#holding a steering wheel 10 and 2

[shuvo16162]

Person Holding to a Steering Wheel 😉Finally one happened

@Click here

[the-secret-formulaone]

prompt: you and max have been secretly together for years. neither the fans or the media have a clue. what happens when you and max are neck and neck for the drivers championship and you get the unexpected news that you’re pregnant?

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari! reader

word count: ~7.6k

warnings: 18+, cursing, mentions of sex but no real smut, mentions of miscarriage, some mention of blood

a/n: hello, i'm brand new at writing fanfic for f1. i've had this idea for a while and it was eating at me so i hope you enjoy. i thought it would be cool to have it be like a normal fic with a bit of that social!au content that the fandom loves.

this is pt.1 of how everything is going down and then the next and final part will be what happens after, her pregnancy and what reader does this time around. along with some fan social media mayhem.

id love to hear your thoughts!

enjoy!

LAS VEGAS, USA | NOV 2024

The nausea settling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable, it gets worse with each lap you complete. You're confident you can push through and finish the race without throwing up in your helmet, until the track begins doubling and tripling.

You haven’t felt this dizzy since you crashed in Spa three years ago due to rain. There were no stakes then as you were having a bad race weekend and started P7. Today you’re P1 and the gap between you and Max is getting shorter as you slow to try and compensate for the nausea and dizziness.

You hear your team in your ear, asking you if the car's giving you trouble since there’s no apparent reason for you to be slowing down at this point. Especially with ten laps to go.

“The car is fine,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to relax your abdomen to keep the nausea at bay.

“Then what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Riccardo, your race engineer, asks. His tone is stern yet concerned.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. My head feels like it’s spinning is all.” You're nonchalant but deep inside you’re panicking. This race means so much to you and your team. Now is not the time to get sick.

“Can you finish the race?” His filtered voice asks through the radio.

“Yes, I’m finishing the bloody race,” you curse, pressing on the gas pedal and tightening the hold on the steering wheel.

“If you continue feeling this way, box immediately,” he orders, not wanting to risk the safety of his driver, “By the way Max is 2 seconds behind you.”

“Fucking hell.” After all the work to create a 10 second gap Max is catching up because your body decided to get sick.

There’s rage building inside of you, keeping Max away is the most difficult part of racing. It took pure skill to keep him at a distance, he’s only catching up because you’re slowing. You're letting yourself down.

It’s been a battle of pole positions and fastest laps for you two. The championship is within your reach, threatening to break Max’s two year streak. It's why Max is giving everything he has to get ahead of you. If he wins this race he’ll be on top once more.

Another bout of nausea takes over your body, shivers running down your spine. Why are you nauseous and dizzy? You were hydrated before the race, the temperature in the car is warm as always but it’s cool outside, unlike Singapore, and you felt perfectly fine earlier.

It’s most likely karma for teasing Max this morning and leaving him with a raging hard on.

You notice Max in your peripheral vision. He’s ready to attack and regain P1. You accelerate and block him as best you can but nearing the turn you miscalculate giving Max the perfect opportunity to pass you.

He settles right in front of you, mocking how he got ahead so easily. If you didn’t love him and felt the bile coming up your throat you would’ve cursed at him. You were famously known for insulting the men driving the other cars.

At this point, you weren’t driving straight and your race engineer, Riccardo was telling you to pit and pull out of the race.

“I promise you I’m good enough to finish the race,” you say after a moment to swallow the bile coming up. You'd rather die than DNF'ing with a handful of laps to go.

“Norris is catching up. Let’s finish this race quickly so you can get checked.”

You’re glad you created a gap at the beginning of the race, otherwise Lando and Charles, your teammate, would’ve caught up already.

You see Lando trying to overtake you but you surprisingly block him and go as fast as you can. It’s not your best work and the FIA will have something to say about it but you make do.

Finally, down the final straight you press on the gas and cross the finish line. You finish the race out of pure muscle memory since you can’t rely on your distorted vision. Ignoring the celebratory cheers, you pull up on the spot marked #2. No one says anything about the askew parking job.

Your hands are clumsy, pulling out the steering wheel and standing. One of your teammates is right there giving you the hand you clearly need as you sway and almost fall straight out of the car.

Max is none the wiser, calmly getting out the RB and running over to his team who congratulate and scream his name. In his head, you lost control of your car, giving him a way to pass you. That's how F1 works.

You pull on your helmet and all the straps fast, the Ferrari team member helping you when he sees your urgency. As soon as you pull off your balaclava you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach.

Privacy be damned.

It’s not pretty. You’ve been holding this in for 20 laps and it’s not going to stop any time soon. The cameras focus on you as you push away the Ferrari team and finish throwing up. Ready hands catch you and you’re sat on a wheel chair as they roll you over to the medics. You close your eyes and throw your head back, everything around you spinning.

The murmurs of the crowd and the media cause Max to notice. He catches sight of you being wheeled away into the back. He takes a tentative step towards you, itching to be by your side but remembers the agreement you made to keep your relationship a secret.

Sometimes he hates how stubborn you are. At this point, the world should know you two are together, married even. Yet he understands your hesitancy with how cruel the media and the fans can be.

Max stays rooted on the spot, watchful eyes and dozens of lenses noticing every movement. Lando gets close to Max trying to avoid the cameras.

“What happened?” Lando asks referring to you.

“No idea, mate,” Max says, staring intently at the door you were just rolled through. A sleuth of Ferrari members following.

“She wasn't driving straight,” Lando shakes his head. He knew something was off when he caught up to her. “It was so unpredictable it made it harder on me to battle it.”

Max didn’t think much when he pulled up behind you but he did think it was strange how easy it was to overtake you. You always give him the hardest time.

He remembers this morning when you were in bed kissing him, touching him, teasing him. You were so cheeky, his length in your hand as you sweet talked him. 'Convincing' him to throw the race. Not like he’d ever do it. You were simply having your fun with him.

There wasn’t any sign of sickness then. It’s not like you spun out during the race either. You had been flawless out on the track until you weren’t.

“I'm going to check on her,” Max tells Lando, motioning with his head and wondering what exactly is wrong with his wife.

"Just wait," Lando stops him with a hand on his chest. They notice Charles in the Ferrari garage, heading to the back where they have you. "If you go, it'll stir up rumors."

Max tenses his jaw and looks away. With a roll of his eyes he turns to get weighed. He doesn't like it but Lando is right. He doesn't give a damn about his reputation only yours and the promise he made you.

f1_news tweeted: Ferrari’s Princess is transferred to hospital after race. It was heard through their radio she was having severe motion sickness, giving Max Verstappen the lead. Not many details are known as of this moment. More updates coming soon!

comments:

user2: hope she’s doing okay! she needs to come back to kick max's ass and take the championship from him 😮‍💨

user3: bet max is celebrating

-> user4: he looked very concerned when he saw her in the wheelchair

-> user14: who wouldn’t, she looked like death 💀

user4: did ya'll notice max disappear after the ceremony?

-> user5: lol he was making sure his favorite rival was okay 🤣

-> user101: no point in staying if he can’t rub it in her face 🤐

user6: our ferrari princess 👸 looked out of it. not sure how she made it out the car

user7: the podium felt so empty without her in it 😓

-> user8: did you notice max kept looking at the spot she was supposed to be as if expecting her to suddenly appear

-> user9: she’s like his best friend and his enemy wrapped in one. can’t live with her, can't live without her

-> user10: i swear he’s in love with her. 🗣️ it’s not normal the way he looks at her

-> user11: please, she’s married. you guys need to stop being delusional and stop shipping her with every guy on the grid

-> user10: not every guy, just max and maybe charles… -> user76: let's take a moment to appreciate charles immediately asking about her and leaving the track to see how she was. it's a win for us predestined x princess shippers

In the hospital, they quickly take you into a private room. The nurses retake your vitals and give you a shot to help with the nausea. A doctor comes in relatively quickly, asking you an array of questions to help him figure out why you got sick.

"The nurse should be in quickly to draw blood. I'm not too worried about this being anything other than a virus but we just want to make sure you're all good before leaving."

"Thank you, doc," you respond, lying back on the bed. They've given you one of the flimsiest hospital gowns in existence but you've gotta admit it's more comfortable than your race suit.

It's awfully lonely in the hospital room but it gives you time to relax and wind down. Fred and Riccardo were extremely concerned for your well being- not related at all to the fact you're on the run to win the championship-forcing you to go into the hospital.

Their stressed energy, the ambulance ride and then the nurses fussing over you was overwhelming. It would've made your nausea worse had it not been for the shot.

You're snoozing off when the door opens and your husband walks in. Max has a backpack slung over his shoulder with a set of clothes for you, along with your phone and other personal belongings you left at the paddock. He hurries over to you, dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around you.

"I was so worried, schatje," Max says in your ear, kissing your temple. The softness of his hoodie and the familiar scent he carries is comforting.

"I'm okay. You should keep your distance though, doc says I have a virus," you tell him, slightly pushing him away.

He’s stubborn as he keeps hold of your hand. "I don't care if I get sick. We've got two weeks until the next race, plenty of time for me to get better." Max sits on the chair next to your bed, asking you what happened during today’s race and listening to every word you say.

"What did they do for podium?" You later ask curiously, turning on your side to get more comfortable. Max props his head on his hand as he leans on your bed, getting closer to you despite your protests.

"Riccardo was there to accept it," Max tells you, kissing the back of your hand. He had been really worried. A part of him kept checking his surroundings for any sign of you.

It’s days like today where he wishes your relationship wasn’t secret. Max wants to express how worried he was about his girlfriend wife. He wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to all protocol and go after you.

He understands your reluctance and the need for privacy in your personal life. He knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded and Max agrees that good things have come out of keeping your relationship a secret but you’ve also had to miss out on others. One day, you’ll have to come clean to the public to be able to live your life to the fullest.

The doctor returns before he can vocalize this. He knocks on the door as he steps into the room, a tablet in his hands. “Results have come back. Would you like the gentleman to step out or is it okay if he stays?”

“He’s my husband,” you tell the doctor.

You're used to people not recognizing you outside of Formula One but Max is more known than you. You wait for the doctor to react at the sight of Max, except there’s not an ounce of recognition in his face. Good, or else, you’d have to rely on his patient-doctor confidentiality.

“Let’s get into it then. Lab’s show dehydration which is normal for the state you came in like. In addition, to the fact, you had just finished a physically demanding race. Surprisingly they also showed that your quantitative hCG levels are high meaning—"

“I’m pregnant?” You pan, shocked. Max's hand tightens around yours. Last year's endeavors left you with enough knowledge to know what that term means.

“Yes, you are pregnant,” he nods.

Max instantly turns towards you in complete shock. There’s part of him that’s happy but then there’s another that’s concerned. Personally, he’d love to have a child but it would mean you would have to sacrifice the championship.

You stare at the doctor with parted lips and furrowed brows, “That’s impossible. I have an IUD.” This couldn't be happening at a worse time.

“All methods of contraception have a percentage of failure,” the doctor sighs. “Your pregnancy explains today's sudden dizziness and nausea.”

“Do you know how far along she is?” Max asks, holding your hand tightly to show his support.

“We would need an ultrasound for that but based on her last menstrual period it can’t be more than 6 weeks.”

“Six weeks,” you breath out. You could only hear your pounding heart and the air coming in and out of your mouth. God, you've been training and driving the whole time. For fucks sake, just two weeks ago you had been celebrating your win with lots of alcohol.

You hardly hear the doctor excuse himself, leaving you and Max alone. Tears brim your eyes at the cruelty of the universe. You have in your hands the two things you want most in life. A shot at the championship and the opportunity to become a mother.

Max sits on the bed, wiping away your tears. He doesn’t say much, at a loss of words. There’s not much he can say to make this better but he thumbs away your tears and pulls you into a hug.

You fist his shirt in your hands, crying onto his shoulder, “This is not fair.”

“I know, schatje.” Max is at a loss. He understands the conflicting feelings you have. It’s no easy thing especially after everything you and Max went through.

“I can’t go through this again,” you sob, remembering the painful memories of the previous year.

United Arab Emirates | Nov 2022

The last race of the season has come quickly, deeming Max the World Champion for the second time running. He’s at the top of the podium as the Dutch national anthem plays. You look up at him from the third position, smiling at him proudly.

You’re frustrated that you weren’t able to catch up to him but you’re confident your time will come. Every year you’ve spent in the grid you’ve been able to rise through the ranks and get great contracts.

Mercedes took a chance on you this year and you’ve made them proud. It was a challenge against Ferrari and Red Bull but as the only woman you’d say you did brilliant.

You’re going to miss this next year but a break is due. After years of hard training and dedicating everything to your career you’ve decided to focus on your personal life.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve married Max and the conversation surrounding children becomes more constant. It's a nagging sensation in the back of your head. A longing you can't stop.

Feeling at peace with your performance, you decided to take this next year to become a mother. You’re young so in two years you’re sure you can come back stronger than ever and give Max a run for his money.

As the ceremony comes to an end, the party begins and the champagne bottles are brought out. “Don’t run,” Max laughs, spraying the frothy liquid in your direction.

You fight back, shaking the bottle and spraying some at Max and Charles. They gang up on you as Charles blocks your way and they both spray you. That will keep the fans making edits for months to come, the implication of the action clear.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles yells over the cheers when you aim the spray at his mouth.

Getting off the stage and into a private room, Max takes off his hat and pulls you in by the waist to press his sweet tasting lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. “Congrats two-time world champion.”

“Thank you, schatje,” Max responds, brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead.

“Get a room you two,” Charles huffs, knowing you forgot he was there.

“Sorry,” you say with a blush.

“I’m not,” Max laughs, stealing another kiss.

Outside, reporters of all kind were waiting to interview all three of you. They want Max’s celebratory words and you and Charles’ disappointment and regret. They live for the heartfelt promises you'll make for next season.

“Over here!” A reporter calls you, handing you a microphone. “What’s the plan for next year? Are you renewing with Mercedes or is there another team making offers?”

“I come with sad news,” you pout at the camera, “I won’t be on the grid next year.”

The reporter stares wide-eyed at you. This is the first time you've said those words out loud. “Could you share with us why?”

You nod at his question, fixing your hat as you speak the words you rehearsed many times before. “Since I was young I was prioritizing racing and getting into Formula One. I love how far I’ve come but I want to take a step back and enjoy my personal life for a little while. As you know, I got married a year ago and I want to enjoy that newlywed life. I will be back though,” you say with a smile and a wink at the camera.

