#he could have miss one a race without any problem

[f1newgems]

I really dont understand why drivers dont let their bodies to heal

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : argument, logan shouts at reader over something insignificant, hurt / comfort, ANGST, fluff, happy ending  word count : 2.4k

logan had been on edge for weeks now. everything seemed to be going wrong, one thing after another. his mission plan was falling apart, charles was breathing down his neck, and it felt like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t catch a break. the stress was eating at him, wearing him down little by little until it felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

you’d noticed the change in him - how he seemed quieter, more distant, his temper flaring up over the smallest things. you tried to help where you could, offering him a shoulder to lean on, giving him space when he needed it, but nothing seemed to work. logan was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.

today had been the worst of all. logan’s day started with a series of frustrating conversations that left him feeling like he was running in circles. every task seemed to come with a new problem, and by the time he left work, he was fuming. his hands clenched into fists as he drove home, his mind racing with everything that had gone wrong. all he wanted was to come home, find some peace, and forget about the day. but even that was too much to ask.

when he walked through the door, he immediately noticed that the kitchen was spotless - so spotless, in fact, that his papers, the ones he’d left scattered across the table, were missing. he felt a surge of irritation. you had been on a cleaning spree, trying to make the house more comfortable for him, but in doing so, you’d moved around some of his blueprints. the ones he needed. the ones he hadn’t had time to organise properly.

“where are my papers?” logan’s voice was tight as he scanned the kitchen, looking for the documents that were now nowhere to be seen.

you looked up from where you were organising the bookshelf, smiling a little at him. “oh, i moved them to the study so you’d have more space. i thought - ”

“you thought?” logan cut you off, his voice rising. “why would you move my stuff without asking me?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. “i just wanted to help. i know you’ve been stressed, and i thought having a clean space might - ”

“a clean space?” logan’s laugh was harsh, bitter. “i don’t need a clean space, i need my work to not be messed with! do you have any idea how much shit i’ve been dealing with lately? and now this - this is the last thing i need!”

he was shouting now, the frustration of the past few weeks boiling over. every little thing that had gone wrong, every setback, every sleepless night - it all came out in a torrent of anger directed at you. 

“logan, i didn’t mean to make things worse…” you tried to explain, but he wasn’t listening. he was too far gone, too wrapped up in his own frustration to hear the hurt in your voice.

“you never think, do you? you just do whatever you want, and now i’m the one who has to deal with the consequences! i’m sick of this! i’m sick of everything always going wrong, and now you’re just adding to it!”

his words cut through you like a knife. you hadn’t meant to make things worse, you 

were just trying to help, but the way he was yelling at you, the anger in his voice - it was too much. your chest tightened, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back. 

“logan, please… i’m sorry, i just wanted to make things easier for you,” you said, your voice trembling.

“easier? easier for me?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “well, congratulations, because you’ve done the exact opposite! now i have to waste even more time finding everything you moved, and i’m already drowning here!”

the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over. you tried to wipe them away quickly, but logan was still shouting, too caught up in his own anger to notice.

“why can’t you just leave things the way they are? why do you always have to interfere? it’s like you don’t even care how much pressure i’m under! do you even care about anything besides what you want?”

his words were like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. a sob escaped your lips, loud and broken, and it stopped logan in his tracks. the sound cut through his anger like a knife, and suddenly, the room was silent. 

he stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process what was happening. you were crying - no, you were sobbing, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. all the anger, all the frustration that had been driving him just moments ago, drained away, leaving him feeling hollow and ashamed.

“y/n…” he started, his voice shaky now, all the sharp edges gone. “shit, i didn’t mean…”

but you couldn’t stop crying, the weight of his words crashing down on you all at once. you hadn’t realised just how much stress he’d been under, how deeply it had been affecting him, and now it felt like you’d only made everything worse.

logan stepped closer, his hands reaching out, but he hesitated. he didn’t know how to fix this - how to take back the things he’d said, the hurt he’d caused. “hey, hey… please don’t cry. i’m sorry, i didn’t… i didn’t mean any of that.”

his hands were trembling as he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. he could feel your sobs wracking your body, and it broke something inside him. how could he have been so blind? so stupid? 

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m an idiot, and i let all this shit get to me, and i took it out on you. you didn’t deserve any of that.”

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you tried to calm down. his arms were strong around you, holding you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality. and maybe, in that moment, you were.

logan pressed his lips to the top of your head, murmuring apologies over and over, his voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry… i’m so fucking sorry… please, y/n, don’t cry. i hate seeing you like this.”

you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood, but the words were stuck in your throat. instead, you just held onto him, letting him hold you, letting his presence calm the storm inside you.

it took a while for your sobs to finally subside, and when they did, you felt exhausted, like all the fight had been drained out of you. but logan didn’t let go - he just held you tighter, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away.

“i’ve been such a fucking mess lately,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “everything’s been going wrong, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. i’ve been pushing you away, taking it out on you, and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”

you nodded against his chest, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “i just wanted to help… i hate seeing you like this. it feels like you’re slipping away from me, and i don’t know how to bring you back.”

logan’s heart clenched at your words. he hadn’t realised how much his behaviour had been affecting you, how much you’d been carrying on your own. he felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him, and he held you even tighter.

“y’re not losing me,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. his thumb gently brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his touch soft, careful. “i promise you, you’re not losing me. i’ve just been so caught up in my own shit that i forgot what really matters.”

you searched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words, and you found it there - clear and unwavering. he was still here, still the man you loved, even if he’d lost his way for a while.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he continued, his voice steady now, a promise in every word. “we’re going to get through this. together.”

you nodded, a small, shaky smile forming on your lips. “yeah.”

logan leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with all the emotion he’d been holding back for weeks. “i love you so much. and i’m going to do better, i can fuckin’ promise you that, bub.”

you closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling the truth in them. you knew it wouldn’t be easy - logan was stubborn, and he had a lot to work through - but you also knew that he meant every word. he loved you, and that was enough.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft but steady. 

logan’s lips found yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of apologies and promises of love and commitment. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. logan smiled - a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. 

the two of you stayed like that for a while longer, just holding each other, finding comfort in the closeness. the argument, the hurt, the tears - they were all still there, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming now. you both knew there was work to be done, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like you were on the same page, like you could actually do this.

when logan finally pulled away, he took your hand and led you to the couch, where the two of you sat down together. his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, and you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest.

“tell me what’s been going on,” you said softly, wanting to understand what had been eating at him for so long. “i want to help, logan. i don’t want you to go through this alone.”

logan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “it’s just been one thing after another. work’s been a nightmare. nothing’s going right, and scott is on my case constantly. every day, it feels like i’m just… barely keeping my head above water. and then i come home, and i don’t want to burden you with all of this, but it’s just… it’s been too much.”

you listened quietly, letting him talk, letting him get it all out. you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the frustration, the weight he’d been carrying for so long. it broke your heart to know he’d been dealing with all of this on his own, and you hadn’t even realised how bad it had gotten.

“logan,” you said softly when he finished, your voice filled with compassion. “you don’t have to carry this by yourself. i’m here, and i want to help. we’re a team, remember?”

logan nodded, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the couch. “i know. i just… i didn’t want to unload all of this on you. i didn’t want to worry you.”

“but i was already worried,” you pointed out gently. “because i could see that something was wrong, and you weren’t talking to me about it. that’s what scared me the most - not knowing what was going on in your head.”

logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with regret. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to shut you out. i just… didn’t know how to talk about it. i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“logan, you don’t have to be perfect,” you said, your voice firm but loving. “i love you for who you are, flaws and all. and if you’re struggling, i want to know. i want to be there for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your skin. “but i’m so fucking grateful that you’re here.”

you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. “you deserve all the love in the world, logan. and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure this out, one step at a time.”

logan nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. he knew he was lucky to have you, and he was determined to do better - to be better. for you, and for himself.

the two of you spent the rest of the evening talking, really talking, about everything that had been weighing on logan’s mind. it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary, and by the end of the night, you both felt a sense of relief that had been missing for far too long.

logan knew he still had a lot to work through, but he also knew that he wasn’t alone. you were by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came your way. and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

as you both drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, logan made a silent promise to himself: he would never take you for granted again. you were his rock, his safe haven, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

because at the end of the day, no matter how tough things got, you were the one thing in his life that he couldn’t afford to lose. and he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, now and always.

[sinofwriting]

Under His Wing - Jenson Button

Words: 1,177 Summary: Oscar had thought when Mark had taken his sister under his wing that it was a great idea. Turns out it was the worst idea in the world as he stares at a picture of Jenson and his sister kissing. Note(s): Reader is Oscar’s sister. Large age gap between her and Jenson. No part two will be written.

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

Oscar had four sisters. All younger than him and all equally as annoying and he didn’t have a favorite. It would be unfair really. But if he was to have a favorite sister? It would be Y/N.

They were nearly twins, just ten months apart, but you’d never think so with the way she always tagged along with him everywhere.

When he moved to the UK for his racing career, six months later she joined him. When he moved out of boarding school and into a flat, she joined him. She joined him at races, at pr and press events, she always joined him. And thankfully when Mark became his manager in 2020 he recognized how important she was to him, really how important his family was to him, and as soon as she got her degree she was working with Mark.

Oscar had been beyond grateful, because she loved f1 just as much as he did, she just didn’t have an interest in driving. She did want a career in it and Mark had given her that opportunity without Oscar having to beg whatever team he was a part of to give her a chance or make her an employee of his, which would have not worked for either of them.

He’s beyond grateful for the chance that Mark gave her, for what Mark has done for him, for his career, for taking them both under his wing, but now as he stares at the photo on his phone, he wishes that he never let Mark Webber met his sister.

—

“Jenson.” She giggles as he presses kisses to her neck. He grins at the sound, nipping at the thin skin and reveling in her gasp. “Yes, sweetheart?” Her temple presses briefly against his as she gently shakes her head. “I want a kiss.” He can hear the pout on her lips, the wide-eyed look she has on her face, as she tries to get what she wants. Not, he thinks, that she really has to try and convince him to give her anything.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He murmurs, turning her so she’s facing him and sure enough, she’s pouting up at him, her bottom lip sticking out beautifully. “You want a kiss?” She nods. Leaning down, he kisses her, taking that bottom lip of hers in between his own. “Is that better?” “Much.” She sighs, making him kiss her again.

Releasing her, he watches as she goes over to her bag and pulls out of her phone. A joke is on the tip of his tongue about kids and their phones these days, but his dominant hand is pulling his own phone out of his pants pocket, wanting to check his messages before seeing if he can convince her to join him in the shower, a light sweat clinging to him from their hike.

His eyebrows furrow at the sheer amount of missed calls and texts he has and he quickly answers the next call.

“Mark, Is everything alright?” “Jenson.” “What’s going on?” He asks, shooting a concerned glance at Y/N, whose looking at her phone, confused. “Are you in California right now?” “Yes.” “Are you with anyone?” His eyebrow raises, “no. Why?” “So, Y/N Piastri, Oscar’s sister and my assistant isn’t with you.” Jenson freezes. “How did you?” The older cuts him off. “You two were spotted on a hike, kissing.” “Fuck.” He drags a hand over his face while the one holding his phone, pulls the device away from him ear and mouth a bit. “Sweetheart, we’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“Does the problem have anything to do with why Oscar has nonstop been calling and texting me?” She asks, moving back over to him and he winces as she watches her let another call from Oscar just ring through. “We got spotted on our hike.” He tells her, as he puts his phone on speaker. “Mark called as well.” He doesn’t mention any of the other names he also saw littering his phone screen, that could wait until after. “How bad is it?” “PR wise?” Jenson’s nose wrinkles, face twisting in disgust at how that’s the first thing Mark says, considers, even though it’s his job in some sort. “Not too bad. There’s a lot of shock, questions. It’s more Oscar I’m worried about.” “He’s not happy.” “Happy?” Mark laughs. “He apparently went ballistic seeing the photos. Lily called me, she was with him when he saw. Last update I had from her, he was trying to get Max to give him his private jet so he could come to California to kill Jenson. Since y’know he found out through twitter that his little sister is doing something with a guy twice her age.” “You introduced us.” Jenson protests. “Yeah, because I thought you’d be good friends. Not,” he pauses unsure of what to call it. “Dating?” She fills in for him. “Yeah, dating.” He sighs. “Did anyone know before this?” “No.” They both answer at the same time. Mark sighs again. “Alright, well it’s time to start talking. You need to call your own manager Jenson, Y/N call Oscar, we can handle our side of the PR after Jenson gets his figured out.” “Got it. Sorry, Mark.” “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

Before Jenson can say anything the call is ended and he’s staring at his phone, bemused. “I think he likes you more than me.” She laughs. “Well, do you blame him?” He quickly shakes his head. “No. Be stupid to not like you.” He dips his head down, wanting a kiss, but she steps away, shaking her head. “No, not happening. You can get a kiss after you talk to your manager and I talk Oscar out of killing you.” Jenson winces, that was not going to be a fun conversation. “I’m alright with a bit of light maiming.” “Jenson.” “Sweetheart,” he chuckles at the serious look on her face. “He’s going to want to kill and hurt me. I’m sure your mum and dad are the same way. I’m sure next time I see Mark I’m going to get a nice elbow to the ribs. It’s just what’s going to happen. I made my piece with that after our fifth date.” She pouts and he can’t help but pull her into a hug. “I don’t want you to get hurt and I don’t want anyone fighting about this.” “I know.” He kisses the top of her head. “And we can hope that it doesn’t happen, that it goes more smoothly than how it feels currently, but we both knew that us being together would rock the boat.” “I think we need a bigger boat.” He snorts. “Maybe. Now let's make our calls, get them done and over with yeah?” “Yeah.” She sighs, pulling away from him before smiling and then she’s pouting up at him again, just like earlier. “Kiss?” He shakes his head, but brushes their lips together for just half a second. “There ya go, sweetheart. Little something to tide you over.”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @gothgirlez @namgification @KimmiB13 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou300morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @tallrock35 @casperlikej

[ln444]

truly madly deeply

cw: fluff, very slight angst, comfort (reader comforting lando), you and lando are fucking in love:'(((

now playing: truly madly deeply by 1d

notes: i love requests inspired by songs pls request more of it🥺 wrote this in 30 minutes at 3am so its a bit short sry:(

requested by anon

______________________________________________

these past few weeks have been incredibly tough on lando, both mentally and physically. you've undoubtedly noticed and have been doing your best to support him while giving him the space he needs. lando may struggle to express his feelings in words, but he's been showing his gratitude in other ways – with small gestures and plenty of physical affection. you've been following his f1 journey closely, never missing a grand prix, and making sure you're by his side through it all. lando has never felt more loved and supported. his favorite moments are those when he can finally rest and spend time with you after a grueling race.

qualifying is tomorrow, and lando seems even more nervous than usual. you know him inside out, recognizing his little habits when he's stressed; without him saying a word, you understand the thoughts racing through his mind. the night has fallen, heightening lando's anxiety as the race draws near. he's been more affectionate than usual today, seeking comfort in your hugs and asking for extra kisses. while you love this closeness, it also concerns you. you're well aware of how hard lando can be on himself, and the thought of what he might be going through tugs at your heart.

you join him on the bed, facing him, the stars casting a soft glow on his tired face, making his eyes sparkle even more when they meet yours. "hey, pretty boy," you whisper gently, your hand tenderly cupping his cheek and stroking it. butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his body relaxes a bit. "hey, love" he whispers back, planting a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand, eliciting a smile from you.

"how are you feeling?" you ask softly, your fingers gently playing with his curls – something you know he adores. with a sigh, lando closes his eyes for a moment before locking onto yours again. he finds immense comfort in your gaze, with the rest of the world fading away each time he gets lost in your eyes.

"i don't know... i'm not feeling great about tomorrow," he admits with a hint of worry in his voice. your heart aches just hearing his concerns. you move closer, your gaze softening, and lando's heartbeat quickens. how can you have such a profound effect on him with just your eyes? it drives him crazy.

"why, baby? you don't have to worry. you're lando norris, after all!" you playfully roll your eyes, and a smile tugs at lando's lips. he takes your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, and you reciprocate with a warm smile.

"no, but seriously, what's bothering you?" you softly toy with his fingers while giving him your full attention.

"i mean, it's more of a mclaren problem than a 'me' problem," he hesitates for a moment, and you gently caress the back of his hand, encouraging him to open up.

"i don't think i belong there anymore. i don't think i can show my true potential with them." his voice is calmer now, and a sense of relief is evident.

you hum softly, and he finds the courage to continue, still focused on your hands playing together. "should i quit? but what if no one else wants me?" panic creeps into his voice, and you immediately grip his hand firmly, bringing your free hand to his cheek.

"hey, you're one of the best drivers out there. there'll always be a team that wants you. believe me, there'll always be a place for you in f1. you've worked so hard to get here, and you truly deserve it," you reassure lando. he gets lost in your eyes, feeling the depth of your love and honesty. his heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

"but i want to be the best," he pouts, and you chuckle softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips, making him smile. "you're already the best for me," you say with a gentle smile, causing lando's heart and cheeks to warm. he groans playfully, slightly embarrassed by his blushing cheeks, and your smile widens. "you're so cute; i don't think my heart can take it," you playfully whimper, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. lando bites his lip to suppress a smile, and the sparks in his eyes intensify. you place multiple kisses on his lips, and lando can't help but chuckle. he puts his hands on yours to pause the kisses and says, "just give me a real kiss already, please," another pout forming on his lips. your smile grows bigger, and you oblige, giving him a gentle kiss.

lando pulls back to look at you, and the warm smile on his face melts your heart. "thank you," he says softly, caressing your hands. you don't really know why he's thanking you to be honest; for the kiss or for the honest words. "you don't have to thank me," you say, placing a quick peck on his lips. "i'll always be here for you, no matter what," another peck, "and i'll always be proud of you," another one, "no matter what, my pretty boy."

lando's heart has never felt this warm. in fact, his entire body feels warm right now, overwhelmed by the love he's receiving. "god, what did i do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and calm voice, clearly feeling better. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you."

"i know you did not just quote a one direction song," you both laugh, and lando groans, hiding his face behind your hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "it's cute," you move your hands to look at him. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you too," you say with a hint of teasing in your voice, but you absolutely mean it. a big smile forms on lando's face, and you run your hands through his hair to pull him into a tender kiss.

lando's heart feels lighter, your sweet words and touch washing away all the negative thoughts for the night. if you have to repeat every single word you said to him tomorrow and the day after – every day, you will do it, again and again. lando knows it, and he has never felt so thankful.

