#anything can happen in the GP but it all just hurts

[sainz100]

oh my heart hurts so much 💔 this weekend is awful

[pomegranatesarchive]

she talks, he talks | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: max verstappen loves to talk, you love to talk. match made in heaven.

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 625,048 others!

yourusername: skiing with cha except he eats shit every five minutes

view comments below!

user1: YN AND CHARLES CONTENT

user2: WE CHEERED!!

charles_leclerc: NOT every five minutes

yourusername: 🤨

charles_leclerc: like every ten minutes…

user3: i really needed some yn and charles content after that HORRIBLE triple header

user4: i need yn and charles content 24/7

user5: is this his girlfriend?

user6: ew no

user7: yn and charles have been friend since childhood. his gfs name is alexandra!!

user8: did you guys see those paparazzi pictures?? they were so funny

user9: LMAOOO YEAH yn talking her ass off while charles was just 🧍 staring dead at the camera

user10: he looked like he was trying to communicate for help with his eyes

user11: charles loves himself some yappers

alexandrasaintmleux: thank you for sending me that five minute compilation of charles eating shit

yourusername: anything for you my love <33

charles_leclerc: can you guys stop bonding over my hurt

alexandrasaintmleux: no!

carlossainz55: please send me that video

georgerussell63: me as well!!

alex_albon: me too!

maxverstappen1: ooo me too!!

landonorris: please send that video my way

oscarpiastri: me too!

lewishamilton: i would like to see that video!

charles_leclerc: you’re all sick.

user12: wait now i need that video

user13: PLS POST IT YN PLS

user14: yn and charles going on vacation alone while he has a gf is so…weird

user15: not really?

user16: his like his sister bro 💀 you’re making it weird

user17: alex is clearly ok with it so why is it weird??

user18: i’m pretty sure they were with other friends

user19: and even if they weren’t that would be okay!! because they are grown ups who can do whatever they please

user20: you know who would be great friends??

user21: max and yn

user20: you literally READ my mind

user21: it would be literally the 2 yappers against the world

user23: you guys are geniuses

user24: i can’t believe with all the races yns been to she hasn’t met max 😔

user25: they obviously know OF every other, they just havent met face to face  

user26: one photo pls just one photo of max maxplaining and yn ynplaining pls

— yn ln has posted new pictures!

liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon, and 649,028 others!

yourusername: leo and his favorite aunt + his favorite max (>ᴗ•)

view comments below!

user27: OMG THEYRE FRIENDS NOW

user28: yappper mets yapper

user29: charles’s two yappers are friends

user30: his two worlds are colliding

user20: i made this happen guys

user31: no bc they definitely saw that comment and were like “yep! we’re friends now!”

charles_leclerc: you’re his only aunt

yourusername: your point?

charles_leclerc: of course you’re his favorite aunt, you have no competition

yourusername: yeah…i still don’t understand where you’re going with this

maxverstappen1: yeah charles, be more clear with your words

yourusername: he realllyyy needs to know how to communicate better 🙄

maxverstappen1: HONESTLY!! it’s soo annoying when he won’t just spit something out

yourusername: you are SO right max

user32: oh yeah, this is a good combination

user33: the yappers are yapping

user34: they just became friends and they’re already ganging up on charles 😭

user35: do you guys think she’ll go to hungary?

user36: UGH I HOPE SHE DOES

user37: okay guys listen…the last 3 gps were ASS for charles right???? and the last race yn was at was…. MONACO and who won that?? YEAH CHARLES. she’s the good look charm.

user38: you’ve literally solved the problem

user39: @/yourusername we NEED you in that garage pls yn. i can handle another horrible ferrari weekend

alex_albon: pet play date when?

yourusername: max says leo isn’t allowed to have play dates with other animals until he has a play date with jimmy snd sassy first…

alex_albon: gosh he is so possessive 🙄

maxverstappen1: sassy and jimmy need to be leo’s #1 friend. if he meets other animals then THEY WONT BE HIS #1 FRIEND. is that so hard to understand?

yourusername: makes perfect sense to me 🤷‍♀️

maxverstappen1: thank you!

charles_leclerc: you guys are aware that he’s MY dog, right?

yourusername: for now 😏

charles_leclerc: WHAT

user40: you guys are saying friends…but i smell relationship

user41: smell? you SMELL?

user42: oh that’s not…

user43: can yall just LET PEOPLE BE FRIENDS

user44: people just don’t believe in the power of friendship anymore

liked by user45, user46, and 64,928 others!

maxverstappenupdates: yn and max caught yapping to others and EACHOTHER at the hungary grand prix today!

view comments below!

user47: fork found in kitchen

user48: clap if your surprised

user49: dead silence

user50: this is actually so cute

user51: RIGHTT?? like he talks, she listens, she talks, he listens

user52: does anyone want to role play yn and max with me

user53: ?

user54: i’ll be yn

user53: great! i’ll be max

user54: ??

user55: the first race with yn and max being friends and they’re already like this 🤞

user56: i need her in the redbull garage next

user57: it think that would cause charles to explode

user58: i’m gonna say what everyone is too scared to say…they would be a cute couple

user59: DONT LET THEM SILENCE YOU

user60: man be QUIET

user61: y’all see the opposite sex interact and don’t know how to act

user62: they’re both so expressive when they talk and it makes they’re conversations so much better

user63: i was there and i overhead part of their conversation…tell me why they were talking about which one of them could outrun a f1 car

user64: my bet is on yn

user65: nah i don’t think so, max is an athlete

user66: yeah but he’s also the type to fall on his ass 3 seconds into the run

user67: BUT SO IS YN

user68: they are literally made for each other

user69: they make it so hard to just believe there friends

user70: THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACHOTHER!!!

user71: FRIENDS DO NOT LOOK AT EACHOTHER THAT WAY

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 652,084 others!

yourusername: skiing with someone who won’t wipe out every 10 minutes is great! (๑˃ᴗ˂) and thank you to the random person who took that amazing picture for us! <3

view comments below!

charles_leclerc: on your mind 24/7 🙄🙄

yourusername: the image of you tumbling down the mountain and taking at least 20 people with you will NEVER leave my mind

charles_leclerc: IT WAS WEEKS AGO

yourusername: I BET THE PEOPLE YOU TOOK DOWN WITH YOU STILL REMEMBER

charles_leclerc: LEAVE ME ALONE

landonorris: i’m a much better skier then that guy 😒

maxverstappen1: please tell me where she asked

landonorris: just sayinggg

user72: jealous max?

user73: IM THE ONE WHO TOOK THE PHOTO!!

user74: omg how was it??

user73: SOO CUTE!! they made a snowman and made like 20 different snow angels 😭

user74: OMG THATS SO THEM

user75: does this not look like soft launching to you?

user76: they make it so hard to keep saying their just friends…

user77: what type of friends take vacations alone together

user78: charles and yn…

user77: oh you got me there

georgerussell63: those are awesome glasses

maxverstappen1: i just threw them away

georgerussell63: why would you do that?

maxverstappen1: i tend to do the opposite of whatever you say is great

georgerussell63: okay rude.

user78: those glasses are fire 🔥

user79: why are they lighting up? and where did he get them??

user80: that first picture is absolutely gorgeous

user81: this is literally soft launching, why is nobody freaking out?

user82: what about this is soft launching? its literally just them hanging out

user83: oh to be hanging out with max making snow angels with him

user84: they would be so cute together

user85: this is a date and nobody can convince me otherwise

user86: OH BROTHERRR

— max verstappen has posted new photos!

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 972,018 others!

maxverstappen1: launching us straight into the moon 🚀

view comments below!

user87: yapper and yapper together my dreams have come true

maxverstappen1: @/yourusername

yourusername: you get me 💕

user89: what did i fucking say. i want EVERYONE who told me i was crazy for saying they were together to APOLOGIZE.

user90: i’m sorry, truly

user91: yeah thats my bad, sorry!

user92: my bad 😬

user93: i still think theorizing about someone’s relationship is weird but okay!

user94: i’m sorry…

user95: y’all really had me out here defending your “friendship” 😕

user96: RIGHT! i feel so embarrassed

user97: truly a defining moment for me

user98: i really wanted a man x woman FREINDship to shove into people’s faces

user99: you always have yn and charles!

user98: it’s just not the same :(

user100: but they are really cute together

user101: yeah..they are

charles_leclerc: finally! she has someone else to talk too other then me…

yourusername: hey! i have other friends 😠

charles_leclerc: name 3

charles_leclerc: WHO ARENT RELATED TO ME OR WHO ARENT ON THE GRID

yourusername; okay frick you??

maxverstappen1: it’s okay liefde, i’ll listen to you talk forever

yourusername; thank you maxie 💕

charles_leclerc: barf

user102: does he mean soft launching??

user103: LMAOO I THINK HE DOES

user104: happy for you! (i wish that was me soo bad)

user105: i’m soooo normal about this

user106: charles two yappers have officially gotten together…i definitely saw this coming

user107: i knew it!!!

user108: yn posting cute little friendship pictures and max just full force announces their relationship

user109: ugh i love him

. . .

notes: summer school is officially over! i can now spend the rest of my summer writing (￣▽￣)

thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed :)

[leighsartworks216]

Search and Rescue

Zayne x gn!Reader

I swear one day I'll write another Zayne fic that has absolutely nothing medical in it at all

Warnings: hurt/comfort, some angst, blizzards/snowstorms, blood, injury, minor character death, self-sacrifice, hypothermia, dialogue heavy, established relationship

Word Count: 3,333 (I did this on purpose >:3)

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AO3

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When the weather reports come in, so too do the calls for you and Zayne. Jenna needs you on duty to help anybody who gets trapped in the oncoming blizzard, and Zayne needs to be at the hospital to help emergency patients and those sheltering from the storm.

It’s hours before the storm is supposed to roll in when you begin getting ready. Zayne helps you find heavy-duty waterproof gloves and don enough layers to keep you moderately warm while you work. You pack Zayne emergency snacks and drinks. He tucks one of the protein bars into your coat pocket.

The tension of the danger that lies ahead is palpable. Rescue missions aren’t unusual for either of you, but keeping up with communication and the unpredictable nature of what could happen will make things very tricky, very fast.

You hold his hand as he drives to the hospital. The Alpha Team will be setting up base there to account for the high influx of patients. The perimeter will reach a few blocks. Whether you stay within it remains to be seen.

It would be hypocritical of him to tell you not to risk your life for the sake of another, more so than his usual hypocrisy when it comes to taking care of himself, so he doesn’t say that. Instead, he tells you, “Don’t be reckless.”

You smile. “I won’t be,” you promise.

Both of you know it’s a lie, whether you intend for it to be or not. You’ve always thrown yourself into danger at the drop of a hat. Now, as a Hunter, the danger keeps growing, and you still charge head-first into it.

He squeezes your hand.

The hospital bustles with preparations. Gurneys are lined along the halls, prepared to be filled once the last of the rooms fill up. Nurses are preparing stations to provide food, drinks, and blankets to anybody who needs it. Doctors offer contingency plans for a million different hypotheticals while dictating what patients should go where.

Jenna and your team help where they can. Nero is setting up a communication station that should make it possible to keep in touch during the storm. Tara is helping to set up Hunter Watches with emergency beacons, just in case anything does happen.

The storm is mere hours away.

Zayne removes his scarf and wraps it around you. You smile up at him reassuringly as he tucks the ends into your jacket. “Stay in contact.”

“I will. Every step, the team will know about it.”

He smiles slightly. “Good.” Not one for PDA, he nods to you, a silent wish of good luck and a quiet plea to come back to him in one piece. You return it, wishing him the same and promising to make it back even if it kills you.

And then he’s with the other doctors, preparing for the worst.

You jog over to your team. Tara beams at you, taking your wrist and setting up the beacon. Jenna debriefs you on what you need to do. Nero double checks that your comms will work.

It feels like no time has passed at all before the trouble begins.

-

Your snowmobile cuts over the snow piled on top of the blacktop. Tire tracks are quickly covered up or blown away. Cars sit parked on the side of the road or haphazardly abandoned right in the middle. The wind bites at your face like sharp teeth made of ice. The scarf around your mouth and nose prevents it from stealing your breath. Goggles protect your eyes, though the snow steals your visibility. Your hands have already started to go numb, but you press on.

The GPS on the snowmobile is glitching and useless with the storm blocking its signal. You have to rely on your knowledge of the area and Jenna’s voice in your ear directing you. There was a distress call sent in from a nearby park. It’s out of the set perimeter, but you’re the closest person available to help.

“The victim has a road flare available to them. Tell me when you’re in the area.”

“I’m almost at the entrance. I’ll go in on foot.”

“Careful. Don’t lose your way. Do you have anything to act as a marker?”

You pull up at the familiar iron gates of the park. You and Zayne come here for picnics when you have days off, so you know it pretty well by now. You dismount and try to find anything to use as a tether or beacon, but you just don’t have the resources. “I don’t.”

Jenna sighs. You really are her most reckless Hunter. “Call out the direction of the flare. Use it to retrace your steps back.”

“Understood.” You pull the scarf tighter around your ears as you head into the park. The snow is powdery beneath your feet, covering up your boots with every step. When you glance behind, your footprints are already gone. “Tell them to light the flare.”

Wind whips around, kicking up snow into your face and sneaking into your many layers. Once you get back, Jenna will send out another Hunter while you warm up and help at base. Just a few more minutes in the cold, and you can rest. The prospect urges you to keep pushing on, even as the damp begins collecting in your socks.

A faint pink glow pierces the haze. The light is diffused so much you almost miss it. “Spotted. North west from the entrance.”

The park feels like a deserted tundra the deeper in you go. You can’t see the iron fence that blocks it in, only the trees scattered around, barren or otherwise full of pine needles. You try to name what kind of tree they are, to help you on your way back.