“Is there a chance you’ll tell us who the lucky guy is?” The reporter questions, not really expecting you to answer. That the one thing you won't disclose.

You laugh, shaking your head at him, “No chance. I like to keep my personal life private.”

“Worth a shot," the reporter laughs with you. "Thank you for your time and we hope to see you soon!”

youtube upload: The Grid's Princess QUITS

thumbnail 📸: Toto Wolff looking angry and yelling at a Mercedes staff member. Lewis Hamilton with an arm around an upset looking reader.

comments:

user25: our queen is leaving? 😫 user30: who is going to keep the boys in check -> user5: i bet that’s why she’s taking a break, it’s not easy keeping charles and max under control user6: aren’t we curious as to who this mystery husband is? 👀 -> user17: i bet it’s either someone old or a billionaire, or both, i mean did you see the rock on her finger? -> user 46: oh they must be loaded to win over the grid's princess -> user96: i'm sorry but until i see proof of this man i will continue to set her up with charles user59: please, use a more dramatic title user48: i'm ready to fight 🤺 whoever made her stop racing. she's the only reason i watch them go in circles. who else is going to learn french to curse out charles properly? user55: *sigh* guess it’s time to rewatch all of the edits of her and max on repeat until she returns user104: let’s make a game. take a shot every time max and charles mention her next season.

Monaco | March 2023

When you temporarily retired, you thought you'd become pregnant in a matter of weeks. That is not the case.

Movies make it seem so easy to become pregnant, when in reality, it’s a challenge. It took nearly four months and multiple doctor visits for you to become with child.

The Winter break was spent tangled in sheets, keeping warm in each others embrace. Max was insatiable and so were you. Any chance you had you’d be dragging him somewhere private, his hands pulling at your underwear to tug them off...or to the side.

Max's voice would be in your ear as he spoke of how good you take him. He'd encourage you with words he'd never otherwise use. His cologne would intoxicate you, putting you in a trance.

His hold was firm and steady, making you shake and arch against him. His length sinking into you until you came with his name on your lips and his seed inside you.

Then, it finally happened. A positive pregnancy test in your bathroom counter. The alarm rang loudly, making you and Max share a nervous glance.

“You look,” you say with a shaky voice and shakier hands. Your period was late, followed by your tender breasts and the morning sickness. You fear your body was making it up because you wanted it so much.

“Before that,” Max says, cupping your face, “Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative. We’re just getting started and we have a whole year to try, yeah?”

You place your hands over his and nod with a small smile. Max presses a kiss to your forehead before he picks up the home test.

Max erupts in a smile, nodding and showing you the word positive. You scream, falling into his arms. He spins you around, kissing all over your face.

You and Max are over the moon, giddily waiting for every appointment with your doctor. Every ultrasound was recorded along with the babies heart beat.

Max is ecstatic. He's been wanting to have a family with you since he realized you were the one. He thought it wouldn't happen for a long time but then you revealed you wanted it too and soon despite your career.

It took a long conversation to figure out how to go about it with both of your careers being at their peak but you came to an agreement. He was ready be a father and you were ready to be a mother, even if it meant putting your career in pause.

Your desire to bring a child into the world was greater than giving the championship another shot. Whenever you're ready to return to F1, he'll take a step back and support you.

Max planned a dinner with the whole family where you told them you were expecting. Plans to decorate the nursery littered your coffee table and your internet browser history was filled with shop links with cute clothes and baby items.

Weeks later, it happened. Something felt wrong, off.

“Maxie,” you breathe heavily, feeling wet between your legs. Cramps littering your lower abdomen.

“What's wrong?” Max sits up in bed, sensing your distressed state. His gaze fixes on the red stain forming on the white sheets.

“I’m scared,” you cry, afraid to move or do anything. Cramps squeezing your insides like a bad period.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Max reassures you, “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah? I’ll call the doctor.”

A quick trip to the ER confirmed it. You miscarried.

You couldn’t look at Max that night, hugging yourself tightly as he drove home. You ignored all the glances he threw your way, shiying away from the hand that reached out for you.

All that happiness you felt drained out of you, leaving complete sadness behind.

Max was sad about the baby but he was more focused on you and the toll it took on you. It was always a possibility. The doctor spoke about what to expect on the first trimester and this was one of the things he mentioned. You both chose to ignore it at the time.

Max kept most of the lights off in the apartment. Remembering the bags with baby stuff from your online shopping. He kept the spare bedroom closed, where you were planning how to arrange it and paint it to transform it into the nursery.

He’s never seen you this devastated. After years of knowing you and dating you he never had the chance to see you at your lowest. It breaks his fucking heart.

Max holds you that night while you're in pain and bleeding. He rocks you as you cry, tears spilling from his eyes too as all that new hope is crushed.

You need him. Max is all you have at the moment because while he goes to race on the weekends and clear his head, you stay home with the weight of losing a baby.

Zandvoort | August 2023

With medical clearance and a couple of months to heal mentally. You and Max got to trying again.

You aren’t quitters and again you both desperately want a child. There's lots of sex, more than before. Something reignited in the relationship, like when the relationship began. Nothing could keep you away from Max back then.

He would fuck you wherever he could. Often times risking being seen. It was a moment where neither of you cared about being caught or being exposed to the whole world.

The Two-Time World Champion and the Grid’s Princess. Happily Married and Horny for Each Other.

The second time you found out you were pregnant was in Zandvoort, Max’s home race. You weren’t traveling as much trying to give your body rest and hopefully encourage it to take but this was a special track for Max so you tagged along.

Similar symptoms were arising so you waited to arrive at Zandvoort to take the test with Max. You were once again in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. He was between your legs, his head on your chest, waiting for the four minutes to be over.

“If it’s negative?” You asked, your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp to relax him.

“Then we try again and again and again,” he says cheekily, grabbing onto your thighs and kissing you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you giggle, pulling at his roots to make him groan.

“Perhaps but I’m not the one yelling out my name,” he smirks, recalling the other night when he had you with your legs up on his shoulders as he entered you slow and deep. If he closes his eyes he can hear your whiny moans begging for him to tip you over the edge.

“Poor Checo had to call the front desk and fill in a complaint,” you giggle, hiding your face from Max with your hands.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see his text,” Max shrugs, not having a care in the world.

He was in his suite with his wife, having fun and trying to conceive. It’s not his fault he was making you feel so good you felt the need to scream his name and it’s not his fault Checo’s bedroom was right next to yours. Blame the Red Bull team for reserving two suites right next to each other.

The triggering alarm sounds, making your heart race. This time you grab the test, deciphering what the faint lines mean. You ran out of the good pregnancy tests and you were too lazy to go out and get new ones.

“It’s positive!” You squeal, showing the home test to Max.

Max’s eyes widen, “We did it!”

“I'm so happy,” you tear up from joy, hugging Max’s shoulders. Nothing is stopping him tomorrow on the track. He’s going to ride this high as long as possible.

Max grabs your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. He carries you over to the bed, kissing your lips, your neck, your chest.

Max was going to make you scream out his name again.

There was little celebration. You and Max kept the news to yourselves for a while longer. You took every precaution on the book. You stopped traveling with Max afraid it was one of the causes of your first miscarriage. You took care of your diet, you did minimal exercise, took every prenatal vitamin you could find but much like the first time, it happened again.

This time you felt so defeated, like something was wrong with you. Like maybe you weren’t meant to bring a child into the world or become a mother.

Max found you on the balcony one night after it happened. It was freezing outside so he got a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“‘I'm sorry,” you sniffle, not meeting his eyes. Your tears were cold against your cheeks.

“For what?” Max asks, watching you carefully. Your eyes red rimmed and nose runny.

“There’s something wrong with me and I can’t give us a baby,” you cry softly, wiping away at your tears.

You feel so ashamed and embarrassed. Having a baby shouldn’t be this fucking hard. You’ve done so much in life and this simple thing you can’t do. Something your body was designed to do.

“Hey, no. You know what the doctor said. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s so many other ways we can have children together,” Max chides you, pulling his chair closer and grabbing your shoulders so you look at him.

“If there’s nothing wrong with me why does it keep happening?” You ask as your eyes well with more tears. They haven’t stopped in a good ten minutes.

“It’s not our time yet.” It’s the only thing Max can say. He doesn’t have all the answers in the world but there is one thing he’s sure of. “I love you no matter what.”

“I don’t want to go through this again.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. The words getting caught on your throat.

It’s not like you don’t want children because you desperately do but you can’t go through another disappointment. More pain and more blood. More false hope.

“You don’t have to,” Max tells you, comforting you the best way he can. He picks you up, settling you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head, coming up with words to make you feel better.

He doesn’t want a child if the process is going to cause you so much suffering. It’s hard seeing you like this when he’s used to seeing you be this independent strong woman, who broke barriers in a field of men.

He’s discovering a new side to you deep into your relationship. He loves you but it’s shocking to see you be this vulnerable when a lot of times you love to handle things on your own. In a way, he’s happy he’s able to be here with you and help you.

Monza | November 2023

In Formula One rumors spread like wildfire. Within the teams and its members and riders the reason for your break didn’t remain a secret for long.

It didn’t stop certain teams from reaching out and persuading you into joining them. As far as they know you’re not pregnant yet and you did promise to return one day.

As the only woman in the grid you pull in lots of sponsors and the media and fans love you. Having you on a team is a win all around, considering you also bring in trophies.

Ferrari is a big team showing their interest in you. They’ve sent your manager multiple invitations for you to come and visit Ferrari Headquarters. No strings attached just a simple tour and meeting.

It’s tempting. Driving for Ferrari is every F1 racers dream and to be invited to test out their car and talk business is an honor.

You went quietly to the meeting, undecided if it’s the choice you want to make. Mercedes awaits your return whenever you’re ready, having led them to victory many times alongside Lewis.

Oh, Toto Wolff has you in his sight constantly. If he knew you were at Monza he’d probably fly down and get you out. You’re one of his biggest assets yet.

“There's our princess,” Charles greets you, running up to you and giving you a big hug.

He missed having you around. The fans never let him forget of all the good times, constantly tagging him on instagram and twitter.

“Hey Charles,” you laugh as he sways you from side to side.

“I missed you,” he says as he guides you over to the garage.

“Missed me kicking your ass?” You quip, playfully pushing him.

“Please, competing against Max on my own is exhausting. Too much responsibility,” Charles admits.

“He’s having the time of his life.” Max has the most fun when there are challenges and Charles has proven to be a worthy one. Insults and all. He loves getting a rise out of him.

The Ferrari team sets you up with a bright red race suit, giving you a visual of what your future has in store.

The feel of the baclavla is familiar around your head and the weight of the helmet comforting. It’s been a year since you last wore the uniform and it feels like home.

You step into the car, slidding in the steering wheel. The crew gives you the signal to pull out and you do with a push on the gas.

The rumble of the engine is exhilarating as is the blend of colors around you. It comes back so naturally, knowing when to push the car when to break. Learning this car is easy, like it’s made for you.

It has the potential to be a winner, to help you achieve the goal of becoming world champion.

“Ready to join Scuderia Ferrari?” Frederic Vasseif asks you once you get out of the car. There’s a smugness to him. He knows you enjoyed it and you’re itching for more.

“I don’t know. Carlos seems to be doing really well,” you try to play it cool, taking off your helmet and baclavla to shake off your hair.

“He’s good but you’re the greatest,” Fred says, giving you a knowing look.

“If I accept it’s because I want to win the Championship,” you negotiate. Charles is the first driver and it makes sense he stays there since he’s been with the team longer but you will not sacrifice yourself for him.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fred agrees, extending his hand to shake yours.

“The predestined and the princess?” Charles smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile and bite your lip, “It’s time to take down Max Verstappen.”

No wonder the fans think there’s a long standing rivalry between you and Max. You talk a lot about taking him down and winning the championship. With the trust you two have he bites back with words of his own. It makes for quite a show. They’re going to lose it once it’s revealed you’re joining Ferrari.

Your joy returning home is palpable. Max notices it the moment you walk into your shared home in Monaco. The cats notice it too as they weave between your legs asking to be pet.

"Hi, love," Max greets you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. You wrap your arms your his neck loosely, smiling into the kiss.

He doesn't let you go when the kiss breaks, his thumbs caressing your back. You smile at him, a hand on his face, as your fingers brush over his stubble. He leans into it. “How did it go?”

“It's top secret," you say cheekily.

"Really?" Max follows along amusedly, "You can't even tell your dear husband Max Emilian?"

It's been an inside joke since you started dating that the person you're dating is Max Emilian and not Max Verstappen. Helps keep things separated to a certain degree but mostly it's funny.

"Well, if it's Max Emilian asking I can tell him that I've just signed with Ferrari and that Max Verstappen will have some serious competition next year," you tell him as your smile widens.

“Congratulations!" Max exclaims, hugging you tightly. You laugh is music in his ears. From the moment you stepped in he knew something changed. You were laughing and smiling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m a Ferrari girl now and I’m going to take that title from you,” she boasts, playfully pushing him.

“That’s a big statement,” he says, playfully caging her in his arms. Max adores that her competitive streak is back, it's one of the things he fell in love with when you began dating.

Being married means being there in the bad and the good, in sickness and in health. He'll be by your side through it all but he'd rather have you be happy and competitive than depressed and anxious.

“What you think I can’t do it?” You laugh when he tries tickling you. Your this close to elbowing him if he doesn't stop.

Finally letting up, he cups your face and looks into your eyes as he says, “If there’s someone who is going to do it, it’s you. You're my girl after all.”

f1 posted on instagram: The Princess is back and in red. Everyone bow down. 📸: Reader wearing a Ferrari race suit posing in front of the new Ferrari SF-23. Comments: user8: holy shit she’s back

user95: this was not on my bingo card, but it was in my dreams every night since she left -> user57: like a wise woman once said in rome; this is what dreams are made of

user72: guess she had enough of that married life and is back to wreck these boys

user14: i might actually fucking cry. our queen is back and in ferrari red -> user98: red is definitely her color. -> user67: you know who's color it is too? charles... ->user53: you know who likes charles? max... ->user17: i can't with you 💀

user67: i want to see max squirm with both charles and her against him -> user55: please if anything it’ll turn him on -> user45: hell even i'm turned on

user88: wait does this mean she can’t curse at charles anymore? -> user68: don't worry, the second charles gets in her way it's coming. don't you remember that one time she almost crashed with lewis and she let him have it? -> user 90: i've never seen lewis be that fast outside of a car

user12: i’ve got my editing program ready, i’ll get all the edits. max x princess, predestined x princess, max x charles, i got them all -> user56: i'm not picky, i'll help -> user02: you should do one where she's walking in like in those wwe fights with the dramatic music

Monaco | Nov 2024

The conversation about the pregnancy is kept on pause. You and Max wait till you're back home in Monaco to continue it. It's fresh in your minds though as you try and make sense of he timing of it all.