______________________________________________

masterlist

[eternally-racing]

need you now | lando norris (+ oscar)

genre: smut , maybe fluff if you squint

wc: <1k (short n sweet 😌)

pairing: lando norris x reader, with a surprise appearance from #81 himself (read and find out hehehe)

warnings: female masturbation, phone sex (ish), voyeurism, dirty talk

rating: R - minors DNI

summary: calling your boyfriend Lando to complain about being horny seems to turn into so much more.

- - - - - - - -

“Landooooooo” you’re whining to your phone camera. You’re throwing a tantrum like a child and you know it, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. It’s been weeks since your boyfriend promised to visit, and after Lando was supposed to come home last weekend but got called into the factory for some last minute meetings, you’re more than a little… frustrated, to say the least. 

You know Lando can tell too. He’s cheeky enough to want to make you squirm, putting on that all knowing smile that you love so much. These conversations have become all too frequent between you two - you nestled into your sheets at home, Lando relaxing in his driver’s room during any free time he has on a race weekend. You’re even wearing one of Lando’s old shirts, and from the way that your nipples are poking through it it’s all too easy for him to tell how horny you are. 

“Lan you don’t understand, it’s like I just need to be fucked. Not a want, a NEED. and you’re not here and it’s the worst.” There are of course much bigger problems in the world, but for a girl who knows the touch of Lando Norris and hasn’t felt it in weeks, this feels like torture. 

Once you get going on the topic, you’ve set the train into motion and there’s no stopping it. Lando of course doesn’t stop you at all, what better feeling is there than your girl talking about how much she misses your dick?”  

“My poor baby” Lando says sweetly with a tinge of sarcasm that makes you roll your eyes “your fingers just aren’t enough, are they?”

Lando knows exactly what you need to hear to egg you on and he says exactly that. “I bet you’re already wet just thinking about me coming back, aren’t you Y/N? You’re thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you when I finally get my hands on you again.” 

You can feel your thong getting so wet and you’re almost in such a sex craze that you’re willing to book a plane ticket to get halfway across the world to be with your boyfriend. If Lando’s going to play games, you can play them too. You lean over towards the camera, giving him a nice shot of your cleavage. “What are you planning to do to me, Lan?” 

And tell you he does. The filth Lando mentions to you is enough to make you feel like you could orgasm without even touching yourself, and small moans and whimpers seem to slip out of your mouth as you try to keep quiet about how much he’s affecting you. There’s promises made of orgasm after orgasm, and even the images in your head of Lando buried beyween your legs is enough to make you clench your thighs together in eagerness.

“Lan, I need you now” you mumble with glazed eyes, “look what you’ve done to me”. You’re about to show him the mess he’s made of your legs and take the oversized shirt off your body when Lando’s eyes go wide and he tells you to hold on for a second. And the words he says as he cuts off your actions make your jaw drop to the floor. 

“Babe, you might wanna say hi to Oscar.” 

You gasp audibly and almost drop your phone entirely. Lando turns the camera all too slightly to the left to show both him and Oscar now. The younger man is settled comfortably onto the couch next to your boyfriend, and the knowing look and slight red tinge to his cheeks tell you that he's been there for your entire conversation. Lando's eyes seem to flit between you and his teammate, trying to gauge if this was his best idea or worst idea ever.

You can barely look him in the eyes as you stumble through greeting Oscar. But it's not missed on Lando that you don't make any moves to cross your arms over your chest or cover yourself up in front of Oscar, and he keeps that information as something to talk to you about later.

“I should head off, mate, but if you ever need help with that problem… I’d be happy to lend a hand.” The Australian boy has the audacity to wink at you through the camera before he picks up his jacket to leave. The Oscar you see in front of you doesn’t resemble the shy, timid rookie you first met at the beginning of the year - you can’t imagine how much else has changed about him since then.

Who knows, maybe it would be worth it to take Oscar up on his offer.

[nathaslosthershit]

Tensions Fall (Teen Dad!Oscar AU)

(part 2 to Tensions rise, also apart of this AU although these two fics can be read separately)

A/N: 7 weeks since the once happy couple have actually talked. 7 weeks since they shared a bed, but with their two toddlers starting camp for the first time, maybe they can try and mend their problems.

Warnings: Parental separation, a super mean mom like the ones I have to deal with at work, angst WITH A HAPPY ENDING

May 28, 2024

It had been 7 weeks since the fight in Suzuka that effectively ended Oscar and Honey’s relationship. It had been 7 weeks since Oscar had taken a leave of absence from racing in order to try and make amends with his family. He still trained everyday, he still worked with McLaren and did Sim Racing, he just never attended any of the Grand Prixs. 

It had also been 7 weeks since Honey and Oscar had shared a bed. 

Since that night she left their room, she had stayed in her kids’ hotel room till they got home. She then packed her things and moved into the guest bedroom. Things had been far from amicable between the two parents. In the beginning, Oscar had done all he could to try and make up with Honey but when she continued to give him the cold shoulder, he had given up and reciprocated her attitude. The children, about to turn 4 years old, didn’t know the full extent of what was happening at home. They knew that when they would go to their parents’ room in the morning, only Dad would be there, but this was easily explained away when Honey told them that Oscar snored too loudly and it kept her up at night.

They had of course also noticed how different their parents had acted towards each other, and how often their father was home now, but they just didn’t question it because at the end of the day, they were too young to begin to understand, and they still had two parents who loved them as much as they could.

Since the fight though, it was clear Oscar was making much more of an effort to take his kids out to do activities. At first it was nice, Honey got some time alone, something she rarely got anymore, but the more Oscar took over planning activities, the more she began to hate being alone. After three, almost four, years of being around her kids almost 24/7, the silence started to eat away at her. And in turn, her kids started to miss their mom more. 

Finally though, Honey had put her foot down, after a long conversation, ending in a fight, Oscar had agreed to more full family activities, even if it meant having to pretend with Honey that they were still the happy and perfect family. 

While their kids loved going to the park as a family, any parent around could see that the two parents watching their twins on the bench were fighting but trying so hard to conceal their whispered harsh words behind smiles. 

With the twins' fourth birthday coming up on June 8th, Oscar and Honey had been stressing on how they were going to plan their birthday while they couldn’t get through a conversation without being at each other's throats. They also had the kids’ first day of camp coming up May 29, a day that may seem insignificant to most parents, but as the kids had never been to preschool, nor a daycare, camp was their first introduction into that whole system. It was a big step for everyone.

Honey had been trying to prepare the kids the best she could for their first day at camp. She knew they didn't fully grasp the concept and she was nervous about leaving them alone, scared they would feel abandoned as child-care with non-familial adults wasn’t something they had experienced with their mother being a stay at home mom, only ever enlisting help from grandparents, cousins, and even ‘honorary uncles’ such as Logan and Lando. She had to keep telling herself that in the end, they will at least have each other. 

Oscar and Honey decided to make a day of it. Camp wasn’t until 9, so the pair took the very excited Hudson and Frances out to breakfast where the 3 year olds managed to cover themselves head to toe in maple syrup and chocolate from their pancakes, causing them to have to rush home to change, thus leading the family to a late arrival to the preschool building that the camp was held in. 

“We are so sorry, oh my goodness!” Honey said to one of the two teachers who were clearly waiting for them outside the door to the classroom.

“We decided to take these two to breakfast and they got more food on their clothes than they did in their mouths. Which reminds me, I added two extra changes of clothes to their bag in case they need it.” Oscar added, causing Honey to shoot him a glare that was luckily not seen by the younger of the teachers, as the younger teacher was too busy ogling at Oscar to notice. It was her that added the clothes to their bag, it was also her idea, he was being petty by taking credit.

After a few moments of silence as they waited for the woman’s reply, she managed to snap herself out of whatever daydream she was concocting only minutes after meeting the young father in front of her to reply with a quick, “No problem! We know how these kids can be.”

The older woman next to her clearly could sense her coworker was a little two focused on one of the parents and pointedly urged her to take their bags to their cubbies while she sorted the family out, which Honey was grateful for. She may have not been with Oscar anymore but that lady didn’t know it and had no right to eye fuck him in front of her and her children of all people. 

“Why don’t you all say goodbye out here, we are just about to start morning meeting with the other kids.” The older woman said as she stepped to the side to give the family privacy, thought she was close enough to hear all they would say.

Oscar and Honey both felt tears begin to form as they squatted down in front of their kids. 

“Alright, Mommy and Daddy have to go now, but you both are going to stay here and make some new friends. I know this is new and might be a little scary but if you guys get through today, we can all go get ice cream later. How does that sound?” Honey asked, nervous one of her kids was going to break down in tears at any moment. 

“Okay! Bye Mommy, bye Daddy!” Frances yelled as she ran through the open door to the classroom, clearly ready to get started.

Oscar and Honey weren’t necessarily shocked at what their very clearly extroverted daughter had just done, but they still had expected a little bit of pushback from her. They could see the older woman by the door laughing softly to herself at that interaction. 

Their son, Hudson, was less enthusiastic. He didn’t cry, which they had fully expected him to, but he gave them crushingly tight hugs, or as crushing as he could manage, and a quick kiss on the cheek before following after his sister.

Wiping away tears, they both stood up and laughed once they looked at each other's faces, realizing they were both far more of a mess than their kids.

“Wow, maybe we should have been giving ourselves pep talks for weeks instead of them” Oscar joked. Honey laughed, it was the first normal interaction they had had in what felt like forever. 

The older woman, still by the door, quickly joined in, “Oh don’t worry, we find parents are usually the ones with the most trouble at dropoff, but that moment they find you both after a day of camp or school, you will feel just how much they missed and love you. Plus you two are young, you’ve got plenty of more time to make more of those babies. You have grown yourself a real sweet family by the looks of it. Relax for a few hours! Enjoy the time off, maybe even add to your family.” The woman said, laughing, as she closed the door.

“Did she really just suggest we go make more babies?” Honey asked in disbelief.

“I think she did, yeah.” Oscar answered, just as confused as she was. 

The air felt light as they both walked to their car, relishing in how nice it was that they weren’t arguing, realizing how miserable they had been.

But that didn’t last long. 

“Come on, Oscar, you can’t be that dense! She was so clearly eye fucking you!” Honey argued. The conversation in the car had been light for a few minutes until Honey made a comment about the younger teacher and unintentionally started an argument.

“She was not! And if she was, who cares? We aren’t together anymore, you can’t get jealous over something as trivial as someone who thinks I am attractive. Sometime in the future I will get a partner so you better learn to stop being jealous.” Oscar yelled. He didn’t mean it of course, he knew even if he and Honey never got back together, he would remain single. She was the only one for him.

But what he had said, wording it in a way that made Honey fully think about their situation really tore her apart. Yes, they were separated, but she never felt like they were fully broken up. And from what he said, it sounded like he planned on moving on much faster than she ever would.

With tears rolling down her cheeks, she decided to not dignify his comments with a response. Once exiting the car, she swiftly went to the guest room she had been staying in since the separation and slammed the door.

After a few minutes in the car, Oscar had mustered up the courage to apologize, knowing what he did was uncouth. Hearing her cries as he walked up to her door made him stop just short of knocking, deciding maybe it was better to give her a bit of time for now and come up with a way to make it up later.

After two hours of contemplation, Oscar had decided to get a lunch reservation at her favorite restaurant that always had a live band playing. It was impossible to get a day of reservations but with a bit of bribing, he had managed to pull it off. What was also nice about the band was that they could sit and eat silently without any awkward silence. If they were going to fight, they didn’t need to speak. 

She wasn’t crying when he knocked on her door, having managed to seemingly get all her emotions out in the two hours by herself, then clean up to look presentable for pick up. But now she felt empty, like a shell of a person in a house with a man who once loved her to pieces but now seemed to despise her, and no kids because they were away at camp. 

“Come in.” Was all she said.

“I um, I got us a reservation to your favorite place. I understand if you aren’t up for going- or if you’d like to go alone, but I did kind of bribe them so one of us at least has to go, I fear.” Oscar muttered out fast, clearly sensing the awkward energy between them, not knowing whether they were going to ignore the fight or not.

But Honey’s heart burst at the idea of him trying so hard to get into her favorite place. She always urged him to use his name to get into places, like Lando loved to do, but he was always too humble to do it, so it meant even more that he had this time. 

“That… sounds wonderful. Thank you, Oscar.” Was all she said as she started to tear up again but quickly turned so he wouldn’t see. “Let me get my stuff and I can meet you in the car.”

The energy in the car wasn’t light like it was before, but it also wasn’t heavy. A comfortable silence stayed between the two until it got too much for Honey and she burst out into tears, seemingly unprompted. 

“Darling, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Oscar asked, openly concerned for her well being for the first time in what felt like years.

“I c-can’t take it, Oscar! We used to have so much love for each other, god, you used to look at me like I hung the stars in the sky, now you can’t seem to look at me for more than a second without realizing how much you hate me now. Then after saying you are going to move on to someone else- you do this really sweet thing and I am- I am so confused and hurt and don’t know what to think or do!” Honey rambled, everything truly coming to the surface. Everything she thought, everything she felt, everything she had tried too hard to push down and pretend wasn’t there.

“Honey, I have never hated you for even a second,” was all Oscar was able to reply as he registered everything she had just said.

“What?”

“I don’t think I am capable of it. Truly. I have tried so hard to be the best I could be for you after the fight. I stopped racing, I planned more activities with the kids, but I couldn’t do anything right. I let rumors continue about you making me stop racing, which I wanted to stop but was told to leave alone. I took the kids to do activities and left you out too much. When you continued giving me the cold shoulder, I gave up when I should have kept fighting. I then tried to love you less, to make it hurt less, but I couldn’t, even if I acted like a dickhead to you. I am so sorry, Honey, and I would never in a million years be with someone else, even if you had an entire other family and were happily married. You are it for me, always have been, always will be.”

With all finally being said, the two went to lunch happier than they had been in weeks, ready to work on their relationship. It was surely not going to be easy, but how they had been these past two months had broken them enough that they were certainly willing to try. 

Near the end of the meal though, things once again got tense. These two couldn’t catch a break it seemed.

Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren, called Oscsar out of the blue and as the phone rang, Honey’s heart sank, awaiting Oscar’s reaction.

“Shit, I should get thi-” 

“It's okay. I promise.” Honey said, already feeling doubt beginning to creep in.

She couldn’t hear much of the conversation as Oscar quickly walked out the door to talk to Zak. He was also turned away from her so any chances of learning information by reading his facial expressions went out the window.

Finally, he returned to Honey biting her nails waiting for what he would say to her. She already started to panic thinking he could have to go to work, race again, and this vicious cycle would never end, that nothing would ever be right between them.

“What did he want?” She asked.

“Asked when I would be ready to come back to race. I said I didn’t have a date in mind. He told me to come in next week for a meeting on it, but I said I wouldn’t make a decision without talking to my family. I am not going to lose you all over this.” He reassured her. 

Honey smiled, doubt leaving as quickly as it had come. Until she herself got a phone call, this time from the camp her kids were at. Stressing that they had missed pick up, she realized after checking the clock that they still had an hour and a half. Confused once more, she answered the call.

Being told on your kids' first day away from you that there was an issue you needed to go deal with immediately, that you needed to fill out both incident and accident report forms wasn’t something that the young parents had envisioned for themselves. 

Rushing to the classroom, Oscar and Honey saw both of their kids crying in the hallway with the older teacher when they arrived, accompanied by another mother and her upset son. Concern laced their features as they took in both their kids, looking for any hints of injury on the two, but they seemed fine, apart from the crying.

“God, don’t tell me these two kids are the parents, no wonder this happened.” The other mother muttered under her breath. Before Oscar could question her, the older teacher spoke up.

“It seems there was a problem between the kids today.” She began, clearly trying to mediate the situation before it got ugly between the parents. “Mattias here stole a toy Hudson was playing with and pushed him over when he tried to get it back. In turn, Fraces bit the Mattias. It didn’t even leave a mark so I know it wasn’t hard, and both kids got a talking to as well as exchanged apologies, but it seems that they might need to go home early for the day to recuperate. We will certainly work on sharing and using our words tomorrow.”

Both Honey and Oscar were shocked. While Hudson was quiet and they had been worried it would make him a target in the future, and they knew their daughter was fiercely protective of her twin, they didn’t think she would result to biting.

“Wow, alright. You two, let's discuss this in the car, yeah?” Oscar said, ready to leave the place as he felt the wrath of the other parent glaring at him. “Really? You are just going to walk away without so much as an apology to me and my son? Unbelievable.” The mother scoffed. “This is why young people shouldn’t be parents. Clearly you two need to grow up just as much. I pray your already terrible daughter grows out of this and doesn't end up like you, spreading her legs too young and becoming up a teen mom because of it.”

Both Honey and Oscar were stunned. They had faced backlash before, sure, but never to their face, and never from someone so clearly in the wrong.

“Excuse me?” Honey asked.

“Oh, you heard me.” The mother replied.

“No, I don’t think I did, because what it sounded like was you were asking for an apology for something your kid started, because I am sure as hell my kids do not have sharing problems. Then when my three year old daughter retaliates to seeing her sweet and vulnerable brother being so blatantly bullied, even though she apologized, you believe you and your snot nosed brat deserve anything else. Guess what, we don’t owe you shit. And while you are so worried about how our kids will end up, why don’t you worry about your own child, who clearly takes after his bully of a mother. Grow up, asshole.” Honey retaliated. She shouldn’t have sworn in front of the kids but damn was it wonderful to see the look on that lady’s face. 

Oscar had never been more turned on by Honey in his life.

After the fight, the family of four got out of there as soon as they could, stopping for ice cream on the way home. They hardly scolded Frances more than a “If someone does something mean, you can’t bite them, use your words” to which she replied “Like Momma did with that lady?” 

The kids were playing quietly in their room once Oscar got alone time with Honey. 

“That was the sexiest thing I have ever seen.” He said, arms circling her waist.

“When I went full bitch mode on that lady?” She asked, laughing at the desire so evident in his eyes.

“When you stood up for your family, and cursed that dickhead out.” He replied as he started kissing her neck.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, I liked it too but in a different way than you did.” She laughed.

Laying on the bed, cuddling as they basked in the love they still had for each other. Oscar managed to ask the question that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“Honey, will you please move back in here and be with me again? I miss you too much.” Oscar pleaded.

“Fine, but you need to work on another proposal. It is only fair since this all kind of started because of you.”