On the left, a sycamore.

On the right, a pine tree.

Feet feel like miles, dragging on as the cold begins to seep in.

The glow of the flare disappears just ahead of you. Through the snow, you see the vague outline of a person. You pull down your scarf, exposing your mouth to the incoming agony of chapped lips, and cup your hands.

“HEY!” you shout. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

A muffled reply is swept away in the blizzard. With a bolstered resolve, you block the wind with your arm and push onwards. It isn’t much longer before the silhouette begins to clear.

Your watch beeps with a Metaflux warning. You’re frozen to the spot as you watch the horrific sight.

A Wanderer, some sort of knave, hunches over a body. A thin blanket flutters around the corpse, obscuring the figure. Red snow melts around them. The Wanderer’s arm is coated in the same red, seemingly fascinated with the spent flare as it prods it out of the victim’s hand.

“There’s a Wanderer,” you say through the comm. The creature’s head snaps up to you. You fumble for your gun, too tucked away to get to easily. It charges, blade-arms raised.

-

“Can you hear me?” Jenna tries again. It’s all static. Nero frantically tries reconnecting the link, but to no avail. “Have they lit their beacon yet?”

He shakes his head. “No. No, not yet.”

Tara gasps softly, hands covering her mouth as she stares at the holographic map. A red error warns of the lack of a signal, waiting for any sort of input to track. “What are we going to do?”

Jenna taps her finger on her arm.

Zayne helps someone in from outside. The snow gusts after them until the doors are pushed shut, chilling the lobby. He notices the red glow from the corner of his eye. His heart plummets to his stomach.

Trying to keep a level head, he passes the minorly injured person to a nurse, and rushes over. “What happened?” he demands.

Jenna looks at him from the corner of her eye, before fully turning to face him. “You’re close with Y/N, aren’t you?”

He nods. It only confirms his suspicions: something happened to you.

“They were answering a distress call when their line went dead. We believe they were attacked by a Wanderer, though the amount or type is unclear. They haven’t lit their beacon yet-”

“Captain!” Tara cries. “They lit it!”

She turns back to the map. The red error is gone, replaced with a blinking yellow icon. Zayne leans forward, reading the road labels.

“Do you have another snowmobile?” he asks.

“I can’t send a civilian into this storm.”

“I have extensive experience with search and rescue missions like this, Captain. And I know the area well. Along with my Evol, I should be able to retrieve them with little trouble.” He’s already buttoning his coat as he speaks, tucking his glasses away for safekeeping.

Jenna smirks. “You won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?”

His ears are tinted pink as he looks away. You really are a bad influence on him.

“Here.” She grabs a bracelet-like device and wraps it around his wrist. “This way we’ll be able to track you through the storm.” Then she hands him a small earpiece. “Keep in touch. There’s another snowmobile outside.”

-

The storm hasn’t gotten any better by the time he reaches the park.

His cheeks are red from the cold, eyes bleary from the wind, and anxiety grips his heart like a vise. He parks his snowmobile beside yours. Snow has thoroughly covered the seat and skis.

He announces his arrival to your team. They lead him in the direction of your distress beacon.

The wind is deafening. The most recent weather reports predict that the storm will die down in a couple hours, but that’s far too long to wait for you to survive through.

Snow collects on his jacket as he blocks his face. The snow on the ground almost reaches his mid-calf, making movement difficult. But he powers through. He must. The thought of you dying out here, slow and alone, chills him to the bone even more than the blizzard, even more than his Evol. He refuses to let that happen.

A plastic wrapper, half-buried in the snow, catches his attention. He kneels down to look at it. The familiar colors and branding of the protein bar he stuffed in your pocket greets him. If this is yours, it means you’re alive enough to eat.

He shoves it into his pocket and keeps going.

“The map says they’re nearby,” your captain says through his earpiece several minutes later. He leans against a sycamore tree for cover. “Directly ahead of you.”

He shoves off and continues trudging forward. A dark shape under the snow 10 feet away catches his attention. His chest is tight as he drops down and begins uncovering it. It feels like his heart has stopped completely when he reveals the back of your coat.

He calls your name, digging his arms underneath your body to lift you and rest you against his chest. He bites the finger of his glove to pull it off. Your skin is ice cold as he feels for a pulse…

It takes nearly a minute before he feels the faint beat of your heart. He assesses you for any injuries. It doesn’t take long to find one.

Across your stomach is a long slash. Your clothes are torn, revealing ice-bitten skin and the jagged edges of your wound. When he looks, he can see a long trail in the snow, already being filled in. He can just imagine the agony you must have been in, trying to crawl through the snow back to safety. Eating your protein bar for a boost of energy, just to keep going.

He slips his glove back on and cradles you tightly to his chest as he stands and heads back the way he came.

“I found them. I’m heading back now.”

He’s back at the sycamore tree when your watch beeps. A glowing ring appears around your wrist, red with warning. He hears the Wanderer’s cry on the other side of the tree.

He quickly kneels down, supporting your body in his lap and cradling you with one arm, while the other calls ice to his hand. His face is set, eyes sharp. The second the creature rounds the trunk, he’s hurling ice at its chest.

Memories of fighting Wanderers in the mountains, of losing his friend, burn in his chest. Zayne fights with unyielding determination to get you home.

-

It’s warm. Almost too warm. Memories of playing outside in the snow as a child, only to come in and have burning sensations on your fingers and face, drift lazily through your mind.

There’s a weight on top of you. It’s too hot.

Lifting your arms feels like a monumental task. Trying to shove the blanket off is even harder. You’re panting before you’ve even uncovered your chest.

It’s suddenly pulled off of you, uncovering your legs from the burdensome heat. The cooler air of the room sends goosebumps all down your arms.

“Don’t move too much.”

Your head lolls to the side. Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. You’re so tired. You try to speak, but it comes out as garbled nonsense.

“Shh. You’re on a lot of pain medication right now.” Something soft touches your forehead. You stop fighting to keep your eyes open. “Get some sleep.”

You dream of building snowmen and drinking hot cocoa.

The next time you come to, your whole body aches. Your muscles scream in agony with every little twitch. The worst of it comes from your belly; a persistent sting that brings immediate tears to your eyes. You gasp and whimper as your hand tries searching for the source of your pain.

Something grabs your hand and pulls it away, holding it tenderly to the side. “Does it hurt?”

You whimper again, nodding pathetically.

“Okay. It’s okay. Give it a minute. It’ll go away soon.”

You try forcing your eyes open again. They don’t feel as heavy now. You can start to make out Zayne’s dark hair, the focus on his face as he makes adjustments to the equipment you’re hooked up to.

Slowly, the pain ebbs into a dull ache. He turns his attention back to you.

“Feel better?”

You nod again slightly. He smiles softly, but it looks like he’s struggling with it.

“Mhnn, what happened?” you slur.

He squeezes your hand gently, running his thumb over the bandages wrapped around your fingers.. The skin underneath is dry and cracked from the cold and the self-destruction of your crawling, but your blood runs warm underneath. “What do you remember?” he asks instead.

You blink, frowning with concentration. You remember the blizzard. Getting ready with Zayne in the morning. Meeting your team in the hospital. A dozen or so back-and-forth rescues. And then…

The barren trees appear in your mind through a haze. Dark red against melting snow. Fabric flapping wildly in the wind.

“The Wanderer…”

Zayne nods slowly. “Your comms went down. Your team couldn’t contact you at all.”

“Yeah, it…” You subconsciously reach for your ear, as though trying to find the earpiece. “It knocked it off when I dodged away.”

“And then you set off your beacon.”

A timid look comes over your face. He sighs, already knowing what you’re going to say. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I fought it off first. My gun was hard to reach, but-”

“So you waited until it was dead to alert anybody else to your struggle, even though it could have killed you before you ever got the chance.” It wasn’t a question. You can’t meet his eyes. Even after promising him to be careful, to stay in contact with your team at all times, you still put your life in unnecessary danger.

“‘M sorry…”

He sighs.

You look at him again, studying his attire. It’s buttoned all the way to his neck. His tie is crooked. “What happened after that?”

“Your captain gave me what I needed to rescue you myself,” he starts. You cut him off with wide eyes.

“She let you go on your own?”

He grins wryly, but the pinch in his brow shows just how strained it is. “You’re a terrible influence on me, you know that?”

You grin, too. You nod for him to continue.

A darkness covers his eyes. Bright hazel dimmed by the emotions that were still warring within him, battling with the relief that you’re still alive. “I found you buried in the snow,” he murmurs. “You were barely alive. The Wanderer didn’t hit anything vital, but you’d still lost a lot of blood. Paired with the frostbite… It’s a miracle you still have your extremities.

“I rushed you back to the hospital. We immediately began treating you with a heated IV. Once you were stable, we started you on a blood transfusion and treated your wound.” He nods to your stomach where your pain still lingers.

You look down at yourself. The blanket is still pulled off of you, folded off to the side. The snap-front gown they put you in allows for easy access to your stomach. You can see the bandages through a couple of the snaps.

Your eyes slowly trail to your connected hands. Your fingers are individually wrapped. His warmth seeps in through the bandages. But there’s something else…

You carefully pry your hand from his so yours is on top. He lets you, watching your movements for any discomfort. Your fingers glide over the faded scars of his hand, up to his sleeve. He pulls away when you push back the cuff, but you’ve already seen the glimpse of a bandage wrapped around his arm.

“You’re hurt, too.”

“It’s superficial.”

“Since when has that mattered to you?” you tease.

He glares at you, but there’s hardly any venom behind it. He looks away, readjusting his sleeve all the while. “More Wanderers appeared after I found you. A couple scratches here and there, but nothing serious,” he dismisses.

You seek out his hand again. There’s a quirk to your lip, one that belies the mischief in your actions, yet he gives himself to you anyway. You trace up the same pattern as before and struggle to undo the button of his sleeve. He undoes it for you. You’re unrelenting at the best of times; it’s easier not to fight it. He even lifts it up slightly, fully revealing the wrap around his wrist and forearm. The soft gauze padding can be seen through the thin material, outlining where the injury really is.

“Some couple we are,” you murmur. “We get hurt and we deny it with our every breath.”

He huffs a laugh. “Two self-sacrificing fools.”

You hum with a nod, continuing to trace over his injury. The mirth begins to drain from your face. “I’m sorry… For not calling for help sooner. For letting you get dragged into the mess I created.”

“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit, my love,” he whispers reassuringly as he slides his fingers up your wrist until he’s holding your hand again. He brings your bandaged knuckles to his lips. You watch the way his lips curve against your minor wounds. “I will always come to your aid, by my own choice, whether you created the ‘mess’ or not.”

“I love you,” you whisper in return.

He kisses your knuckles again. “The feeling is mutual.”

You pinch his chin playfully. He chuckles. “Get some rest. I’ll get something for you to eat.”

He lowers your hand back to the bed and stands up. His fingers work nimbly to button his sleeve and fix it once more. You catch his hand before he can turn to leave. He looks down at you attentively. You could ask him for the stars and he’d pluck every single one from the sky to give to you. You smile sweetly up at him, that familiar glint in your eye giving your tricks away.

“Does the hospital serve hot chocolate?”

---

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@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover

[muffinsin]

i just read this post

https://www.tumblr.com/muffinsin/739024633405308928/anon-here-my-fav-is-bela-though-i-totally-get

about gp! dimi sisters giving reader just the tip and i loved it!!! so if it’s okay and if not already done, could you do one for donna if you write gp for her?

i love all your stuff btw!

Absolutely, hon!🙇‍♀️ Some more Donna in our lives never hurts XP! Other parts here

Let’s get into it!🙌

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With a flushed face and a racing heart you look up at her, finding her dark eye at last. She’s hovering just mere inches above you, her breasts pushing down against you, her eye set on you, her thighs brushing against you and her cock- no, only her tip- pushed into you.

You squirm, helpless to do anything else due to the ribbons tying your wrists together. Already, you regret your actions, wishing you had been good instead. Now, you pay the price, all your pleads and whimpers falling onto deaf ears. You want- no, need her. Need all of her.

Alas, your punishment for today is obvious, clear as day to you, and so bittersweet.

You whine, your eyes wide. “Please, my love”, you plead.

“Please, just a little more, my love! I’ll be good now! Just…just a little more, a little…a little more!”, you whine, squirming to try and get her deeper inside. Stopping this abruptly, you gasp when she grabs your hips, her grip strong, her strong, skilled fingers pressing into your flesh.

“Now, Tesoro, I thought you said you’d be good this morning already…”, she coos, her voice low and seductive, enough to make your head spin.

Using her free hand she reaches down, and you can only whine as she begins to jerk herself off, thrusting her hand and occasionally sliding her fingers across her balls. And still, it’s only her tip that she grants you.

Feeling utterly edged and sensitive, you cry and squirm, little pleas slipping from your lips like water from a waterfall.

“Please, my love!”

“I’m sorry, Fiore!”

“Please, just a little bit! Just halfway in, my love!”

“I’ve learned my lesson!”, you insist, flushing when she laughs lowly and merely jerks herself off a little faster.

“Oh…tesoro, mi fai divertire”

You begin to feel more and more flustered, your body held down and in place, your arms restrained, her tip just barely inside of you. Still, you feel precum drool from her, feel how warm and wet she is. You drool, thinking of how she could just push herself inside fully at any time.

Alas, she isn’t, she doesn’t, and she won’t. Not until she feels you have learned your lesson. And you know, Donna is unfortunately, at least in this instance, very, very patient.

You gasp when she leans down, her tongue trailing along your neck, her hair tickling your skin gently.

“I have told you what would happen when you don’t behave, Tesoro”, she whispers, scolding playfully. Yes, she has. Punishment- but she never clarified it would be this, this..this agony! You can only squirm and try to roll your hips to no avail. You’re sure, you could cum instantly if she just pushed herself inside already!