There's only two more races to the season, you are so close to the end. You wish you hadn't found out till much later, they do say ignorance is bliss.

You're filled with fear and uncertainty. What if this pregnancy ends up like the rest? What if you give up the championship for something that might not even happen? But what if you chose the championship and give up a viable pregnancy?

The morning after arriving at Monaco you're in the kitchen with your laptop in front of you as you schedule an appointment with your doctor. The cup of coffee you made earlier is now cold as you could barely drink it with so many thoughts in your head.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning at the headache forming so early in the day.

Max finds you like that and he knows it's time to talk. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss and resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugs you from behind.

"What's on your mind, schatje?"

You take a deep breath, focusing on him to try and gather your thoughts, "I don't know what to do, Maxie. What do I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that I want to have a baby with you but I don’t want you to go through all that pain again or feel pressured that you need to do this for me. I love you and I want you to be happy. If it's choosing your career I'm here for you. If it's starting a family I'm here as well," Max says as he hugs you tighter until you relax against him.

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as they lie on your midsection. "It's the fact that the first two didn't end well and it was such a horrible experience. If I knew for a fact I was going to give birth to this baby I would drop the championship in a heartbeat."

"I'm happy with whatever you choose. Even if you decide that carrying a baby isn't for you. Later on we can try surrogacy or adoption."

It's 2024 and there are tons of options out there in the case you want to become parents. It doesn't have to be one way or no way. Plus, they are young and have their lives ahead of them.

"Really? You couldn’t be like one of the awful men who insist women need to have a baby? You’re making this hard on me," you lightly joke, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it.

Max laughs along with you. He knows you've made a decision even if you haven't realized. He's only there to guide you. “You already made a decision, schatje.”

Your eyes return to your laptop where the appointment with the specialty clinic is displayed. “I need to give this pregnancy a chance. I mean think about it. I've raced, I've drank alcohol and it's still here. It happened against all odds, Maxie. What if it’s a sign? That the timing is right,” you say, recalling the conversation you had with him a year ago. “I just hate I need to withdraw from the rest of the races.”

Max made a decision that same moment, “I’ll pull out from the races too.” It feels shitty that because you're a woman you have to pull out the races for your safety and the baby's while he continues on like nothing has happened.

“What? That’s insane Max,” you exclaim, staring at him bewildered.

“It’s only fair. You have to do it to have OUR baby, why do you have to be the only one who quits?”

You laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his chest, “You’re not doing that, Max. This is F1 and it’s ruthless which is why you’re so good at it. Besides, with last Sunday's race you're already ahead of me and there's no chance the others are catching up with two races to go. The title is yours," you reassure him, kissing the corner of his mouth, “It’s not my time to be a world champion yet and maybe it never will. I have to accept that."

Max scoffs, poking his tongue on his cheek, “No, you will be. Once you have this baby you’re coming back even if I have to give away my seat in Red Bull.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you hum, looking into his eyes.

“You beat me on your rookie year,” he reminds you.

Back when you started in F1 and neither you or Max were on the top you had friendly battles in the midst of the races. It wasn't for podium but it kept the fans entertained and recruiters eyes on you both. Max beat you most times but there was one day you beat him on a wet race which is unheard of.

“Once!”

“Once was enough!” He insists. Max fell in love with your competitive side, it didn't matter if you beat him or not. That day when you approached him with that big smile and malicious intent in your eyes he was done for.

“How will we handle the media?” He steers the conversation a different place. He's not sure how much longer he can keep the relationship a secret with a baby on the way.

“Same as always. They can’t know about us yet, Maxie. They will throw your name on the ground and say horrible things.”

If the media finds out that you're pregnant with Max's baby they will say it's sabotage cause he felt threatened that you were going to take the title from him. They don't care for details.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this a secret,” he confesses, trying to reason with you.

“Not long okay? After the baby comes,” you promise him. After the baby comes you will tell the world everything.

F1_news tweeted: The Grid's Princess is withdrawing from the rest of the races this season due to her health. Not much is known yet. Carlos Sainz to take over her seat.

comments:

user56: not again please -> user97: i'm in tears -> user57: alexa play 'see you again' by charlie puth

user64: i hope she's doing okay and is able to return next year. she was so close on getting the championship

user76: i love the queen but i'm happy to get charlos back again! -> user34: it's very bitter sweet isn't it? -> user57: i wonder if she'll be back with ferrari next year? -> user45: well her contract is for two years so if she's okay when the next season starts i don't see why not -> user08: contracts mean nothing in F1 user04: get ready to witness a pouty max -> user 87: these next few races will be a piece of cake and he hates it -> user72: i love lando and charles but there's no way they are going to give him a hard time

user46: this is the end of the princess, who is going to want her back? -> user 43: get the fuck out of here you hater -> user345: who asked for your opinion?

F1_fanpage: The Grid's princess seen walking out of a clinic specialized in complicated pregnancies. 📸

user45: holy shit, it all makes fucking sense she’s pregnant -> user58: i didn't want to say anything but dizzy and nausea? it’s textbook pregnancy

user67: our queen is having a prince(ss) -> user176: who is the fucking dad? -> user404: he needs to be a part of F1 for her to still be around when she should be home resting

user47: she's glowing

user68: not her audibly rooting for carlos on the latest race -> user99: well it is only temporary and it's not like they kicked her out. she left because she had to -> user55: we love a supportive queen either way

user88: did ya'll see her interacting with max and charles after the race? they were so careful with her. it makes so much sense! -> user44: i'm hyperventilating we got a max hug! -> user 67: better yet we got a charles hug! -> user12: opening up my editing program as we speak

Part 2 Coming Soon

The world is aware you're now pregnant. You got a job working for the F1 social media and interview team during your pregnancy. Rumors keep spreading about who your husband and baby daddy is. Fans keep shipping you with Max and Charles. Max might just explode if he doesn’t tell everyone, but will he?

[cntloup]

Ex-Husband!Simon takes you to the hospital after he saves you from your abusive partner

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He grits his teeth together and clenches the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as the words leave your mouth, explaining what happened to you all this time.

You make it to the hospital in under 10 minutes although he still maintained a safe speed and remained focused for your safety. 

They admit you quickly and he stays by your side, holding your hand and cooing praises in your ear while they tend to your wounds and you squeeze his hand as you wince and whine out of pain. 

“It’s ok, love. They're nearly done. You're doing so well.” he whispers against your temple on your uninjured side and softly kisses your skin. 

They finish patching you up and tell you that you should stay for the night due to a mild concussion. 

He sits on a chair by your bed while resting his head on the edge of the bed and holding your hand all throughout the night. 

In the morning, he wakes up with a stiff neck, but the only thing that matters to him is that you’re safe. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, still slightly dizzy and confused as he helps you get inside the car. 

“You’re staying with me, dove.” he responds. 

The car ride to his place is quiet as your mind is still foggy. 

You softly take his hand in yours and place it on your thigh, needing to feel his touch in order to make sure he’s truly there and it’s not all just a dream. 

He feels his breath hitch in his throat, trying so hard to keep his focus on the road.

“You really saved me, Si. Thank you.” you mumble as if in disbelief that he really showed up, your knight in shining armor. 

You've been dreaming about him saving you for so long and now that it’s finally happened, it feels like a dream. 

“ ‘course, love. What? You thought that I would leave you with that monster?” he retorts, eyebrows furrowed. 

“It’s just that... we haven’t even been talking for such a long time. I started to feel like you were so far away. Out of my reach. You know?” you respond in a soft voice. 

It makes his heart crumble in his chest to hear you say that. He knows exactly how you felt all this time. 

“Well I’m here now, luv. And I’m not going anywhere. As in... if you’ll have me of course.” he remarks, slightly shaking his head at himself, nearly spilling out all he wanted to tell you all this time. 

But it’s not the right moment yet. You need time to heal first. 

“Ok, Mr. Riley.” you say, a loving smile dancing on your lips as your beautiful face shines in the morning sunlight. 

He nearly crashes the car as he turns to look at you.

The first smile you gave him since he saw you. 

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[gutsby]

Cry, Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.

Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.

Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.

“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”

You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.

You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.

Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.

“Joel—”

“Keep goin’.”

“This ain’t fair!”

Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.

“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”

‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.

Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.

You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.

Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.

“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.

Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.

“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.

You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.

The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.

The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.

“Sorry for what?” Joel said.

At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.

“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.

“And Lucien?”

“And Lucien.”

“And—”

“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”

Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.

“And?”

“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.

Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.

As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.

“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.

Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.

“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”

As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.

“You.” Your voice was raw.

“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.

Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.

The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.

Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.

“Cry a little more,” he urged.

Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”

It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?

You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.

Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’

You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.

His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.

In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.

It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.

Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.

You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.

He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:

“Crybaby.”

[paddockletters]

learning to drive | charles leclerc

paring: charles leclerc x reader summary: Charles decides it's time to teach you how to drive, leading to playful teasing, a heartwarming day filled with laughter, and ove author's note: none, just my request are open

Ever since I casually mentioned over dinner that I’d never learned to drive, Charles has been on a mission to poke fun at me whenever he gets the chance.

“Babe, how do you plan on surviving in Monaco without driving? The buses are not exactly your style,” he’d tease, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“I survive just fine with you as my chauffeur,” I always shot back, rolling my eyes but secretly loving the attention.

But today, he was determined to change that.

We were sitting at home, the sunlight streaming through the windows, when he suddenly jumped off the couch with a burst of energy.

“Alright, that’s it. We’re fixing this today,” Charles announced, grabbing his car keys.

“What? Fixing what?” I asked, confused but also slightly amused.

“Your inability to drive,” he said, flashing that cheeky grin I couldn’t resist.

“Oh no, Charles, I don’t think—”

Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the driver’s seat of his fancy sports car, feeling both excited and terrified. The leather seats smelled brand new, and everything about the car screamed speed, wealth, and Charles.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you teach me how to drive in this car,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel.

“Relax, it’s just a car,” he said casually, sliding into the passenger seat with a smirk. “Besides, I trust you.”

His words should’ve been comforting, but when the car was worth more than an apartment in Monaco, that trust felt like a lot of pressure.

“Okay,” he started, hands gesturing to the pedals, “this is the accelerator, this is the brake. You’ve seen me do it a thousand times.”

“I know how cars work, Charles,” I retorted, giving him a playful glare. “I’m just... not sure I want to wreck this one.”

“Good, good, just checking,” he smirked. “Now, gently press on the gas…”

I did as he said, and the car jerked forward slightly. I could hear him stifling a laugh next to me.

“Smooth,” he teased. “Real smooth.”

I glared at him. “This is harder than it looks!”

“Babe, you’re driving at like, 2 km/h. We’re gonna be here all day at this rate,” he said, his tone playful.

“Do you want to walk home?” I shot back, trying to focus on keeping the car steady.

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. Let’s take it easy. You’re doing great. We’ll get you to 10 km/h in no time.”

I hesitantly pressed the accelerator, and the car jolted forward—too quickly for my liking. Charles stifled a laugh beside me, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh my God, don’t laugh!” I groaned, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

“I’m not laughing, I swear!” he said, clearly lying but trying to hold it together. “You’re doing great.”

We crept forward at a snail’s pace, Charles offering pointers every few minutes. But it didn’t take long for him to start making jokes again.

“Maybe we should install a ‘Learner Driver’ sign on the back,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He grinned and leaned back in his seat, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“You know, for someone who’s never driven before, you’re doing surprisingly well. Maybe you’re a natural. Leclerc blood rubbing off on you.”

I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face. Maybe I was doing okay after all.

“Okay, let’s try turning,” he said, gesturing toward the wheel. “You can turn, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laughed, gripping the wheel a little too tightly as I made the slowest turn in history.

“Wow, look at that! You’re a natural!” he said, clapping his hands in mock celebration. “Next stop: the Monaco Grand Prix.”

After a few laps around the parking lot, Charles leaned over, his voice softer now. “Alright, ready for a challenge?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of challenge?”

“Parking,” he said, pointing to an empty spot nearby. “Right there. Show me what you’ve got.”

I glanced at the spot. It looked impossibly small, though I knew it wasn’t. I shot him a skeptical look.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s the perfect idea,” he said with a wink. “And if you nail it, I’ll buy you whatever dessert you want tonight.”

“Oh, now you’re bribing me,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. But I couldn’t deny the extra motivation it gave me.

“Alright,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got this.”

Slowly, I started to pull into the spot. The car edged forward, my hands gripping the wheel tightly, my eyes focused on the lines. And then… the car stopped.

“You stalled it,” he said, his voice barely containing his amusement.

“I know!” I groaned, slumping in my seat as he burst into laughter.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even F1 drivers stall sometimes,” he said between chuckles. “But, uh, maybe not in parking lots.”

I shot him a look. “You’re the worst teacher ever.”

“But the best driver you know,” he winked, before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You were so close!” Charles exclaimed, laughing. “Come on, you’ve got this.”

I groaned, slumping back in my seat. “I’m never going to be good at this.”

He reached over, placing a hand on mine.

“Hey, you’re doing amazing. This is your first time. Do you know how many parking tickets I got when I was learning? My mom was not happy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the image of a younger Charles struggling with parking, despite now being one of the best drivers in the world. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. She threatened to stop letting me borrow her car if I didn’t learn to park properly,” he chuckled.

That gave me a bit more confidence. I took a deep breath and tried again, this time managing to park the car (sort of) successfully. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t terrible either.

Charles grinned proudly. “There you go. I knew you had it in you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. F1 driver,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling.

He laughed and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Next time, we’ll take you out on the road.”

My eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “But don’t worry, I’ll be right here the whole time, making fun of you.”

I laughed, feeling a mixture of excitement and terror at the idea of driving on actual streets. But with Charles by my side, I figured I might just survive.

As we sat in the car, a comfortable silence settled between us. My thoughts drifted back to when Charles had just started in Formula 1. I remember how nervous he was before his first race in Australia. He tried to hide it, but I could see right through him.

“I was so scared back then,” he admitted, reading my mind. “I was terrified I’d mess it up.”