“Deal, this time I will knock your socks off with my proposal, but first I intend on showing you just how much I missed you.” He said as he began to kiss her deeper and more passionately.

Life was starting to get much better. 

[gguk-n]

Racing smiles (Lewis Hamilton x Dentist!Reader SMAU)

@lh44girl suggested a dentist!reader with Lewis Hamilton. Hope I was able to do it some justice.

A/N-CONGRATULATIONS TO LEWIS ON HIS 9TH HOME WIN!! SO HAPPY!! THIS IS COULD BE LIKE A CELEBRATION SMAU!!

lewishamilton followed purepearldentalclinic & theteethwhisperer pureperaldentalclinic followed lewishamilton

lewishamilton

Liked by purepealdentalclinic and 12,567,876 others tagged purepealdentalclinic

lewishamilton I'm a huge advocate of taking care of yourself including your teeth. Got my dental problems fixed by the sweetest dentist. Do check purepealdentalclinic out. It's a new establishment, show it some of your love.

purepealdentalclinic It was delight having you. You are one of the best patients I’ve had. user 1 That million dollar smile gotta cost a pretty penny😍😍 user 2 Totally checking the dentist out if I need dental help👍 user 3 They must have great service if Lewis is recommending it himself🤔🤔 theteethwhisperer I heard the dentist there is super pretty🙈🙈 lewishamilton theteethwhisperer it seems the dentist is also quite vain😔

purepearldentalclinic

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purepearldentalclinic Glad to announce the grand inauguration of Pure Pearl Dental Clinic. We are going to be helping fix one smile at a time. Do stop by if you need any work done or just a regular check ups. The first month all the fees are discounted. The dentist incharge is Dr Y/N Y/L/N, board certified Orthodontist.

user 4 Came here bc of Lewis, looks okay I guess lewishamilton Congratulations!! wishing you all the luck for your business Liked by Author bff/user 10/10 would recommend. Kind doctor and staff.

theteethwhisperer

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theteethwhisperer It's race weekend and we had an F1 watch party!! I may or may not have closed the clinic early to watch it!!

bff/user Atleast we had fun and that's all the matter lewishamilton Next time you wanna watch a race let me know, I can get you tickets theteethwhisperer lewishamilton OMG!! PADDOCK PASSES YESSS!! friend/user We should do this again!! user 5 Lewis I want paddock passes too🥺🥺

theteethwhisperer

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theteethwhisperer I work hard and play hard #paristrip #girlstrip #dentistlife

bff/user I knew becoming friends with you in grade school was a great idea🥹🤧 lewishamilton You went to Paris without me?😒😔 theteethwhisperer lewishamilton Guess I missed the memo😳 user 6 Is it just me or does Lewis never miss a single post of hers?🤔🤔 user 7 She is pretty but like she ain't Nicole😒😒

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton On the rocks Almave

theteethwhisperer I've never barked for a man, but I guess there's a first time for everything🙂‍↕️ lewishamilton theteethwhisperer Well, there's a first time for everything. Let's see where this first time takes us😏😏 user 8 I didn't know Sir Lewis had rizz🤨🤨 user 1 Eww that girl so desperate😤😤 user 2 Why is she acting like a horny teenager? Isn't she an adult with an adult job?🙄🙄

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton The past few days have been all love. Thank you all, the energy and support means everything. Can't wait to start this season. 2024 is all us 🎯

theteethwhisperer Good luck for the season!! 8th WDC!!👊👊 Liked by the Author user 3 Good luck Lewis!! ❤️❤️always rooting for you user 4 That girl is starting to get on my nerve tbh😡😡 user 5 Can she shut the fuck up and stop being so thirsty for Lewis, we get it, he's hot. Find another man🙃🙃 user 6 Damn, shirtless Lewis does things to me🥵🥵

lewishamilton

Liked by theteethwhisperer and 3,632,993 others

lewishamilton YES🍾🍾🍾 945 days since the last win and it's finally come home. SILVERSTONE I LOVE YOU. There's no crowd that deserves this more. This is love, this is family. Thank you all for the love and support. Massive shout to the team as well. Everyone in the garage and back at the factory have given long hard hours for this result. It's not been easy but it's brought us back to back wins for the team. Most importantly we didn't lose hope. We didn't give up. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU KEEP GOING. STILL WE RISE 🇬🇧🏆❤️!!!

landonorris Congrats mate👊 georgerussel63 You deserve it, mate👏 valterribottas Well done champ! theteethwhisperer Can't believe I have the most talented and hardworking boyfriend who deserves the world and this home win!! ❤️❤️So proud of babe!! 😘😘💋💋Let's celebrate once you're back😏😉 lewishamilton theteethwhisperer Can't believe I have the smartest, kindest, most soft spoken girlfriend. 😍😍Can't wait to be back in your arms❤️❤️ user 7 when did they start dating?? 🙂🙂also CONGRATULATIONS LEWIS!! 👏👏LOVE YOU❤️ user 8 can't believe this, neither the win nor the relationship announcement😭😭🤯 user 1 at least she's super smart, so like it balances out. So proud of you Lewis!! 9th home win🥵🥵❤️❤️ user 2 I didn't see this coming. I did tbh. Power couple. Dentist and GOAT of F1😘😘😭😭

[imaginesmai]

His precious treasure - Eris Vanserra

First time writing for Eris! Let me know what you think

Plot: Beron manages to ask the right questions at the wrong moment, making Eris suspicious of your safety. His hidden treasure in the forest, where he cannot get fast enough.

Warnings: mention of torture, death and blood.

His steps resonated through the long corridor, servants and guards bowing to his presence. They never met his eyes, not even when he was just a young prince who barely reached their waists. He used to fool himself thinking it was out of respect, out of fear. But Eris had learned that it was easier to ignore the problems of their loved court, the abuse, when they didn’t look at him.

Countless times he had walked down those corridors with blood streaming down his face, bloody nose and bruised eyes. Burned flesh and peeled skin. It used to bother him their indifference, but that day, he barely paid them any attention.

All his focus was set in leaving the palace he called home as soon as possible without looking suspicious, without letting anyone know the terror that threatened to paralyze him.

Eris could feel his eye bruising, the burn marks on his back and chest from his father later outburst. He didn’t mind the abuse, could endure it just fine. What was breaking his soul in two were the answers his father looked with that abuse, and that he had managed to hide. But Beron was asking questions he shouldn’t have been formulating.

“Tell me, my son. Why do I keep receiving notices of your disappearances? Why are my guards worried that you might be lacking in your efforts to keep this court standing?” Beron had asked before backhanding Eris in his office. “Should I be worried about your not-so-subtle trips to the forests?”

The excuse had fallen from his mouth naturally, like he had always planned. Testing the borders for possible threats, assuring the outer posts were functioning correctly, searching the ground with his hounds.

Eris had swallowed every hit and humiliation with a tight jaw, only answering when he was spoken to. He had closed you off the bond and hoped to be strong enough for you not to notice. Then, Beron’s had asked him that damned question and his resolution had cracked.

“You look distracted lately, maybe that’s why you keep forgetting to update me about your whereabouts” Beron snarled, as if the sight of the blood spilled by his hand unsettled him. Then, he locked his eyes with Eris and fire danced behind them, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s the recent lack of servants what has your mind busy. Strange and unexplained disappearances, right?”

He was sure Beron had bought his indifference, or he wouldn’t have let him go. But he still raced through the hallways, a bad feeling twisting his gut. Running would catch too much attention, yet he knew leaving after his father’s questions was an answer by itself.

Eris prayed to the Cauldron, to whoever had unanswered his prayers through his life, that he arrived to the cabin with enough time to make things right. If Beron was asking about missing servants, he could only be talking about you. The kind-hearted lesser fae who had the misfortune of being his mate.

Three years ago, Eris had almost burnt down the entire court one of his brothers got a little too handsy with you. As a servant, you were supposed to endure it and be thankful for his attention. But your heart belonged to Eris Vanserra in secret for almost a century, and you had denied his unrespectful advantages. That earned you a beating that had left you unconscious in the middle of the backyard, where Eris’ hounds had found you.

After weeks of healing in secret and convincing him not to slaughter his own court and find death at the hands of his father, only the promise of your safety had kept him still. He had taken you away to his hidden cabin, where you had been staying part of a cozy side-town, where no one recognized you.

Thoughts of the last three years flooded his mind as he jogged the last steps of the castle, quickly hoisting himself up in his horse and riding off into the forest. He pushed his mare to her limits, until the ground and the trees were nothing but blurry colors.

He wouldn’t waste time thinking why his father hadn’t acted yet, why he had been granted those few minutes to try and save you. The answer was clear when he smelt the uncharacteristic trace of blood in the quiet village.

Eris dismounted without stopping, his mare moving restlessly in the familiar cottage. His heart pushed furiously against his chest, blood rushing to his ears when he noticed the door hanging open by an unnatural angle. Male scents and horses’ prints were all over your hidden cabin.

“Y/N!” he screamed your name, not caring about anything but your safety. With everything about to change, he could throw secrecy as the last of his priorities. “My love, where are you?”

No answer came from the outskirts of the house, and Eris all but threw himself inside. The beating he had just endured almost sent him stumbling to the ground.

The insides of the cabin were a mess, just like his soul. Scattered papers and wooden furniture, broken plates, shattered windows. Fire embers started to fill the messy space as his laborious breathing turned panicked. He leaned against the wall where pictures lay now crooked, and tried to think what to do.

Where to look, who to kill, how to survive knowing his worst nightmare had come true. Eris had always feared having a mate, having someone to love and that loved him back, because he knew the world would take it away cruelly.

What he didn’t expect was the stairs creaking under your weight, and your disheveled head poking through the stairwell. Your eyes widened, at his state, his presence, or his blood. But he didn’t consider much apart from the fact that you were still breathing, somehow, and alive enough to be standing.

His body gravitated forward until you collided into his arms, the composure he had kept during the last hour crumbling like paper against water.

“Eris” you whispered against his chest and his breath hitched, your voice so concerned and soft against his worries. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“You’re alive. You’re alive” he repeated, twice, and willed himself to believe it. “I thought – the door was open, and you didn’t answer. Why didn’t you answer? I called. Didn’t you – didn’t –“

“I didn’t know if it was you. It’s been…”

You trailed off, it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge the obvious mess. Eris pressed you tighter against his chest. Just like those nights where nightmares consumed him, where his father’s reign of terror was too much, he hugged you so tight that your bones creaked under the pressure. You didn’t mind when it was the only thing holding him together.

It was silent for no longer than three seconds, the amount of time it took for the first and only tear to roll down his bruised cheek. If he let himself any more time, if he let his guard down, none of you would make it out of there alive.

Eris ignored the rough phantoms hands he could still feel on his body, the feeling of his father’s fingers tugging on his hair and crushing his throat. His touch was soft and careful as he pulled you away and inspected you with bright eyes. Only a gash on your cheek and a light limp on your left foot. Even if your dress was stained, he didn’t find any threatening injury.

He pushed the anger once more down his chest, until he turned it into resolution.

“How many?”

“Three of Beron’s personal guard. Rookie heard them before they came and I could hide” you motioned with your chin to the enormous dog that guarded the back door, on four and alert. “She took care of the first one, and the other two… it was them or me”

“You did well” Eris whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb under the bleeding wound. “Where are the bodies?”

Those deaths would haunt you for a while. His innocent, kind mate who had been the only one brave enough to risk sending him pain tonics after his father’s beatings. Who took care of his dogs when he couldn’t leave the bed, and stubbornly stayed by his side as he pushed you away.

Eris followed you silently to the first floor, to your bedroom. Where you had spent so many nights tangled together, now three bloodied bodies stood. He could identify which one had been finished by Rookie, their face unrecognizable. His father’s personal guard embroidery stood bright on their uniform, and it threatened to make him vomit.

He fished their bodies for weapons, ignoring the urge to kill them all over again slower a crueler. When he finished gathering what was worthy, he guided you out of the room, his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t look” he advised you, pressing you tighter when your body trembled. “We’ll be okay”

You had talked about that outcome for three years, and you had spent each borrowed minute like the last one. It wouldn’t be forever, you understood, so you had crafted a plan. An emergency plan that you needed to carry out.

Eris didn’t let you take anything and you didn’t stop to grab your belongings as he lit fire to the cabin behind you. Each step you took made your knees tremble, knowing that Beron had once more managed to drown any hope in your life for your relationship.

Heat scorched both your backs as you exited the cabin, now full ablaze. Eris’ mare was dutifully waiting at the entrance, with the dozens of neighbors that were gathered in a half-circle. They all scattered when Eris walked out, and didn’t get to see how your knees finally gave out. With just one arm, he managed to keep you standing against his chest and grab the reins.

His whole body tensed under the weight of your sobs, that racked your body in sadness. Twice now, he had seen your life crumble because of him, because of who you loved and loved you back. Until Beron was dead, until his body was cold and forgotten, there wouldn’t be a place in Prythian safe from his hands.

And no matter how much it pained, only one was safe enough to last until he killed his father. Or died trying to.

“Y/N” he whispered against your sobs, against your desperation. He held you firmly as you shook your head in denial without looking up from his chest. “It’s time, my love. We don’t have much time”

Maybe his father was stupid enough to think three men were enough to kill you, but they hadn’t returned and Eris had left – and, surely, his father himself would come to end with his son’s happiness and will to live.

Shadows gathered around his feet, but he didn’t look to the owner nor acknowledge the new presences in his court, in his forest. He had long ago granted them access for that day, had supplied them information for his part of the bargain.

Rhysand and his court had kept their promise.

“I don’t want to” you cried, so hard and fearful that his resolve shook. Yet your safety, your life, had always been his one priority.

“It’s for the best. Look at me, Y/N” his voice didn’t harden, he didn’t slip into the mask he wore around them for your sake. “Y/N”

His own voice was broken too, with despair and agony. He too dreamed for a world where he could hold you freely, where he didn’t need his worst’s enemies help to keep his mate alive. But those dreams were not for people like him. Still, he held onto that thread of hope that he would make it through tonight. That, tomorrow, he would comfort you like you deserve, endure your berating about his selflessness and kiss your tears away.

When you finally looked at him, he smiled, ignoring the surprise radiating from his unusual partners. Eris waited until your sobs subsided and you calmed enough to accept the next step.

In silence, he let his eyes tell you everything he didn’t allow himself to say. How grateful he was for your soft hand when no one else dared to help you, for your patience words against his lashings when you helped him. How sorry for each and every scar you carried from his court, his brothers and father, and for not being able to give you the life you deserved.

How much he loved you, witch every fiber of his being, until he was nothing more than embers and ashes, and beyond.

Eris pressed his lips wordlessly against your forehead, his hands holding your head in place. Your own circled his scarred wrists. With the glamour off, everyone could see the scars and marks on his body. You caressed the rough skin and held him tight, until he tore apart.

“I love you. And if I die tonight, know that your love was what has kept me alive for so long” he watched your glossy eyes, your shaky lips. “I only burn for you, my little fox”

“They’re here” Azriel talked, his voice breaking your daydreaming.

A soft spark of proudness lighted in his chest when Azriel tried to gently guide you back and you brushed him off with a stern look. Your eyes, kind and loving for him, were hard and unforgiving for the spymaster. Eris knew they would treat you well, would take care of you, and was sure you would give them hell for him.

You looked at him one last time, sad resolution in your eyes, and kissed the edge of his lips before stepping away. With your torn dress and blood over you, you looked like every inch of mate he adored and cherished.

Azriel finally gripped your wrist with an annoyed frown, and shadows swarmed both your beings just as the first group of soldiers rounded the edge of the town. They wouldn’t be the problem, but the High Lord who rode behind. Eris didn’t allow any of his fears or worries show when he kept eye contact as you disappeared with Azriel.

“Come back for me” you begged him one last time, cracking once more his already broken heart. “Please, my prince. Come back”

“I love you”

He let those words be the last thing you heard from him. Eris was powerful, but his father could crush him like a leave under a boot. Maybe Rhysand would keep to his promise and keep you safe – and still loose you against his father’s armies. Eris was just happy knowing he would die knowing what being loved by you felt. How your arms felt around his shoulders, your breath against his neck.

Eris would die happy because you had chosen him when even he hadn’t chosen himself.

The sound of horses and men screaming got more intense when you disappeared, and the prince prepared himself to face one last battle. His fists lighted up with bright fire, his body vibrating with energy.

He expected a wave of angry soldiers from his right.

Not a stony-face Rhysand looking at him with a raised brow.

“You do love” he proclaimed, his voice laced with curiosity and something else. “I was tempted to believe she was just another one of your tricks. One that assured you your climb to the throne”

“I have business to attended, in case you can’t tell” Eris grumbled, letting loose the rage and anger. “So if you would be so kind, please fuck off”

The first round of autumn males broke through the left with raised swords and angry scowls. Some of them had fought by Eris’ side in the last war, some of them had been by his father’s side as he beat him.

Neither of their faces was marked in Eris’ memory, as they all vanished away to a terrible darkness that swept them off. As if they had never existed at all. The prince’s fire died down a bit as he looked at the High Lord, who had taken his hands out of his pocket and whose violet eyes were shinning dangerously.

For all explanation, Rhysand shrugged and gave away no intention of leaving with Azriel and his court.

“I made a bet on you when we made that bargain. A bet on a new high lord that would change things with me” Rhysand stared at him and Eris didn’t break eye contact, too stunned to speak. “Wasn’t certain it was the right bet, but now I am. I hope we both get to withdraw the price”

Without another word, the world was consumed in a wave of darkness, Beron’s power emerging not so far away. Eris let himself become fire in the dark, brighter than ever, and with the memory of your last smile and the possible hope of a world with you, he launched himself into battle.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[mrsparrasblog]

MAKAROV X PRICE DAUGHTER FINAL PART (PRICE ENDING) 

TW: Blood, dead

previous part part one

As Price watched your wedding from afar, a thousand thoughts swept through him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of regret for the moments he had missed in your life, the milestones he hadn't been there to witness. But amidst the regret, there was love and pride in seeing you so radiant, even if the circumstances were far from ideal. You grew up to be a beautiful woman like he always imagined; you were graceful, confident, and full of joy. If this wedding were just something different, something he could be happy about, god, he would rather have married you off to some bloke than a fucking terrorist.

His mind raced with thoughts of how he could have intervened earlier and how he could have protected you from falling into the hands of a man like Vladimir Makarov. Yet he knew deep down that you were strong, resilient, and had made your own choices, even if they weren't the ones he would have wanted for you. Thoughts flowed through his brain: did you choose him freely? Did you know what Makarov was? Why did you vanish from the world? You probably had Stockholm syndrome; there wouldn’t be a chance in hell that his sweet, smart girl fell in love willingly with a man like Makarov.