“This isn’t…fair!”, you whine, feeling so terribly needy. Before this, you thought edging was the worst thing she could do, or denying you an orgasm all together. This is worse: this way, you don’t even feel her inside properly, can barely feel her head push and pulse inside of you, drooling precum inside.

She chuckles, the sound low and breathless, a sign she’s getting closer to an orgasm, too.

“Would you like me to pull out entirely, love?”, she asks, then, her voice a little lighter. Oh, she’s teasing you, and you’re helpless in the face of her dominance. You quickly shake your head, begging her not to. You don’t know why, but you just can’t bear to lose the tip, too, you desperately need more of her.

“Please…my love…I need it…!”, you plead instead, trying a different approach.

You gasp when her hand trails up to your neck, then, whereas the other works faster between her own legs, pulling moans and grunts from her.

“Then tell me how bad you need it, my doll”, she coos, arousal pooling in her dark eye.

Oh, and you do.

You moan, you plead, you whine and whimper all about just how bad you want it, how bad you need it.

You squirm and cry out for her, spread your legs, so utterly eager to accept more of her inside. But Donna, teasing as she is, merely continues jerking herself off for a painful while longer.

A little more, a little more.

More moans and grunts come from her that have your body heat up and tingle in anticipation.

You want it.

You need it.

And then,

you get it.

When she pushes herself inside, only to cum, it’s almost beautifully overwhelming. You moan and shriek, crying out for her, rolling your hips, eager to receive all of her. She fills you perfectly, paints your insides white and slick.

And then, just before you get your pleasure, you feel her pull out to the tip again.

“Beg again, little one”

[stepintothelimelight]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄SHE CAN GO HOME, BUT SHE’S NOT GOING TO

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° i would do

anything

you want me to…. ✧ ⁺ ┊

PART 4 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: A home race that doesn’t feel like home anymore

(2018!f1grid x fem!Genz!driver!reader, max verstappen x reader (platonic), lewis hamilton x reader (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader (platonic))

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: FAMILY ISSUES, mentioned child abuse, swearing, gratuitous hurt/comfort, reader’s birthday happens before the gp, mention of a suicidal thought, ANGST, barely edited :)

fc: an assortment of female celebs

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

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f1

f1: 🇺🇸🦅💥💥💥HOME RACE FOR Y/N L/N 🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅 

 American fans - be there or be 🟦

📍Circuit of the Americas

tagged: yourusername, mercedesamgf1

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yourusername just shared a story!

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You arrive early, per usual, to make sure you have time for every fan, and maybe to catch a glimpse of Taylor Swift, who will be singing the national anthem today.

Your phone call with Seb last night quickly turned into him and Hanna knocking on your hotel room door and enveloping you in their arms. You fell asleep between the two of them, a comfort show playing on low volume in the background.

You hate that it caught you off guard. A small, stupid part of you actually believed that your family - your mother - could love you like they - like she- was meant to. 

It was supposed to be fun. You dressed up, treated them to one of the nicest restaurants in Austin. The second they arrived, though, it all turned to shit. 

At least your fans are majorly little girls and they couldn’t care less if you’re having widely photographed, public arguments with your older brother after a family dinner turned sour. 

Miraculously, you get into the paddock unscathed by prying questions into your personal life. You just get set up in your drivers room for Qualifying and try to put it all behind you. You don’t see Taylor, and unlike any other day, you don’t have the energy to face the paddock.

As you rearrange your hangers for the hundredth time, there’s a knock on your door. You sigh. Most of the team knows that you like your private time before any event, especially your first home race. 

“Yeah?”

The door opens slowly. It’s Lewis. Since the beginning of the season, your relationship with him has definitely developed. He’s good friends with Seb and you have a sneaking suspicion that he has told Lewis to keep an eye on you where Seb can’t. He’s become a sort of mentor-slash-friend and you couldn’t be happier, especially since you’ve both signed on for another few years at Mercedes. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say. 

Lewis sent me this. 

“Did you hear about Taylor Swift?” You exclaim. “How cool is that?”

He grants you a trademark half-smile. 

“Consider it a belated birthday gift.”

You eyes widen and your mouth drips open.

“It was you?”

He shrugs.

“It wasn’t very hard to convince her.”

You hurry over to him, hesitate for a second, then hug him gently. You’ve never hugged him in a normal setting. You break off of him and stand there, not quite knowing what to say next.

“Home race,” He says awkwardly. Lewis is hardly ever awkward. “Big deal.”

“Yeah.” You don’t mean to sound annoyed. Or tired. Or defeated. 

“Family coming? I’d like to meet them. I don’t think I have, yet. “

That’s true. Your mother has been to two Grand Prix since the start of the season and your father and brother one, respectively. They’re busy people, but after last night, some part of you wonders if your mother intentionally schedules conflicts so that they can never make it. 

That’s stupid, she says in your head. We love you. You’re the one who makes this whole thing impossible. 

When they have shown up, you’ve kept them as far away as possible from cameras, and Lewis draws every camera in every room he steps foot in. Maybe your brother is right. Maybe you hide them because of some secret shame you hold for them. The only thing you’re ashamed of is how complicated your relationship with your family is. 

“No. I-“

What?

Sent them home? 

Told them to never show their faces around the paddock again?

Cried into Seb’s chest all of last night wishing I was dead because of how horrible they make me feel?

“Couldn’t deal with them today,” you say decisively. The media might see you as a stone cold bitch, so why not Lewis, too. 

“They’re your family.”

“They hate me,” you whisper, turning back you your hangers. You’ve never said it out loud. Not to Max or Charles, not even to Hanna last night when she was helping you wash your face through swollen eyes and a runny nose.

“I’m sure they don’t-“

“You’ve never met them. My mom hates me. She loathes me and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I have given her everything and she still don’t bring herself to even like me a little bit. The rest this I’m too independent, too liberal, not liberal enough, too opinionated, too young, too smart, whatever. My dad and his side wish I went to university and my mom’s side tries to chase the fame. It sucks. It didn’t use to be like this, but it is now.”

You spare a glance back at him. He’s wide- eyed. This is probably the most he’s heard you talk without cracking a joke or bursting out laughing.

“Have you told Seb? Or… Max, Charles?”

“Seb, yes. Max would order a hit on my entire family if I told him this type of thing and Charles would hide the evidence.”

What you told Charles at Christmas, he didn’t acknowledge then and there, but he was noticeably cold to your mother when you brought her to see him.  

Lewis studied you, then a look dawns on his face. It’s a mix of dread and fury, but he schools it quickly.

“Y/n,” He says in a very serious tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

Your brow furrows.

“Do they - does your mother or your father hit you?”

It wasn’t the question you’d expected, but it still makes your blood turn cold.

You think for a second, contemplate his expression, run the risks of him exploding if you tell him the truth. 

“No…” you trail off. “Once. I made her mad when I was fifteen and-“ you raise your own hand and slap your face. “Never after though.”

She cried into your shoulder for hours after, telling you just how sorry she was, how she would never dream of laying another violent hand on you again. 

Lewis’s mouth opens then closes. You purse your lips. 

“I don’t need my family,” you whisper. “And I don’t need you to worry about me. I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, one that says:

There’s no way in hell I believe you.

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chalmaxy/nship

chalmaxy/nship: Max and Charles (+Pierre) teaming up to cheer Y/n up 😫 they are sooooo whipped for her (even tho they pretend they hate each other 🙄)

tagged: max33verstappen, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, yourusername, f1

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The video starts with the camera fixed on a very angry - looking Y/n. Her brow is set and her mouth is distorted in a flat line, which of course, is to be expected. She was obviously off her usual top-five worthy game today and has earned herself a starting position of P20.

The interviewer asks her a series of questions that she responds to very flatly and emotionlessly, so much so that her press officer elbows her in the side more than once to get an actual, genuinely not sarcastic answer out of her. 

And then -

“Do you think your family issues are the reason you’ve performed so miserably today?”

She stops. Pauses, opens her mouth then closes it again. 

“That,” she drags out bitingly. “was an incredibly stupid and insensitive question. Every question you’ve asked me today has been either completely patronizing or borderline inappropriate.”

She shoots a look at her press officer, shakes her head slightly, then leans into the microphone.

“You’ll understand why we’re choosing to cut this interview short.”

And then she turns and leaves the media pen.

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mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1: AAAAAaaaaaannnnnddd she’s done it again! A home race win is yet another thing our Spitfire can check off of her bucket list 💪 

tagged: yourusername

liked by yourusername, f1 and 63720 others 

view 67199 comments 

user6: Admin really said yes she’s a spitfire yes she’s OUR Spitfire 

user7: did anyone else notice how down Y/n seemed up on the podium tho

⮑ user11: Yeah, definitely not the energy we’re used to up there

yourusername: 🖤🖤

⮑user12: girl I need to know the tea behind the story and the tweet 🙏🙏🙏

user7: Call me crazy but she’s the biggest talent of her generation, not Verstappen 

⮑ user8: you’re crazy

⮑user9: @/user8: did we not just watch the same race? 

user10: she’s making the sport annoying.

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yourusername

yourusername: Great home race win guys! 🇺🇸💥💥🦅💥 lovely to share the podium with maxie and lewie

tagged: mercedesamgf1

liked by max33verstappen, charles_leclerc and 738291 others 

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max33verstappen: Get ready, I’m coming to get you in an hour to celebrate 

⮑yourusername: I can’t drink here dumbass

⮑user13: MaxY/n confirmed???

taylorswift: So glad I finally got to meet you in person! 

⮑ user14: TAYLOR SWIFT WAS THERE AND Y/N DIDNT EVEN MENTION IT???? OH SOMETHING’S WRONG WRONG

⮑ yourusername: 🖤

user15: U go Spitfire!!

user16: Y/n is such a bitch. 

lewishamilton: This is starting to sound redundant, but congrats Y/n!

user17: I still can’t get over how rude she was to that reporter 

⮑user18: EVERY reporter is rude and/or patronizing towards her. She deserves to bite back once and a while

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True to his word, Max knocks on your door. You get up from the spot you’ve been staring out the window and open it.

He’s dressed up, ready to go out drinking, you suppose. You’ve changed into your pajamas and tied your hair up sloppily. 

He arches his eyebrows.

“Ready to celebrate?”

You shrug. 

“Not really in the mood. Plus I can’t drink here. You go ahead, tell the team to send me the bill and I’ll pick it up.”

You go to close the door then. He kicks his foot between the door and the doorframe. 

“Come out. It could still be fun,” He offers. “It’s your home race. I’d be happy if I won at spa.”

He raised his eyes brows at you and you look down guiltily. You should be happy. You’ve broken a record of some kind, you’re pretty sure, and every other driver dreams of winning his home race. 

“You’d be happy because your family would be there to see it,” you say bitterly. “Because then you’d be able to prove to them it wasn’t all for nothing. That you’re not selfish or - or something.”

Max closes the door when he hears your voice tremor. There’s a hard concern in his eyes. 

“Go, Max. You should celebrate.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

You look him up and down. He’s gelled his hair and put on a non redbull shirt. Obviously he’s gearing up for a big night of celebrating. 

“Tell me,” He says. “You can talk to me. I’m not a stranger to family issues.”

You scoff and flop onto your bed. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You love partying. It’s a big deal.”

It’s quiet, except for his slightly heavy breathing. Here’s Mad Max Verstappen, standing at the foot of your bed begging you to confide in him with his eyes. His big, sad, droopy eyes.

You cover your face with the your arm.

“I can’t believe they actually left,” you choke out. “I told them to go and they just … left. The first time my entire family could muster up the time and effort to spend an entire weekend supporting me and they decide to just go home.”

Max moves towards you, hesitates, then settles himself on the floor next to your bedside table. 

“Why?”

You huff. 

“I don’t know. I push them away. I get on my mom’s nerves. I try too hard to impress my dad. Did you know,” you take a deep breath. “Did you know my mother hasn’t told me good night or I love you in five years?”

He sits and stares out the window. 

“Why doesn’t she love me, Max?”

It comes out more pathetic than you wanted it to. Max is probably one of the only people who might get it, just a little. 

“Schat…” he trails off. “I don’t know.”

Max is two years older than you. Sometimes those two years feel like a lifetime. You wish he was a lifetime older than you so he would know.

“Maybe…” He trails off. “Fuck. Maybe some people just aren’t made to be parents.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to try and push down the sobs building in your chest. Max, thankfully, doesn’t react when you let out a soft gasp and sniff wetly. He just sits there and stares out the window

Eventually, you curl up in your bed and Max sits a on the other side (on top of the covers, a safe two feet away) and turn on Star wars (The prequels - he’s a huge nerd, surprise, surprise).

Maybe some people aren’t made to be parents.

Maybe some people aren’t made to be daughters. 

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✧ ⁺ ⁺ Yelled down the hall

but nobody answered ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

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Aaannnnnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: A short and sad angsty hurt comfort type of thing… next chapter i swear will be happier !!

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[velocesainz]

Can you do a fic where the reader works for Ferrari and has been friends with Charles for a long time, and recently Charles and the reader have a friends with benefits thing going on, but the reader is actually in love with him. Then when Lewis moves to Ferrari, he takes an interest in the reader, the reader decides to give him a shot and stops the situationship with Charles and he realises he doesn't want to let her go.

A/n: This request is literally sooo good also I changed the idea slightly I hope you don't mind, enjoy!

But what about us?

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: reader and Charles are childhood best friends and she works at Ferrari and has an interesting situationship with Charles. When Lewis joins Ferrari he is bewitched by reader and starts developing a strong bond with her but what will happen to Charles and reader?

Warnings: cursing? Mentions of sex, mdni

Pairing: Charles x reader; Lewis x reader

Reader pov:

After another night in with Charles I went back to my apartment to get ready for work.