“But you didn’t,” I said, smiling softly at him. “You were incredible.”

“I had you there,” he said, glancing over at me. “That helped.”

I blushed slightly, remembering how I’d stayed up with him the night before his first race, talking about anything and everything to calm his nerves. We talked about his childhood, how he used to race go-karts with his dad, and how much it meant to him to follow in Jules Bianchi’s footsteps.

“Do you ever miss those days?” I asked, curious.

“Sometimes,” he said, nodding. “Things were simpler then. Less pressure. But I wouldn’t trade where I am now for anything.”

“Not even for fewer teasing moments like this?” I joked.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not even for that.”

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 9: Soap’s Date

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Soap x Reader (+ Ghost), sex on the exterior, lots of butt stuff, oral sex, anal sex, phone sex, Soap being an absolute mutt as usual, voyeurism. I think that's it.

“Tell me again, Johnny.” You say yawning, looking back at Johnny as he finishes getting everything in the car. “Why are we leaving so early? The sun is not even out.”

“Because, mo ghraidh, I only have a day with you for myself alone.” He says once he has secured everything, he closes the boot and opens the driver's side door to sit down behind the steering wheel before he keeps talking. “And we have already wasted 4 hours.”

“I wouldn't call it waste, you know? Taking into consideration humans are supposed to sleep 8 of them.” You say chuckling when you see him pout and you move your arm over his seat to rest your forearm on his shoulder and caress the back of his head. 

“Do you no longer love me, bonnie?” He asks, dramatically sighing and covering his eyes with a hand. 

You playfully slap his shoulder. “If the military ever fails you should pursue a career in acting, Johnny.”

“Will you be my date when I get my second Oscar?” He asks, completely dropping the act of being sad to look at you smiling.

“Your second?” You ask chuckling.

“Yeah, sorry, I already promised my first to Gaz.” He admits, making you laugh out loud. 

“Fine, fine. Second Oscar for me then, got it.” You say smiling, taking your arm back to fasten your seatbelt when Soap does the same.

The sun is just starting to rise by the time he turns off the engine at the top of the cliff. 

“What you think?” He asks, smiling when you lean down resting on the dashboard to see more clearly. 

“Almost as pretty as you, Johnny.” You say cheeky winking at him.

“Hey, you stole my line!” He complains, a little pink blush on the top of his cheeks. He opens his door to get out making you chuckle at his escape attempt. 

You try to open your door, setting a foot outside just to be pushed back inside by a hand on your face. Once you are back inside he closes the door, waits a second and opens it back again holding a hand for you 

“Oh, my. Such a gentleman, Johnny.” You say sarcastically making him chuckle. 

“I know, right?” He says with a boyish smile that makes you want to squish his face. 

You finally step out, letting him close the door behind you. He goes to the back, opens the boot and hands you the bag with food so he can take the tent out. 

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to sleep in the car?” You ask, seeing him pick up everything else.

“To sleep maybe, but to do to you what I'm planning to do… the tent is better.” He says, winking at you and making you blush this time. 

“Oh, wait, what you said yesterday…” you trail off.

“I meant it.” He says chuckling. “As long as you want, of course.”

“Yeah, no, that's not it…” you say, a nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. He quickly catches it, dropping everything on the floor and walking up to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you softly. “Don't worry your pretty head about the bureaucracy, love. I'll make sure to eat you out long, and sweet, and nicely.” He says between kisses making you melt in his hands. “And I'll make you cum again, and again, and again. I'll get all soft and needy, by the time I get my dick in your tight little ass you'll be such a mess the only thing you'll be able to think it's about how good it feels.” He says, looking at your eyes. “Sounds good?” He asks, and you quickly nod as if you couldn't feel your panties starting to get moist. “Perfect, let's get everything set.”

He pats your head with a kiss to your forehead and picks everything back up, turning around the car to where he wants to set the tent and you are left stunned for a moment before you pick yourself up and walk after him.

He sets up the tent with ease, giving you orders to help him when a second person is needed (not that he couldn't set it on his own, he could easily. But he uses it as an excuse to walk behind you, grinding against you as he does; his hand travelling up and down your body) and by the time the tent is ready and everything is tidy; you are already an absolute mess. Grumpy with need and bothered by his apparent lack of effect.

“What has your knickers on a twist, bonnie lass?” He asks, chuckling when he sees your arms crossed.

“You!” You say simply, sitting down on the mattress. 

“Me?” He asks smiling, laying down next to you propping his head on his flexed arm. “Or the thought of me fucking you silly, mo ghraidh?”

“Johnny!” You exclaim, trying to slap his chest but he catches your hand pulling you on top of him. “Don't be nasty…”

“Oh, love. Don't play coy on me now, I know you love it when I speak pure filth to you.” He says, his hand pulling your leg up so you are resting closer to his face. “Am I wrong?”

You advert his gaze, looking at his hand on your thigh. “I don't know what you are talking about…”

He laughs, shaking you with him. “You are a smart girl to try that with me, if you tried that with Price he would have you crying already for spanking you like a brat, you know?”

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Johnny boy.” You joke smiling looking at him, thinking he is just bluffing.

“Oh, I do.” He answers right away, smiling at the memory. You look at him with an eyebrow raised, the mental image of Soap lying on Price's lap getting his ass beat is interesting if anything. “Ha… you wanna see it, don’t cha, nasty girl?”

“You know what? I may get you in trouble just to see it.” You joke, saying it only to get a raise out of him. 

“Keep being naughty, and I'll be the lucky one seeing it.” He says, grabbing a handful of your asscheek and gripping it hard until you whine about it. Feeling as if you just got slapped on the ass without the kinkiness of it. “Take off your clothes, love.”

It takes you by surprise the sudden change in action. “Like that? Just… straight at it?” You ask, a bit dumbfounded.

“Well, we can go on a hike if you prefer it.” He says chuckling when you put a disgusted expression on your face. “Then get naked.”

You oblige, trying to keep the facade of mild annoyance, while he takes his clothes to sit down and you can't help but stare at his jet to get hard dick. 

“You are not even turned on, Johnny.” You say, looking at him with a smirk. “Need a hand?”

“Oh, no, don't even worry about it, love. It's just a matter of time, and the earliest I get my mouth on you the earlier it'll get hard.” He says smiling, his hands pulling you closer and down on your stomach on the mattress. 

“Wait.” You say, propping yourself on your elbow to look back at him. He raises his eyes that were looking at your naked ass to look at your face with a worried expression. “If I don't…”

“If you don't like it.” He cuts you off, leaning forward close to your face. “I stop. If you don't like the ass attention but want to keep going I'll humbly go apeshit crazy on your godly cunt and if you simply are not in the mood for action, I'll go behind a tree and fuck my fist like a monkey.” He says, exaggerating his choice of words to make you smile; you cup his face when he gives you a peck looking into your eyes for reassurance. “Alright, love? Talk to me, alright? I'll have my mouth busy, not my ears.” He jokes, taking away the little nervousness left on your body. “Get your ass up, on your knees. I want to taste that delightful cunt of yours, love.”

You smile, softly slapping his face with playfulness and get on your hands and knees, bending down and crossing your arms to rest your head on them; arching your back leaving Soap the full view of your cunt and ass when you slightly spread your legs. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, birdie. What kind of ring do you want? I'll buy it for you tomorrow, you just gotta ask.” He mumbles, feeling his breath getting closer and closer to your wetness. A sigh escapes your mouth when you feel his tongue go flat from your mount up to your ass leaving a kiss on the small of your back at the end. “Fucking delicious, bonnie.”

He does again, and again, and again; you look between your legs and you see a glob of your arousal mixed with his spit stretching down from your cunt right onto the tip of his hardening tip making him grunt at the same time you moan because of the filth of the image. 

He plants both his hands on your ass, spreading it to have better access to your crying cunt; shoving his face against it but still delightfully slow. It catches you by surprise the calmness with which he is doing it, it is still by no way methodical, but it is not as chaotic as you expected. It's slow, tongue hard against your fold making you feel every twitch of the muscle and groans that leave his throat which accompanied by the way he’s thrusting the air unconsciously makes you wonder who is enjoying more. You feel your orgasm approach, surprising you again, there has not been an increase in the speed or a change of focus from him. Just lazy swipes of his tongue on your cunt up to your asshole, but you shudder when you come; ecstasy flooding your nerves and making you moan his name. But it's not the kind of orgasm that leaves you shaking and silly-minded, is the type that makes you move your hips back looking for more, angry at the betrayal of your body for coming so fast.

“That's a good fucking girl.” Soap groans against your pussy and you hear the smile on his voice. “Thank you for coming so fast, dear. I couldn't wait to get my tongue inside your ass.” He says, biting down on your asscheek making you whine. 

He moves back, sitting down between your legs and he moves his hands under your body pulling you back against his face before he licks right on your hole. You moan at the feeling, the nastiness of it all only fueling the pleasure. “Ghost is going to be so fucking jealous I get your arse all for myself, birdie. You have no idea.” 

“Fuck, Johnny…” you moan, pussy throbbing at the lack of attention. You try to reach it with your hand, needing to feel something inside. 

“Now, what in the hell do you think you are doing?” He asks, annoyance in his voice when he slaps your hand, your pussy getting slapped in the process as well making you hiss. “Are you so greedy you can't even let me get my fair share of your ass? You just came, birdie. You just can't simply wait to get stuffed, right?” 

You whine, too embarrassed to admit it but horny enough to push your ass back against him. He lands a hard smack on your ass making you cry, grabs both of your hands making you rest your body weight on your face when he moves them both behind your back and dives back on your ass making you moan.

He has you bent almost in half, your thigh pressed against your chest squishing your tits which Soap takes to his advantage when he starts to thrust forward rubbing his tip between them almost edging himself with the light touch. 

He groans against your asshole, the tip on his tongue probing again and again, slowly but surely getting deeper until you feel his teeth on your skin, tongue as deep as possible making your eyes roll back when he moves it in and out, thrusting his tongue onto your ass. 

His tip pouring a droplet of precum down between your tits up to your neck like a delicate necklace and you twist your wrist needing to grab his hand. He interlocks his fingers with yours, and if the situation was different you would laugh at how it feels more intimate to feel his hand on yours than to feel his tongue inside of you. 

You are a babbling mess by the time he decides he has had enough, mind so blurry you can't even tell if you came again. He ate your pussy as if he was kissing it, soft, gentle and calm. But at some point after that, when your ass got into the mix, it changed into a Soap with almost a primal need to get as deep as possible inside of you. 

He lays you on your stomach, still not letting go of your hands. You hear him look for something in the bags, and he drops it beside your head a second later. You turn your head to the side and you see what he found; a bottle of lube and his phone currently on a call. 

“Who-” You question get cut off by a gasp when you feel Soap's tip rub your clit.

“Pickup, c’mon, pickup, pickup, pickup.” You hear Soap mumble over you, the ringing of the call still going. 

“What, Johnny?” The unmistakable sound of Ghost's voice erupts from the phone and you furrow your eyebrows.

“Fucking finally, Lt. Look out the window, now.” The scotsman orders, which makes the mancunian chuckle at the desperation. 

“Johnny, what are you-” Your question gets cut off by a moan that could easily classify as a scream when Soap bottoms out inside of your cunt in one swift thrust. The stretch making little white dots appear on your vision and you damn well if you were not dripping with arousal he would have broken you in two. 

“Oh, hi, birdie. I see you are having fun.” Ghost says chuckling. “Go easy on her, Johnny.”

“I can't…” Soap mumbles, his head resting on top of yours. “So fucking tight, I just know her ass is going to choke my dick so nice.” 

The two men talk about you as if you were not even there, the stinging sensation quickly dissipates when he starts to thrust; slowly as if asking for forgiveness for his lack of control just a moment ago. 

Soap bends down, moving a hand under your jaw to pick your head up. “Look at the window, birdie.” He says. You are completely confused for a second, barely able to see the building in the distance, let alone a window. “Do it, Ghost.” 

In that second, an almost missable flint of lights appears on one of the windows catching your attention. “Do you see me, birdie?” Ghost asks through the phone. “Because I can see you.”

Soap groans over you. “Oh, she sees you, Lt.” He chuckles. “And by the way she's clenching. She likes it.”

“Aww, does our little bird like to be watched?” Ghost coos, amusement in his voice. 

“Hmm, ‘s you.” You mumble between moans, struggling to articulate the words.

“What is it, love?” Soap asks, bending down to kiss your shoulder as his hips slowly stop to let you talk.

“I like it… cause is you…” You half whine, embarrassed to say it more clearly. But it is more than enough for Ghost, who feels his heart and dick throb at the declaration. 

“Johnny.” He groans.

“Yes, Lt?” Soap answers, same struggle as you.

“Do me a favour… fuck her nice… and turn on the camera.”

“Gladly, sir” He says straightening himself, picking up the phone and the lube on his way. He turns the camera on, pointing it to where the two of you are connected; opens up the lube bottle before dropping a blob over your asshole.

“I bet you wish this was you, ah?” Johnny smiles as he teases Ghost, his thumb pressing down on your hole slowly before entering with ease thanks to the lube and the fact you are already fucked out of your mind. 

You moan softly when he does, pressing his finger down against the thin wall between his finger and his dick that is still inside of you. He grabs your asscheek, thumb still inside, spreading you for Ghost to see. 

“You are a bloody lucky bastard, Johnny.” You hear Ghost groan, sounds of clothes being moved around can be heard from the phone. “But don't test it.”

He removes the thumb, getting his index in instead; moving it in when he moves his dick back, and the finger out when he moves his dick in. It's such an alien feeling, the stinging from the stretch long gone and replaced with the arousal of his finger and dick moving in and out.

“Hold the phone for me, love.” Soap says before changing the camera to front view, you hold it over your shoulder letting Ghost see the way Soap is working you open on his fingers. 

Soap grabs the lube again, spurring it over his finger generously before adding a second one; the phone shaking on your phone when you moan at the stretch. He scissors his fingers opening you up, his dick still moving slowly inside of your drenched cunt; more to keep your mind busy with pleasure than for his own. 

There is something so filthy about the whole ordeal, doing something “prohibited”, the sound of Soap shaking the lube bottle, the sound of the lube being squished onto your body, the sound of his fingers fucking it inside of you, the sound of your pussy sucking his dick in. 

He takes his time, making sure you are stretched nicely and loose, wanting to make you feel nothing but pleasure when he finally fucks you. It takes him four fingers inside of you to feel like you are ready for him. By that time, you are an absolute mess; using every bit of strength left to hold the phone. 