As he wiped away his tears, Price made a silent vow to himself. He may not have been your protector in the past, but he would be damned if he didn't become your guardian now.

He waited what felt like ages for him to finally see you for a second alone. You were headed to the bathroom, and the wide wedding dress mopped the floor. Makarov was speaking to some politicians, and that was his only chance. He gave Ghost the agreed signal: don’t hurt Civis; kill that bastard and save you.

He heard you vomiting, so he walked inside the bathroom. He already knew what it meant, but he didn’t want to think or even believe this, there was a different time to sort out that problem.

You turned around, being sure that Vlad had intruded on your space. He was always so overprotective, but you knew he would be even worse after this news, but did you really mind? 

You gasped as you saw him—your father. He looked older than you remembered; he had more wrinkles, worried eyes, and a completely unshaven beard. "Dad?“

"Oh God, Sweetie, “ he said, almost running the few steps over to you. He embraced you in a tight hug, trying his best to hide his tears. Everyone believed you were dead; they wanted him to mourn you, hold a wake to you, and finally declare you dead but he knew you were alive, and now you stood there in front of him, with a confused look in your beautiful eyes—but alive.

"I didn't think you would make it, Dad,“ you said bluntly while mustering him. It had been so long since you last saw him.

"Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?“ He started to grab your arms, pulling the sleeves up, looking for any bruises or any indication that Makarov had hurt you. God, he personally wanted to gut that bastard out.

"No Dad, Im fine; Vlad would never hurt me.“ 

"He is a terrorist, Sweetie; he kills for money.“

"I know, but he has his reasons, Dad. He never would hurt me or do something bad without a reason.“

He looked towards you with a saddened expression, taking your delicate hands in his calloused ones. "Look, I get it. You had a rough time, didn’t you? Your head tricked you into thinking that you love him and that he is this prince from a fairytale, but he isn't; none of this is real.“ 

You were fuming at this accusation. How had he the audacity on your wedding day?"I'm not stupid, Dad.“

"You're not stupid; you’re brave.“

"He doesn’t hurt me; he protects me and takes care of me, Dad.“

"And what if he changes his mind? If you’ll be the victim of his actions? Please see reason.“

"At least he doesn’t leave me all the time." Spite and pure spite made you say these words: You always loved your dad more than anything else in your life, but he left you; he loved Tina more; he never cared about you; at least that's what you thought.

"Im sorry- I really am for being such a shitty Dad to you, but I love you more than anything, and I know you deserve a better old man, but you also deserve better than marrying a man who isn’t capable of loving. Come home with me; I divorced your stepmom; I will retire okay; no more deployment; no more war; just you and me and Tina if she wants to stay with us,“ he pleaded. He wanted you so bad to agree.

"Dad, I can't; I'm pregnant." You told him the news, and you were sure he would give up by that, but his expression didn’t change, almost as if he already knew.

"Sweetie, I'll help you, okay? And you can still see Vlad just come home, even if it's just for a bit, okay?“ He didn’t know how to help you anymore; besides lying to you, he knew it would stain your relationship even more, but right now, everything that counted was to have you leave this place.“

"You really would.“

"Of course.“ 

"Thank you, Dad,“ you mumbled and stood up on your way to leave the bathroom to tell Vlad that your Dad kinda accepts him for the baby's sake.

"Wait“

"Hm?“

"Let your old man hug you,“ with that, he pulled you into one of his famous bear hugs, softly stroking your beautiful hair.

When you left the bathroom, you saw Vlad, the supposed love of your life, your husband limp on the ground. The guards lay dead in different corners, and the wedding party was gone. You were only gone for 20 minutes, and everything was ruined.

You ran over to Vlad, hugging his limp body, trying to search for a pulse or anything but gone. You pressed his body closer to yours, and your eyes slowly started to build tears. The sobs only grew louder as you mumbled I love you all over and over again in Russian to him. You weren’t even sure if you were able to tell him that you loved him, and now he is gone. „You lied to me, Dad,“ was all you said to the military man in front of you, who looked at you like you were a zoo animal. Your white dress had already turned the prettiest shade of maroon.

Your Dad walked towards you, trying to pick you up, but you didn’t want to leave Vlad's body. 

"He is dead, Sweetie.“ he crunched next to you.

"You lied to me.“

"I know,“ he picked you up, ignoring your protest, but he also held you the whole night while you cried in his arms, not for one second judging you that you fell in love with Vlad, never dismissing your grief; he was for once in your life there for you.

————————————

1 year later 

You moved in with your Dad again, he indeed retired from the military. His friend and aunt Kate helped at first, but now you managed, even got your old job back that you loved so much. Your Dad sent you to therapy, and after a while, you got it—this wasn’t love, this was fear—and you're free now. This made you resent the baby inside your belly first, but when little James was born, everything was different, and you didn’t connect him with Vlad.

You were afraid your Dad wouldn’t accept little James, but he did. He carried him proudly around, showing it off to his old squad, especially the new Captain of the squad, Captain MacTavish, or anything like that. Your Dad always carried a pacifier in his bag, always a picture of James, Tina, and you in his wallet. He was finally at peace, and so were you.

The End

So this is Price ending , its the first fanfic Drabble whatever I finished, and through the whole process I thought what if my reader don't like the ending, what if its lame or anything but then I thought you don't need always Drama for a good fic or an different love interest ending, sometimes the ending is just good because she finally has what she always craved a family bond.

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran , @cassiecasluciluce , @the-faceless-bride , @paintlavillered

[swiss-mrs]

Can you write a second chance a love with SY. He and reader were exes and tension has built up where he can’t help but kiss you and profess that he still misses you. Thanks!

Second Chances

Captain Syverson x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Mentions of Failed (Military) Relationships, Mentions of Fighting/Regretted Words Exchanged, Slight Sexism/Toxic Masculinity/Trad Views, Self-Doubt, Slight Depression, Sy is Able to Lift Reader, Angst with Happy Ending (As Requested)

Reader/Unnamed OC Description: No Physical Descriptions, No Mentions of Race, Height, Weight, Ethnicity, Etc., Age is 25+, Sy is 35+, No Use of Y/N, Only You/Your Pronouns, Mentioned as “darling" and "beautiful", otherwise gender neutral.

Life is… fine. Wake up. Go to work. Come back home to your apartment. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. There wasn't really anything to complain about, but there was a notable loss. The only thing is now you're just used to it.

In the beginning, it was always the little things, someone passing with a similar cologne, a specific food brand at the grocery store, a familiar street you no longer pass by as often. Eventually, the watery eyes tamed to a pang in your chest. Now, it's all just numbness. Even with friends, your smile makes appearances again, but the happiness doesn't quite reach your eyes the way it used to. It's been so long, they just stopped mentioning it, but you still notice the occasional pity look.

It's a crazy thing to think about how you've lived more of your life without him than you have with him, but that doesn't lessen the effect.

You'd survived your childhood, your teenage years, and early twenty-something without him. After meeting the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on, you'd be foolish not to reciprocate his advances. Though you shortly had your skepticism after finding out his occupation, he was quick to assure you he was no quick trip, and ultimately, you caved.

And he for sure had you, for years in fact. He had you completely believing every one of his ‘I love you's and ‘forever's, yet here you are, missing the way he'd fill up the space in your life.

You'd had a life before him, a decently fulfilling, single life until he showed up and screwed that all up. He wasn't necessarily your first ‘love’, but he was definitely your first ‘true love’. And, now, you were feeling the effects of that loss.

The first thing that hit you after your split with Sy was anger, pure reactivity to how everything ended. How dare he call you ‘too much’. How dare he try to pull the whole ‘you signed up for this’ bullshit. He had the audacity to make every problem your problem. Fuck him for making your ‘forever’ just another failed military love that should've known better.

You were soon to block him, not wanting to hear any of his ‘I'm sorry's or ‘can we talk's. You'd already talked, talked a little too much. You were done. ‘Let it die’ was your mantra for months. He ruined you, had you looking in the mirror different. You couldn't talk to anyone, express yourself, ask for help, be vulnerable without seeing it as annoying, dramatic, ‘too much’. Maybe, it was just you?

You took it upon yourself to change, distance yourself, drift away. Was it just you? No one made a comment about how they suddenly heard from you less. Were you really too much?

For a long while, you wished he'd cheated, abused, something, anything to make you hate him. Could you really hate him for it? You didn't work out. That's not his fault. He didn't understand you, and a couple of rude words weren't nearly enough to hate him. He was ultimately a good guy. He was never unfaithful, never would even dare to think of laying a hand on you, but when it was all said and done, he was a bit neglectful. But, how much of that was him, and how much of it was his job? Oftentimes, it was hard to distinguish. Too often was it an excuse.

Did he love you? sure. Could he have loved more? yes. Too often did it feel like he was one-sided. You were there for him, not the other way around. You are his, not the other way around. You needed him, not the other way around. And to have that shoved back in your face when you brought it up was not the right reaction. He shouldn't feel like an animal cornered when you brought up a concern, something he did that hurt you, but he did. A valid point shouldn't be shot down or argued with counterpoint, but it was. Now, you can only second guess yourself, and that shouldn't be how it is, but it is.

You loved too hard, that will haunt you. He loved too little, and that will forever haunt him.

He hated himself. You were everything he ever prayed for, a beautiful partner with a beautiful smile and a beautiful soul, someone he could have forever. He didn't realize that the thought of ‘having someone’ was wrong of him. He was selfish. You never did anything but show him your heart, your mind, and he blew it up in your face. He destroyed something, someone so beautiful. A day hasn't passed that he wasn't filled with regret. He couldn't even smile or laugh anymore. He became scary.

He'd lost the one piece of true happiness in his life, and it was his fault.

He craved you. He needed you, but he was too late. Why couldn't he have realized what he had sooner? Appreciate you like you deserve. Love you like you deserve. He knows he has it in him, but he just couldn't. fucking. see. it. He wants to kick his own ass for it. He desperately wants to turn back time, go back with the mindset he has now, or at least beat it into his past self.

He'd gotten too damn comfortable being in the military. Vulnerability is weakness. Why would he use his words? Why think about anything, decode? Feelings are best buried. He's a man's-man, and a man only needs to protect and provide

He believed that ideology never gave him issues until you. You challenged that ideal. You asked him for his thoughts, his feelings. You wanted to know. You cared. It annoyed him. Why the fuck would he care? Sure he had thoughts and feelings somewhere, but he pushed them down. Why bring them back up? You surely had too much time on your hands to be concerned with what he was thinking. You wanted connection. He knows that now, but what is that going to do for him now?

He immediately felt the effects of your absence. He was deployed when you left your shared home. He watched you leave on the security camera, car packed to the brim. Sure, he had felt a type of way about it then, but then he was only apologizing for the sake of it. He was just another man in the wrong. Apologize to your upset partner, make up, and move on, but oh, was it so much more different now.

He was filed to the brim with remorse. Even then, he had visions of your shared future, retiring or climbing ranks to settle in one place, building a family, a home, preferably on a large, secluded plot of land. How he looks on with different eyes at that ‘future’ now. He never truly believed in all that ‘grass is greener’ ‘know what you have ‘til it's gone’ B.S. until he'd lost you. He gets it now.

It wasn't until that switch was flipped for him to realize you blocked him, excommunicated. He was gone so much that he never got a chance to build any sort of relationship with your friends. It irritates him now that he is probably known as just the shitty military ex. The closest thing he has to you is a friend of a friend of his who is a friend of a friend of yours. At first, he'd rather die than try to reach out to you that way, but now, there was no line, no bridge he wouldn't cross to just get one more moment with you.

He'd been stewing on it for the last year and a half. You'd moved and blocked him. It seemed utterly hopeless to reconnect, but something came up recently that has him itching again.

He's been promoted. A good job, good position, and in one place. It was perfect. The start of your ‘forever’ together. The only thing missing is you. Friend of a friend² be damned. He had to fix this, and just his luck to find you. Just your luck to be found.

It took several minutes for you to lay eyes on him, but he spotted you immediately. The second you walked through the door of your new favorite café, he saw you. He couldn't believe it. He originally pulled himself into this place because it simply reminded him of you. It had you written all over it. He felt closer to you here. He wouldn't have guessed you would just walk in like this. His eyes followed you as you stood in line and ordered.

He noticed you glance around the café briefly and still not spot him seated at a back table facing the exit. His heart raced, seeing your eyes wander before going to your phone. He knew that look, though. You were only fidgeting with it, trying to make yourself look busy to avoid any social awkwardness. It made him grin as he stared longingly. There were some things that didn't change.

It had been a whole two years since you last saw Sy, about eight months since you stopped seeing him in every stranger. You weren't going to back track now, so you stared down blankly at your phone to keep yourself from staring at the familiar looking guy in the corner. He was missing a thick beard and a shaved head, but with a quick glance, he looked an awful lot like heartbreak.

Sy knew he was on borrowed time, the chances of you sitting alone in any kind of restaurant was slim to none, and considering you weren't looking for seating meant you were grabbing and going. He had to think of something and fast.

His body was standing, and his feet were moving before his mind could catch up. It wasn't until he was about two feet away that he stopped and started panicking. You noticed the man standing in your peripheral, but you kept your head down to avoid any awkward eye contact. That was until your name fell from his lips, causing you to look up from your phone.

“Sy?” Your eyes widened and your brows furrowed together. Your heart immediately started blasting in your ears. You couldn't breathe. You'd thought about running into him again, about all you wanted to say to him, telling him off? apologizing? But that was before your move, before you forced him out of your mind. Now, you were face to face with your anxiety and dreaded nightmare. Your name was muffled from his mouth and to your ears the second time.

“Hi. How have you been?” He wanted to punch himself in the face for how casual that came out, but he quite honestly couldn't think of anything better to say without falling over his own words. He awaited a response from you, but you only stared like a deer in headlights.

You genuinely couldn't hear a word coming out of his mouth. Was he talking? He had to have been. His mouth was moving, but it was like his voice was muffled. Something you assume was your name came out again before your name was called a bit louder by a different voice behind you.

You whip your head around to find a perky barista with a drink in hand, looking in your direction. You scurry over to her and take your drink with a curt thank you, as polite as you can muster in this moment. Without even a second glance, you're making a rushed escape for the exit. Your name is called again, but you're tunnel visioned on the door out.

Sy's stomach tightens and drops at the sight of your flee, but again his body is in full control at this point. He's utterly in shock. He didn't know what to expect, but this was his chance. All he knew is that he couldn't let you leave, not again, so this time, he chased after you.

As soon as you're out the door, he's right behind you, having to catch the door from slamming on him. He calls out for you again, but you don't stop, so he keeps running.

It's once you're passed the café windows that he finally catches up. He reaches to grab for your arm but quickly changes his mind to just step in front of you instead. “Wait! Please, darlin’, wa-”

“Don't call me that.” He's taken aback by the sudden words but retracts nonetheless.

“Please. Wait.” It was at this point that you both have fallen silent that you get a good look at him. His hair has grown out of its ‘tactical buzzcut’ and into a pretty generic cut that was redeemed by the dark curls atop his head. His beard was now trimmed down to only some scruff and a mustache. It was an odd combination of seeing him with more and less hair than usual, but he was just as handsome as ever, unfortunately.

The pause between you both was long. Though it should be awkward, it was also strangely comfortable or rather empty. Being in each other's presence again was like putting on an old hoodie. It was cathartic and familiar, but the memories, the history, was hard to get passed. Your name falls from his lips again, a lot softer and barely there. Your eyes were trained on his face, unable to look away. His were downcast.

“I… I….” His eyes close as he takes a deep breath in an attempt to gain some composure. His bottom lip juts out a bit as his mouth tightens into a little frown. “Please, I need to talk with you.” He opens his eyes, encapsulating your gaze in his.

The sight of his eyes outside of your memory is enough to empty your brain of any thought, so you remain silent. But he needs an answer from you, so he waits.

“What is there to talk about?” You say. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you built walls that weren't there before, and it shakes him to his core. He did that.

“A lot.” He sighs, huffing out a singular humorless laugh through his nose. His face briefly quirks like it wants to give a smile to match the short laugh, but the overwhelming weight of the situation at hand just won't allow for it.

You stare up at him for a few beats of silence, both of your chests tight with anxiety. You've never seen him so close to breaking down. He's never seen you so blank. Neither of you really knows what to do, but eventually, your eyes fall from his face before you walk passed him.

Sy freezes. The world around him simultaneously crumbles and halts. His breathing completely stills. You don't get five steps away before you turn back and call after him, “You want to talk. I'm not giving you another chance to do so.” You say, expecting him to follow you. As soon as the realization hits, he moves with haste. He's beside you walking before you're even done turning back around.

It was a good two blocks before Sy spoke up. “How have you been?” He tries again, looking over to you as you walk.

“Fine.” You answer curtly. It makes Sy frown again. It's the kind of ‘fine’ you'd give a stranger, and he hates that that's what you've become. He feels a bit shut down but continues. This is his chance.

“Well, that's, um, good to hear.” He states, but the end of the sentence inflicts an upward tone, almost into a question.

“I wasn't for a long time, but now, I'm fine.” You add, and it's the hardest punch in the gut Sy has ever received. His jaw clenched as he nodded. He swallows, trying to carefully choose his words, knowing how much each one counts.

“Darlin-” He cuts himself off by correcting it to your name. He sighs again, “Please, genuinely hear me when I express how sorry I am.”

“I'm sure you are.” He glosses over your response, continuing.

“Look, I know I've said it before, but, in all honesty, I didn't-” He cuts himself off again, making sure he words it correctly.

“Didn't mean it?” You finished, a bit annoyed.

“No.” He's quick to correct, “I meant it.” He says, determined, “I knew that I had made you upset, and I knew to apologize for it, but I didn't really know the meaning behind it.” He admits. “I didn't understand.” He confirms what you already know. “I was foolish. Stuck in an old way.” He pauses with another frown. “I didn't understand why you wanted to dig into me. I didn't understand that you were only trying to connect with me, really connect. I got defensive. ” He looks up from the ground to your eyes with a sad, guilty look, like he's confessing. “I was stupid and didn't believe in sharing every part of me with you.” He slows his pace, forcing you to match until you're stopped in front of him.