Me and Charles have been friends from when we were in diapers

A drunken accident a few months ago changed our dynamic turning us into friends with benefits.

It really hurts constantly refer to Charles as my best friend

The truth is I’ve been in love with him for quite a few years at this point but I know he will never see as anything more than his best friend or fuck buddy

I got dressed and headed to the headquarters in Maranello, there was a welcoming meeting for Lewis Hamilton

Lewis was someone who always left me in awe, I admired Lewis so much and to be able to work with him as his race engineer seems like an absolute dream

When I got there the place was already jam packed with people- sponsors, mechanics, managers pretty much the entire Ferrari team was here to welcome him today

“Ah there you are y/n!” I turned around to be met with Fred who was closely followed by Lewis Hamilton himself

“Lewis this is y/n, she will be your race engineer for the coming season. Don’t worry she is one of the absolute best on the entire grid” he said introducing me to Lewis

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet my talented and beautiful race engineer” he said to me adding a wink causing me to blush

THE Lewis Hamilton was flirting with me

Oh god I could pass away right now.

"I'll let you two get acquainted with each other. Y/n make sure he knows all of your weird short signal things" Fred told us and disappeared into the crowd

"Lets go somewhere less crowded." Lewis said to me as he grabbed my hand and led me to an empty room

I felt my heart race as he closed the door and he sat me down in one of the chairs are we started talking

What felt like minutes took hours. We talked and talked about nearly everything, we were in our own world until my phone rang bringing us to the real world.

I looked at the caller id, it was Charles.

I picked up the call and was met with shouting on the other end

"Y/N WHERE ARE YOU? DID YOU LEAVE OR SOMETHING I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK! I COULDN'T FIND YOU ANYWHERE AND NOBODY KNEW WHERE YOU WENT. ARE YOU OK??"

"Charles I'm fine don't worry, I'm in the conference room 002 with Lewis."

"Lewis? Why were guys in a random conference room? There's no meeting today, Fred is here mingling with everyone"

"Cha Fred told us to get familiar with each other and we couldn't really hear anything outside. You can go home if you wish, my car is with me"

Charles didn't reply and just cut the call

Me and Lewis went straight back to talking and soon enough it was time for us to leave. From next week onwards new season prep would be in full swing.

"I had a really great time with you y/n, I was wondering if I could have your number so we can talk over strategies?" Lewis asked me as we both headed out to our cars.

I blushed and typed in my phone number into his phone and we both went our separate ways

Time skip to Bahrain gp:

We were 3 races deep into the new 2025 season and me and Lewis have become closer than ever and we were going over some strategies in his drivers room in peace.

My mind doesn't go over to Charles as much anymore, Lewis's company really makes it hard to focus on anyone else.

"And that's it. What do you think?" I asked Lewis after going over the latest strategy I came up with.

"It looks really good, I think we'll do this one instead of the first one" He told me and I nodded at him and got up to leave the room to get everything ready for today's race.

"Hey y/n/n could I ask you something?" he asked as I was about to open the door

I stopped and turned to look at him and tilted my head in slight confusion but signalled him to continue

"Would you like to go out to dinner after today's race, l-like a date?"

I blushed a deep shade of red but my mind thought about the situation between me and Charles.

It was clear that he didn't like me back and I felt it was about time for me to move on from him

"The race ends at like 1 Lew, you will be too tired. Tell you what, if you place on the podium today I'll go out with you for lunch. Like a date."

I told him and went out the door but put my ear against the door to hear his cute celebration of "Yes, yes, yes! Finallllllyyyyyy!!"

After the race:

I couldn't believe it. Not only had Lewis got onto the podium, he got onto the top step of it.

It was his first race win in 3 years and his first race win with Ferrari and everyone was surrounding him congratulating him on his wonderful performance until he came up to me

"I'll be at your place at 12, dress nicely. Also thank you for you amazing strategies" he gave me a kiss on the cheek and left leaving me speechless and frozen in place

Charles pov:

I saw everybody celebrating Lewis's but I couldn't help but feel left out. I had DNF'd and I had no one to comfort me.

I knew y/n was the only person who could make me feel better in this situation so I head out to find her only to find her talking to Lewis who kissed her and left for the cooldown room.

She was standing there blushing a ferrari red with a stupidly cute grin on her face.

I felt my world crumble further. First my team started caring about my teammate more than me and now my best friend and my long time crush was in love with him and not me.

The only way we had spent time with each other the past few weeks was when my dick was buried deep inside her but I have a feeling that we won't be able to do that much more now.

I walked back to my drivers room and let out all my emotions sobbing into my hands. Y/n had just sent me a text saying we should stop the friends with benefits we had going on.

Why had the world been so cruel to me? The only support I had left was now also gone.

Time skip:

I texted Y/n for the first time in weeks wanting to hear so desperately from her. I needed to tell her how I felt regardless of how her Lewis were doing.

A/n: Hello lovelies! I'm so so so sorry for being so inactive recently. I promise there will be more fics in the near future. As always make sure to let me know your feedback. Also make sure to comment to be part of the taglist! Kissies ✨

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLIII)

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cuteness, some cuteness!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4472

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The curve of your eyes winds around my heart, A round of gentleness and dance, Halo of time, night cradle and safe, And if I no longer know all that I’ve lived It’s that your eyes haven’t always seen me.

Leaves of day and foam of dew, Reeds of the wind, scented smiles, Wings shading the world of light, Boats brimming with sky and sea, Hunters of noise and sources of colour,

Scents bloomed from a brood of dawns That still rests on a bed of stars, As the day depends on innocence The whole world depends on your pure eyes And all my blood flows into their gaze.

Paul Eluard, Capitale de la douleur, 1929

Summer. Emerald waves tainted the sea with white foam. Warmth. Rest. Vacations. Rain…

… it was Galway, after all, rain was never far away.

Andrew was getting frustrated. He was so excited to go on this vacation with you, you had spent so much time planning, and talking about it, and awaiting this trip…

… and now it was raining. It was cold. You were lost. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Stuck behind some bloody sheep…

Only in Ireland, really… It was fucking August, for God’s sake…

He heard you letting out a long exhale, feeling your frustration creeping through every corner of the car, your negative energy matching his.

He knew you would end up fighting. It didn’t happen often, but every couple fought from time to time. It had never been important, never been anything you couldn’t get passed in a matter of minutes. Your fights had always grown out of frustration over situations, like this one iteration of everything going wrong…

On the back seat, Elwood was growing restless. Andrew could hear its heavy breaths, the noise of his fur moving against the fabric of the seats. Even him was getting annoyed now.

“You should have turned left.”

There it was. Andrew knew you had longed to voice that sharp remark. To be fair, you were right, he was the one who had insisted to turn right at a previous intersection, hence getting the three of you lost.

He was not in the mood to be a reasonable adult and recognising his wrongs though.

“Next time, you’ll drive, so you can take all the bad decisions, and I can do the blaming. You had the map…”

“We have a fucking GPS…”

“Which is not currently working in this godforsaken land…”

“And I told you to turn left, and you didn’t listen!”

“Again, just take the fucking wheel then!”

You exchanged a glare, your eyes sparkling with thunder, before you huffed and looked at the time on your phone.

“We won’t catch the ferry. We should turn back.”

“We can still catch it.”

“It’s leaving in less than half an hour…”

“We can still catch it.”

“Andrew! We have no fucking clue where we are! We’re stuck behind those bloody sheep! We will not make it to the ferry, so let’s just… go back to the house.”

“You’re getting defeated…”

“No, I’m realistic. We’ll never get there on time, and especially not with these bloody sheep!”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?!”

You stared at each other for a moment. And then you did something Andrew had not predicted.

You unfastened your seat belt, opened the car door, and left.

You climbed out of the car, forcefully slammed the door shut. And you started walking across the road, walking ahead without so much as a glance in his direction. You had barely managed a few steps that you were already soaked.

As he stared at you walking under the rain, walking away from the car, walking away from him, all traces of anger left Andrew’s body. Instead, an old fear came back, raging, blurring his world for a second.

You were leaving…

In the span of a handful of seconds, mere seconds, his brain raced to the worst scenario possible. His thoughts stopped being logical and were filled with his worst fear instead.

You were sick of him. You regretted moving in with him. You wanted your ex back all over again. You would have been happier with Frank than with him. You were leaving, dumping his arse, it was over…

God… how could he survive that? You were… you were… he couldn’t…

But then you did turn around.

“ANDREW! HELP ME OUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

He frowned, unable to move.

“ANDY! COME HELP ME OUT!”

That was when he finally realised what you were doing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t walking out of his life. You weren’t breaking up with him, you were…

He saw you moving your arms in the air, calling through the heavy rain towards the scattered sheep, and he finally understood that you were trying to gather them all on the side of the road, towards an open field.

He tried to regulate both his breathing and his heartbeat while he climbed out of the car, securing his coat around his frame to protect himself from the cold rain.

He was panicking over nothing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t leaving. It was fine… he was fine… all fine…

He longed to hurry to you, but his body couldn’t. It was a strange mixture of tiredness, frustration, remnants of anger, and fear. Mostly fear.

He had to stop overthinking everything. You weren’t like that. You loved him, and he knew that, deep down… it was just difficult for him to believe he was that lucky sometimes. He couldn’t help it…

You turned to him as he approached.

“We need to get them out of the way,” you said, your voice still shaking with anger.

You were visibly surprised when he wrapped his arms around you, held you in a fragile embrace. He felt you instantly relaxing, your body growing numb into his arms as you reached up to hold him as well.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” you mumbled under your breath, although you were still frustrated.

“I’m sorry too.”

“We should go back.”

“I’m sorry. You were excited about this trip.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“It is though.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

You didn’t hesitate a second to say it back, to pick up on one of his pet names again. And he ought to stop overthinking everything, but he couldn’t…

“Let’s go back to the car. You’re soaked, love. You’ll catch your death. Come on,” he prompted you towards the car, and you followed him.

Andrew made a U-turn, drove back to the small cottage-like house you were renting during your two weeks in Galway. The drive back was quiet, but the silence was comfortable and warm again. All traces of frustration seemed to have disappeared from your features by the time you reached the cottage. It had stopped raining too, so you didn’t get even more drenched as you walked from the car to the front door.

You heaved a relieved sigh as you stepped inside the warm house, you wiggled happily as you took off your coat.

“We can try to get to the ferry again tomorrow,” Andrew started, his tone cautious.

You surprised him with a shrug.

“We could. We’ll see.”

“I thought you wanted to…”

“Andy… it’s alright. I don’t care. Don’t overthink this. It’s just an afternoon, it was just an activity. We can stay here today, relax, enjoy each other’s company. I don’t mind if we don’t go see the Arans. I don’t mind at all. I promise.”

Andrew forced his shoulders to relax.

“We can still go later this week.”

You nodded, a playful glimmer shining in your eyes.

“Although, next time, we’ll turn left,” you quipped, teasing him while gently pinching his side.

He rolled his eyes, but a smile was back on his lips. If you were joking around, it meant that you weren’t mad. Good… that was good…

“You should take a shower, love. You’re freezing,” Andrew spoke in a quiet, warm voice, the one he knew always soothed you. He let his knuckles brush the sharper edge of your cheekbone, hated the coldness of your skin, longed for you to be warm and content again.

You nodded, taking off your jumper and wet jeans as you made your way to the bathroom.

“Actually, I think I’ll take a bath. We can take our time today, relax.”

You turned around, tilted your head a little in a tempting way as you spoke again. Andrew was having a hard time looking at your eyes instead of the length of your naked legs…

“Want to join me?” you smiled.

He gave you a suggestive look.

“In the bath? Or in bed?”

You bit down on your lower lip, and Andrew was gone for good. God, you had him wrapped around your finger… were you aware of the extent of his need for you?

“Hmm… bed first, then a bath? After all, we did fight… Some make-up sex is in order, no?”

He hummed, nodding his head as he walked closer to you. This time he didn’t refrain his urge to let his gaze travel down your legs, marvelling at their perfect curves, his fingers tingling already at the thought of touching them, feeling the softness of your skin, your warmth spread through his palms…

When he stopped, right before you, and looked up at your eyes again, there was something inviting in your gaze. He knew this look very well by now. It was the one that granted silent permission, the one that said I want you too, you can touch me…

His heart swelled at the thought that you were granting him the right to be this close to you now. That you were allowing him, even inviting him, to touch you. To kiss you. To worship your body… and he would. For the coming hour, he planned to do nothing but worship you, in the hopes that you would read in his adoration how much he loved you. How much he cared. How much he needed you.

You were staring right into his eyes as your hands slowly rose to his chest, as you peeled his cardigan off his body. There was so much tension in the air then, electric, as heavy as your stammering breaths, while you slowly unfastened the buttons of his white shirt. One button at a time. At an excruciatingly slow pace…

He let you do it though, do as you pleased with him. He loved it, the way you were setting a pace now. The way you were taking control. There was a quiet tenderness in each of your touches that told him he was safe with you, that you would never do him harm, that he could lay his heart, his body, his life into your hands, and despite that power over him, you wouldn’t destroy him.

He needed to stop overthinking everything…

He helped you slide his shirt off his shoulders, let you rest your palms on his undershirt, one hand on of each of his breasts.

“I love you.”

He grinned at the tender confession.

“I love you too.”

When you reached up to kiss him, it felt like breathing after a lifetime without air, like relief, like being alive…

At last… at fucking last…

This ought to be heaven.

After your pleasurable reconciliation, you opted to take a bath together. An hour spent in pleasure was incredible, but also exhausting, and both of you longed for rest now. Sharing a bath offered the warmth and quiet perfect for your tired bodies, and the intimacy you both craved after sex.

Andrew smiled at the memory.

