emotion comes across so clearly, such a perfect, gentle bittersweet feeling. I don't re-read fics often, and this is one i've found myself returning to regularly.

They were always good at that, talking without words. Sometimes, and Oscar would never admit this, he would think cough twice if you hear this, being both surprised and relieved when Lando stayed quiet.

nsfw: you signed up for this by @strawberry-daiquiris | E | 6.9k This is a wonderful magical realism au where older!Oscar time travels back and teaches Oscar how to treat Lando properly. I think writing the same character twice and all that separates them is time gone by is so impressive. it really shows great writing skills and characterisation. The smut was obviously so well written but what I loved so dearly about this is how philosophical it was, so much growth for these characters within a single evening. A true must read for the landoscar community!!

He’s looking at himself, like some kind of fucked up mirror at a funfair. It’s him, but there are lines he doesn’t recognise, a heft to his upper body he can’t feel. His face looks older, and his teeth annoyingly, a little straighter. Oscar finds, to his horror, that this is him but hotter. Less hair though, at least there’s that. “Hello.” Not-him-but-him says, with a little wave and a sideways smile. Next to him, Lando giggles, and when Oscar turns to look at him he’s returning the wave, wiggling his fingers and letting the sheet he’d pulled up to his neck drop to right below his nipples. “Stop flirting with him!” Oscar exclaims, then reconsiders his point. “Or me. Or... alright, actually mate, who the fuck are you?”

force majeure by debrief | T | 7k Oscar and Lando get bodyswapped. The author absolutely nails the voices of both characters, Lando's chaotic way of speaking versus Oscar's more measured tone. Its largely constructed as a series of text messages until the last act, which is an inspired way of showing when a character is freaking out - Lando's messages in particular get more incoherent and full of typos when he's upset. The way they gradually draw toward one another as their situation isolates them (anyone else they confide in is erased from existence after), being one another's strength and comfort and support, is really beautiful to watch unfold.

craving for caprficns sn caprin sc capri sus suns capri suns and like so theyre usually on the lower shelf in ther corner i kown cause i alswasy get then here even tho theyre pricier priceri pricier and like they werent there and i double checked i asked the emploeye that was stocking the shelves in the next aisle and she sad said she dones t know what a capri usn is?? she even asked me if it was a zodiac sun zodiac sign shit i cant cry over caprin sun osc

nsfw: love along the way by @gaslybottoms | E | 10k AU, sex work/adult entertainment. Oscar is a videographer for an adult entertainment studio. Lando is one of the performers. Oscar sees Lando struggling emotionally after intense scenes and wants to help him. Lando, though, is very reluctant to accept it. This is a wonderful fic - Oscar is hurting so badly for Lando and is desperate to comfort him, but he can only be brushed off so many times before he gives up. He is so worried for Lando that he misses signs of distress in himself, which ends up bringing about a resolution to the situation in a way nobody (including me!) expected.

It’s cheesy. A line literally straight from a porno, and one Oscar has heard so many times over the last year or so. He shouldn’t find himself hating the way it sounds, curling around Jenson’s tongue as he chases his release. He’s not even a bad guy. Outside of filming, Oscar likes him. He’s always up for a laugh, and he makes an effort to get to know about all the people that work in the agency, not just the actors he’s supposed to do scenes with. He’s always supportive, offering advice from a mature point of view. And yet. Right now, Oscar can’t stand him. The way that he gets to take care of Lando in a way that Oscar can’t, because Lando doesn’t open up to him the same way. The way of telling Oscar how he feels, not how he might open up around Oscar’s -

the sun (in your eyes) by @wisteriagoesvroom | M | 11.3k Lando stumbles upon a flower shop. Oscar's flower shop, to be precise. This is a wonderful florist!Oscar au. What I love so dearly about this is that the author has taken the lyric/concept of "you don't have to say i love you to say i love you" and applied it to flower language. How creative and clever. I love how throughout this fic Oscar and Lando really become what the other person needs, they are always there for each other. All of it just feels so safe and comforting. The dialogue is witty and fun and the descriptions are really well rounded. And as the cherry on top, this was written For Me so its wonderfully perfect.