You're facing each other as he continues with his confession. “I thought doing so would make me less of a man, but I understand now.” He gives you a quick, little, sad smile before it disappears into a guilty frown. “I understand that it was an integral part of strengthening our bond, our love. You'd show me every part of you in return for me doing the same, and we'd accept each other, every part.” He gives another sad smile that breaks your heart all over again. He looks down shamefully with a hard look on his face, “I understand now.”

You look at him with a sad pout. Half of you wants to give him a piece of your mind. Two years!? It took all that time to just now fucking realize what you were asking of him!? But the other half didn't know how to feel. What is he trying to do? Redeem himself? What.

“So that's it? You just wanted to give me an actual apology?” He can see that your walls are still up. He fixes his jaw.

“Yes, but,” He starts. He knew that you weren't going to just fall into his arms, but he still hoped it would be that easy to just pick up where you left off. He sighs with his eyes closed, this time shakily, nervous. It confuses you as you've never seen the Captain Syverson nervous. “I've been…” He stops short, pausing. Jesus, you never thought you'd see the day this immovable mountain of a man revert to the demeanor of a reprehensible child. “I know we can't pick up where we left off, and I kind of don't want to,” He tries again, this time getting a confused and slightly offended expression from you, “but can we, maybe, start over?” He looks at you with the most hopeful, pitiful puppy eyes you've ever seen, another thing you never thought you'd see from him.

The air forcefully leaves your lungs as all the progress you've made through the years to try and make yourself impenetrable leaves with it. Your chest tightens as you try to will the upcoming tears away. It's your turn to let out a humorless laugh. You shake your head, looking off into the distance, “You really hurt me, Sy.” You look back at him with the most heartbreaking expression. He nearly looks close to tears at the sight. “I'm too much. I'm needy. I expect too much.”

“No, no, no.” He stops you, stepping closer only to get you retreating from him. Your step back drives the heartbreak further into his chest. He shakes his head in utter disagreement, a disgusted grimace on his features. “You're not. You're. not. I was foolish and childish, and I was not ready for you.”

“But you're ready now?” You interject in disbelief.

“Yes,” He states firmly without hesitation. He steps up again. This time, your body visibly tenses, but you don't move away. “I'm more than ready. I need you.” He takes another smaller, gentler step forward. “I hate that it took you leaving for me to see that, but I do.”

“Sy-”

“Please. Please. Don't say it's too late. Don't say we can't try again. Please, just one more chance.” He looks down abruptly like a private who just got caught looking at a superior officer. He's begging. He knows how he hurt you and your trust. Like a dog showing its belly, he's trying to show you his submission. Ultimately, it's in your hands, but he's determined.

You stare at him while trying to decipher the mess in your mind. “Sy.” You say a bit more calmly. His demeanor doesn't change. You sigh, “How do I know you wouldn't just fall back into old habits? What if, even after all this, you just repeat the same closed book bullshit? What's different?” You try to find his eyes, but they remain downcast as he stays still.

“I've been promoted.” He states a bit detached, purely stating fact, anything you want from him. “I'd no longer be in the field, no longer deployed. I'd be in one place.” He purses his lips into another right frown. “It's the start of what we used to talk about.” He says, words laced with hope and nostalgia. “Remember?” He tests, voice as soft as silk. Your eyes sadden even more, looking down with a miniscule nod. “I can settle down. Stop putting myself in the line of fire every day. I'd come home to you every night, wake up with you every mornin’.” His eyes soften as they peer up at you through his dark eyelashes. “Get that dream house.” He raises his brows with soft eyes and a sigh of a grin.

“Sy.” He quickly follows with your name before you continue. The gentle way your name rolls off his tongue makes your heart race at a concerning rate. “I,” you sigh, “I can't just run back to you after all this time.” You scoff out a sad laugh.

“So, let's just start with a date.” He tries again softly, melting your heart in your chest. “No pressure, no expectations, just one do-over.” His eyes flutter softly as his eyes return to their submissive downcast. “A reintroduction to the people we've become. A second first date.” He concludes. You can't help but let out a soft giggle despite trying to hold yourself together. Though it's sad, Sy has never heard a more beautiful sound. His chest swells with hope.

It takes time for you to make up your mind, and he gives it to you. Your everything was already screaming at you to say yes, but you couldn't let him know that, so you took your time. “Okay.” You cave. Sy's brows shoot up, and his face breaks out into a huge, mouth agape smile. The image of pure, overjoyed surprise.

He can't help himself but close the distance between you and scoop you in his arms, twirling you around, with a victorious laugh. The shock of it all and contagious joy causes you to let out a small giggle. He looks up at you in his arms and drops you down enough to plant a kiss on your lips. Though quick, the kiss was filled with nothing but longing and love.

As if realizing what's happened, he's quick to gently set you back down and take a step back, returning to the same distance you were at prior. He is a bit awkward with his hands before setting them on his hips. He still has a bright smile on his face, “I,” he huffs, “You have no idea how you've just made me the happiest man to ever exist.” He tries to just quickly move passed what just happened. “So, could I, maybe, get your number?” He says, trying his best to contain his joy.

You laugh, admittedly a little awkward. “It's the same one.” You fidget, “I can, uh, I'll unblock you, as long as you have the same number as well, I mean.” You stumble. He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, it's the same one.” He sighs, content. His eyes are filled with admiration and adoration, like you hung the moon and stars single handedly. It was everything you ever wanted from him to see his love within him.

You quickly pull your phone out and unblock his number on the spot. “There.” You shoot him a quick text. Even after all this time, his tagname never changed in your phone. You hear his phone ding moments later, and he pulls it out with an even brighter smile and a sigh of relief. He never thought he'd see your name pop up in his notifications again. Once again, it's always the little things that are missed.

“Are you free this weekend? Friday night, maybe?” He asks. You give him a small smile and a nod. “Great! Great, I'll- I'll pick you up? We can get dinner after work and…start over.” He sighs. He's both a little sad and over the moon. He wants nothing more than to do a quick catch-up and just start pouring his love into you, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. You give another small smile.

“I can't wait.” You say. He nods curtly. “You can tell me all about your new job.” His face brightens at you, showing interest in him again. He steps forward to stand beside you, holding out his elbow.

“Let me walk you to your car.” You breathe out a small chuckle before hooking your hand in his elbow, taking back to the café parking lot. Just a few paces in, Sy leans in closer to you to whisper in a low tone, “I know we're going to go slow, but I just want to say… I missed you.” You look into his deep blue eyes before looking down at his mustached lips.

“I've missed you too.” You whisper back with a small smile.

The remainder of the work week, Sy was notably different, even getting some teasing comments from coworkers. Your friends tried tearing into you, asking why you suddenly looked like the life returned in you, but you kept your lips sealed. You were taking things one step at a time with Sy.

The most anyone got was “I have a date.”

____

I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for the request, Anon! I hope I did it justice. (sorry it took so long. I've been a bit under the weather😅)

Masterlist

Swisslist (General Taglist): @rosecentury @solacedthistest

[f1goat]

his teammate + lando norris x part four

In which you find yourself getting closer to your brothers new teammate who's a dick.

lando norris x fem!verstappen (sister) + cursewords + eventually smutty i wrote this before, but i'm rewriting it because i missed somethings. you can comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) thanks for reading!

masterlist x playlist

You can’t stop yourself from searching eye contact with Lando. He just walked in after his qualification session. Something tells you it’s beter to stay unnoticed. Lando doesn’t even know that you were watching in his side of the garage. Why didn’t you think about that earlier? With Max his previous teammate, it was normal that you could watch here. But with Lando, you have no clue. Fuck. You try to stop looking at Lando, but you fail. 

“What happened?” Christian is quick to appear and question Lando. You get it. It’s vague what happened in his qualifications. He was having a great lap, until he crashed. 

“Not now,” Lando answers annoyed, “I need some time for myself.” 

“You have an hour,” Christian tells him, “Then we will have a meeting with the team about what happened.”

You look away from Lando and Christian. Instead you focus your gaze on the screen in front of you. They are replaying Lando his crash. They were already 3 minutes into Q3 when Lando crashed. Meaning the other drivers are now waiting until the red flag is gone, so they can continue their session. You look at the way Lando seems to drive spontaneously into a barrier. What happened? It almost seems like he did that himself. 

Lando looks at you in the mean time. He cringes from seeing his crash on the big screen again, but that doesn’t stop him from looking at you. When you turn around, Lando is quick to catch your gaze. You notice the sudden eye contact with Lando. It almost looks like his look softens a bit while looking at you. You think about going to him. Maybe he wants to talk about his qualifications? You shake off the thoughts, he’s probably not interested in that right now.

In the mean time Lando has the same thoughts. Would it be weird to walk closer towards you? He could use someone to talk to right now. Now that he thinks of it, what are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be in your brothers side of the garage? He doesn’t stop thinking about you and possible scenarios in which he walks up to you. What would he even say to you?

Eventually Lando lets out a soft sigh and turns around. He walks away from you instead of closer to you. You watch his movements, but don’t stop them. Lando walks towards his driver room, he needs to think properly. And maybe he needs some distraction from his ongoing thoughts about you. His teammates sister. 

After a bit of thinking Lando decides to text another girl. He scrolls through his contacts. Then he finds what he’s searching for. Angel (Jeddah). He mentally thanks himself for putting the race track locations in their contact information as well. Without giving it a second thought he sends a simple text towards the girl, inviting her to his hotel room for later tonight. She’s quick to accept his invitation. Not that he expected anything else. Girls are easy.

Almost every girl is easy when you’re Lando Norris himself. He can walk up to almost any girl and have her in his bed in only a few minutes. Expect one girl. 

Why is it that he’s the most interested in you? The girl who’s the hardest to get. And probably the one who will bring the most trouble with her.

He takes a bit more time for himself before thinking back about the crash. He tries to think back at the moment as good as he can. What happened? It’s important to fix the problem before tomorrow. He’s sure it wasn’t all his fault. Lando was focused on his lap. He didn’t just drive the car in the wall. Then he remembers. It felt like he drove over something. He needs to tell that to the team. Maybe there’s more damage from that? Maybe they can check it? He walks out of his drivers room. He feels ready to talk about it now. Since he’s starting from tenth place tomorrow, he needs to be sure that his car is in shape again if he wants to end up on the podium. 

The first one Lando sees is you. All of his thoughts about his car are quickly fleeting away from him. He’s still wondering what you were doing on his side of the garage. Maybe he can have a short conversation with you? He doesn’t even think about it any further, he walks up towards you. You notice him directly. Before he can even greet you, you’re already talking towards him. 

“I’m sorry about that lap,” you tell Lando without even greeting him, “it looked like you were going for a great lap.” 

“You watched my lap?” Lando can’t even stop himself from asking that terrible question. He thought all your attention would be on Max, who was doing a lap on the same time as him. 

“Of course,” you reply, “I was sitting here, so yours was on the screen.” 

Lando almost feels disappointed from your reaction. Of course he should have thought about that. If you were sitting here, you didn’t have much choice in who’s lap to watch. 

“Why were you sitting here?” Lando continues to ask, “Normally I’m the one who invites pretty girls to watch here.” 

You chuckle. “You just missed the handsome mechanic who asked me to watch it here with him,” you joke towards Lando with a sarcastic tone. 

“Which mechanic?” Lando asks. He mentally slaps himself from asking that question so fast. But still. About which mechanic are you talking? Does he needs to talk to him as well? He can’t have someone steal you away from him. Right? 

You let out a laugh. Lando wonders if you’re laughing at him. You’re probably are. He sends you an annoyed look. 

“I was joking Lan,” you say. 

Since when are you calling him Lan? Lando can’t shake off the feeling of how good that feels. 

“There was no mechanic,” you continue, “Max has friends over and I don’t really vibe with them. So I thought I could watch here this weekend, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind!” Lando quickly exclaims, “You’re always welcome here.” He almost slaps himself again. He’s responding way too fast and enthusiastic. Fuck. He doesn’t even recognize himself like this. 

You smile at Lando. You like it how he’s happy like this. 

“That’s nice,” you tell Lando. You decide to tease him a bit, “Maybe I can find another handsome mechanic while watching the race here.” 

You just wanted to tease Lando with not realizing you were sarcastic before, but when you see the smile disappear from his face you wonder if he gets you. He actually looks annoyed. What’s going on with him today? 

“Lan, I’m still sarcastic,” you tell him eventually. 

He lets out a relieved sigh. He’s still surprised by his own behavior. Since when is he this easily frustrated by those things? It almost seems like he’s jealous. That can’t be it, right?

“I’m glad,” he tells you. 

“You’re glad?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, you still need to find out my dick is not small. Hard to do that when you’re dating someone,” Lando improves to tell you. Hopefully you will buy his remark and don’t question his real reason. 

You sigh. This is the Lando you know. Maybe it was stupid to hope for a longer normal conversation with him. You take another look at Lando. You notice the way he looks at you. It causes you to shiver. What’s going on between the two of you? You have literally no idea why it’s Lando who causes you to feel different. Things with him don’t feel normal. That can’t be good.

You feel relieved when Christian is calling Lando over to him. Only a few seconds later Max shows up. Now that you think about it, you have no clue where he ended up. You guess he took pole. If you see the way he smiles and is getting congratulated by everyone you almost know for sure. Max walks up to you. Without thinking about it, you congratulate him as well with his qualifications. 

“Yeah second is nice,” Max states, “but I do need to get by Russel safely tomorrow.” 

Oops. No pole apparently. 

“But I came here to tell you we’re having dinner with Christian tonight. Maybe with Lando too, but normally he doesn’t show up,” Max continues.

You tell him that you’re excited for dinner. Together you decide to get back to the hotel. 

+++

You can’t help yourself to feel a bit nervous. Max just told you that Lando is coming as well. You’re already sitting in Max his car, so the outfit you chose before needs to be nice enough for this news. You wonder if it is. The dress is nice, but it’s nothing special. If you knew earlier you might have changed into something more exiting. You wonder why you’re so busy with this. Since when do you care about Lando? Since when does he make you nervous? 

Max and you leave the car to walk the last meters to the restaurant. You watch your own reflection in the windows you’re passing on the way. You look nice enough. The long white dress you’re wearing suits you. The split gives your legs a bit more attention. The color looks nice on your tanned skin. You get a hair clip out of your bag and use it to put up your hair a bit. 

Lando sighs annoyed at himself when he sees the text message he just received. How did he forgot about the girl he texted earlier today? How could he forget about Maisie? Fuck. Now that he thinks about it, he knows exactly how he forgot about her. Since Christian asked him to join himself, Max and you to dinner tonight, Lando had been stressed. He never ran this fast to got back to his hotel room. He needed every little bit of time to make himself ready. He tried on multiple outfits, only to throw a lot of clothing on the floor after trying them on. Eventually he settled for a beige pantaloon with a white blouse. He made sure to leave a few buttons unbuttoned. 

He doesn’t even know why he spend so much thoughts and time about dressing nicely. He does know it’s not for Max or Christian. But why does he care what you think about his outfit? Deep down he already has a feeling. He wants to make an impression on you. A better impression than he did the last couple times. Maybe he wants you to think that he’s good looking (and maybe even nice or polite). This dinner is getting important for him. It’s his chance to show you that he can be nice. You probably think that he’s annoying, rude and arrogant. He wants to change that. Maybe you will even think that he’s sexy when he’s dressed up. A lot of girls think so. Maybe you can join them? 

You’re getting more hungry with the second. Lando is late. It’s not like you’re surprised by this, he doesn’t have manners after all. But you’re really annoyed by this. You’re hungry. The menu is looking way too good and makes you even more hungry. You think about how Lando will show up in a few and how he doesn’t even care about that he’s late. He’s probably used to everyone waiting for him. The waiter already wanted to take your orders, but Christian decided to wait for Lando. Fucking great. 

When Lando finally shows up, he doesn’t even apologize for being late. Just like you expected. You let out an annoyed huff. Of course he’s not apologizing. He’s rude.

“You’re late,” you state annoyed when Lando greets you. 

“Sorry princess,” Lando replies with a small smirk, “but I had a reason.” 

“Of course,” you sigh. 

Lando almost tells you that he did have a reason, but he keeps his mouth closed. You would probably make fun of him when he tells you that he did have some fashion stress and that you were the cause of that. And if it isn’t you who makes fun of him because that, it’s probably Christian or your brother. 

“Care to share?” Max asks jokingly.

Lando notices that Max is actually trying to befriend him lately. He has been acting friendly since their conversation with Christian on Zoom. Lando is glad to return this behavior and he can safely state that he’s starting to like Max. The only problem is, is that he doesn’t like this question from him. What can he answer? 

“It was probably a girl,” Christian jokes, “but we’ll see that on the gossip accounts soon enough.”

Lando realizes that he does deserve a remark like this. Before it was always like that. He was even late to sign his contract because he was fucking some random girl. But not anymore. 

You start to get even more annoyed. Why were you even waiting for Lando when he was busy fucking some girl? Why did you even care about his opinion on your outfit when he wasn’t even thinking about you for a second. 

“It wasn’t a girl,” Lando mutters.

“It probably was,” you argue. 

“It was not,’ Lando replies quickly. 

‘Don’t lie,” you sigh annoyed.

Lando feels himself to get frustrated. Why do you think he was with a girl? Why don’t you see that he was busy finding an outfit to impress you with? Before he can say anything, you continue to talk. 

“We all know you always have a new girl around after a free practice, qualification or race. Oh and for the rest of your free time,” you say, “and this time you made me wait for my dinner with that. I’m hungry and annoyed but hopefully she was worth it.”

“For fucks sake,” Lando mutters, “Want to know the real reason I was late princess? The reason that isn’t about some girl or meaningless sex.”

“Yes.”

Lando grunts annoyed. “I didn’t know what to wear,” he then confesses. 

Max lets out a loud laugh at Lando his confession. Christian is grinning as well. The both of them are enjoying this discussion a bit too much. 

“Since when do you care about that?” Christian asks Lando with an awful grin plastered on his face. 

“Since I wanted to make an impression on Y/N here.”

Fuck did he really just say that? Lando sighs about his own dumbness. Why did he even say that? He notices the confused look that’s plastered on your face. He really fucked it up this time. There’s not coming back from mistakes like this. It seems like you want to say something. He wonders what. Is this the moment you’re gonna make fun of him? 

“Is everyone ready to order?” The waiter distracts everyone from their conversation. 

Christian tells the waiter his order. Lando realizes that he didn’t even look at the menu yet. What is he going to eat? He listens to the orders of you and Max. Eventually he tells the waiter that he’ll take the same as you just ordered. He can only pray that it’s not fish. 