Incredible sex, actually…

You heaved a content sigh as you readjusted your head against his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His brain was fuzzy with a happy static, the kind he had never experienced before. A strange sense of peace, contentment, happiness… but that felt better than all of that combined. He couldn’t explain it. He felt it only with you, that was for sure…

“Your skin is so soft,” he mused, trailing his fingers across your waist and hip, speaking without thinking.

It felt so soothing to have you in his arms like this. There was something grounding, reassuring, and delightfully vulnerable in lying here with you, naked, sharing a bath and cuddling. You seemed to have a special power, one that made his busy brain grow quiet.

You chuckled at his words, kissed his chest as a reward.

“Yours is soft too,” you nodded, caressing his chest as if to stress your words.

Andrew shifted his legs, unfolding them to prop his feet on the edge of the bathtub, making the water and its bubbles shift with his movements. You had added some scented salts, and he liked it. It was soothing. It felt so nice.

Loving you was so good…

You giggled, making him look at you again.

“God… even this gigantic bathtub is too small for you…”

He laughed then, bright and happy with your teasing. He wiggled his toes for good measure, making you break into laughter once more.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged.

“I love that about you. That you’re really tall.”

“Do you, now?”

You hummed in response.

“It’s sexy.”

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink.

“Oh… so I’m sexy?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“Of course you are,” was your only answer, offered as if it was obvious.

Sometimes he forgot that you loved him this way. Like it was easy. Like there was nothing more natural in the world. That was how he felt for you; loving you felt as natural as filling his lungs with air, blinking at the bright sun, moving his leg over yours in bed. It was easy. Obvious. Ineffable.

You said that you felt like that, too. If it were a truth, it was a hard one to believe in. He wanted to though, longed for the safety of certainty.

He looked up at the ceiling, let out a long exhale as you nuzzled into his neck again, ran your fingers across his chest in such a soothing way, he almost closed his eyes.

He needed to stop overthinking this. You were here, in his arms, naked, loving him… it ought to be proof enough that you truly wanted him.

This fear he had felt in the car, seeing you walk away, this… uncontrollable dread that you could leave… He had to stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t.

What if you left?

He tried to picture his life without you in it. There would still be Elwood, his parents, his brother, Alex, his friends, his classes, his writing, music, poetry. He could find someone else, eventually. He hated every part of it…

When he pictured you in the same scenarios, everything seemed brighter. His life was better simply because you were in it. He tried to think of his life in a year, in five years, in ten years, in sixty years… Every time the life he wanted had you in it. He couldn’t picture a future that was happy without you being a part of it.

He had never felt like that before. Even with Sam. He had thought he would always love her, and yet, there were bits of his life that he didn’t picture her into. He could imagine living on his own, he could imagine his career, his friends, his family… without Sam in it, and still be content.

Not with you. All these lonesome pictures felt wrong. You were missing…

He thought of his life, the one that awaited him, that laid at his feet, and he didn’t want to live it without you.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your voice was quiet, warm. When he looked down at you again, if there was puzzlement in your gaze, there was infinite tenderness too.

He wanted this to last forever. You. Him. Forever…

He never wanted this to end. And somehow, he just knew then. That the reason why he couldn’t picture a happy life without you, was simply because you were the one for him. You were the love of his life. And his heart would always be yours.

He thought he would be scared by such a realisation, but he wasn’t. He reckoned the feelings had been in his heart for too long, had become a part of him. He was simply putting words on what he felt. You were the love of his life. He was so happy it was you…

He wanted to believe that you felt the same, but he wasn’t sure. It was okay. One day, perhaps, he would be. If he loved you for long enough, if he let you love him fully, perhaps, one day, he would stop being afraid of losing you.

Instead of answering by any of these thoughts, he cupped your cheek, gave you a tender smile.

“Nothing important. I love you, that’s all.”

Andrew was on the porch, you could hear him play the guitar. A soft melody you didn’t know, perhaps it was his own. You encouraged him to write full songs, but he kept on claiming he didn’t really want to. Poetry was enough. Music was enough. The two entities didn’t need to mingle. Sometimes he did play some guitar, hummed a melody to match one of his poems. Which you called ‘writing a song’, but he called it ‘exploring a theme through different media’. You rolled your eyes at him every time.

After the heavy rains of the afternoon, the evening was sunny and surprisingly warm. Outside, the sun was setting, kissing the hills goodbye as it lingered on their tops, flashing its golden hues into the sky before it would grow dark. You walked out with a cup of warm tea in each of your hands, took a moment to watch the beautiful colours in the sky, all golden and orange fading into red. It was quiet, you had rented a small house as an AirBnB in the country side, and there was no one around. Your closest neighbours owned a farm about a kilometre away, the road leading to the cottage was rarely used. You let your eyes travel across the fields, the green of grass, the deeper shades of bushes, the winding lines of stone walls. It was magical, in a way. There was something anchoring to this land, that made you feel like you belonged there.

The soft melody resumed on Andrew’s guitar, you turned to him. Elwood was lying at his feet with his eyes closed, but the movement of his tail told you he wasn’t asleep. Andrew was sitting on a wooden bench, right under the window of the kitchen, his legs stretched before him and taking up the whole width of the porch. His fingers danced on strings, he was humming every now and then. His notebook was by his side, open on a page stained with black ink. It was the notebook you had offered him the previous year, for his birthday. He never went anywhere without it. He seemed so peaceful, a content smile tugging at his lips. His long hair was tight in a messy bun, and he was gorgeous in an old pair of jeans and a blue plaid shirt, his skin and hair bathed in the golden light of the sinking sun. Beyond him, hills rolled, green and gorgeous. Andrew was all you could see.

You remained standing there, motionless, like a fool, staring at your partner with awe written all over your features. It was such a mundane, simple sight. And yet, it struck you then. The depth of your feelings for him, your longing for this never to end, for him never to leave.

It was silly… so silly… to realise that truth just by watching him, in casual clothes, playing mindless melodies on his guitar. And yet, that was the moment when you admitted to yourself that this was the life you wanted. You. Him. Forever. You never wanted this to end.

And God, he told you he loved you daily, showed it even more in a thousand actions and attentions he had for you each day. And yet, a part of you was still afraid he would leave, that you could lose him. What would you do without him?

You hadn’t noticed the music fading, too busy getting lost in the green of his eyes as he turned to you.

“You’re alright, love?” he asked, accent thick on his tongue with the fondness of his words, while he tilted his head.

You shook yourself, walked over to him.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay,” you smiled. “Made you some tea.”

“Oh, thanks!”

He accepted the cup you offered, moved his notebook so you could sit by his side. You didn’t mean to pry, you knew Andrew would not want you to read his writing unless he offered to tell you about it, so you looked away from the notebook as soon as you caught the title of his new poem.

That You Are.

“It’s about you,” he explained, noticing your glimpse at the notebook.

“I didn’t read…”

“I know. I trust you.”

You exchanged a smile.

“Are you really writing about me?” you asked, feeling shier now.

He chuckled, kissed your cheek.

“Who else could I write about? You’re my partner…” he answered, bending slightly in search of your gaze.

“I don’t know… your mistress…”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re right, she’s hiding in the trunk of our car.”

“Can she breathe in there?”

“Bottle of oxygen.”

“Clever.”

He shook his head at you while laughing, but when he spoke again he was serious once more.

“It’s not quite finished, you can’t read it for now.”

“That’s okay. Do you want to tell me more about what it’s about?”

He shrugged, blushing.

“It’s about… being in love with you. And… wanting to be where you are all the time.”

He stared at you, and you couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to cup his jaw and kiss his lips.

“What about the music?”

“Just…something I’ve been thinking about. To go with the poem.”

“So… you’re writing me a song now? Am I about to be serenaded?”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re insufferable,” he mumbled, before shushing your unspoken teasing with a quick kiss.

“I like it when you sing.”

“I know.”

There was something emotional shining in his eyes, but he didn’t speak more about it, and you let him draw the conversation away.

“What have you been up to?” he asked, taking a sip of his warm beverage while he put his guitar away.

He always asked these kinds of questions. At the end of every day he asked about how your classes had been, how was your research, how you were feeling. What had you been doing during the hours you had spent apart? It wasn’t prying, if you didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t insist. He just… genuinely wanted to know how your day had been. And you did the same for him. You remembered a time when you had settled for less than that simple, daily gesture. What an idiot you had been…

“I was just checking the weather for the coming days. It should be sunny on the Arans in a couple of days, so perhaps we could stay on the main land tomorrow. Perhaps a nice trek? It should rain early in the morning, but it’ll clear before noon.”

Andrew nodded, sipping on his tea, readjusting his glasses. At his feet, Elwood was now napping for good.

“We can drive to the national park, it isn’t far from here” he offered, looking at your phone as you showed him a page that referenced some paths across the wilderness of Connemara.

“Yeah, I thought we could walk around a lough.”

You studied the maps for a while, decided which path you would take the next day. Once the plans for your little adventure were sorted, Andrew gave you a mischievous smile, turning around and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bench. You fondly smiled as he moved to rest his head on your laps. His knees were bent over the edge of the bench, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I?” you asked in a quiet, tender voice as you lightly tugged on his hairband. He merely lifted his head a little as a response, so you could free his long curls, letting the chestnut strands cover your laps.

You took off his glasses too, secured them by your side. He let his eyes close with a relieved sigh as you ran your hands through his hair. You felt his body relax, the tension in his muscles disappear under your soft touch.

“This is so nice,” he hummed.

“It is,” you nodded, softly scratching his scalp, and he let out a long breath in response.

“I know that we had to wait until August to leave for our anniversary, instead of celebrating properly at the right date… but it was worth the wait!”

“We did celebrate on the date, though.”

“Yeah… but this is the actual celebration. Like… the real gift.”

“Hmm… yeah, you’re right. And I agree, it was worth the wait.”

“We outdid ourselves with this trip.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“It feels so nice to be just the two of us. To not have to worry about the usual, daily problems for a while.”

“Yeah… I reckon we both needed this.”

He took one of your hands in his. While you kept on running your fingers through his hair, he brought your other hand to his mouth, pressed it to his lips for a long kiss, intertwining your fingers together. He brought it to rest on his sternum next, stroking your knuckles.

You wanted to tell him, then. That he was the one. That he was the love of your life. That you never wanted him to leave…

But you couldn’t. You didn’t have neither the courage nor the strength. It had been a year, it was too soon. You knew, but he probably didn’t. Why scare him off when you could stay quiet and stare at his handsome features while the day ended and a new night was born out of the sun’s absence? It was safer this way…

“I love you so much, Y/N. You know that, right?” he asked in a whisper, and you noticed by how his voice had quietened that he was beginning to drift off to sleep.

You offered a tender smile he couldn’t see.

“I love you too, Andy. More than anything.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and a moment later, his lips were parting, and he was asleep, your hand still in his, resting on his chest, and his head on your lap. You kept on looking at him, admired his peaceful expression as he slept, every detail of his face, making sure to commit each of them to memory. You didn’t pay much attention to the dying sunset, despite the colours it shone onto the world. Only when it was getting too dark for you to see Andrew’s features did you notice the passage of time. But then again, he was beautiful like this, and his hair was so soft, and the weight of his head on your lap was reassuring, grounding…

Five more minutes…

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Heartbeats

liam dunbar x reader

summary: heartbeats quicken every time stiles goes over a bump. scott is determined to find out why.

tags: mutual pining, crushes, nervousness, comfort (no hurt), some fluff, protective!scott

word count: 820

a/n: this is only the third time i'm writing for teen wolf, but the first for liam, so i'm nervous! go easy on me plz 🥹 (he's just so cute, i can't help but write a lil soft piece for him.)

Stiles takes a turn at a whopping forty miles an hour, making the whole Jeep rattle in discomfort. There’s a squeak somewhere, but all the occupants know better than to ask. Scott turns to the pair in the backseat, looking once again for the correlation between the rattling and the racing hearts he keeps picking up. 

“You guys good?” He asks, offering a thumbs up. 

Liam’s lip is slightly turned up with distaste at the question. You scrunch your nose. 

“Define good,” you challenge. 

Stiles is immediately offended. “She’s doing her best, guys. We’re almost there.”

He goes over another bump, causing another increase in heart rate, and earning another look from Scott. 

Both of you look nothing but annoyed, giving him no signs of why it could be happening. There’s a slightly sweet scent in the air, but it’s not sticking out as anything important. For all he knows, there’s a carnival nearby. Scott can’t do anything but stare and wait for another bump. He hopes his betas continue to look out their respective windows and don’t feel his eyes on them. 

“ETA?” He asks Stiles, hoping he can get in at least five more minutes of analysis. 

“Five forty two. About ten more minutes.”

Good.

He takes another wicked turn without warning. Everyone bounces in their seats, and if you weren’t buckled in, you would’ve fallen into Liam’s lap.

“Stiles!”

“Sorry!”

“Warning next time!”

“The GPS barely warns me, I don’t have time to warn you! Wear your seatbelt.”

“I am!”

“Well then hold on better!”

“Ugh!” You send Liam an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” 

Scott watches from the rearview mirror. Liam’s heart jumped at the sudden turn, and rose again slightly at your apology. Yours, on the other hand, is still beating out of your chest since the turn. He cocks his head. 

“Left!” Stiles yells while making the turn. At least he tried this time. 

“Shit,” you mutter, grabbing the handle on the ceiling. Your knee still hits Liam’s, though, making both your hearts sputter. 

Scott turns quickly, realization hitting him. His leather jacket scrapes the seat, causing a disruptive sound that catches both of your attentions. 

“What?”

He only stares, ignoring your question. 

“Another left!”

The cycle repeats. Your knees touch and your hearts race. That’s the correlation. 

Every time you and Liam touch, you both get nervous. 

That explains the smell in the air. 

“What?” You repeat. 