And your mind can't help but wonder about how it would be if Ghost was also in the tent, if Soap was not opening you up for himself but for his lieutenant. How it would be to be in between the two men.

“Johnny…” you moan, desperate for more. “Please…”

“Sshhh, birdie.” He shushes you when you cry for him. “I know, baby, I know.” He bends down, kissing your back and slowly taking his fingers out. “I'm gonna do it slowly, alright? Don't hold your breath, just relax.”

You nod eagerly, needy of the feeling of his hips hitting yours. Johnny moves your hand with the phone, holding it down so he can see your face on the screen when he fucks you. 

And when his tip catches your puffy hole, your eyes close and your jaw falls open leaving your mouth in an o shape. But you do just as he said, relaxed taking deep breaths as you feel the man split you open. 

“C’mon, bonnie lass. Let me in.” Soap grunts in your ear when you clench down out of pleasure. He kisses your neck, under your ear, making your eyes roll as you bite your lips; relaxing and allowing him to keep pushing his hips. 

Mumbles can be heard from the phone, the man struggling to stay quiet at the sight of his lovers getting their brains fuck out together. He has had his dick out for a while now in the solitude of his office, not wanting to touch it leaving it red and angry. But the sounds of your and Soap's moan in harmony is enough to have him fisting his dick, squeezing his tip, milking the firsts bead of precum out of it.

Soap thrust shallowly, wanting to move but hating the thought of leaving your warm body. You can feel him drool on your shoulder blade and you would make fun of him if you weren't on the same train. 

“Let me see it, Johnny.” Ghost grunts, the sound of spitting in the background of the call.

Soap whines, hating his devotion to the british man that makes his body move before he can acknowledge it. He holds your thigh raising it and turning you to lay on your side with a leg in the air and Soap lying behind you. He picks the phone from your hand, resting it on the lube bottle so Ghost can see the way he fucks you and both their faces at the same time. 

Ghost groans at the sight, his fist moving faster; the image on the phone shaky with the speed at which he fucks his hand. But the way you moan when Soap begins to thrust inside and out of you is enough to have Ghost pull his head back with a groan. 

Soap sees the way you furrow your eyebrows, such an exquisite feeling but still needing the extra stimulation of a hand on your clit. And you have been such a good girl? How can he not obey your needs when you have been so good? 

So he uses his lubed hand, trapped under your body, and moves it down to rest on your puffy clit, rubbing circles on it. Slowly at first, just as his thrusts; rising up the speed of both at the same time. 

It has you curling your toes, moaning his name to the cliff just outside the tent. He locks his arm under your knee, pulling it closer leaving you even more exposed and he starts to kiss your body. On your knee, your thigh, your temple, your cheek. He can barely do it, just smearing his spit-covered lips over your body leaving a sticky trail of saliva over you; whining when he can’t manage to kiss you on your lips fast enough. 

Ghost is edging himself, he knows it, he's slouched on the chair; having slipped down on it when thrusting up to his fist. His feet hurt with the way they are arched to keep him seated and his elbow is in an awkward position under the armrest. Still, his hand is moving so fast is just a blurry image and he knows that the moment either of you comes he'll follow.

So when he finally hears you moan, loudly enough that if he wasn't on a phone call he would have heard it from the window, making Soap grunt as he bites down on your shoulder as he comes as well deep inside of you. Ghost can't help it but to moan, throwing his head back, phone falling on his chest as he needs the extra hand not to fall from the chair as he cums over his hand and onto his abdomen. Phone rising with his breath, finally seeing the way your legs shake after you cum; Soap letting your leg down to rest and hugging you tightly against him as he kisses your face. Smiling when he sees you melt into his arms, and the two of you look like cats grooming each other. 

“Thank you for calling, Johnny. Enjoy your date, birdie.” He says, still breathing hard before hanging up, struggling to find the energy to clean up and get back to work. 

“You did so good, birdie.” Soap says, kissing your cheek. “Did you like it, lovie?”

You nod, unable to speak with your eyes unfocused on the ceiling of the tent. “Yeah… yeah I did…”

He chuckles behind you, kissing you again and again, his softening cock still inside of you and with no plan of leaving. 

It turns into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other warmth. You look up to him, smiling when you see him look down at you with a stupid smile on his face. You cup his face, smiling fondly when he leans into the touch. “Johnny…” you call, only getting a “hm?” as an answer. “Is it weird if I think I'm starting to fall in love with you guys?” You say, before realising you have just declared your feeling to most likely the worst of them to do so. Especially when you see his face shine in mischievousness, he laughs loudly before crushing you in a bear hug that has you ready to hear a bone pop. 

“AW, BIRDIE, I CAN'T WAIT TO TELL EVERYONE YOU LOVE ME THE MOST!”

“JOHNNY, THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAI-”

Your attempt to defend yourself gets crushed when Soap kisses you harshly, making you whine and letting his tongue inside of your mouth. It is not much longer before you feel his dick get back ready into action, and let's just say you were really glad that Soap packed isotonic drinks for when you are finished that day.

Hi, my lovelies!! 💗💗💗

How have you been?

I already have the next one written, hehe. My plan is to write the rest and post it as I go, maybe work on some requests. Those of you waiting for Spidey and the new series, please just be as patient as you have been for this one it really means a lot to me ❤️

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About You Pt3

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife

2009, Hungaroring

There was at least 2 weeks before Formula 1 went back to racing. It means that there was 2 weeks for Y/N to hide herself and that embarrassing situation she was in. 2 weeks to prepare herself how to pretend on how to act if she sees Sebastian.

'As long as Sebastian does not bring it up then I will pretend that nothing happened' she told herself.

She tried not to think about the incident by allowing herself to be buried with answering emails and looking into other things needed pre-race.

"Did you eat already?"

A sudden orange appeared in between her and the computer screen. Y/N didn't have to look up to see which driver handed the orange because there was only one driver who would always give her an orange.

"I haven't got the chance yet"Y/N replied to Sebastian

"You should probably eat. It's not good that you aren't eating" Sebastian insisted "Can't Mark do these things?"

"I'm his personal assistant remember, I'm paid to do these"

"But is it really necessary to finish it at the moment?"

It was pointless to argue with Sebastian so Y/N took the orange and closed her laptop.

"Happy?"she asked

"Very much"

The two of them started eating the oranges brought by Sebastian. It was a habit that the two have, Sebastian calls it a pre-race ritual. He actually believes he performs better when they share oranges. So here they are sitting and enjoying the oranges.

In the back of their minds, they are both thinking about that night at the hotel but there is a certain peace between the them. They don't want to ruin things by saying something stupid.

"You heard what happened with Massa right?"Y/N tried to establish a new topic just to get things off her overthinking.

"Absolutely felt bad for him. It's a good thing that he seems to be in a stable condition"Sebastian said.

The qualifying incident yesterday has been terrifying to watch. Y/N didn't want that happening to either Sebastian or Mark or even any other driver. Her heart dropped when she saw Massa being wheeled out unconscious to the hospital.

"Do you sometimes think that you'll ever stop racing?"Y/N wondered "You have been racing since you were like young and now you are stil racing"

"I honestly don't know, racing is all I have ever known" Sebastian admitted.

"I know, you were born gripping on a steering gear I bet" Y/N joked which made Sebastian laugh too.

"But seriously, if you ever want to retire of racing. Don't retire and go out because you got badly injured. Retire because you want to"Y/N added

It was her way of saying that she is extremely cared about him. Maybe its something that she cannot put into words but maybe Sebastian can figure it all out, he is a smart man in Y/N's opinion.

With a comforting smile, Y/N was assured that he got the message.

2009, Spa-Francorchamps

"Did you try texting Mark?"

Christian Horner and Sebastian Vettel are both in a meeting room about to discuss some things with the team strategists. They were supposed to meet up 10 minutes ago but they can't go on with the meeting since Mark is not around.

It was highly unusual for Mark to be late. He is never late as far as Sebastian knows. He considers giving Y/N a text when the door burst open.

"I'm gonna punch Button in the face when I see him"Mark Webber was fuming when he entered late at the conference room.

"Hold on, what did Jenson do?"

"Punk tried to ask my sister out"Mark huffed.

"He did what?" Christian butted in the conversation "I thought Sebastian was dating Y/N"

"HOLD ON WHAT?" "EXCUSE ME?"

The two red bull drivers were on their feet. Mark seems to be ready to hit Sebastian while Sebastian was debating which exit is much more safer. Frankly, Sebastian was never afraid of Mark but with the way he is shooting daggers with his eyes- If looks could kill, Sebastian was 4 feet under ground now.

"I just thought Sebastian was dating Y/N, they are always together when she isn't following you around Mark" Christian explained.

"My sister and Sebastian?" Mark repeated

Sebastian wanted to explain himself to Mark but he is internally panicking. If Christian, their team principal, can notice then there is a big chance that his feelings might be obvious to other people in the paddock.

At the same time, he felt a sick feeling in his stomach upon realizing that Jenson Button asked out Y/N. Jenson had the courage to ask her out and Sebastian couldn't even talk to Y/N about what happened weeks ago.

Christian seems to sense the tension that he brought to the two red bull drivers

"Maybe its just me and my understanding, right seb?" Christian apologized

"Huh yeah, mmhh nothing going on" Sebastian lied

There was a sharp gaze from Mark "I'm watching you"

"Let's talk about Jenson"Christian redirected the topic "maybe he is just trying to get a rise off you. We're slowly closing on him for the championship"

"If I hit that boy with a car this Sunday, I won't regret it" Mark swears.

"Don't bring your personal life on the car" Christian reminded.

Sebastian seems to take it as a mental note for himself as well. He was actually debating that if Mark wasn't successful in punting Jenson then he would.

"Besides Y/N has to date, she is in that age of dating" Christian added

Sebastian knew that Mark has been the kind of sibling that is overly protective. Given that Y/N has been the youngest one and the one that has been following Mark around, Mark has a special worry about her. It was very understandable why he acts like this.

"As much as I could, I will not let my sister date drivers." Mark says with finality.

It felt like it wasn't just a statement meant for Jenson but it was also something meant for Sebastian. Great, now Sebastian feels like everything is more complicated than it was before.

2009, Interlagos

It wasn't Y/N's brightest idea that she went on a date with Jenson Button. She figured after weeks of being constantly asked by Jenson, she should give him a chance. She thought it could also help lessen her feelings for Sebastian.

It's a pretty bad idea now that she thinks about it.

But there was no going back because here she is sitting with Jenson at a small restaurant somewhere in Brazil.

Don't get her wrong but Jenson is charming and he knows how to make people comfortable. He is a gentleman, he picked her up with roses, asked her for her favorite dish, and was kind enough to lend his jacket when she is feeling a bit cold.

But there is something missing about Jenson.

"You know, I really enjoy spending time with you tonight"Jenson started "But are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm sorry its just that its my first time going out for dates, I'm not good with this sort of thing" Y/N replied

"That's okay, I'm glad to be the first one to take you out"

Y/N felt the guilt of lying eating her up so she quickly wanted to clear out the air "Jenson, you are a really nice guy but you know I really think its better if we become friends instead?"

There was a small smile from the British driver. It seems like he has also felt that he was about to be friendzoned tonight.

"It's perfectly fine Y/N, I just really enjoy your company"

The dinner continued on more smoothly and they were able to share some personal details about their life. It felt like an air of relief for the two of them to clear out things that this will not be a failed date but rather a new friendship.

The media on the other hand has seen a different story.

Jenson Button winning on and off track against Red Bull?

In case you missed it, the newly declared Formula 1 champion, Jenson Button, has been seen in a restaurant in Brazil having dinner with a very special lady. Who is this mystery lady? It's Mark Webber's sister and personal assistant, Y/N.

The pairing is a shocker for everyone since Red Bull is the main competitor of Button this season. It seems like the two are a star crossed lovers in the making. People who have been in the restaurant has noted how the pair were giggling and close to one another.

We can't wait what Mark will have to say about this pairing.

2009, Yas Marina Circuit

"Sebastian please just slow down"Y/n begged.

It was really petty for Sebastian to be angry and ignore Y/N but he felt really confused on how to act around her. Ever since he read that stupid article, its all that he could think about. So while he couldn't deal with his emotions then he thinks its best to avoid her like the plague.

"I'm busy" Sebastian's curt reply

"Oh c'mon, you are not busy. You are ignoring me" Y/N was still hot in trail "This is so childish and stupid"

"Me? Stupid?" Sebastian stopped and turned to face her.

"You are calling me stupid when you are the one out there having dinner with the enemy"Sebastian wasn't thinking at this point.

"The enemy? Do you think I'm giving out secrets to Jenson?" she asked in shock

"Yes, Jenson is our enemy. You should have not gone on a dinner date with him, don't you have any sense of loyalty to the team?"

Sebastian could see the tears starting to form in her eyes. He knows that he said the wrong things and its not something that he can take back. Everything was just so heated.

"You believe those tabloids than me?"

"I don't know what to believe. You two looked pretty cozy on that front page" Sebastian really wanted to shut himself by now but jealousy is a sick sick disease that cannot be stopped.

"That's real mature of you Seb, you disappoint me" she sounds so defeated "Out of everyone, you were one of the people who I thought would believe me rather than what was painted by the media"

"Y/N you can't fault me on that, you were close"

"We were just friends and besides I-" she caught herself to stop.

There was a confession at the other end of Y/N. She almost confessed how she cannot see herself with Jenson because all she can see is how he is not Sebastian and all she wants to love is Sebastian. It was a good thing she caught herself before she slipped again.

"Besides what?" Sebastian wondered.

"Never mind. Talk to me when you mature"

"Yeah that's real mature, run away when you don't wanna face the consequences of your actions" Sebastian chastised.

Y/N felt that her tears are falling so she could only turn away and run the other direction. Sebastian, on the other hand, felt like hitting himself. It was the type of conversation he wanted to avoid because he could not contain his emotions. He bitterly regrets how this was their last conversation for 2009.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

Things You Might Not Know About the 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am

The **1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am** holds a special place in automotive history, renowned for its bold styling, powerful performance, and cultural significance. Here are some fascinating facts you might not know about this iconic muscle car:

1. **"Smokey and the Bandit" Fame:

The 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am gained widespread popularity thanks to its starring role in the classic movie *Smokey and the Bandit*. Burt Reynolds’ character drove a black-and-gold Trans Am, turning it into an instant pop culture icon.