“You’re not getting away with that remark this easily,” Max continues to talk about the subject when the waiter leaves your table, “You had stress about your outfit because you wanted to make an impression on my sister? What kind of impression?” He questions further. 

“Leave it Max,” you intervene, “He’s probably joking around.”

Lando sighs. The damage is already done by now. He can better tell the truth. 

“A good one,” he says softly, “I wanted her to think something else about me instead of rude, spoiled, arrogant and so on. Something positive.” 

You look up from your drink. It’s the first time since Lando his statement that you dare to make eye contact with him. You feel how hot your cheeks are. You realize that you’re probably blushing like crazy right now. What is even happening? Did Lando just confess that he wanted to make a good impression on you? Lando is looking at you as well. That makes you only more nervous. It can’t be good that you’re feeling like this because of Lando. Fuck. 

“Nothing to say Y/N?” Christian asks with the same awful grin as earlier.

“That doesn’t happen a lot,” Max jokes.

You wonder about Max his reaction. Why isn’t he mad or annoyed with Lando for all of this?

“I uh,” you stutter for a bit while thinking about a reaction, “I uh don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lando tells you, “but I want you to know that this is not a joke princess.”

That damned nickname again. It’s making you blush even more. You don’t reply verbally to Lando his statement. You just send him a simple nod. Max is quick to change the subject this time. He asks Lando about his qualifications and what went wrong. You listen to the conversations around you. It doesn’t take long before the waiter comes back with your dinner. When the plate of food is standing in front of you, you’re quick to start eating.

Lando is just happy that you didn’t order anything with fish. When he starts to eat, he is surprised to find out that the food is actually really good. 

After dinner you’re standing by the cars awkwardly. Lando and you are both silent, when Max and Christian are still talking with each other about the race from tomorrow. You notice that Lando is standing closely next to you. Is this the moment to ask him about his confessions from earlier? Before you can ask him anything, Max is talking to you. 

“Do you mind if Lando brings you back to the hotel Y/N? I still have some things to talk about with Christian,” he asks you. 

“That’s fine,” you reply, “if Lando doesn’t mind of course.”

“No,” Lando is quick to say, “I don’t mind.”

A few seconds later you’re sitting with Lando in his rental car. It’s silent and awkward. You let out a small sigh when you remember that it’s a twenty minute drive back to the hotel. Should you say something to Lando? Is this your moment to ask him about his confession? 

“Did you mean it?” You ask Lando softly. 

Lando doesn’t even need to think about what you’re talking about. He also doesn’t need to think about his answer.

“Yes,” he states, “I’d actually like it if you think I’m good looking instead of the other negative things you think about me.”

You realize that it’s now your time to make a confession. Fuck. How did Lando even dare to do this? “For what it’s worth, I do think you’re an arrogant dick but I also think you’re good looking,” you confess. You feel that you’re starting to blush again. Why did you even tell him this? 

“Good looking or sexy?” Lando asks while smirking. 

Fucking hell. Wasn’t your confession enough for him? You take a look at Lando and his outfit. Of course you can’t deny that he’s making you feel things. All kind of things. The buttons that are still open are doing things to you. It’s unfair that he looks this good. 

“Sexy,” you sigh, “but if you would have shown up in your standard hoodie I’d still think you were sexy.” 

Lando smirks again. 

“I think you’re pretty sexy as well princess.”

taglist ; @whore8io & @chonkybonky

part five

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 10

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.7k Also on AO3

“Bringing back bad memories, that one” Nick sighs, his eyes scanning you from head to toe to ensure everything is correctly placed. “You should take it off now or, else you'll forget.” 

You glance up at him from your seat, adjusting your shoes. “What is it?” you ask, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the mechanics working in the garage, even inside the driver room. 

“The necklace, I can keep it for you” he offers, extending his hand towards you, waiting. You follow his gaze down to the pendant resting against your chest, then back up to meet his eyes. Your hand instinctively moves to cover the necklace, reluctant to remove it. 

A surge of emotion rises within you as your fingers tighten around the pendant. This necklace, your grandmother’s, has become your anchor after all the time spent drifting through uncertainty. The first solid connection to reality you have found in what feels like an eternity. You could almost swear it flutters beneath your touch at the thought, gentle beats that offer a quiet, reassuring comfort. 

The thought of letting it go, even for a moment, feels unbearable. 

“No, no, I want to wear it for the race” you insist, voice steady despite the emotion. 

Nick drops his hand, his brows furrowing at your hesitation. "You know it’s not allowed, better not to get any more penalties for this..." He tries to lighten up the mood, although your silence is confirmation enough of his failure.  

“Alright, I’ll leave it here” you accept, reaching up to unclasp the chain.  

As you remove the necklace, you take a moment to hold it close, savouring its comforting weight. Taking a deep breath, you reach into the sports bag at your feet and open the inner pocket. However, you only use this motion to cover your movements, slipping the pendant into the fitted sleeve of your undershirt instead. Tucking it out of sight, until you can search for a better part to hide it.. 

Nick does not seem to notice your maneuver, and if he does, he remains silent.  

You stand up this time, taking the gloves and earpieces from the table Nick is leaning into. “What did you mean by bringing back bad memories?” you remember, placing the cables inside your race suit. 

The coach picks the neck support device and blue helmet in one hand, taking the lead and opening the door for you “It’s nothing, I’ll tell you later”. 

“But-” you insist, there are far too many conversations set aside for a later which does not seem to ever arrive. 

“No buts. Let’s focus on the race”  

“Look who’s here!” Carlos’ welcomes you into the group with a half-smile, a blend of amusement and surprise lighting up his brown eyes “What, are we finally worthy enough to talk to you?”

You frown up at the man “What are you talking about?”, tugging the sleeves of your race suit over your hips in a futile attempt to cool down from the stifling Belgian heat. Despite just leaving the air-conditioned area, the fireproof fabric uncomfortably clings to your body like a second skin.

In stark contrast, the men around you seem effortlessly composed.

Lando, never one to miss an opportunity to tease, chimes in “Don’t think so highly of yourself, I bet she just couldn’t find Lewis. Isn’t that right?”

Daniel easily catches the brief, involuntary flash of surprise that crosses your face at the mention of the British man. Yes, you might have been looking for him without luck and finally settled for approaching the group, but the bigger question is: how does Lando know that?

If the knowing glint in Dan’s eyes isn’t a clear enough sign of his realization, his next words make it undeniable. “He’s there. Should we call him? Lew-”.

Before he can finish, you dart forward, clapping a hand over his mouth to stop the name from being shouted. It is only after the fact that you discover Daniel was messing with, the man is nowhere to be seen, but the triumphant laughter that escapes him confirms he’s hit the mark.

Stepping back from the Australian, you scan the group of drivers, bracing for the expected complaints or exaggerated fake cries about being the second choice. But it’s the quiet exchange of knowing smirks between them that sends a chill down your spine. The “I knew it” which bursts out of Lando’s further cementing your suspicions. It is not the first time the topic has come up.

Feeling the weight of their gazes and clinging to the last shreds of your dignity, you retort “Well, you know, it’s not like you’re particularly friendly in the pre-race activities either!”

The driver’s reaction is immediate. A few eyebrows shot up in surprise and they fall silent, their playful demeanour shifting to genuine confusion. It is clear your comment catches them off guard.

Daniel, momentarily at a loss, tilts his head. “Wait, what do you mean? It’s you who’s been warning us not to distract you before races since the start of the season”

Lando, in a low murmur adds, adds to the fire “Almost bit my head off last time I tried to wish her good luck”. His words, coupled with Carlos’ nod in agreement, leaving you even more baffled.

You stare at them, struggling o reconcile their version of events with the reality you’ve had no choice but to accept.

Despite the care they have shown you off the track, an invisible barrier seems to rise between you and the drivers as the crucial moment of the weekend approach. Initially, you attributed this to pre-race nerves. After all, these men were risking everything every weekend for a place in that elusive ranking—a goal they’ve dedicated their lives to. It seemed only natural for them to adopt a more reserved demeanour, to focus on what was to come.

And yet, that theory would come crumbling to the floor as soon as you saw them with the rest of the grid. Chatting with their opponents, from inside and outside their teams, as though it was any other day. Laughing and joking around while you could barely get a simple hello out of them.

It was fair though, they were the only ones who could understand each other’s worries. The only twenty people in the world who shared the uncommon experience of being a Formula One driver. Well, nineteen, the anxiety drowning your mind before a race was of a completely different nature.

You dreaded the minutes preceding the races, or even practices, the unnerving routine of dressing yourself up in these ridiculous clothes and acting like nothing were about to happen. Smile for the cameras, wave to the grandstands and wait. The blackout will come in no time, as soon as the lights mark the start of the race and you are drowned into the darkness. The hours will turn into second and you will open your eyes to the sound of the engine turning off, the start of a new week. A cyle that repeats itself again, and again. Inescapable.

That is your long-awaited reward after a week of relentless research for a solution to this nightmare. The mere thought of it tightens the tangle of emotions inside of you, the threads digging into every single part of your being. Threatening to snap.

“Oh, hello! What are you doing here?” you are pushed out of your head with the help of the missing Ferrari driver, his question and surprise a decalcomania of his teammate’s greeting.

With that, you decide to set the record straight “Well, I’ve changed my mind! You can talk to me as much as you want during the ceremonies”.

Even if you have never expressed otherwise, it has come the time for you to step your foot down. You have dealt with enough rules of this ‘reality’ already, this is the one you are not going to go along with. You are glad Lewis ignored it from the start.

The conversation turns to the regulation’s changes and race talk soon after you lift that foolish ban.

“The oversteering’s been crazy, feels like I’m fighting the wheel half of the time” Carlos’ mutters, crossing his arms.

Lando, who’s been listening with a smirk, raises an eyebrow. “Come on, mate! So much whining for someone in P2, I’d trade you any day for those ‘problems’” the real issues the McLarens have been all weekend probably swarming his head despite his goofy remark.

You let out a chuckle. “Where’d you guys end up in qualifying? I don’t remember” you look back at the cars parked behind you, trying to decipher the team’s place in the grid for the Grand Prix.

“Yeah, yeah, keep looking for them. Let me know if you find it” Daniel mocks with a grin, his sarcasm clear “Got knocked out in Q2”.

“Thankfully!” Lando chimes in, giving his teammate a playful nudge, “Or else, I wouldn’t even be sitting in P10. We had to ditch of the deadweight”

Before Dan can turn to smack Ian, you cut in, shaking your head “You’re such crybabies”. Your car sitting in eighteenth place—a world away from their complaints—making their grumbling seem almost absurd.

As the staff signals for everyone to take their places for the National Anthem, the group begins to disperse. Carlos seizes the moment, guiding you through the crowd with a steady hand on your back, ensuring you don't get lost in the sea of journalists. His touch is gentle but firm, a subtle gesture of protection as he walks you to your designated spot.

Since you finally allowed them to do it, the Ferrari driver wishes you a last good luck when you reach your spot, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to wave when I’m lapping you” a childish smirk playing on his lips. Your response is to jokingly push him away with a shake of your head, but you should have known better than to mess with a Formula One driver’s reflexes.

Carlos manages to catch your hand midway, using it as leverage to bring you close into a quick hug instead. “Buena suerte” he whispers in your ear, a very noticeable smile in his voice, before pulling away and walking over to his spot.

You watch him go, struggling to suppress the grin tugging at your lips. It would be tempting to claim that such antics are rare or that the Spaniard usually maintains a professional behaviour around you, but that would be far from the truth.

From the very beginning, Carlos has acted as though you shared the closest of relationships. And, while he has not been the only one acting with such familiarity around you, the Ferrari driver has always been the most blatant about it. Whether it's the small gestures, like bringing you a snack whenever he senses you might be hungry, or his public defense of you in front of the press after a controversial track move, his support has been unwavering. A support you are beyond grateful for —despite the anguish the latter one brought you, the fact that you underwent such complicated circumstances while being completely blackout still as terrifying as the first time.

Moments like this impromptu hug in the middle of a Grand Prix are trivial compared to his ongoing acts of kindness.

Naturally, the press and viewers does not quite see it that way.

At first, you tried to block out every headline with your name in it, the thought of someone dissecting your every movement and posting it for everybody to see sent chills down your spine. You pretended they did not exist for days, weeks even, but their presence was impossible to escape. Nick brought them up over breakfast, the media team held daily briefings, and journalists were waiting for you after every session. The more you ignored them, the louder they seemed to get, their words echoing in the corners of your mind.

Over time, you realized you couldn’t keep running. The internet was filled to the brim with information and photos of you, false information, but even that could help you understand what could possibly be happening. So you learned to confront them, to skim the articles without overthinking your situation. Even if sometimes the sight of their supposed prospects of your future in the sport was too much to handle.

What future? There is none here, this is all fake. A farce.

Yet, despite all this, you tried to absorb as much information as you cort. Read over the articles on the sport, watched interviews, even flipped through gossip magazines and, of course, scrolled endlessly through Formula One-related posts on social media. Honestly, the discovery of that phone in Charles’ apartment had revealed a now word before your eyes. Not only through messages app, which was filled with countless chats, but gave you access to ‘your’ personal accounts in several apps. Profiles with millions of followers which offered a treasure trove of data.

While the major newspapers and respected outlets maintained a veneer of professionalism, social media was an entirely different beast—a chaotic circus of opinions, rumours and speculation. You had never immersed yourself fully in the Formula One world; most of your knowledge came from your father, but you couldn’t deny it was enjoyable. The endless stream fan jokes and theories of behind-the-scenes' drama keeping you thoroughly entertained in between races.

It just so happens that this week’s hot topic is your relationship with a certain Spanish driver.

There are countless videos of every interaction between you and Carlos —both the ones you’re aware of and those you aren’t. The captions often paint these moments with a dramatic, romantic flair that likely didn’t reflect the reality of the situation. Or maybe they did, you never know with that man. You can only imagine the headlines this quick hug between the two of you will generate.

Well, they may have better things to talk about.

Like when you stumble out of your car after the race, your mind still reeling with the unpredictable flashes that assaulted you through all of it. The usual loss of consciousness replaced by blurred images flickering by, colours appearing and disappearing at the edges of your vision, while a light breeze brushed against your neck. It… it had never happened before.

Still half-conscious, your feet dragged you forward, between the parked F1 cars and into a pretty crowded area. The screams and cheers alerting you. You rise your head, the heavy helmet hindering your movements and restricting your vision, but you can clearly see you have unknowingly walked to the car’s Podium Holding Area. Two Red Bulls rest there, two Red Bulls and, to the side,… a Ferrari?

Your head shots up, eyes open like saucers as you look around for the drivers. One, in a navy-blue race suit, is by the barricades with the team, another by…

You don’t have to search long for the driver in deep red, because he’s sprinting straight towards you with open arms. There’s barely enough time for you to process it —just enough to catch the vibrant colors of Spain on his helmet—, before you instinctively open your own arms to embrace him.

“Oof” you let out at the impact, but Carlos simply raises you up in the air, tightly hugging you in as he gives a spin. You can only laugh at his excitement, the sound muffled by the padding and the clashes between of both your helmets. The chaos of the celebration around you fading into the background—the cheers, the music, the revving engines—all of it blurs into a distant hum.

The man lets you down, his hands grabbing your shoulders and jokingly shaking you back and forth, letting go off all the accumulated adrenaline he must have. “Ah, I can’t believe it! No sabes lo que me ha costado! (You have no idea how tough it’s been)” he confesses with a smile, lifting his visor as if you could see the effort he has put on the race just by the look on his eyes.

You give his chest a playful smack, skepticism in your eyes. They have spent all weekend gushing about how good the car felt in this track. “Pero… ¿tercero? ¿Segundo? (But… third? Second?)” you ask excitedly, lifting your visor to get a clearer view of the podium behind him.

The sickness that plagued you just moments ago vanished completely, slipping from your mind as if it was never there.

Carlos grabs hold of your helmet, tilting your head so you’re forced to meet his gaze. ”¿Qué dices? ¡He ganado! (What are you saying? I won!)” he corrects you, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of triumph and disbelief.

“¡¿Qué?! (What?!)” you shout in surprise, and before you know it, you’re throwing your arms around Carlos, overwhelmed the surge of happiness that sweeps through you.

His loud, hearty laughter rumbles against your helmet, a deep, joyful sound that reverberates through the hug. You hold him even tighter, caught in this bubble of euphoria. You can feel the warmth of his body through your suits, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart in sync with the joy that floods over you. And also, a surprising sense of peace and closeness, a feeling that maybe he isn’t such a stranger anymore.

In that moment, while you are fused into a hug with the Ferrari driver, you pause to remind yourself a very important fact: this is all just your own mind playing tricks on you.

Next

Author's note: So it's been a long time since I last posted. I missed the story, seriously. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter a lot. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

[cupids-chamber]

| Mammon x Reader — “ Missing you “ 

Commissioned by an anonymous user Light angst to fluff / Gender neutral reader Commission me here_

Mammon didn't approve of your departure, he was heavily against the sheer idea of you leaving even if it was just to visit your friends and family. He especially disapproved of the fact that you were leaving alone, and without him. He really wouldn't have minded if he was allowed to leave with you, but you didn't seem to bring that up as a suggestion, then again explaining how you and him are involved might've been a bit of a hassle to explain at family dinners. It's not everyday your friend or child comes up to you to explain how they're dating one of the Seven sins, a literal demon. 

Or it could be the fact that you were worried you'd burden him. That seemed much more plausible but he couldn't help but overthink it as the days passed by and the day of your departure came closer. He did have a small problem with his elder brother around this time, so he could see why you wouldn't bring it up, but Mammon couldn't help his intrusive thoughts get the better of him every now and then. 

But even so, Mammon was at his utmost behavior (as much as he could be), when you left. Though he looked like a sad pitiful puppy, left out in the rain the moment you said goodbye to him (Though a parting kiss on the cheek helped soothe his worries momentarily). He didn't adore the idea of you leaving, and the moment you had left he had wished for your fast and hopefully safe arrival back home. However, he couldn't help but grow more worried as the days passed and your original 3 day trip turned into a week.. and then two.. and then it even became three..

At first he ignored the thoughts that raced through his head, as it would cause him to grow more worried and impatient, and frankly he didn't wish to do anything abrupt and upset you as a result. In the beginning, he started playing off your increasingly long absence as a situational thing, maybe your friends— possibly family, pleaded with you and convinced you to stay a couple days extra. That didn't seem unusual, after all you've been stuck in the Devildom for quite some time, he could see that happening.