For a while, Scott’s theorized you’d fall for each other. You’re the same age and both full of a charisma that he adores. You mess with each other all the time, but also find comfort in one another. Liam’s taken it upon himself to guide and protect you whenever Scott’s not there. He’s also been helping you control your turns. 

But as cute as it is… he’s not sure how he feels about his betas being together like that. He suddenly feels like a mom getting overprotective of his kids when they start taking an interest in dating. His nose twitches. 

“Right!”

This time, Liam falls into you and stutters out the quickest apology he can muster. Your cheeks heat up as you assure him it’s okay, then you both let your eyes drop to the ground. 

“Tunnel!”

Blackness overtakes you as the Jeep barrels into an unexpected tunnel. Stiles’ driving is already questionable, and suddenly so much more so in the complete darkness.

“Oh god,” you mutter, fear wafting off you. 

Unbeknownst to Scott, Liam takes your hand for reassurance. He holds it tightly and whispers you’ll be okay. Scott can sense the comfort easing your mind, taking over your fear. When out of the tunnel, he checks his rearview to see your hands clasped, and can’t help but smile. Your shoulders are touching, and Liam draws a shape on your palm that makes you giggle. Scott’s seen him do it before, when you need a distraction from turning, but he didn’t expect to see it now. Before he can ask if you’re okay, Stiles hits something in the road and the Jeep shakes again.

“Sorry! Big rock!”

Liam quickly makes another shape, returning the smile to your face. The smell of fear is heavily outweighed by the sugary sweet smell of lovesickness. And while your hearts remain racing, no discomfort weighs on either of you. Scott studies for a moment longer, but relaxes at the absence of any claws. 

“You guys good?”

“We’re fine,” you reply, tone slightly cheery. 

“Okay, just making sure.” He tries to play it off like he hadn’t seen anything, but ironically, it seems the two of you haven’t seen him watching at all. 

“We’re here,” Stiles announces, slamming on the breaks. The car and all its occupants lurch forward, and Scott smiles this time, knowing why the two hearts in the backseat are going so quickly. Some of it is Stiles’ driving, but definitely not all.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

[verstappentime]

max revealed this week that he was definitely driving with brain damage after his silverstone crash and struggled to see during his win at the U.S. grand prix that year (3 months later). obviously this yields hurt/comfort maxiel. daniel isn't too happy about all of this. max's poor head hurts.

→ →→ it’s gp who finds daniel, intercepting him as he comes out of his driver’s room. “max needs you, mate,” he says, calm but serious. maybe a little exasperated.

of course daniel goes.

gp presses a water bottle, mixed with some kind of blue powder, into his hand. “he needs to drink this. and tell him we’re having a look at his visor, okay?”

daniel nods, even though that means nothing to him.

he finds max on the floor with all the lights off, almost tripping over him. “baby,” he says, heart already in his throat. “whatcha doing down there?”

max doesn’t say anything. daniel goes for the light switch; max whines straight away, breathing harshly through his nose. “leave them off.” it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

fuck. daniel crouches down beside him. “maxy? is it a migraine?” max is all balled up, his forehead against his knees, navy kit making it hard to see him in the dark. daniel sets a hand on the back of his neck – he’s overwarm and still sticky with champagne. he looked okay, after the race. he looked fine. he hasn’t had a migraine in months, after a string of them following silverstone.

max still isn’t talking. daniel’s heart is thumping in his chest. he tries, “gp says they’re looking at your visor?”

max reaches around blindly, finding his phone and holding it out to daniel. “text him and tell him not to do that. say i’m fine.”

“what?”

max waves the phone at him. “tell him good win, thank you, whatever, and there’s no need, and i’m fine. daniel, please text him.”

“max. you’re not–”

“daniel.” max presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “fuck. just say it. i don’t want anyone staying late.”

“then you’ll tell me what’s wrong?” daniel’s worried enough to resort to bartering.

“yes. sure. whatever.”

it’s enough for daniel to tap out the text, trying to mimic the punctuation max would use. “okay. talk.” max reaches out, and daniel doesn’t realize what he wants until he starts patting the back of daniel’s hand. he links their fingers, squeezing. when max doesn’t start right away, he prompts, “can you tell me why gp is worried about your helmet?”

“on the track. i couldn’t. like. see.” max squeezes his hand harder. “fuck, that hurts.”

“you– what? you couldn’t see what?”

“anything?” max makes a miserable noise. “like, everything was– blurry? is that what you say? and i was trying to focus, it was hurting my head. but i’ll sit here for a while and it’ll be fine. just. probably gp didn’t want to leave me on the floor alone.”

“you– max, what?” daniel worried about this for weeks, after silverstone. he read every pamphlet on what he was supposed to watch for, which symptoms meant max needed to go back to the hospital. watched every meal to make sure max wasn’t nauseous, made him rate every headache out of 10. “you were driving, and you couldn’t see?”

“i was thinking maybe i would stop, but i needed to win this one, and i could, so i did.”

“you were thinking maybe you would stop.” max verstappen was going to pull out of a race. fuckfuckfuck. “max, that really isn’t good. it’s– it didn’t hurt at first? not like a migraine?” they’d explained that in the pamphlet. tunnel vision was a migraine; blurred vision was not.

max gives a little shake of his head.

“that’s. they told us to watch for that, do you remember?” daniel lets go of max’s hand, gripping him at both arms. he wants to fucking shake him, but he’s too afraid of hurting him. “it’s. like. a sign of post concussion syndrome. fuck, max, has this happened before?"

“sometimes in the sim,” max says. “whenever i’m looking at a screen for a long time. i don’t know. it goes away. it’s not– i’m not sick or something.”

daniel wishes he had the fucking pamphlet. “max, it’s been three months since your crash. you shouldn’t be driving, you shouldn’t have been driving, i knew it was worse than you were letting on—”

“daniel, you’re hurting me.” max’s voice shrinking. daniel hadn’t noticed how tight his grip had become.

“fuck. sorry. sorry.” daniel lets go, soothing his hands up max’s arms. “can we go to medical? please?”

“no,” max says emphatically.

“max, i think something’s really wrong.” he thinks of max, woozy on the track, not knowing someone’s coming up on his side. bang. smoke.

“i hit my fucking head at 51G. that is what’s wrong. it will get better.”

max is alive and right in front of him, but he’s thinking of jules, in a coma all those months. “you should have told me. you can’t fuck around with this.” god, he sounds mean, but it’s just that he can feel his pulse up to his ears and he needs max to be alright.

“i just want to go home. it hurts so much, daniel.” max sounds so tired. it’s enough to snap him back. because max actually needs him right now, not in some imaginary future disaster world.

“okay. yeah. i’m sorry, baby. we’ll go home.” he’s giving up too easily, but. max never says anything hurts, unless it’s a papercut or something stupid he can pester daniel about for days. he tries to do some of michael’s stupid box breathing technique. four in. four out. okay. take care of max, idiot.

max lets himself be helped up and settled into a chair. he covers his eyes as daniel turns the lights on. they’ve both long missed their debriefs; daniel doesn’t bother looking at his phone. he assumes someone explained for him somehow.

“there’s medicine in my bag, the headache stuff,” max mumbles.

daniel’s hands feel clumsy as he fishes it the bottle out and opens it, taking out two tablets and pressing them into max’s clammy palm. he hands him the blue concoction gp gave him. “drink that, too, hey?” they’d done this so many times back in july. he’d really thought it was over.

daniel fishes through the bag some more, coming up with max’s sunglasses. max puts them on, looking ridiculous as daniel goes around collecting his stuff. he nurses the blue thing quietly, hugging his backpack to his chest when daniel hands it to him. the only other time daniel’s seen max this quiet was after silverstone, stony-faced and wrung out when they’d finally arrived back to the hotel and max had been cleared to go to sleep.

“okay, baby, i think we have everything,” he says quietly, anxiety starting to fade into guilt. he’s not going to convince max to stay out of the car, and they both know that. if max can survive the next month and a half, he’ll win the world championship and then they can fucking. breathe. daniel will make him rest if he has to.

max lets himself be guided to the car with a gentle hand on the small of his back. daniel does his seatbelt for him like he’s a child. he doesn’t even know why. “are we fighting?” max asks, still hugging his backpack.

“no. no? i don't think so. we can talk later. let’s just. you need a shower and sleep.”

“you think gp got my trophy?”

“i’m sure he did, max.” daniel can’t help the tiniest smile. god, this fucking kid.

[cheriladycl01]

I have just got into F1 and it’s fast become my autistic hyperfixation and I’m glad I’ve found writers like you! I was wondering if maybe you could write something for Nico? He’s my favourite! Maybe reader has a bad crash or something similar to your heat fic where reader faints into his arms/ has a febrile seizure from dehydration and heat stroke after a race? Just lots of hurt/comfort. No worries if it doesn’t inspire. Thank you for doing what you do 💕💕

The Toughest Race so Far - Nico Hulkenburg x Driver! Reader

Plot: After one of the toughest races of your life, you and Nico need to have serious conversation about your health.

A/N! 1) I'm hoping i got the right Nico and you didn't want Nico Rosberg! If you did, let me know and I'll right one for Nico Rosberg! 2) As someone with ADHD, i 100% get the hyperfixation and how much it grips you!

You were getting out the car, well trying to and your legs and arms refused to work. It was like they were actually glued to the seat. You just sat there, head ringing not really sure what to do and how to gp forward.

Some of the Stake Team come up to you, checking to see if you were actually alive in the cockpit or if you'd passed out. Your own team hadn't come and found you yet.

They start to try talk to you but nothings going in, and staying in so your communication is ineffective.

You feel void of anything and all the sounds around you are blurring into one. There's a numbness in your hands and legs that is burning but also non-existent, like numbness should be. It was confusing for your mind that had just gone through that uphill battle of a race.

It was like your body was failing on you and you could only sit back and watch it.

Eventually your team, of RedBull come over to you. Not that you could tell the difference between the Stake Suits and the Red Bull ones at this point, faces were just blobs right now and your mind couldn't comprehend colours.

They reach in to help lift you out so your stood up outside the car leant against the body. One of the mechanics has a hand resting on your arm keeping you steady while another reaches to take your helmet off and another goes for you balaclava that's covered in saliva.

However, the minute your legs are left to work for themself with out the support they starts to wobble. Your head starts to spin, and your vision blurs, the last thing you could remember being your body convulsing before you smacked the door where you continued shaking.

"Oh my god! Someone help her!" someone exclaimed as they saw you on the floor and seconds later a medical team that were already on their way heading towards you after being radioed by the team you weren't looking too great.

There were people flooding around you, one of them opened up your race suit that was drenched through.

"Babe?" a voice called as Nico jumped out his car spotting you thrashing on the floor. He himself wasn't feeling great from the heat either but you'd just managed to fight your way from P20 all the way up to P6 to get in the points.

It was probably the drive of your career having set the fastest lap, fastest pit stop and received driver of the day. Despite all the podiums, wins and poles you'd had, this was the drive.

He looked over you as they took you onto the stretcher as you were unresponsive.

"What's wrong with her is she okay?" he asks walking over closer to the medics that were surrounding you.

"We aren't sure but we need to get her to the medical tent right away, please go back to your team!" one of them says while they fit an oxygen mask around your mouth.

Nico spent his entire debrief not really concentrating on what anyone was saying, he wanted to be out of that room as soon as possible and to see how you were doing.

The minute that they concluded what happened in the race and how they can prepare better for hotter races as a team until the FIA but things into place, Nico was out the door as rushing past the Red Bull motorhome that was pretty quiet. They could all tell he was looking for you, and he just knew you were still with the medics from the look on everyone's face.

He rushed into the tent seeing you calmly sleeping but hooked up to a few different machines. The main one an drip, he knew you must be insanely dehydrated, and with your body temperature already struggling to regulate normally he couldn't imagine how much like hell that car felt to you.

"Is she okay?" he asks the nurse that was currently re-doing the braid in your hair that had gotten a little knotty under your helmet.

"Yes, she scared us all but she'll be fine. She's making a speedy recovery thanks to the doctors quickness and efficiency. She lost 6kg in that race which is very dangerous and she didn't drink anything at all during that race, so we've got her on some water and stuff that will pep her up. She had a minor injury to her shoulder where she fell but other than that she's okay. How long have you guys know she struggles to regulate her body temperature?" she explains and asks all in one.

"Since she karted, but she loves the sport to much" he chuckles. You'd talked about this with Nico a lot, you had to train your body harder and be stricter when it came to things like exercise and diets because of the condition.

Nico had said many times that it would be safter for you to stop racing all together but that had caused far to many arguments that he'd ended up on the sofa one to many times over.

He knew you loved racing, because he did as well and he hated when he had to leave the sport when no seat was available. So he knew it was something that wouldn't even be on the table for you to consider but he just wished you would.

For your guys' future, he just wanted you safe and at full health.

"She terrifies me when she gets into that car" he smiles looking down at your peaceful body.

"I can imagine, but ... I'm sure you scare her too. She struggles but I think honesty that makes her a better driver, she knows her limits and breaking points better than anyone. Today was a bade race that I cant see them doing at the same time of year ever again, and there may even be regulation changes that'll help. But ... take it from a career passionate woman. She wont give this up" she smiles to him and he glances down at you with his own smile.

"Oh I know she wont" he grins, taking your hand in his.

"Hey baby" he smiles as he sees your eyes flutter.

"Hey" you say back a little confused, looking around the room your in.

"You fainted and had a seizure" he explains grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Oh, it was really hot in the car I don't think I ate before the race either because I felt sick!" you offer trying to explain why you were so badly effected.

"You weren't the only one that struggled, Alex, Esteban, Logan and a few others have been down here too. You pushed yourself a lot in that drive, but there's talks of the FIA making some changes for next year!" he explains.

"Mmm, I'm glad their taking action to make it safer for us!" you admit.