2. **W72 Performance Package:

The W72 performance package, offered in the 1978 model, significantly enhanced the engine's performance. With a 400 cubic-inch V8 engine, it delivered around 220 horsepower, which was a respectable number for the late 1970s when emissions regulations were restricting power outputs.

3. **Special Edition Models:

Pontiac released several special editions of the 1978 Trans Am, including the Gold Special Edition and the famous Black Special Edition, often referred to as the "Bandit Edition." These models featured gold accents, such as the iconic "screaming chicken" decal on the hood and gold alloy wheels.

4. **Improved Handling:

While muscle cars are known for their straight-line speed, the 1978 Firebird Trans Am was notable for its handling. Pontiac engineers upgraded the suspension and steering, making the Trans Am one of the best-handling American cars of its time.

5. **Optional T-Tops:

Buyers of the 1978 Trans Am could opt for T-top removable roof panels, which became a favorite among enthusiasts. These panels gave the car an open-air feel without compromising the structural integrity of the body.

6. **Last Year for the 400 V8:

The 1978 model year marked the last time Pontiac offered the 400 cubic-inch V8 engine in the Trans Am. This engine was one of the final remnants of the muscle car era, and its discontinuation was a sign of the changing times in the automotive world.

7. **Appearance Package Overhaul:

In 1978, Pontiac updated the Firebird's appearance, giving it a new front end with a split grille and updated rear-end styling. This refresh helped keep the Trans Am competitive in the rapidly changing car market of the late '70s.

8. **Turbo Hood Scoop:

The Trans Am featured a functional "shaker" hood scoop, which helped channel cool air into the engine, boosting performance. The hood scoop was not just for show—it played a real role in enhancing the car's capabilities.

9. **High Sales Numbers:

Despite rising fuel costs and growing emissions regulations, the 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am was a commercial success. Pontiac sold over 93,000 units of the Trans Am that year, proving that demand for muscle cars still existed, even in a more restrictive era.

10. **Enduring Legacy:

The 1978 Trans Am continues to be a favorite among collectors and car enthusiasts. Its unique combination of performance, style, and cultural impact ensures that it remains one of the most beloved muscle cars from the golden age of American automotive design.

These little-known facts highlight the lasting appeal of the **1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am**, a car that has transcended its era to become a symbol of American automotive culture.

[cumikering]

Ex bf John Price x reader 2

2.7k | soft smut, angst, comfort Your closure (part 1)

You fiddled with the simple gold band. You hadn’t expected to see John, especially not there of all places. You did’t know why you even said anything. You should have walked past.

You remembered how you shook that afternoon in Hereford, gripping the edge of your seat and breaking down as the train departed. You didn’t care what you looked like. How could you when you’d just ripped your heart out.

For days you holed up in your childhood bedroom, where you’d taken him into countless times. Your bed didn’t dip the same way without his weight. When you unwittingly pulled out one of his shirts from your wardrobe, you sobbed into it. You lived out of your luggage until you got your own place.

Perhaps you were desperate, or just silly, that you wore his gift as a wedding ring. That way maybe you could rationalise the hole in your life was from losing your husband, not just a boyfriend because dear God, he was so much more than that. As a sick vow that you’d never want to lose him to war, so you’d never crawl back. You had wanted to so many times.

You wrote John Price letters the nights you couldn’t sleep. You always loved to think about him, even when he wasn’t yours to think about anymore. Some mornings in the haze of slumber, you’d wake up to your empty bed thinking he’d left for the day. It took another second for it to dawn on you that he was never there. You took 10 more minutes to get up.

Sometimes you grabbed plates, one too many, and cooked four eggs instead of two. At the supermarket you’d reach for his favourite crisps before realising you didn’t have to anymore. Some nights you left the door unlocked out of habit.

But the sun promised yet another day. The tears grew fewer and further between. Spring came and you found the box of letters you wrote. You counted - there were 56.

You’d never forgotten about him, even that the memory had loosened its claws on you. Despite the gnarly scar, the wound had dried.

But that day, after not speaking to each other for years, something crumbled in you. Was it his tired eyes? The way he stood, his weary smile? His beanie?

John Mother Fucking Price.

Did he hold onto the memories like you did too after all?

That evening, you laughed at yourself as you drove to his parents’. Knuckles white over the steering wheel, you stared at the front door as your heart raced. You rested your forehead against the wheel with a heavy sigh.

Why did you even come? What were you going to say? Did he even want to hear whatever it was you had to say?

You heart almost stopped when there was a tap on the passenger’s window.

It was John. Of course it was.

You unlocked the car with a shaky breath. He slipped in and rubbed his hands together, blowing them. The distant streetlight cast a soft glow on his face as he held your gaze.

“You alright?” he rasped, breaking the long silence.

You gave him a crooked smile, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” you muttered, more to yourself.

His eyes flicked to your hand. “I think you do,” he said in a low voice.

“It’s from you, John.” You held it up to him. “The last one.”

His breath caught, blue eyes searching yours. “Tell me you hate me before I do something stupid.”

You wrapped your arms around him over the console. He took a frantic breath of your hair, and you almost whimpered at the way your face still fitted so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He smelt the exact same.

“I can’t hate you,” you sighed. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

You told yourself if you shut your eyes tight enough, the tears wouldn’t spill. They did anyway when he let out a choked sob. His beard tickled and it didn’t take long for his tears to dampen your neck.

“Love, I’ve- Fuck. Nothing has ever hurt this much.”

Your fingers ran through his soft hair, right above the nape of his neck the way he liked it.

“If call it quits… If I give up everything, would you have me back?”

“You wouldn’t,” you whispered. The truth still tasted bitter despite the years.

He gripped your shoulders, glassy eyes boring into yours. “Each time I come knocking with someone’s tags, a part of me dies too. I never want it to be you. I’ll never let it be you breaking down at our door.”

“Don’t do this to me, John.” Your face twisted. “Don’t… Don’t say all these things when-“

“You gave up your life for me. It’s my turn to do the same.” His thumb caressed your cheek. “I’d follow you anywhere. You just have to ask.”

You sobbed. He stroked your hair, your face pressed onto his shoulder, leaving dark patches on his sweater. When you cradled his wet cheeks, he fisted your sweater.

In his steady arms, you could never be safer. As the windows fogged up, you wished the night was as endless as your kisses.

The streets of Liverpool had settled when John closed the door to your apartment. His eyes remained puffy, but his smile was brighter than when they were dry.

You’d missed that. The way his warm eyes crinkled, how his lips curved.

He tentatively pulled you by the waist, pressing your body against his. You never thought you’d feel those sturdy hands on you again.

You led him to your bed and flicked the bedside lamp on before pulling him on top of you. He stilled over you, the warm light illuminated the lines of his face. You traced the shape of him, his lower lip, his faint freckles, his tired eyes. He shut them with a shaky sigh. He was perfect.

“I’ve missed you, John,” you whispered. “So much.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss you,” he rasped, grasping your waist as his lips closed over yours.

He licked along your lower lip, nipping on it. The small gasp you let out allowed his tongue to slip past your lips, brushing against your own. When you arched your back, his hand slid under your top, kneading your hip.

“John,” you breathed against his lips, tugging on his shirt.

With you between his hard thighs, you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his shirt off. His muscles weren’t as defined as they once were, but the same strength under was evident in the way his chest and arms flexed. You wasted no time running your hands over him, from his happy trail, partly hidden under his low hanging waistband, up to the darker fuzz of his chest. His abdomen rippled under your soft touch, bulge forming in his sweats.

You palmed over the stretch of his back when he leaned in. There were raises you swore weren’t there last time. As you ran your fingertips over the scars, his lips didn’t relent against yours. Your tongues swirled between the nibbling and sucking. It surprised you how you were still in sync, not missing a beat despite the years.

He was still yours.

“Want you, John.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He helped you out of your clothes before himself. Kneeling before you, he parted your thighs and settled between them.

He exhaled, a rough hand trailed from your knee along your inner thigh. Your skin pulled as he squeezed the flesh at the thickest part, giving him a peek of your slick. He licked his lip.

His eyes flicked up to you, watching with an intense gaze as you bit your lip, chest rising and falling, your nipples at attention. He climbed over you, licking a stripe up your breast before his hot tongue flicked over your nipple, rolling the other between his fingers.

You ran a hair through his hair, clutching his roots. You hummed in pleasure when his mouth switched with his hand, teeth playfully grazing against your hardened nipple. Your back arched, yearning for more and more of him.

He sat back on his haunches, wet lips parted. Your hips bucked when his thumb swiped over your wet, needy clit. The motion continued as his fingertips trailed from your waist down to your knee. His eyes transfixed on you as you shut your eyes, your breath shallow.

You gave a small nod when his finger circled over your opening. He barely had to push before slipping right in. He curled his finger, building his pace as he leaned over, planting kisses across your chest up your neck and jaw before meeting your lips again. The noises filled the dim room.

Your hand ran down his side, to his fuzzy pelvis and heavy balls. Your fingertips traced along his length and he twitched when you got to his leaking tip. His breath hitched and you stroked his desperate cock, spreading the wetness all over him. You moaned into his mouth when he added another finger.

His pumped faster as he licked along your neck, his tongue grazing the cuff of your ear. Your arm slung over his neck, nails digging into his flexed bicep as he held his weight up, clinging onto him.

“Always so good for me, love,” he breathed, his warm breath making you shiver.

Your back arched to meet him, hips rolling. His long, thick fingers grew urgent, thumb rubbing your swollen clit. The squelching merged with the sounds of the wet kisses your neck.

The familiar pressure settled in your core. Your breathing quickened, your moans shallow as he relentlessly hit the right spot.

“John- ah- Don’t stop, John,” you whined.

“Wanna make you feel good.” He nipped at your lobe. “Let me hear you, love.”

You unravelled with a moan, your head thrown back. Your trembling thighs closed around him.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me.” He sucked on your exposed throat as his pumping slowed down to deep, long strokes, stretching the rest of your high.

He lay on his side facing you, rubbing your thigh as you caught your breath. He sucked his fingers clean with a deep sigh, eyes closed.

“John,” you began when you realised. “I don’t have any condoms.”

You tasted yourself on him as he leaned over to kiss you, his cock still hard and wet against your thigh. “We don’t have to. It’s all you tonight.”

“Has there…” It was irrational but jealousy crept up. “Have you been w-“

“Never.” He shook his head. “No one else since you.”

You felt like crying. “Please,” you whispered against his lips, cupping his face. “Need you.”

He kissed you once more, kneading your hip up to your breast before crawling between your legs. His eyes lidded, breathing shallow like he was delirious. He stroked himself a few times, as if his aching cock wasn’t ready enough.

A hand on your waist, he rubbed himself along your glistening slit, biting his lip as he watched. His tip circled around your opening. “Ready, love?” His eyes met yours.

When you nodded, he eased the first inch in with a groan and you moaned with the delicious stretch. He held your gaze, taking his time pushing further and further before he stopped with a teasing smile.

“John,” you whined, legs hooking around him.

He lifted your hips off the mattress and slid his last inches into your sopping pussy. The sensation of him bottoming out in you always intoxicated you. Your breath caught as he grinded deep against you. Nothing had ever felt a good as him.

His grip tightened before his hips moved. He reached to rub your clit with the pad of his thumb, making you whimper. He always knew how tilt his hips the right way, to reach that deep and undo you. The way he fucked you, sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You fisted the pillow under your head, jaw slack. His eyes flicked to your tits as they bounced with each thrust.

“Fuck, it’s been forever,” he grunted.

He leaned onto his forearms to kiss you as his fingers laced with yours above your head. His body flush against yours, his breath warm. His scent carried a touch of smoke as always.

His thrusts were deep and languid, pulling out all the way until only the head of his thick cock remained before burying himself to the hilt again in smooth strokes. He fucked you into the mattress like he wanted you to remember every drag, ever curve of him. Only he could make you feel this way – nothing ever came close. It was your sentence for stealing his soul.

“Want to make you come again, love.”

You weren’t sure it was muscle memory, but the intensity of his gaze, the way he rocked against you and the way he surrounded you made the heat pool deep in your belly again.

He tilted your face away with his nose, allowing him access to suck on the base of your neck. The way you tightened around him was his que to pick up his pace. He pounded into you, his balls smacking against your ass. He groaned, his breath searing against your skin. Each thrust pushed a huff of breath out of you.

Your fingers squeezed his twice. He knew what it meant.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he panted against your ear. “Oh God, never leave me again, sweetheart.” His voice cracked.

His wet eyes bored down onto yours. You couldn’t help the tear that slipped.

“I promise, John. I promise I won’t.”

He lifted your waist, angling himself to reach even deeper. Your moans grew louder, your fingers tangled in his hair.

“Come for me,” he said with urgency. “Let me make you feel good, love.”

Your legs tightened around his waist as your second orgasm washed over you with another moan. He thrusted faster into your fluttering pussy, his breath heavy against your ear. He kissed you again, tongue dragging against yours.

In a swift motion, he pulled out and came on your stomach, grunting into your mouth. You reached down, milking the rest of him, his hot come ran between your fingers.

He peppered kisses all along your jaw as his breath evened out before cleaning you up. You wiped away his tears with your thumb, giving him a peck on the lips. With a groan, he lay on his back as he pulled you against him. He clasped his hand over yours, resting it in the middle of his chest, pressing kisses on your forehead.

“Love, can we have bath?” There was a tinge of embarrassment in his voice. “My joints hurt when it gets too cold sometimes.”

Your heart wrenched. He’d made you feel so good despite the pain. When he followed you off the bed, you shook your head.

Moments later, you led him to the hot bath you’d prepared. You knelt by the tub and as he hunched over his bent knees, you helped him wash his hair and body. In the light, the scars he’d acquired since were clear, but it wasn’t what caught your attention.

For your last anniversary, he got a tattoo of your favourite flower on his back. After an array of art, it was easy for one to be just another piece, but this... He never covered it up.

Your finger traced over it. “You’re beautiful, John.”

He let out a deep sigh.

His head tipped back against the tiles as he soaked. Your arms folded over the edge of the tub, your head resting on your forearm. With a soft smile and lidded eyes, he squeezed your hand twice.

The dark didn’t have to be endless tonight. Because there was going to be a tomorrow, next week, next month, next year.

You believed him this time.

@glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @shadofireshinobi @tiredmetalenthusiast @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @rainybubbles @erinfern0 @devcica @sacr3dm1lk @esthervalea @katz-chow @captainjamster @aethelwyneleigh27 @thatgoblin @rennroo

[finnsbubblegum]

Playing House (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: Zoo date with Joel and baby Sarah ended up in agreement to play house? What more could you ask for?