But as the days, and weeks passed and your absence was almost a month in length he couldn't help but grow more worried. Sleepless nights wondering where you were, as he hyper fixated on any mistake he could've possibly made to upset you (and sadly, he found many to blame). He hadn't received any form of contact from you, no messages, phone calls, emails.. He's well aware that you were in the human realm, but he couldn't help but think that you just refuse to talk to him purposefully, that he had fucked up majorly, and that for some reason you wont be coming back. 

As much as Mammon didn't like to betray the trustful bond between you too, he couldn't help it when he entered your room. He was a bit comforted knowing that you had left quite a few things that were precious to you here, implying that you'd come back. However, that wasn't enough, Mammon had found himself looking through each and every corner of your room, trying to find anything that would bring him an ounce of closure or explanation into your lengthy and unexplained absence. He spent quite some time convincing himself that this was okay, and that he had a reasonable reason to wreck your room in search of an answer. 

At the end of the day, he didn't find anything. He'd clean the room tomorrow, he was extra careful when touching things he knew were precious to you, he wouldn't want you to grow more upset at him, after all the only reasonable explanation he found was the fact that you were upset with him. At the end of the day, Mammon found himself on your bed, laying down and worn out from exploring every nook and cranny of your room, not that the work was physically taxing but rather emotionally taxing and as weird as it may sound, Mammon found comfort when he settled down on your bed. It lingered with your scent, and the brand of shampoo and soap that you'd use daily. 

Mammon couldn't explain to you the relief he felt when you had finally come back, he didn't even give you the time to explain as he hugged you. He held you in his embrace for quite some time, processing everything (Did you change your shampoo?), over the next few days you found yourself explaining what had happened that kept you away for so long. Comforting your rather upset lover. He didn't seem to have done well without you, for such a lengthy period but then again there was no explanation as to why you had left for so long. The next few days were quite busy, as Mammon was a lot more clingy than before as he tried to fill in for the time you were gone.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[chelseeebe]

and i never (saw you coming)

summary: coming back from college for the summer, you never would have expected to meet someone in your tiny town. and you most definitely would not have expected that someone to be steve fucking harrington.

a.n: so this is a henderson!readerxsteve BUT there are absolutely zero descriptors and no mention of being blood relatives or anything so please take the sibling relationship however you would like!! this is also a part one to a lil two part thing. set in s4 but i've changed it to be summer break rather than spring and i am finally writing canon material wherein the UD exists (part two) shout out to miss swift for the title xx

wc: 6k+

no smut but there may be in part two and as a baseline, i am an 18+ blog so please respect that. mentions of weed, drinking and sex. no use of y/n!

‎♡‧₊˚

Steve doesn’t usually make the effort to get out of his car to collect Dustin. But he had honked his damn horn five times now and was getting frankly sick of waiting for the petulant boy. 

He races up the gravel path, cursing under his breath about not being a fucking taxi and how he shouldn’t take him for granted. Steve’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears as he pounds on the door, prepared to give the boy an earful. 

His mouth is open when the door creaks open, “Dustin I have told you-,” it’s only then that he realises that Dustin isn’t the one behind the door. It’s you. 

“Excuse me?” you start, frowning at this apparent grown man who seemed to have a problem with your younger brother. As much as he got on your last nerve, you’d defend him to the moon and back. 

“You’re not- um, is Dustin home?” he asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in utter shame. Dustin had mentioned you a few times and he was sure he remembered you from school but never really took much notice. 

“Why?” you ask pointedly, scowling at the man. He was from school, you knew that much. One of the basketball players that absolutely would have sniggered about you in the halls. 

“I’m giving him a ride to uh- to the movies,” he nods, realising that he sounded like an utter weirdo. 

“Aren’t you a little old to be hanging out with my brother?” 

Steve hesitates because yes, he probably was too old to admit that your little brother was his friend. Let alone the fact he considered him a best friend. 

“Uh.. I could see why you think that but mentally I’m probably more his age than mine,” smiling at you, genuinely not seeing an issue with his statement. 

Your eyes narrow, brows knitted together. You knew he wasn’t some dodgy old pervert but he had absolutely not helped his case there. “Right.. well, no. He’s not back yet so…” 

“Oh, well I’ll just.. wait in my car,” he nods, slowly turning to jump back into his car. Eager to not make himself look any stupider in front of you. 

You sigh, “you can wait inside,” opening the door wider for him, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from Dustin if you made his dear friend wait outside. 

He tiptoes into the house, eyeing the quirky decorations your mom had covered the house in. It was clear now why Dustin was so.. eccentric. He’s like a stray dog, hovering around the couch, too scared to sit down. 

You resume your spot, attempting to pay attention to whatever movie is on the TV but struggling knowing he’s still just standing awkwardly above you. 

“You can sit down, you know?” you bark, not bothering to look at him. 

He does almost immediately, running his sweaty palms along his knees. God, why was this making him so flustered? 

“You’re Dustin’s sister then?” the words falling out of his mouth without much thought. He wants to fall into the floor. Obviously you were his sister. Fuck. 

“Yup.” 

“Cool.. I haven’t really seen you before.. I’m uh-,” sticking his hand out for you to shake, “Steve.. Steve Harrington,” smiling as you glance at his outstretched hand, hesitantly shaking it. 

The mention of his name makes everything click into place. This is the infamous Steve that Dustin didn’t shut up about. You were in the same grade at school and had shared a few classes but had never really spoken. That might’ve been something to do with him being a gigantic prick the entire five years you were in school. 

“Oh,” you nod, trying to mask your apprehensions, “I remember you,” hoping that didn’t give too much of your distaste away. 

“Yeah.. I’m not like.. that anymore,” picking up on your obvious distrust. It’s not surprising that so many people still hold reservations about him, even he could admit that he wasn’t exactly a saint. 

You hum in response. You can mostly believe him because there was no way in hell Dustin would’ve ever become friends with someone like King Steve. In fact, knowing your little brother, he probably would’ve detested the kind of boy he was in school. 

“So.. you go to college?” he asks, trying desperately to change the subject. 

“Yeah.. uh, Chicago, I didn’t wanna go too far yanno?” not that you really could’ve. College was a last minute, fuck it kind of decision and you hadn’t really even planned on staying past the first week. But you had, and had even found yourself liking it. 

“That’s cool.. what do ya’ do? If you don’t mind me asking,” shifting in his seat, eyes dead set on you. 

“Language studies, it’s not cool or exciting at all but I enjoy it,” shrugging as you pick at the loose thread on your shorts, avoiding any direct eye contact. 

Despite Steve Harrington being a changed man, he still made you incredibly nervous and you felt like suddenly you were back in high school. He just had this aura to him and the way he carries himself, even now, was just intimidating. 

“No, that is cool? I wish I was smart enough for college,” chuckling nervously, “I bet it’s crazy out there.” 

Your definition of a crazy night meant smoking with Julia, your roommate, and eating a stupid amount of shit food. His definition of crazy definitely included some frat party and hooking up with some stranger in a crowded house. 

“Hah.. not really, I think maybe we have different definitions of crazy.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of crazy then?” 

You look around on the off chance Dustin and your mom had somehow snuck into the house completely silently, “getting high and eating a bunch of junk food.. not exactly the kinda shit you imagined.” 

“How d’you know what I imagined? Maybe I think that’s a crazy night too,” laughing at your assumptions, evidently he was still hanging onto that King Steve persona. 

“Nah.. you’re thinking of getting black out drunk at some party and then having sex with some girl you’ll never speak to again,” raising your brows, smug that you’d sussed him out completely. 

“Is that what you think of me?” jokingly placing his hand over his heart, shaking his head, “I don’t even like parties that much anymore and actually I think you’re right, that would be a crazy night,” smiling to himself. 

Because to him that did sound like a great night, and he’d kill to be able to do that with Robin and if it wasn’t for the fact that she got so intensely paranoid that one time they’d smoked together, they’d probably do it more often. 

“Oh, well.. you’ve surprised me,” giving him a small smile. You still had your reservations about him, but if he was good enough for Dustin, you were sure you could come to perhaps tolerate him. 

“Yeah, I do a lotta that nowadays.” 

“Well are you surp-,” you’re cut off by Dustin barging through the front door, nearly taking the damn thing off its hinges. 

“Steve? We’re gonna be late! C’mon!” he yells into the living room as if he wasn’t the one who had shown up fifteen minutes late. He’s huffing and puffing with his hands on his hips, clearly something inherited from your mother. 

“Woah dude, chill out,” he looks at his watch and jumps up out of his seat, “okay shit- sorry uh, oops let’s go,” rushing over to Dustin. He turns at the last second, waving at you over his shoulder, “it was nice to meet you,” a genuine grin on his face. 

“You too,” you call back, watching as your brother drags him out of the house. Muffled voices arguing over what time the movie started and how dare Steve enter his house without him present. 

Dustin’s still going on in the car after much push back from Steve that actually he was early and Dustin was the one who was late. 

“Your sister’s pretty cool,” Steve blurts out, driving along the bumpy road. He wants to rescind his sentence almost immediately after Dustin glares at him from the passenger’s seat. 

“Absolutely not. No, Steve. No.” 

“What?” flabbergasted that Dustin had so brazenly assumed he had some ulterior motive. He hadn’t even said anything. Not yet anyway. 

“Just no. I know you and I know what you’re thinking and I’m putting a stop to it now,” Dustin cringes, mentally perturbed by the thought of you and Steve even speaking. 

“Wha- dude, I was just saying.. you barely speak about her.. that’s all,” tapping on the leather steering wheel, playing it off rather smoothly, he thinks. 

“I know my sister’s cool.. way too cool for you, okay? So you should forget about it because it will never ever happen.” 

“I wasn’t even gonna.. you’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” 

-

Steve’s sat in the booth, opposite what must be the worst date of his life. Dear God, Tammy Thompson was hot but holy shit was she annoying. Her voice agitating his ear drums with every word, irritating and nasally as she rambled on about her singing ‘career’. It wasn’t much of a career, Steve thought. Singing the national anthem in your high school gym was hardly a career. He thought it was quite sad actually. 

He nods along to her bullshit, maybe she would sound better when he got her into the back of his beemer. Well, he was hoping anyway. 

“You guys finished?” the familiar voice rings out across the table, his eyes darting from Tammy to find you standing at the end of the table with a fake grin plastered on your face. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he sounds confused, attention fully shifted from the blonde in front of him to you. Surely Dustin could’ve had the courtesy to let him know that you worked at his favourite date spot. 

“Uh.. yup, so you’re done?” still in customer service mode, trying desperately to ignore the awkwardness. 

“Oh, yeah.. thank you,” he smiles, pushing the empty plates toward you “how long have you worked here.. I’ve never seen you,” positively baffled but happy nonetheless. 

You shrug, “like sophomore year,” confused why he seemed to care so much, “I’m just doing part time over the summer..” stacking the plates as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to get far away from the awkward date you had stumbled upon. 

“That’s cool, I mean, I’m here a lot so..” 

Both you and Tammy flash him a look, granted hers was far more annoyed than yours. You mutter a small nice before scurrying off to the kitchen, relieved to be far from the impending disaster that was waiting to implode. 

-

Something’s not right. 

Even with Tammy practically climbing over the centre console to get to him, fully willing and eager.. he’s just not feeling it. Something or someone rather stuck in his head. They had been since last week and no matter how much he’d tried to shake it.. nadda. 

He pulls away from Tammy, sighing pathetically, “I’m sorry.. d’you mind if I just take you home? I don’t feel great..” he hopes it’s at least half-convincing. 

“Are you fucking serious Steve?” Tammy whines, staring across the car in utter disbelief.  

He offers an apologetic smile, shuffling in his seat to get away from her, “yeah.. must be something I ate.. sorry,” grimacing at this incredibly awkward moment. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, could he? 

“Whatever,” crossing her arms over her chest, frowning as she re-buckles her seatbelt, starting straight ahead. 

He starts the car with a sigh. She was a nice enough girl, but she just wasn’t.. well, she just wasn’t Dustin Henderson’s mysterious older sister who just hadn’t let this mind since you’d met last week. That was the problem. 

She doesn’t say a word as she gets out of the car, making sure to slam the door in his face when he leans over to say goodnight. He’s sure she’ll tell all her bitchpack friends who’ll vow to ignore him until he smiles at them over the Family Video counter and they’ll forget all about it. 

Why couldn’t that just work on you? 

-

You don’t see Steve for another week. Dustin normally runs out of the house the second he hears Steve’s car in the driveway meaning you don’t cross paths.

But now he’s sat in the exact same booth as last week, this time alone with a half empty cup of coffee in front of him. 

Your legs sort of work on their own, carrying your body over to the booth. It’s only when you’re stood at the end of the table do you realise you have no idea what you should even say to him. 

“Who’s the unlucky lady this week?” your mouth blurts out without second thought, startling him from staring out the window. His lips curling into a smile the second he realises it’s you. 

“No lady this week, flying solo,” internally dying from his choice of words. Yeah, that totally made him look cool. 

“Oh,” pulling the dirtied plate across the table, “Tammy Thompson didn’t work out then?” Why are you even asking? You shouldn’t care about who he dates. 

“Nah.. we didn’t really..” he mashes his hands together, “vibe,” smiling up at you from the seat. He obviously wasn’t heartbroken over it. 

“Well if it’s any consolation, I always thought she was a massive bitch,” and she was. One of those girls that prowled the halls waiting for somebody to humiliate. Bare in mind, Steve was too, he just picked on the weird boys rather than the girls. 

Steve chuckles, “yeah, she was.. or is.. I don’t know,” he’s sure that in her opinion, he was the bitch that didn’t want to hook up with her because his ‘stomach hurt’, and really that was a fair enough assertion. 

You give him a quick smile before picking up the plate, beginning to walk away when his voice calls out from behind, “what time do you get off?” 

“Nine.. why?” apprehensive as you answer. Spinning on your heel to face him. 

“I can give you a ride home? I mean, if you want?” 

You pause just before you reach the counter. It seriously would beat walking home in the summer heat. Dustin would certainly have a few choice words when you showed up at home in Steve’s BMW, but who cares? 

“Okay, yeah that’d be great.. thanks,” giving him a tight lipped smile, “you gonna sit there for the whole four hours?” 

“I- wh.. no,” laughing awkwardly because he hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to do until nine but he had assumed it’d be fine if just hung out here. “I’ve gotta go uh.. pick Robin up from work,” lie. He and Robin had worked the morning shift and she was off at some family dinner she had complained about all week. 

“Robin Buckley?” you ask, slightly confused as to how the two of them even knew each other. 

“You know her?” he perks up. 

“Eh.. kinda, we were in band together.. how do you know her?”

He’d love to tell you that they had become inseparable after nearly dying in a Russian basement with your little brother last summer. But he doesn’t. Because you, like the majority of Hawkin’s residents, were still blissfully unaware of the weird underworld that lived beneath your town. 

“We worked together last summer and now we’re best friends I guess,” it sounded far too simple as he said it out loud. 

He was an asshole in school and was well aware of that fact, someone like him would never have become friends with someone like Robin if it weren’t for the Upside Down. But he was grateful nonetheless, and telling you the shortened story was much easier than opening the can of worms that was the Upside Down. 

“Oh..” you nod slowly, “you really have changed, huh?” thinking back to Dustin’s constant appraisal of the new Steve and how you didn’t really believe any of it. 

“Yeah.. I don’t..” he clears his throat, “I don’t know if I was an asshole to you in school but if I was then.. I’m sorry,” looking sheepish as his head hangs low. In all honesty, he couldn’t really remember you ever being at Hawkins High but felt an apology was due either way. 

You nod, accepting the apology though the worst he’d ever done to you was the time he sat there and cackled as Carol Perkins knocked the pile of books out of your arm. 

“You want another cup of coffee or d’you have to go?” still clutching onto his dirty plate. 

He checks his watch, not that the time actually mattered as he’d leave here and probably end up driving around until it was socially acceptable to come back in. “I could do one more.. thank you,” grinning softly. 

You slip into the kitchen, questioning the warm, fuzzy feeling that had settled in your chest. Convincing yourself that it was only because he was being nice to you. Nothing more. 

-

Steve strolls in again at 8:40 after driving around the entire town, ending up parking in town and just watching the tiny clock in his dash until it turned 8:30 and he could slowly make his way back to the diner. 

It’s empty, has been pretty much all night bar the few regulars that seemed to spend their lives here. You’re sat behind the counter flicking through the Hawkins Post someone had left behind, reading about the upcoming bake sale. Riveting stuff, really. 

“You’re early,” you point out, looking at the clock that had moved incredibly slow all day. 

“I had nothing else to do so thought I’d try and squeeze one more cup of coffee from you,” he grins cheekily, testing the boundaries of this incredibly new.. friendship?

You roll your eyes, motioning over to the pot, “help yourself,” sending one of the clean coffee mugs over the counter so he could do your job for you. 

The clock slowly ticks over to nine and you do one last check around the place to make sure you’d done everything needed. Javie, the cook, had gone home already, thankfully cleaning the kitchen before disappearing. Begging you not to tell Kevin he’d slipped off early with a promise of whatever you wanted to eat on your next shift. 

You turn the key in the door as Steve stands behind with his hands shoved in his pockets, “are you normally the only one in there at this time?” walking beside you to his car. 

“No, Javie normally finishes when I do but he had a date or some shit so he left early,” shaking your head. It would’ve been useless to make him stay anyway. 

Steve jumps in front of you, grabbing the handle before you got the chance, pulling the door open, “Oh.. good, yeah that’s good,” closing the door and clambering into his own side. He wants to believe that he’s not sure why the mention of Javie’s name made him feel so funny.  

“You sound disappointed.. were you planning on robbing me?” chuckling to yourself. 

“No! No.. what? It just seems unsafe for you to be there on your own so late..” 

“It’s nine pm Steve.” 

“Yeah I know but.. there are a lotta weirdos in Hawkins yanno?” starting the car as quick as possible, not wanting to stick his foot in his mouth any further. 

You smile, it was very kind of him to look out for you after all. “Yeah.. I’m in the car with one right now,” glancing at him with a shit eating grin. 

“Oh ha ha.. you’re so funny,” rolling his eyes in jest though his lips twitch into a small smile. 

“I know that actually,” turning to watch the trees as they disappear behind you. The air is perfect, reminiscent of the summers you had here as a child. 

Steve takes the opportunity to look over at you admiring the night sky. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, this was going to be the death of him. 

Well, you were. 

-

Steve’s itching to just ask him, get it out while he’s driving so Dustin can’t run away. 