"I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you to retire!" he laughs shaking his head.

"We've talked about that before, you know I'm not ready yet. I've been given such a shot in Red Bull!" you smile, knowing he finally understood your view on your career.

"I know, I just worry about you!"

"I worry about you too" you say and pull him down into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[f0point5]

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

[sainz100]

2024 Singapore GP | x

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXIX

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI, Part XXVII, Part XXVIII

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

“Satoru, this is [name]… Of course you know it’s me. Uh, anyway, I know you may not want to see me now, but I’m locked out of my apartment. You still have that spare key, right?... Could you come over?” your voice asked hesitantly. “Or send it with someone if you don’t wanna see me, but…” you sighed, ”I’d like to see you, Satoru. Really. I… I want to see you, okay?... Anyway, give me a call when you get a chance, please.” Silence. “I love you.”

How many times had he listened to that voicemail? Gojo was not sure, especially not now that time seemed to have slowed down for him.

He had come to the hospital as fast as he could, but he had not been able to see you yet. He had learned from Ieiri, who had made a brief stop by his side, that you were still in the operating room when he arrived. He wondered how bad your injuries were, what had happened in your apartment, who had hurt you, but above all, would you recover?

Yes, they will. They have to, Satoru told himself.

But it did not ease his concerns that Ieiri had not come back to give him an update in a while, or so it appeared to him, and those doctors and nurses parading in front of him from one side to another had not told him anything either.

What was taking them so long? Why had they brought you to that hospital? Shoko had explained to him you had been taken to the nearest hospital, and they had contacted her since she figured as your GP.

“I did some practices here in the past. The personnel are capable. They are in good hands,” Ieiri said after briefing Gojo on your current situation.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you treated them?” he asked without looking at her. Shoko could see just enough of that flash of blue behind Gojo's shades to know his eyes, as his mind, could not focus on anything now.

Crumpled shirt, wet hair...

She gave him a quick look before focusing on their surroundings. The hospital staff in white and blue threads, the other people waiting like them, and the persistent smell of antiseptic.

“I saw them,” she was talking about your injuries, “It wasn’t a curse, but I’ll do whatever I can as soon as I get a moment alone with them.”

It hung heavy over Ieiri that she had not been allowed into the operating room immediately after she arrived. However, she knew the medical staff were already doing all they could, all that was humanly possible, and what may be left for her to do was not meant for them to see.

She thought she saw Gojo nod in acknowledgement but when she turned to looked at him, he seemed to be entering a trance of his own.

“I’ll go in even if they kick me out and come to update you later, okay?” Shoko told the white-haired man sitting next to her before leaving him in the waiting room.

But it was already later, and Shoko had not come back, so Satoru turned to the only source of comfort he had right now and hit replay.

“Satoru, this is [name]…”

***

Shoko stared at your form.

Even after all bleeding had been stopped and a successful surgery to remove the bullet, and even after Shoko herself had treated you, she still did not like the numbers on your monitor or the fact that you showed no sign of coming back to consciousness.

She told herself it was probably a matter of time. You were to be kept under observation and if remaining stable, you would be moved to a room.

Now she was sitting close to your bed, doing just that, observing. She had been right, it was not a curse what did the most harm, but she knew cursed energy had definitely been used, and Gojo would pick on it too when he saw you.

“You asked me what the worst part of being a doctor was,” her voice was soft, without hesitation, although she did not usually talk to unconscious patients. “This is it, doing everything you can but not knowing if it has been enough.”

***

“Don’t you dare support this nonsense,” it was your mother’s voice.

Satoru had not meant to eavesdrop. He was there to visit, as he had kept doing over the last couple of years that he had been spending a lot of time in Tokyo, where he was to attend high school next year at Jujutsu High, with you. That if your mother allowed it.

“Aren’t there good schools here? They can attend any. It doesn’t have to be Tokyo. It doesn’t have to be that school.”

That school.

Of course.

Satoru had always known he would have to go to Tokyo. Unlike you, he had no choice. But when in the spring of your last year in junior high, you had told your mother you were planning to go learn jujutsu with him, she was not pleased. Anyway, it was surprising that six months later, she was still against it.

“Can you let them do what they want for once?” your father asked in that mild tone that made it difficult to say for certain if he was upset.

“Is it what they want or what you want?” she questioned with a hint of an accusation.

Your mother was not a sorcerer, never had been. Your father was, in fact, one of the few members of his own family who could see curses. Despite it, the woman he had married was familiar with the many caveats of the sorcerers' job and was not willing to let her child start a career that could likely lead them to their death, which she proceeded to state.

“Is that so? You either want you child dead or want them to continue following the Gojo heir even if it kills them,” she insisted.

“Enough,” your father barked. “It’s enough.”

She exited the room only to find the Gojo heir in the hall, who looked at her as if caught red-handed, but before he could give her any excuse, she spoke.

“[name] is not home yet but should be back soon,” and she left.

Satoru did not mind her sometimes straightforward treatment. She had looked as if she was about to cry.

When Satoru looked into the room your mother had fled, he found your father, looking at his untouched tea over the table, lost in thought. The sight of the boy pulled him back to his senses.

“Satoru,” he pronounced his name softly.

It was refreshing, Gojo thought. Most people at his family’s state had started to address him as they once addressed his father, treat him as the head of the clan he was bound to become despite him being just a teen. But not your father, to him, the powerful heir of the Gojo clan was just little Satoru, your friend.

“Did you..?” the man did not need to finish the question to know the boy had heard him arguing with his wife. “I see. I’m sorry you heard that.”

Satoru thought he should say something to him, but all he could do was ask the most natural question.

“Will [name] still come to Tokyo?”

He looked at him as if he had expected the question.

“If that is what they want.” Your father nodded. “I know the air is different there, and so are the curses. [name] has never left this town, so of course I worry.” He looked outside, half-expecting to see his wife’s disapproving stare from the yard, but she was not there. “But I know [name] will be fine because they will be with you.”

***

I failed you, sir.

I failed them too.

Satoru was not sure of how long he had dozed off. Maybe only a few minutes. That was fine, that was all the sleep he needed. I was enough to go through twenty-four more hours of waiting. Waiting for you to wake up.

He looked around the room you had been transferred to, spacious but small at the same time. Or maybe that was just his perception, the feeling that came with knowing he could not leave this room until you opened your eyes.

After your condition had shown little improvement, Ieiri had told him to go home, but there was no way he could leave. Never again.

“When was the last time we were this quiet in the same room?” he asked you although he knew there would be no answer.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again, feeling the need to talk to you even if you would not talk back.

“I’m sorry, [name].”

Had you been conscious, you would have known he was apologizing sincerely as his voice was almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

It came with a staggering sense of powerlessness, the realization that he had thought those same words after Suguru deflected years ago.

He put his hand over yours, the gesture was a silent plea for you to not leave him now too, and even if your hand was the coldest it had ever been and even if Satoru had never been religious, he allowed himself to pray to whatever gods there were that you could stay.

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

Note: I'll proofread at some point... Anyway, it's our beloved's birthday eve (at least for me). How are you all?

Thanks for reading!

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke

[hotchsreader]

You’re my Last Call

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hotch had broken up over a month ago. Once he broke up with you, he disappeared, absolutely no contact with you anymore. You didn’t know why, there were no signs he was unhappy until he just broke off everything. Up until a freak accident happens, you thought you had lost the love of your life. What if that was never the case, and he just thought you’d be better off without his sadness?

trigger warning: car accident

read on ao3 here

Now there's blood on the windshield

And there's credit cards on the floor

And I'm crawling out the window of my passenger side door

Your picture's on the dashboard and that's the only thing I saw

You were always first to catch me when I fall

Yeah, I'm sorry you were my last call

- Lyrics from the song 3/13 by Wyatt Flores

Hotch was trying to remind himself of the good days when things felt less heavy and he could have a clear head. These days? Everything felt so heavy that he didn’t know if it was possible not to be stressed out. He had broken up with you weeks ago. Maybe it has been a month already, he was unsure at this point. He knew that his presence was a downer to everyone around him, and you had been too much of a light in the world to let him dull you. He loved you so much, but he knew that letting you go would be the best option for you to succeed.

Everything felt like it was going so slowly. He had left the office about an hour ago and was headed toward the victim's house to do one last walk-through to see if there was anything that the local police had missed. He knew exactly where he was going as he and the team had been there before, so he did not even tell anyone he was going there or put the location in his GPS. He had been paying attention, he wasn't too tired, he had slept pretty well the night before, and nothing but you were on his mind. He looked down at his dashboard, to see the photo of you he kept there. Even though he left, he kept you with him. He always wanted to keep you with him, other than Jack, you were his biggest source of happiness. He had looked down for a split second, but apparently, that was enough time for a far to cross into Hotch’s lane and slammed him into the wall lining the highway.

-

After the car crashed, Hotch couldn’t remember anything until he felt himself on the concrete ground and saw random faces flashing back and forth over the top of him.

“Sir. Is there anyone we can call for you?” They asked hoping to get an answer from the man lying in front of them. They knew there was a strong chance there was a concussion.

Hotch could hardly muster up many words, all he said was your name. Your name and said check the phone.

-

You were at work. Everyone else had started going home, and the law office was closed for the day. There wasn’t any noise as you sat typing your last report on your laptop, it seemed peaceful almost. That was until, your phone started ringing incredibly loud, piercing through the silence.

“Maam. This is Officer Finch. I have a man here by the name of Aaron Hotchner, he was in a car accident. He gave us you to call.”

“Where is he? He is a Federal Agent.”

Before the officer even finished giving you the details of where Aaron was, you had already grabbed all of your things and ran out of the office. By the time you hung up with him, you were only ten minutes away.

Nothing would stop you from getting to him. Nothing that happened between the two of you would make you not rush to his side. He was, and would always be, your person.

When you got there, the first thing you noticed were the lights and the sirens. It brought back so many memories from when Hotch was hurt by Foyet. your heart was pounding in your chest and you just needed to find him to see that he was okay. an officer waved you over, and you saw him lying on the ground. There was a cut across his forehead, and his eyes were grimacing like he was in pain. It was killing you, even though you hadn’t even fully gotten up to him to see him in that kind of condition. He looked almost pitiful. you weren’t sure if you wanted to talk to him because of how badly he had hurt you so you stood and talked to the paramedics who said that it was most likely that he had a concussion, but that he was going to be fine he was very lucky. The person had crossed his lane of traffic and when they did, it caused his car to swerve headfirst into the highway wall.

You heard a soft voice call your name. It was very quiet, almost like it was reserved. They didn’t want to be calling your name. They didn’t want you to know that they needed you at this moment. you didn’t know what to do because doing this was wrong to be an emergency contact on a person who had tried so hard to remove you from their life. One day everything was okay, holding hands laughing together, knowing each other’s favorite orders at the coffee shop, to not even a phone call explaining why everything ended with a snap of a finger.

“Yeah, Aaron I’m here,” you said softly in his ear, as you finally walked over to him, kneeling next to him and running your hands through his hair. That was always a small comfort for him when he really needed somebody he loved you running your fingers through his hair.

“ I am so sorry but you were the only person I wanted to be here, I know I am probably the last person you want to hear from right now.” His voice was still very soft, almost like it hurt to speak and he wanted to tell him to stop talking to focus on getting to the hospital, but you also wanted to hear what he had to say. Selfish as it was, you wanted to know why. Why did he end everything? Why did he act like he didn’t exist after two years of a beautiful relationship, why did he call you now he had his whole team that would break down walls to get to him if they knew something was wrong? Why did he call you a person who genuinely couldn’t do anything but be there for him?

“We will talk when you’re able to form a coherent sentence, Aaron, I'm here now and I’m definitely not leaving until I know you’re okay.” You rubbed his face with your hand, and he pressed his face into your palm.

you sat there as they loaded him into the ambulance and asked if you were allowed to ride along. They said yes, considering it was not life-threatening. You could drop your car at a gas station and they would come by and pick you up to take you with him. you did not want to be where you couldn’t see him, but you trusted the paramedics to take care of him for the five minutes he would be out of your line of sight. once you got into your car, you texted the team. You still had all of their phone numbers in case of emergency to let them know what was going on and your phone started ringing off the hook.

“What is going on?” JJ was on the other side of the phone. her voice made you calm down a little bit. The two of you had become very close friends during your relationship with Aaron and even after he had broken up with you JJ always kept in contact.

“They said that a car came into his lane and knocked him into the highway wall. He was conscious and able to talk, and I went with him to the hospital. I have to drop my car off at a gas station so it wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the highway.” You responded, your voice becoming wobbly during your explanation.

She gulped pretty heavily, you knew this was hard for her to hear. as well. “Do you want me to come up? I’m more than willing to come and just be a helping hand for you. I could be the communication between the team to let them know how he’s doing so you don’t have to constantly be on your phone and keep everyone updated. I can do it for you.” She knew how hard this was for you, and that small gesture would be such a relief, and would take so much off your plate that you didn’t even know how to deal with it.

“JJ you mean the world to me. Could you also contact Jessica and let her know what’s going on? I really don’t wanna have to call her even though I love her. This is just so much and I need to check on him and be with him.”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon. I love you.” She said you could feel how genuine she was in the last few words. Meeting Aaron was one of the best things that ever happened to you, but meeting her was a close second. You reciprocated and hung up the phone, got to the gas station, got into the ambulance, and off to the hospital you went. You held on to Hotch’s hand the entire time.

-

The next three hours consisted of people running in and out of the hospital room, checking on Hotch, readjusting him, checking his vitals, and it felt like almost complete chaos. The minute JJ got there you could almost cry out of relief. You needed someone else there, to make this seem like less of a fever-induced dream. To bring you back to reality, almost like a shared experience instead of being alone in a hospital room with the love of your life being poked and prodded by hospital staff.