Words count: 1.7k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 3 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm beyond happy that many of you liked it so I hope you enjoy the next parts. Stay tuned and love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

It had already been a month since you babysat Sarah and you got closer to Joel. You spent almost every dinner with him. You even spent your weekends with him and baby Sarah. Joel and you probably even attached to each other at this point.

“We’re going to the zoo, yayy!!” You extended your hand to the back seat hyping up Sarah who was sitting in the baby car seat. 

“You excited, babygirl?” Joel turned his head to look at Sarah before he drove.

*Sarah giggled*

“She’s definitely excited.” You laughed and looked at Joel.

“Seatbelt?” Joel reminded you.

“Right.” You grabbed the seatbelt and wore it.

“Okay. Done.” You told Joel.

“Alright. Let’s go.” Joel put his hands on the steering wheel and drove to the zoo.

At the zoo

“There’s so many people here.” You said as you cradled Sarah on your chest while waiting for Joel who was setting up the baby stroller.

“Maybe because it's the weekend?” Joel shrugged.

“Yeah.” You nodded and looked around.

“Ready?” Joel asked as he put the baby bag on his shoulder and held the baby stroller.

“She’s sleeping? Want to put her here?” Joel offered to put Sarah in the stroller.

“I’ll hold her for a while.” 

Joel went to buy the tickets while you sat on the bench with Sarah. She slept so soundly so you decided to put her in the stroller.

“You got it?” You stood up as Joel was walking towards you.

“Yep.” Joel pushed the baby stroller and walked to the entrance with you.

It had been a while since the last time you went to the zoo so you got excited. You remembered when you were a kid you went to the zoo with your parents almost every month. You loved animals so you always asked your dad to bring you to the zoo. 

“I missed this feeling.” 

“Going to the zoo?” Joel raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I used to go to the zoo every month with my family.” You chuckled.

“Glad I asked you to come.” Joel smiled.

“Thanks, Joel. I feel like a kid again.” You stroked his muscly upper arm.

“You’re welcome.” 

*Baby Sarah babbled*

“Someone is awake.” You walked forward and crouched to see Sarah.

Joel stopped and crouched beside you. 

“Hey, babygirl. You want to see around?” He caressed Sarah’s cheek with his index finger.

*Sarah giggled*

Joel lifted Sarah from the stroller and carried her with one arm while the other arm pushed the stroller.

“Give me the bag. I’ll carry it.” You wanted to help.

“No, no. It’s heavy.” Joel refused.

“Why don’t we put it in the stroller?” You suggested.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” You took the bag from Joel’s shoulder and put it in the empty stroller.

*Saw a lion*

“There! Look sweetie, it’s a lion.” You pointed at the lion. Joel turned Sarah so she could see.

“Roaarr..” You roared and made a claw gesture to Sarah. 

She just stared at you confused. 

“She has no idea what you’re doin’.” Joel laughed. 

“Yep. She didn’t even flinch.” You laughed.

“We should bring her back here again when she’s bigger. I’m sure she won’t remember today.” Joel added.

Joel froze for a second. He thought to himself, “I did not just say that.”. He was embarrassed with the words he just said. Did he just ask you to come to the zoo with him and Sarah a few years in the future? Did he just include you in his future? He was flustered but he had to act cool.

“Yes, she’s too small to remember. But she looks happy now.” You stroked Sarah’s head who was resting on Joel’s chest.

“I haven’t seen monkeys. Where’s the monkeys?” Joel tried to change the topic.

“Wait. Let’s see the map.” You looked at the map and found where the monkeys were.

“Here.” You pointed at the location and guided the way.

You and Joel walked around the zoo and enjoyed the moment. You introduced various animals to baby Sarah even though you know she didn’t understand and she wouldn’t remember it. But it was fun and important to interact with the baby so you did it anyway. Joel also interacted with Sarah, he made animals sound to her and you laughed at him. 

The day at the zoo was really fun. And you couldn’t stop thinking about what the waitress from the Mexican place said. She said that the three of you looked really cute as a family and even said you two made a beautiful baby?! You actually got butterflies when you heard that. You had always liked playing house when you were a kid so you enjoyed this moment with Joel and baby Sarah. You felt like you were spending your weekend with your family with a husband and a baby daughter. It felt real and you liked it. You wondered what other people thought when they saw the three of you. Did they see you and Joel as a married couple with a baby? The thought itself made you giggle but you tried your best to hide it. For a moment, you forgot that you weren’t ready to commit to a relationship.

“Do you want to sit for a while and get somethin’ to eat?” Joel pointed to an empty seat and table.

“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry.” You put your hand to your stomach.

“Sit here.” Joel dragged the chair for you to sit.

You moved the baby bag from the stroller and Joel put Sarah in the stroller.

“Hot dog?” Joel asked.

“Yeah, anything.” You nodded.

“Okay, wait here.” Joel nodded and walked away to buy hot dogs.

While waiting for Joel, you pushed the stroller back and forth so Sarah could sleep.

“Here.” Joel passed you the hot dog.

“Thank you.” You grab a bite to the hot dog.

Joel and you talked as you ate. Joel suggested that you sit for a while and rest. 

“Joel..” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you remember the last time we met my ex that morning months ago? I haven’t talked to you about it..I-uh-I’m sorry I let him believe we were married. I just-I just want him to believe I’m happy without him. I mean I am happy. I’m sure you heard me that day. Well, long story short, he cheated on me. So I hate him so much.” You rolled your eyes as you tried to open up to him.

“I totally understand. You don’t have to apologize. He’s a jerk. Let him believe we’re married, I’m your husband, that’s okay, as long as I can help you.” Joel’s words touched your heart. How could a man be this sweet?

“Thank you, Joel.” 

“I-uh-I also haven’t told you about Sarah’s mom.” 

“Wait, I have a confession to make.” You stopped Joel.

“Confession?” Joel raised his eyebrows.

“I actually overheard you and Sarah’s mom on the night she left.” You confessed.

“Oh..Yeah so she left us. We had a shotgun wedding and she decided to leave 3 months after Sarah was born. Said we’re not meant to be together. Doesn’t want a baby and everythin’.” He sighed. 

“You deserve better, Joel.” You put your hand on top of his.

“Thank you.” He smiled at you.

“You know what? Should we keep doing this?” You lightened up the mood.

“Do what?” Joel was confused.

“This. Us playing house.” You pointed at him and yourself back to back.

Joel raised his eyebrows, pouted his lips and nodded. 

“Should we make a contract?” You joked.

“Contract? I don’t follow.” Joel rested his chin on his palm.

“You know. Like in movies where they make contracts for fake relationships and stuff.” You explained. Joel nodded as he listened to you trying to digest what you were saying.

“At least we could do it in front of our exes. You did that for me. I’ll do that for you too if you want me to.” 

“That sounds fun.” Joel was interested in your proposal.

“So should we write a contract now?” Joel asked.

“No, no. I was just joking. How about just a verbal pact?” You laughed.

“Deal.” He stretched his hand to you to shake your hand.

“Alright, Mr. Miller. Deal.” You shook his hand.

*baby cries*

“Time to eat.” You laughed.

Joel took the baby bottle from the baby bag and put Sarah in his arms to feed her. 

“You hungry, huh?” Joel looked at Sarah as he fed her.

After Joel fed her, he stood up and put Sarah facing away from him to help her burp.

“Can I do it?” You offered.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” You insisted.

Joel passed Sarah to you and you placed Sarah on your chest facing back. You supported her chin on your shoulder and gently patted her back. After one or two minutes, she let out a burp. 

“Good girl.” You chuckled.

“Oh!” You suddenly felt damp on your shoulder.

You turned away to show your back to Joel.

“Is there something on my back?” You asked Joel.

“Uhm..Yes..” Joel didn’t know what to say.

“What is it?” You panicked.

“I think Sarah just dribbled some milk on you.” Joel rubbed his mouth.

“Uh-oh.” You put Sarah back to the stroller and tried to look at your back.

Joel quickly got some tissue and helped you wiped the milk on your shoulder and hair. 

“Here. Why don’t you change into this?” He took off his outer flannel shirt and gave it to you. He was now wearing only a white shirt.

“Thank you.” You went to the restroom to change and went back to him and Sarah.

“It looks like I’m wearing a dress.” You chuckled.

“You look cute.” Joel praised you but his voice was so small. 

He didn’t want you to hear him. You heard him anyway but you acted like you didn’t. In fact, you were blushing. You and Joel continued wandering around the zoo, joking and laughing until the zoo closed then you went home.

“Today was fun.” Joel said as he parked the car in the driveway.

“I had a great time. Thank you.” You reached his hand and gave a slight touch.

“She’s sleeping.” You whispered as you looked at baby Sarah in the back seat.

“We gotta keep quiet.” Joel whispered and chuckled.

“I’ll wash your shirt and give you back tomorrow?” You pinched the shirt. 

“Don’t worry about that.” 

You went home smelling Joel’s shirt and giggled. His woody, musky, masculine smell gives you comfort and you wished you could keep it. But you had to give it back so you gave it a last smell before you put it in your washing machine and got back to reality.

To be continued…

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[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Billy Hargrove teaching you how to drive.

“Okay… slow and steady,” Billy said, his fingers holding onto the ashtray in the passenger door, digging his fingers in as if bracing himself. He was definitely regretting his agreement to give you driving lessons - though very glad that he had done so with the stipulation that it’s not his car you’re driving. He’d never forgive you if you got one scratch on his baby. “Something you’ve never asked for before,” You mumbled. Your quips were to try to cover up how nervous you were. Hands on 10 and 2 - rear-view mirror of your parents station wagon pointed the right way - lots of room in this parking lot - you were as prepared as you could be. You pressed down on the gas just slightly, the car whispering forward. “Less joking, more driving,” Billy said, his eyes straight ahead instead of on you as they usually were. “Okay - maybe a little faster, you’re doing well in a straight line.” You pushed it down a little more and started to feel more comfortable. You slowly turned the steering wheel, and the car made a wide right turn. Billy relaxed beside you, his shoulders dropping and his head nodding. “Was that a good turn?” “Yeah, decent, not really for city roads though,” He said. “Try a left.” You made a left turn and you managed to do that just fine. “Yeah - yeah, this is easy. I’ve totally got this,” You said with confidence. Billy nodded and set his hand down on your knee, his thumb brushing up against the outside of it. “Yeah you do,” He said with a small grin. “It’s almost disappointing how good you’re doing. I won’t get to see your pretty face sitting next to me in my car.” “Unless I’m the one driving, and you’re sitting passenger,” You winked, and decided to try to park in one of the outlined spots. “I’m never sitting bitch,” He grumbled, thinking once again maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

Requested by: Anonymous

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (14)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer and the team face a setback in the investigation. wc: 4.6k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

a/n: This one is a beast. I don't usually write multiple scenes in one part but it seems fitting here.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER HATED DRIVING. The feeling of confinement, the cacophony of honking horns, and the ceaseless traffic had always grated on his nerves. Yet his line of work often required him to be the one behind the wheel, and usually, he didn't mind, but now the car's interior seemed to close in on him as if mocking his discomfort.

He wondered whether his detest for driving paled in comparison to the regret consuming him. Or was this anger? Was this anger coursing through his body that had him feeling more uncomfortable than he usually was?

He could feel his knuckles turn white as he clenched the wheel. The anger burned hot within him, directed both outwardly at the situation he had thrust into and inwardly at himself for allowing it to happen. He couldn't understand how he allowed his urge to consume him, leading to actions that inflicted pain upon her.

It was consensual on my part.

If that was true, then why was there regret gnawing him? Why was he still angry at himself? Spencer always prided on self-control, that he could resist any urges and avoid causing any harm. But tonight he had shattered that belief. He had let his defenses crumble and now he had to deal with being the one who painted those bruises on her skin.

The shrill ring of his phone sliced through the heavy silence inside the car, momentarily diverting his thoughts. He glanced at the caller ID on the dashboard's console, seeing a familiar name flash on the screen. With a hesitant sigh, he pressed the answer button.

"Where the hell have you been?" Garcia's voice filled the space, her frustration was palpable even through the speaker.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and cleared his throat before responding, "I got caught up in something."

She let out a sound of frustration. "You can't just disappear like that, Reid, we've been trying to get hold of you."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "What's the update?"

"Oliver Walsh is nowhere to be found," a third voice cut in, who Spencer caught on as Hotch's. It seemed they were in the same room. "Morgan and Prentiss are checking his house."

"They found anything yet?"

"There were countless photographs of our witness—candid shots, close-ups, and even pictures taken from a distance."

His chest tightened, his jaw clenched, and his teeth ground together as the anger surged through him. He felt a hot flush rise in his cheeks, his face contorting with the intensity of his emotions. It was as if a fire had ignited within him, each flickering flame fueled by his frustration.

But beneath all that, he could hear the uncertainty in Hotch's voice, the contrast between his usual commanding presence and the hesitant tone in his words.

"What is it?" Spencer asked cautiously.

"The pictures were taken professionally." There was a pause. "There isn't a dark room in his house or any sign that he possesses camera equipment."

There was a momentary silence on the line, broken only by the sound of the road beneath his tires and the occasional distant siren. Spencer took a deep breath. "Do you think he hired someone?"

"Based on his victims, he seems to prefer working alone."

"He could have a hideout," he suggested, his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he navigated through the quiet streets. "Criminals often use secret spaces. It gives them a sense of control over their environment where they feel safe from prying eyes."

Hotch hummed a sound of approval. "Hideout location often has a sentimental value. Garcia, find any places that might be mentioned in his files."

Spencer's ears picked up the distinct clatter of keyboards in the background.

"There's a church where his family used to go to... but it's still open to the public so no... oh, the house he grew up in? No, it was sold a few years ago—wait, I found something." Garcia paused, allowing a brief silence to settle in as the sound of keys clicking continued. "There's an old article mentioning an abandoned warehouse that he and his group of friends used to frequent during their youth, a secluded spot for underage alcohol consumption."

"Where's the location?"

"Give me a minute." Garcia typed away, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, summoning information that surprisingly only took her twenty seconds to retrieve the location. Spencer counted the exact time. "It's not far from here."

Then suddenly, she let out a sudden shriek. "Hotch!" There were footsteps in the background followed by fingers frantically flying across the keyboard. A sound of frustration left her lips not long afterward. "Damn it!"