“So.. I have a question for you,” testing the waters before fully committing. 

“Uhh.. what could you possibly have to ask me?” Dustin asks, curious. 

“Well.. I need you to ask your sister if she’d maybe wanna come to the movies with me,” he holds up his hand to preemptively stop Dustin’s inevitable reaction, “I accidentally bought two tickets and I don’t wanna let it go to waste, so don’t start.” 

“Steve, I already told you that that is not happening.” 

“It’s not a date Dustin,” Steve hisses, “you said she liked horror movies so.. I thought she might wanna come.. that’s all.” 

Dustin looks incredulous, “since when do you like horror movies?” 

“Uh.. since forever?” lying through his teeth. Steve hated horror. Would point blank refuse to watch anything even remotely scary when Robin suggested it. 

“You’re a bad liar,” Dustin frowns, he’d had many of his own movie suggestions shot down by Steve for being inappropriate and too scary. 

He rounds the corner, pulling up onto your drive. He was running out of time to convince Dustin to do this for him. And see, he’d do it himself but that would mean he’d undoubtedly end up a bumbling idiot in front of you and that was not what he was aiming for. 

“Can you- will you please just ask her?” he begs, pleads even. 

“Fine,” Dustin rolls his eyes, sliding out of the car. His feet dragging along the pavement as he walks into your house, not bothering to give his usual wave to an idling Steve. 

He slinks up the stairs, banging on your bedroom door. Get it out of the way and then he could mourn the loss of both his sister and his best friend as quickly as possible. 

“Yeah come in,” you call from the other side, closing the notebook. 

“Steve asked me to ask you if you wanted to go and see some movie with him, he also wants me to tell you that he accidentally bought two tickets instead of one but I think you and I are both smart enough to know that isn’t true,” your brother rolls his eyes, perched in your doorway. 

You smile to yourself, rolling your eyes. It was childish but admittedly endearing, “tell him to ask me himself and I’ll think about it.” 

Dustin nods, frowning as he walks over to your bedroom window, leaning out of it to holler at Steve who was still sat in his car awaiting your answer, “she told me to tell you to ask her yourself,” sticking his middle finger up at him before storming off into his own room. 

You watch him leave, open mouthed before going to the window to find Steve looking up to your window. He points towards the door, shrugging. This really wasn’t how he’d have liked this to go. 

The door swings open and you blink at him, allowing him the opportunity to go first. This was his question after all. 

“D’you wanna come to the movies with me? I- Dustin mentioned that you like horror movies and I don’t wanna waste this ticket.. it’s cool if not,” Christ, he really needed to stop hanging around Robin so much. She had a knack for being completely defeatist before even receiving her answer and it was clearly starting to rub off on him. 

“Yes, I’ll go to the movies with you,” smiling softly at him. He really was light years away from the dickhead you once despised, now just some shy guy trying to ask someone out on not-date-date. 

“Okay,” he responds with far too much enthusiasm, “great.. Friday! I mean- I’ll pick you up on Friday.. eight o’clock,” cheesing as he walks back to his car. Throwing up a thumbs up before realising how stupid he looked and rushing to get into his car. Heart fluttering out of his chest. 

-

You’re shitting it. 

It wasn’t a date. No really, it wasn’t. 

But you couldn’t help the nerves bubbling up in your stomach as you wait for him to pick you up. 

“I think this is disgusting by the way,” Dustin pipes up, scowling as he paces the hallway. Desperately trying to conjure up a plan to stop you from going. He couldn’t think of anything worse than his sister and his best friend dating. He shudders at the mere thought of it. 

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion,” rolling your eyes, peering out of the window to see if his car had pulled up yet.  

“Why can’t you date any of the other losers in this town? Or someone at college? Why does it have to be Steve?” his shoulders slump, frown evident as he skulks into the living room. 

“Oh my God Dustin, stop it. Yanno, the more you complain about it, the more I’m going to make sure it happens,” letting go of the blind and giving him a smug smirk. For his sake, it probably would just be a movie. 

You weren’t exactly Steve’s usual type so you were certain that the second someone from school spotted you together he’d probably get embarrassed and drop this little crush. But hey, you could entertain the idea for the summer and perhaps you also had a tiny, smidgen of a crush on him too.

The doorbell rings out and Dustin lets out a ghastly wail, rushing to answer the door before you could. “You never come to the door for me!” he pouts, glaring at Steve who stood nervously on the front porch. 

“Because I don’t like you,” Steve jokes, attention quickly pulled from your younger brother as you appear behind him. “You look.. nice,” smiling as Dustin’s eyes ping pong between the two of you. 

“Thank you.. so do you,” barging past Dustin who looks positively distraught, “don’t cry too hard,” you call out, walking down the path beside Steve. The door slams when you reach his car and you share a look with Steve, giggling as he opens the door for you. 

The second you sit, the nerves come spilling over. This was no longer just a silly thing you could tease Dustin about anymore, it was actually happening and you were here and he was here and you were about to go on a not-date-kinda-date. 

You’re both fairly quiet on the ride to the cinema, exchanging small talk about your days and the movie you were about to watch. It was fairly obvious that he’d bought these tickets specifically with you in mind, because Steve Harrington would not willingly watch Friday the 13th, especially not on his own. 

“So you accidentally got two tickets, huh?” eyeing him from across the car. 

His cheeks flush, bottom lip trembling as he attempts to come up with something to explain his bullshit story, “I- fuck, no.. I didn’t,” looking bashful as he pulls into the parking lot, “I didn’t actually think you’d say yes.” 

“Why?” 

Steve sighs as he turns off the ignition, “I don’t know.. you’re like cool and in college and I’m just some loser from high school,” shrugging half-heartedly, finally meeting your eyes. 

“You’re not a loser.. you were a loser but, I think you’re pretty cool now.” 

His eyes widen, his smile fighting to come out, “I think most people would say the opposite,” he certainly didn’t hold the same level of prestige he had in school anymore. In fact, he’d sorta lost it in senior year when he’d decided that people like Tommy H and Carol were not the type he wanted to associate with. 

And it wasn’t like he’d lost it all, girls still fawned over him and the basketball team would still get excited to see him but he had kinda just slipped into the background. Another guy who had peaked in high school that was destined to stay in this dead end town with a dead end job and a wife he’d grow to loathe. At least, that’s what he had always pictured. 

“Yeah well, I’m not most people,” climbing out of the car. Not once in your life had you ever thought you would be telling Steve Harrington that you thought he was cool. Much less getting out of his car to go see a movie together. 

You’re met with a genuine smile from over the roof of the car, he doesn’t need to speak for you to know that he appreciates your words. 

For a moment you forget where you are until his eyes linger a little too long and your heart begins to pound again. Pulling your own gaze away and mumbling something about missing the trailers. 

-

It’s unfortunate and a little sickening but you can hardly focus on the film and even though it’s dark, you can feel his eyes shift to your face every few minutes, distracting you from the movie. You don’t look back of course, keeping your eyes firmly glued to the screen. 

His hand shifts suspiciously close to your knee, stopping just before he makes contact. You’re trying your hardest not to overthink it.  He’s just.. moving his hand. That’s all. 

Fuck. 

You were fucked. 

Your hands are practically trembling as you sit there. Finally gaining enough courage to look back at him the next time his eyes wander. 

Steve’s not like you, see. He’s a little nervous of course but he’s had years of experience with girls, knows all the tricks in the book to get them falling for him. And when it really came down to it, he could unleash his moves to have you right where he wanted. His eyes don’t flicker back to the screen, they lower, gazing at your lips instead. He wants to do it. He does. Urging himself to just lunge forward and close the distance between you. 

But you’re not like that. You wouldn’t have even looked at him twice in high school, immediately and rightfully passing him off as the dickhead that he was. These tricks were futile on you. 

“Watch the movie,” you whisper despite not watching it yourself, blinking rapidly as you feel your cheeks heat up. Praying that the dark of the cinema would shroud your flushed face. 

His lips twitch before slowly pulling his eyes away, nodding to himself as an acknowledgement to be on his best behaviour. 

It takes every single fibre of your very being to get through the rest of the movie without looking at him again. 

“Well I actually enjoyed that,” he professes loudly, walking out of the theatre a few paces behind you. 

“Oh? I’m surprised you actually saw any of it,” walking to his car in the pitch black parking lot. 

“I wasn’t talking about the movie,” grinning as he lays on that signature charm. It’s shameless and you feel like a fool for even falling for it. 

“Shut up,” you mutter, pulling on the door handle as his car remains locked. He sidles up to the passenger side, one side of his mouth curled into a small smile. 

“How tired are you on a scale of one to ten?” mere inches from your face. 

“Hmm.. a five.” 

“Great, get in,” leaning closer to open the door for you, outstretched arm keeping you between his body and the car. You swallow harshly, slipping past him and into the car.

You’re not sure if you like this version of Steve, the one that had the confidence to make you a bumbling fool for him.  

“Where are we going?” you eventually pipe up, bewildered that you had just let this boy drive you to this mysterious location without any contest. 

“You’ll see.” 

The very second he turns onto the darkened road you groan, knowing exactly where he had taken you, his motivations becoming increasingly clear. 

“Fucking skull rock?” you exclaim. Everyone had heard the rumours in school, this was his spot and girls were to be extremely appreciative if he brought them here. You should’ve known really, he hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Well yes, but that’s not why we’re here.. I swear,” only now realising how scummy this looked but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until it had yours. 

Your arms wrap over your chest, jutting your bottom lip out, “then why are we here?” you sounded disgusted with him. How could you have been so stupid? 

“Because I-,” the car stops in the tiny lookout spot, “wait, get out of the car,” he instructs, hopping out of his side. 

You don’t move a muscle, refusing to fall for his tricks once again. So he walks around the car, opening up your door, “look, I wanna show you something,” his tone is desperate and it makes you ever so slightly believe him. 

There was no chance he was that eager to make out with you surely. 

Your nostrils flare as you get out of the car, immediately wrapping your arms back around yourself. “What? What could you possibly have to show me out here?” 

“Just look,” pointing towards the sky. It was littered with stars, bright and twinkling with the view of Hawkins in the distance. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a sight you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

He chuckles, “I come here sometimes.. just to think and stuff,” scuffing his shoes on the loose stones, “I thought you’d appreciate something like this,” hands shoved into his pockets, gazing at you as you gaze at the sky. 

“Wow.. you can see everything from here,” still marvelling in the absolute beauty, blissfully unaware that he was doing the same, just not at the same beauty you were seeing. 

“I thought you’d like it,” dragging his feet along to the bonnet of his car, leaning back against the maroon metal. “I’m a little offended that you just assumed that I was tryna get you here for any other reason though,” laughing softly, what more could he do to prove that he was no longer that meathead jock from school? 

You finally break your gaze, looking at him as you join him on the bonnet. Heart pounding as your elbow brushes against his as you shuffle further up the car. It’s so silly, you feel like a fool, trying your hardest to contain your flushing cheeks. 

“I’m sorry..” admitting that perhaps you were a little harsh, “but can you blame me? We’ve all heard the stories,” purposely knocking your elbow into his arm, wiggling your brows. Turning your attention back to the picturesque view in front of you. 

“Yeah yeah.. that was a long time ago, I told you, I’m not like that anymore..” it’s only a tiny lie. He still made out with girls in his car and took them to darkened corners of your tiny town. But see, the difference was that he was actually trying to date these girls, mindless sex was no longer his goal. 

“Yeah I can see that now..” your shoulders slump, relaxing as your guard comes down, “thank you, this is a really cool spot and I’m grateful you chose to share that with.. me,” smiling softly. 

“You’re like the second girl I’ve ever shown this to.. by the way.” 

“Second?” poking fun at him. 

“Robin came first, obviously,” choosing to ignore your little dig. 

You had wondered why he wasn’t just dating Robin, he was a changed man now and obviously the pair got on like a house on fire so why wouldn’t he have tried it with her? Maybe he had and she’d shut him down. She seemed cool enough in band, definitely not someone that would ever be interested in Steve, no matter how much he had changed. 

“Ahh.. obviously,” trying desperately not to sound jealous. 

“So you like it?” watching your face instead of the sky once again. 

When you pull your eyes away from the sky to look at him, you’re taken aback to find him already staring back. “I love it,” the way the moon illuminated his face left you breathless, struggling to contain your heart in your chest. 

“Good..” he smiles before descending into some ramble about the stars and how he had discovered it. 

You weren’t interested. Focused on one thing and one thing only. Deciding against your better judgement to just do it. It was utterly reckless and someday you might live to regret it but you’d regret it tomorrow if you didn’t. 

Pressing your lips to his, quietening his little tangent. It takes him a moment to register what was happening and you doubt yourself, wanting to pull away and run through the woods hoping to never see him again. But it finally clicks and he springs into action, masterful hand snaking its way through your hair, resting on the back of your head. Keeping you right there, pressed to him just like this forever. 

Your hand nervously finds his cheek, brushing over the slight stubble that adorned his jaw. There’s no urgency, no ulterior motives. Pure and simple, only a desperate need to stay like this forever. 

You pull away, lips still lingering over his. A small giggle erupts from your throat, crumbling under his stare. “Sorry..” you mutter, still trying to catch your breath, “you were saying something..” 

“Sorry?” he exclaims, keeping his hand intertwined in your hair, “don’t ever be sorry for doing that.. like ever,” the stars reflecting off of his chestnut eyes back into yours, his features intricately lit up by the sky. 

“Okay..” laughing slightly, “okay.. I’ll keep that in mind,” shying away from his eyes, dipping your head. 

There was not one part of you that would have ever guessed that you would be the one to make a move on him first. Or that he could ever be so sweet, so kind and thoughtful and you feel awful for ever just assuming the worst of him without even giving him a chance. 

You’re pulled out of your head when his head dips down to match yours, “can we do that again?” thumb tracing back and forth along your neck. You nod quickly, chest bubbling with excitement as his lips connect with yours once more. 

It must’ve been gone three by the time you sneak back into your house. Praying that Dustin is already asleep as you sneak back up the creaking stairs. 

It’s too late. You’ve been caught. 

“Come here,” he whispers harshly, peeking out of his bedroom door, his brows furrowed. 

You oblige, slipping into his room and shutting the door quietly, “you gonna give me a lecture?” 

“No,” he sits cross-legged on his bed, “I was going to ask if you had a good time,” willing to put his pride behind him for the sake of his dear sister's happiness. 

Your frown turns into a grin, joining him on his bed, “I did.. he’s really nice, Dusty,” moving the deconstructed lego set from his duvet so you could scoot closer. “If you really don’t like it.. I can tell him that we can just be friends,” smiling earnestly at your little brother, it would suck but after all, he was Steve’s friend first.  

He sighs, swallowing his disgust, “you don’t have to do that..” this is hard for him to even get out, “if you’re happy then.. I’m happy,” giving you his brotherly blessing. 

You beam at him, “but, I have some rules that you’re both gonna have to agree to,” setting his boundaries for your budding relationship. 

“Shut up,” you giggle, ruffling his mop of curls before collapsing back onto his bed. 

You’re happy. Genuinely happy and you’re not sure anything could happen to change that. 

[thatsmybook]

A few times, I've heard Lisa and Rojda talk about how Young Royals is about the class system and a queer Prince, but also, it's relatable because not only do the cast look like teenagers, they act like teenagers in today's world. So it's also a show about teenagers. With that in mind, I'd like to talk about Simon Eriksson, working class, immigrant, and mixed race student at Hillerska, falling in love with the Prince.

Simon, in S1, deliberately kept any problems about Sara and his life at Hillerska hidden from his mum because he did not want to burden her. He lied to reassure her when she'd get worried about Sara and equally made decisions to help Sara's wellbeing at school. It seemed that he was taking care of his mum and sister when his dad left and after the abusive relationship that seemed to have really affected the whole family. This is why he doesn't share anything bad that he's going through with his mum. He's trying to protect her. He always has.

As to the comments he is getting. I think he is reading them because often they concern his family and are from the people in their town. That, along with the phone calls at night and hate-mail mentioned by Linda at the court hearing in S3 ep1, this means that he's on hyper-vigilance about threats to him and his family. So, my theory is that he is monitoring his comments and engaging to try to defuse things. But just like in all 3 seasons, his actions often lead to more problems.

This is a 16 year old kid, the youngest in his family, doing things an adult should be doing. This is very relatable for many working-class single parent families. Something to add about first-generation kids of immigrant families, having an extra layer of working to help the family navigate the country and society they're in.

Also, as to the comments, there have been many real life incidents, unfortunately , of teenagers getting hate comments online from their peers and bullied to the point of taking their own lives. Simply telling them not to read the comments may not have worked for them. (Yet so many reactors to this season think it's that simple).

Simon is getting a volumous amount of hate comments, which started right after the sex video was released in S1. At that point, the comments were in the print media.

He needs actual support, less obliviousness from the adults in his life about what is happening to him (that includes the Royal Court), and understanding about the actual effect of comments on his mental health from everyone around him. He is a victim of actual hate, and when I hear about any child going through that kind of regular abuse, my heart goes out to them.

Seeing how supportive Simon's dad could be in this 3rd season in his conversations with Sara, we can see how much Simon actually misses his dad. Because had he had a relationship with him, without the baggage of Sara's need for distance, he would have probably noticed that Simme needed help and been quite good at it, when he could manage it.

However, we as the audience seem to be blinded by Wille's more important problems, partly because the show is largely from his POV, but also because his pressures seem bigger. As a result, I've seen fans come down on Simon for not putting his life's woes in perspective to support Wille more. We start to see big cracks in their relationship and start to feel that they just won't work out.

But, they're also just kids in their first relationship. Miscommunication is completely normal at that age. They've only just been spending actual time with each other this season and getting to know each other. Yet they are dealing with adult problems, and so many of us fans are shouting at the screen - talk to each other! I feel like, if I were one of them, there is so much weight on me that I'd be too scared to open the floodgates and actually tell my boyfriend what's happening because I don't want to scare him. And no wonder they spend most of their time making out. It's the easiest part of their relationship and what gives them actual joy at the moment.

So I give grace to these characters and kudos to the creators of the show, for showing ACTUAL teenagers dealing with real life problems, amplified for drama because of the dichotomy of being a Prince and a commoner. But, I don't judge ANY of the characters when I apply the same analysis I've given here to Simon to all the other four characters. What this show requires of us adults is empathy for their plight and maybe a closer look at the teenagers in our lives. What it does for the teen audience is show them that they're not alone when they mess up or are dealing with life pressures. We as a society won't judge them. We will work to understand them and share their burdens.