Home. Home is pine needles and Ribena and his first car and a return ticket to Heathrow and taking your seat at your local cafe and the baristas knowing your name. But home can also be this: an open door, a room full of flowers and green and life. A cup of your favourite tea and a snack you’ve come to associate with the word comfort. A conversation with a man who offers you a safe harbour, with no conditions to be anything other than to be what you are.

nsfw: you're burning up, i'm cooling down by @foggieststars | E | 12.3k Lando and Oscar have an understanding, Oscar doesn't get to come until Lando decides he's been good enough. This fic is so good and it might be my most reread f1 fic ever at this point. The dialogue is amazing and feels so real and on point for both Lando and Oscar. Their dynamic is so fun and sexy and well written and it makes so much sense for them and what I feel like landoscar would be. I lack the words to accurately describe how good this is: the writing, the plot, the sex are all phenomenal.

He teases Oscar about it, sometimes. How badly he wants it - to win, to be good. Lando asks him if he ever gets hard in the car out of some twisted desperation to please people. He loves thinking about Oscar’s muscled thighs clenching together in the car, vibrations running through his whole body, sparking little points of contact. So Lando lets the little game drag on into the race build-up sometimes, when Oscar is okay with it.

under my skin by @lellabellawrites | M | 16.8k An AU in which Oscar and Lando are serial killers who have a meet cute while dumping bodies, and fall in love. This fic absolutely floored me with how good it was, how this pair of incredibly dangerous people managed to focus all that intensity on one another. Their devotion to one another is absolutely touching, even if you can never forget what they do for fun. Oscar is methodical and calculating, Lando is more impulsive, which is perfect characterisation and shows how well they fit together, the Yin and Yang of it all. The ending left me breathless.

Oscar knows exactly who this man is now. The Quad County Killer sprung up last summer and has been on quite a spree lately. A handful of Oscar's kills have been attributed to him, which should be a relief from the extra cover it brings, but instead only pisses him off. This guy works recklessly, leaving his kills out in the open like he wants to be found out. Oscar would like the papers to give him a little more credit than that. "I work better alone." His disdain must be evident as the man relents with a sneer of disappointment. "Could you at least help me drag this down—" "No." "Fine." He takes one end of the duffel and heaves it over the curb with more strength than Oscar would have expected from his slender frame. "Did you sink yours or float?" "Sink. I'm not an idiot." "Alright. Rude."

you be time, i'll be space by littleplumtree | M | 50.8k Lando and Oscar are part of a space exploration team with the goal of finding sentient life outside of earth. why I like it: This author is a master of the details. Every piece, every detail, every action and reaction, they all serve to make the story richer and more vibrant. The characterization, too, feels comfortable and real. It's a joy to read.

With his eye to the microscope, Lando makes a heart wrenching little sound of relief. “Oh. Oh my god. There you are.” Oscar leans his elbows on the bench and stares into the tank. There’s nothing to see with the naked eye, but in that water is something that could one day, given all the time in the world, evolve into something like themselves. Maybe one day they’ll build pyramids and cry at sad movies and invent Tupperware and come up with a thousand different ways to insult each other online.

nsfw: Casual by @loquarocoeur | E | 95k AU, college roommates. Lando is perpetually horny and unlucky when it comes to hookups. He suggests that he and Oscar should just be friends with benefits, you know. Casual. Oscar agrees, even though he is madly in love with Lando and knows its a recipe for disaster. Lando gradually starts to realise the same. I am insane for just how good this fic is. It's not that the guys don't talk, they talk all the time and even communicate about their unique situation, they understand one another deeply and yet they still don't realise what space they occupy in one another's hearts. They are completely compatible in bed, if only they knew - Lando in particular is self conscious about the way he gets in bed and fights his very nature, all while not realising Oscar likes him that way. The angst is heavy but they get there in the end, while it has plenty of funny dialogue moments to lighten things. The characterisation is wonderful all round.

“So I stopped asking for sex and now we haven’t fucked in like five days which should be fine, but I don’t know, I’m getting desperate and he's just, like, fine, so maybe he doesn't need the sex, maybe he doesn't want the sex anymore, but he just can't admit it—” “Okay, Lando, I think you’re really overthinking—” “No! Because you see the fucking isn’t the only thing, the thing is that somehow we’ve sort of accidentally slept in the same bed for like a week and now we’re sort of fighting so I couldn’t sleep last night.” “Accidentally... For a week?”