“Hi sweetie,” JJ says as she walks into the room, tears in her eyes as she looks over at Hotch. You know the two of them are close, he always has talked highly of her.

“Hi.” This was the first time you have heard your own voice in hours and it sounded almost foreign to you. It sounded defeated and hurt.

“Why are you here JJ?” This caused you to jump. Hotch had not spoken the entire three hours until JJ walked into the room. Did he just not want to speak to you? If this was the case, why did he ask everyone to call you? You turned your head over to him, a look of hurt running over your face. He noticed immediately and turned his head away from you to look at JJ.

“You know what, I’m going to go call the team, I’ll be back in a minute. You better prepare yourself for Garcia to run in here with balloons in snacks in a few hours Hotch.” She tried to make the atmosphere less tense before she left, but the hurt and anger in you could physically feel it.

You stood up, walked over to Hotch, and put your hand under his chin, and made him look at you. He stared at you for a minute, tears gathering in his eyes as he did and he tried to open his mouth to speak but you didn’t let him get that far.

“Absolutely not, you do not get to speak right now Aaron Hotchner. You do not get to be the first one to speak after what you have put me through in the last few hours. I get to speak first.”

He nodded at you, tears slipping from his eyes.

“You LEFT me with no explanation. You are the love of my life. I would lay down everything I am and will be to make sure you and Jack are safe and happy. I did nothing wrong to deserve to be deserted. I did nothing, Aaron. I love you so much, I will love you until the day I die. Why would you have them call me? Why would you do what you did?” At this point, you were sobbing, and the last few words that came out of your mouth were gargled.

Hotch raised his hand and wiped the tears from your cheek, you wanted to turn away but your brain and arm betrayed you and you raised your hand up to hold his while it was on your face.

“Honey, it had nothing to do with you. You are the most beautiful, loving, caring person in this world.”

“But then why? What was wrong? What happened to us?”

“It was me. I was bringing you down. I was making everything worse. I didn't want to ruin your life with my hurt.” The last few words were barely a whisper.

You looked up, for the first time since this conversation started, and looked at the man in front of you. He was crying, tears falling down the side of his face onto the pillow. He was gripping your hard really hard, the ring on your fingers digging into your skin. He looked pitiful. He was heartbroken, not just because of what currently happened but because of everything going on in his head. You had wished he would’ve told you this a lot sooner. So much hurt could have been prevented if he had just been honest with you. But you knew this man, you knew he would hide things so deeply inside himself if it meant no one else had to get hurt. You knew he would hide things if it meant you would be protected from the harsh realities.

“Aaron. You are and will always be my world. If something is bothering you, I would like to talk about it. I would like to be able to be there for you if you would let me be. Please, just talk to me. Let me be there for you.” You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into your palm. His face was flush from the accident and from the tears. He felt, defeated.

“I don’t want anyone to have to deal with me. Especially not someone who has so much to offer this world. I am just a mess of a man. You were the last person I wanted to call because I do not want you to have to clean up after me.”

“If loving you means I have to be there for everything, every sad day, every hard day, every difficult day, I will be.” You said, running your hands through his hair, his favorite.

“I don’t want you to have to do that.”

“Too late, I am already too committed.”

“You know, I was looking at my photo of you on my dashboard before it happened.” He turned his head closer to you.

“You have a photo of me in your work car?” You truly didn’t know this.

“Have the moment we started dating. It's a photo of you smiling at work when I came to visit for the first time. You were so excited to show me around to everyone. Your boyfriend is a Unit Chief in the FBI. You were so smiley the entire time, I wanted to remember that happiness on hard days. So in my work car, it sits, it's comforting.”

“Well, we can take more photos.” You sat on the edge of the bed, he sat up and you leaned into him. You were not going anywhere.

“I love you, you know that. I’m sorry for leaving, I just thought I was hurting you more than I was helping. I thought if you knew how bad I was feeling you would feel responsible or that I would hurt you.”

“I love you more than you know.”

-

After the talk, and JJ called the team to let them know the extent of everything going on, you decided to walk with her to get some coffee. Penelope had shown up five minutes after JJ ended the call with tons of goodies for Hotch, and you let her and Derek sit in there with him while you took a break. Hopefully, he would be okay, Derek could handle Penelope and Hotch needed a friend.

The two of you walked along side each other in silence until you got to the elevator. Once you got to the elevator JJ finally spoke up.

“Want to tell me what happened?” She looked at you sideways as she finished the question.

“Actually, yeah. What he said made me a bit worried and I need some more insight into what’s been going on.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He broke up with me because he’s having a hard time mentally. Has he been weird or more restricted at work at all?” You asked the question as you got into the elevator.

“A bit. I thought maybe it was due to the breakup but honestly it’s been going on a few months. I try not to pry because while he is my boss and my friend, i don’t want him to think i don’t trust him.”

“I understand that completely. I knew something was up, but I didn’t think he’d leave me just because he didn’t want to talk about it. I think we’re on the same page now, but i’m not letting this go. I love him too much.”

“He loves you too, trust me. Your photo is in his car, on his phone, in his office. You and Jack are his world. I honestly think he’s just scared.” As you got out of the elevator together she turned and hugged you. knowing you haven’t had one since this all happened. You loved your best friend, and she always knew what you needed.

-

Hotch was in the hospital for a day. They wanted to keep him overnight just for observation, but it turned out everything was okay. He had a concussion and a few cuts on his head but he was going to be fine. you were by his bedside the entire time you slept there you only left to go to the bathroom or if somebody else came and made you go get a cup of coffee. Usually it was JJ or Derek that convinced you to get up, despite Hotch telling you countless times it was okay to go home. You truly just were so happy to have him back you didn’t want to leave him again.

You both had walked to your car so you could drive him home. Jessica was keeping Jack for one more night that way Hotch could settle down at home and make sure that he was okay and you were going to stay with him tonight, because there was no way you were going to let him be alone.

“You know we have to talk about everything, right?” you said the minute you both got into the car.

“Yeah honey, I know.” He reached over and grabbed your hand and squeezed it hard.

“Why did you do this? I know you’re hurting. I would do anything to make you happy and feel loved and appreciated, that’s my goal when i’m with you. I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the point, I just don’t want you to have to take care of me. I want to be there for you.” He started looking out of the window, like that was going to make his hurt get up and fly away.

“ Now you know a relationship is 50/50, and sometimes on bad days it’s 20/80. We give what we can, my love, and if you’re having a bad day I am more than willing to pick up the slack.” It was your turn to squeeze his hand, to bring him back to reality and remember that you were here, and that you were not going anywhere.

“I am embarrassed.” You looked over at him to see him, start to cry, genuine tears falling from his eyes, the look of defeat and hurt and embarrassment falling over his face. it was the saddest you had ever seen someone look and it absolutely shattered your heart to see him like that.

“Absolutely not,” You pulled over and stopped the car, “you have NO reason to be embarrassed about having a hard time Aaron Hotchner. You have been through more in the past few years than I could ever imagine. I don’t think I would be up walking around if I had gone through what you had been through. I would not be as good of a man as good of a dad as good of a person if I had been through what you had to go through. you give it your all every single day, whether it be as a father or as the leader of a team that saves peoples lives and every single day. you deserve somebody that not only wants to be with you at your best but somebody that will be there for you at your worst and I will be there for you. Always.” You took his face in your hands and turned him to look at you. He was still crying so you wiped his tears with your thumbs, and looked him in the eyes. You leaned in and gave him a big kiss. A kiss to cement everything you just said. So he knew, you were completely serious.

“Okay. I am sorry for what I've done, but for you, I am willing to try. I am willing to accept my downfalls, and lean on you when I need you. And you will never be my last call again, you will always be my first.”

“I better be.”

That got a smile out of him, and a small chuckle. You kissed him again and started the car back up, put it in drive, and took you both home.

[kite2013]

Seeing your post about the Villain Hunt Arc reminded me how much I dislike Hori and 1A as characters for neglecting Izuku.

Basically two things I hate about 1A vs Deku: first how contrived the whole situation is, because the odds that 1A is able to find Izuku in middle of what is essentially a warzone is ludicrous. Not to mention it would have been smarter to have split the class into groups if they were actually serious of finding Izuku because he could have been literally anywhere in Japan looking for AFO (What were the Heroes's Clues or leads? are you telling me they couldn't use satellites to track down the villains's last movements?)

In addition, Izuku for some reason doesn't use Gearshift to evade 1A as soon as they cross paths. Obviously, it would not be the right narrative decision to make but Izuku is in lone wolf mindset and 1A laughably failed to prove they could stand up to the villains besides maybe Shoto or Bakugo(never mind that he should be dead already)

But overall I just hate the wasted potential of the Villain Hunt Arc, Izuku was finally by himself and able to interact with other characters but none of that happens because it got cut short and Hori seemed to think that Izuku's arc was completed just taking a bath.

In retrospect, it almost feels like a meta-foreshadowing of what would happen to Izuku afterwards. Izuku just goes alone not seeking to be a burden on anyone and his classmates not only fail to address any of his concerns or mental well-being but avoid him after he lost OFA and is just forgotten by everyone despite arguably single Handly turning back the tide against the villains running amok.

I wish Izuku would be iseakied to a different series already, to a different world that would appreciate Izuku and his heroism.

You summarised my thoughts exactly

I was on Twitter when the Arc ended and even some casual viewers were disappointed

Class 1A lucked out finding Izuku (I think they used a gps tracker they got from Endeavour)

Guess it shows Japan became a bit more safer thanks to his efforts

The whole class being together was for it to be this big emotional moment where Izuku realises he can trust them

Too bad it came across as if anything but that

Instead it felt like an entire group of bullies jumping a exhausted, hungry Izuku who still held back from hurting his "friends"

It's actually infuriating to read. They go straight for a beat down before trying to talk Izuku out of handling everything by himself.

Kaminari has this line

Wow boundaries much?

I get that Izuku is trying to escape but they jump straight to violence when Izuku would only use it as a last resort

This is pure projection from Bakugo

I feel sorry for Izuku for having to put up with this shit when he's at his lowest

When everything was set and done and Izuku breaks down after Ochako's speech

It all ends with a bath to solve all of Izuku's mental anguish and injuries

Thanks Hori

If it was all gonna end in a gag then why did you highlight how everything has gone to hell

And you're completely right about the ending

If Class 1A were friends with Izuku to the point they would force him back to UA while it's a warzone out there, then why ditch him after he helped win the war?

It just comes across that they only got Izuku back during the Villain hunt arc, because Izuku was a important asset, not because for any friendship or camaraderie reason like they kept telling him

Honestly feel the whole Izuku being iseakied to another series

The closet thing we have to that is fanfics.

I don't know if you'd like to read one where Izuku is treated alot better. But if you do then I know a mutual @mikeellee who does this well.

Thanks for the Ask

[sunny44]

Marriage (Part 9)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader

Warnings: nothing

Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Since the day we argued, Mason had been staying at Ben's house and I had been alone since then.

The test was still in the drawer and I hadn't looked at it yet.

Since the fight, I hadn't had the courage to look, and I didn't want to do it alone.

Not without him.

I knew he wasn't thrilled about me coming to Monaco with him, but since we had already agreed that both of us would go and it would be strange if only he showed up, I ended up going too.

This time, Phil and Ruben were joining us.

Mase and I were sitting side by side, but it felt like we were miles apart.

When we arrived at the hotel, we were obviously in the same room. I dropped the bags in the corner and sat on the bed.

"Can we talk?"

"I'm heading for a shower now."

“Mase.”

“Please, don’t do this right now.”he said, entering the bathroom.

I sighed defeated and held back tears, mainly because the fault for us being like this was mine.

I kept thinking that if I had told him the truth none of this would’ve happened, the fact that I hurt him makes me sick.

So I decided to leave the room and go to the restaurant to eat something because I was very hungry. I sat at a table as discreet as possible and ordered a burger.

"Can I join you?" I heard a voice and saw Max.

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"Please?"

"Look, I don't want to be rude, but I'm not in a good mood and you've caused me a lot of problems lately."

"What do you mean?" He said, sitting. "Is everything okay?"

"Mason found your letter." I said, looking at him. "And we're not doing well."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Apparently, it is."

"In this case, it's not." I sighed. "You apologized many times and I decided to keep dwelling on the past and not forgive."

"You're upset, and rightfully so. I hurt you, and I'm sorry for that." He said. “You don’t need to accept my apologies if you don’t feel like forgiving me.

"I know you're sorry and even though I have every reason to be upset, I choose to keep remembering our situation and Instead of moving on and stop dwelling on all the bad things that happened to me and that’s why I ended up missing out on the good things in my life." I sighed. "I wasn't unhappy. I found someone who loves me for who I am, and I didn't appreciate that. I preferred to dwell on the past instead of focusing on the future, and here I am."

"Do you love him?"

"What?"

"Do you really love Mason? Because if the answer is yes, you should go after him." He spoke calmly. "But if the answer is no because you still feel something for me, even if it's minimal, I want you to know that I still love you, and if you want to give me a chance, I'm here."

I didn't say anything, just sighed, and at that moment, my burger arrived.

"Thank you.” I thanked the waiter.

"I'll be in my room." he said, getting up. "If you show up there, I know we still have a chance. But if you don't show up, I'll understand that you chose him."

"Max."

"Just think about it, please." he said and left me alone with my thoughts.

Bonus scene!

Masonmount instagram stories

“Another weekend, another F1 GP”

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @christianpulisic10 @gaslysainz @fanboyluvr @urgirlceci @justdreamersdream @aundercoverosh @newlifeforus @depressedriches @topguncultleader @luvrrish @tyna-19 @esposadomd @formulas-bitch

Just to let you guys know, I will write to part’s 10, one is with a Max ending and the other one is with a Mason ending.