"What happened?" Spencer asked in an alert. "Did you find something?"

"I-I've been trying to tap his phone, you know, trying to locate him in case he decided to turn it on, and I got a signal before it disappeared again."

Spencer asked, "Can you retrieve the last coordination it located?" At the same time, Hotch cut in with, "Can you trace it back?"

"Hold your horses, boys." With a series of rapid keystrokes, Garcia initiated a deep scan on her laptop. The seconds seemed to stretch as the scanning progress bar advanced before a notification popped up on the screen. The location data had been recovered.

"Oh my god." Her eyes zeroed in on the coordinates, and she quickly cross-referenced them with a map application to get a visual of the area. "It's six miles away from the warehouse."

Hotch wasted no time after receiving the information. "Reid, check the location. I'll coordinate with the tactical unit and dispatch a team of officers to assess the area. JJ and I will meet you there."

"I'm on it."

"I sent you the coordinate," Garcia mentioned, the same time his phone pinged with an alert.

"Don't do anything until we get there," Hotch reminded him. "And Reid?"

He hummed a reply, notifying that he was listening.

"I need you to stay focused."

His eyes flickered over the console. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Hotch's reminder struck a nerve. His words, though well-intentioned, were a stark reminder of the fine line he was walking between his personal struggles and his professional responsibilities. He sat there, and the call quickly cut off before he could even reply.

The noise of the bustling street faded into the background as his thoughts began to spiral, repeating his mentor's words, his expectations of him weighing heavily on his shoulders. Spencer shook his head, trying to ground himself. The case was important, and he couldn't afford to let his personal struggles jeopardize his work.

He slowly took a steadying breath, forcing himself to compartmentalize, a skill he had honed over years of dealing with high-stress situations, and silently drove toward the coordinate Garcia had sent over.

Y/n hated crying. She despised the way her throat tightened, constricting her voice as if it were trying to strangle the tears before they could escape. The way her chest heaved with each silent sob. Her hatred for the involuntary quiver of her lip and the trembling of her hands was as potent as it was irrational.

The irony wasn't lost on her, when her boss was found lifeless on the floor that day, she had stood strong, her eyes dry, absorbing the shock without a single tear. Yet, here she was, broken by the rejection of a man who had once held a fragment of her heart. It was baffling, the way he had become the chink in her armor, the one who could shatter her composure.

But could she even call that rejection? To be rejected there surely had to be some form of confession and she was one hundred percent sure she hadn't conveyed anything that indicated her affection for him... right?

Use me in any way you like.

She groaned into her pillow. To be fair, that wasn't a confession. And to be fair, he did exactly what she asked for—It just happened that it ended the exact opposite of what she expected.

With swollen eyes and a heavy heart, she finally pushed herself out of bed. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the faint glow of streetlights seeping through her curtains. As she rose from her tangled sheets, she felt the weight of her emotions as her thoughts went haywire.

She couldn't stand being alone at the moment. Her own thoughts seemed too loud, too suffocating. It felt like the walls were closing in, and every moment alone was just another reminder of how lonely she felt now.

That was why she reached for her phone and dialed Sandy's number, that was why she properly got dressed as she waited for her to arrive, and that was why she quickly rushed over to her front door when she heard the constant knocking. But as the door swung open, an unexpected sight froze her in her tracks.

Standing there with Sandy was Eric wearing a bemused expression. Her mind whirled with a mix of emotions–surprise, confusion, and a hint of embarrassment. She hadn't expected her to bring someone else, and now they were all standing at her doorstep, an unusual trio in the midst of an unanticipated gathering.

Sandy, sensing the tension in the air, was quick to speak up. "Oh, um... I brought company?"

"You brought Eric," she replied, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to mask her surprise.

Eric, ever the easygoing coworker, greeted her with a friendly nod and lifted the plastic bag in his hand. "And I brought Chinese. Hope you don't mind me tagging along."

For a moment, she hesitated, struggling to find her footing. It wasn't that she didn't like him, he was one of her good friends at work, which meant something because most of the men she worked with were chauvinistic, sexist pigs. But she did plan on having an emergency Margarita Night with her friend when she made the call. Although she couldn't find herself to send him away—not when he was looking at her expectantly—so she managed a hesitant smile and stepped aside.

"Come on in then." She tugged the door open. "The more the merrier, I guess."

Eric's eyes studied her distraught face as he walked in. "You okay? You look..."

"Bad?"

"I wouldn't say bad."

"I bet you wouldn't say good either."

He frowned as if trying to choose the right words. "You look stressed," he decided to say. "Everything alright?"

She paused, torn between opening up about her feelings and maintaining a sense of privacy. But in the end, she chose honesty, if only to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "Not really. I don't want to talk about it though." She motioned them into her living room. "What were you guys doing together anyway?"

"Eric has been stopping by at everyone's place in search of Oliver," Sandy responded, already making herself comfortable on the couch. "My place was his recent quest."

Y/n turned to Eric. "You still haven't heard from him?"

He shook his head, a mix of concern and frustration etched on his face. "No, not a word. That's why I decided to put in a missing person's report."

"What?" Sandy chimed in. "When?"

"This afternoon." He settled onto a nearby chair and turned his attention towards Y/n. "I met with Dr. Reid. You remember him, right?"

Remember him? They were here because of him in the first place. "Yeah, I remember him." She then shook her head, dismissing her personal feelings for the time being, and refocusing on the conversation. "You think Oliver's gone missing?"

Eric's concern was palpable as he replied, "His phone is off, his family is unreachable, and his house is empty. I'm starting to get worried."

Sandy's brows furrowed with concern as she leaned forward. "That doesn't sound like Oliver. He wouldn't just disappear without a word."

"That's what I've been trying to say."

She glanced between the two and listened as they continued to discuss the possibilities of his whereabouts. But as they did, Y/n couldn't help but feel that something was off, that there was an air of strangeness and suspicion surrounding his sudden vanishing act.

Her thoughts wandered to the peculiar way Oliver had always been interested in her, and her mind couldn't help but draw a parallel to her own situation, where a serial killer seemed to have an odd fascination with her. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to align themselves in her mind, forming a picture that was both unnerving and hard to accept. It sounded almost silly, like a twisted plot from a suspenseful thriller. It was all too surreal to be true.

She quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the disturbing thoughts, clinging to the hope that her mind was simply playing tricks on her. Because Oliver, her good friend Oliver, wouldn't do something as sinister as murder... right?

Spencer arrived an hour later. A single, isolated warehouse stood in stark contrast to the surrounding desolation, tucked away in a remote corner of the district. He parked his car discreetly before stepping out of the vehicle, his footsteps making a soft crunch on the gravel beneath his feet.

His breath hung in the crisp night air as he scanned the area meticulously, the slightest detail not escaping his analytical gaze. The warehouse stood against the backdrop of a vast, starlit sky, its silhouette imposing and enigmatic. Dim light spilled out from the high windows, casting long shadows that danced eerily on the surrounding ground.

Suddenly, the distant rumble of an approaching engine reached his ears. He turned sharply and was greeted by a convoy of vehicles making their way toward the warehouse. As they drew closer, he recognized the familiar silhouette of his unit chief behind the wheel and JJ seated right beside him.

The vehicles came to a stop, and the officers quickly disembarked, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Hotch approached him, his expression grave but determined. "We need to split into teams. Reid, you take point with me. JJ, coordinate with the other officers and enter from the side."

With a nod from him, the officers sprang into action, fanning out to explore the warehouse thoroughly. Spencer and Hotch approached the building cautiously with a flashlight in one of their hands and their weapons in the other.

The front entrance was partially obscured by a tangle of overgrown weeds and graffiti-covered walls. Spencer stepped closer toward it, his footsteps echoing louder in the silence. He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He had faced countless crime scenes and dangerous situations, but there was something about this abandoned warehouse that seemed eerie.

His mind immediately kicked into gear as he followed Hotch into the building. They stealthily moved from one corner to another, examining the objects that had been left behind in this desolate place. Piles of old crates were stacked haphazardly, their contents long removed or forgotten.

They came across a set of stairs that led to an upper level, and without a word, they ascended, their footsteps echoing on the metal steps. Upstairs, the darkness seemed even more suffocating, and the sense of isolation heightened. His flashlight landed on a stack of old files on the floor, their pages yellowed with age. He picked one up and flipped through it, but it appeared to be nothing more than old inventory records.

"There's nothing in here," he whispered. "We should check the other side—"

"Hotch! Reid! Over here!"

JJ's urgent voice alerted them and they both descended the stairs, her voice reverberated through the cavernous space. Spencer stepped into the room down the hall, his flashlight illuminating the scene before him. His steps then faltered, the sight that greeted him sent a shockwave of alarm through his already heightened senses. They had found him. Their suspected Unsub was right where they had predicted.

But he was lying in a pool of blood.

Oliver's unconscious form was a stark contrast against the cold, concrete floor. JJ was already at his side, checking his pulse and issuing urgent commands into her intercom for paramedic assistance. "Stab wounds," she announced to the room. "He's still breathing."

His mind raced as he took in the situation. How had Walsh ended up in this state? Who had inflicted the stab wound? And what had brought him to this remote area?

But his attention was soon drawn to the second startling discovery—the writing on the wall. His flashlight revealed a message scrawled in front of them, seemingly written with blood. He took a step closer, examining the writing carefully. The texture and consistency of the blood suggested it had been written recently.

Proverbs 14:8

Hotch, who entered the room with the rest of the team, observed the scene with a steely resolve. He instructed the officers to secure the area and preserve any potential evidence as paramedics rushed inside. His eyes scanned around him and he noticed Spencer's intense scrutiny of the message on the wall.

Spencer recited the verse as he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. "The wisdom of the prudent is to give thought to their ways, but the folly of fools is deception."

"Any idea what it means?" Hotch asked, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation.

Spencer furrowed his brow, his mind racing through possible scenarios. "It's a message to us. The verse underscores the idea that wisdom involves careful consideration of one's actions and beliefs..." And then his voice slowly trailed off. "...while deception can lead to foolishness."

The words hung in the air, its implications weighing heavily on his mind. It was a declaration, a challenge, and a warning all at once. His mind raced to make sense of the situation. Who had written this message? Was this a desperate act from Walsh himself, or was there another player in this dangerous game they had been entangled in?

His stomach dropped.

That was it.

"It's a trap."

His mind then processed the surreal scene before him—the injured suspect, the message scrawled in blood—it was increasingly clear that this wasn't a straightforward apprehension; it was a carefully orchestrated plan, and they were mere pawns in a dangerous game. And as the realization began to grip him, his anxiety surged. There was only one thought in his mind.

With trembling fingers, Spencer pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had kept in his phone but never seemed to use. The seconds felt like an eternity as he anxiously waited for her to pick up. His mind raced with a thousand scenarios, each one more alarming than the last. Hotch stepped closer as he noticed the dread in his eyes.

"Reid."

There was only silence on the other end of the line. She wasn't answering. The fear that had gripped him intensified, and a knot of dread formed in his stomach. He tried again. There was still no answer. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably as he clutched his phone, the device suddenly feeling like an anchor pulling him deeper into a sea of fear.

"Reid."

As panic began to surge, he dialed Officer Anderson's number next. His trembling fingers pressed the buttons, and he held the phone to his ear, there was no response—no ringing, no voicemail, just a disheartening silence. His panic intensified. His chest tightened, and each gasping breath felt insufficient, leaving him feeling suffocated and—

"Reid!"

He exchanged a glance with Hotch. "I-I can't reach her," he said, sounding defeated. His palms grew clammy as he tried to regain control while he leaned against a nearby wall, attempting to steady himself.

JJ stood up and approached him. "Reid, take deep breaths," she urged, her voice calm and reassuring.

Spencer tried to steady his breathing, but his lungs felt constricted, and the air refused to fill them properly. He felt lightheaded, disconnected from reality, as waves of panic washed over him. JJ placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Focus on your breathing," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "In and out."

But the words struggled to penetrate the fog of panic that had enveloped his mind. His thoughts spiraled into a chaotic mess of fear and helplessness. The walls of the warehouse seemed to close in on him, and he gasped for air.

JJ guided him to a nearby crate. He complied, allowing himself to sit down as his trembling hands found the edge of the crate, fingers gripping tightly as he tried to steady himself. She crouched in front of him, her eyes meeting his.

"Spence, look at me. We're going to find her, but I need you to breathe, okay?" His gaze met hers, and he nodded, albeit shakily. He knew that he couldn't let his panic consume him, not when there was a chance of her being in danger, not when there was a possibility of her being taken away—he quickly shook his head.

The warehouse's oppressive atmosphere seemed to recede as he concentrated on his breath. Spencer became acutely aware of the controlled chaos unfolding around him. Hotch's firm and authoritative voice as he started to make calls, the flashlights dancing over the walls, and the low murmur of voices filling the space. He closed his eyes briefly, attempting to center himself.

But as he waited to regain his composure, the minutes felt like hours, and the fear of losing her weighed heavily on his mind.

Please, let her be safe.

"Y/n!" Sandy's voice called from the other room, prompting her to emerge from the bathroom. "Your phone keeps ringing."

"Can you check who it's from?"

Sandy checked the caller ID and responded, "Unknown caller."

She let out a dismissive sigh and started to head back into the room. "It's probably just spam."

But then, Sandy's voice broke the silence again, this time with a question that hung in the air like a heavy cloud. "This might sound crazy, but do you think Oliver has anything to do with Jamison's death?" Her breath hitched at the unexpected question. She turned to face her friend as she continued, "Just think about it, Oliver went missing right after the murder. Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

Eric's frown deepened, and he interjected, "Don't say that. He could be in danger for all we know."

"I forgot you're protective over him." Sandy turned toward Y/n, who stood in the middle of the room, caught between their exchange. "Did you know Eric and Oliver grew up together?"

Her frown deepened as she processed her words. "You did?" She asked Eric, her tone marked by surprise.

He shrugged, his casual demeanor unchanged. "We weren't exactly friends. We just grew up in the same community."

She continued to express her curiosity. "Why haven't I heard of this?"

"Because it's not important? Like I said, we weren't even friends."

Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of surprise mixed with a tinge of confusion. "I've known you both for what, two—almost three years now, and neither of you mentioned this?"

Eric dismissed her concern with a simple explanation. "It's not really a secret, though. We just don't talk about it." He then glanced over at Sandy. "I mean, she knows."

"It's really not an interesting topic," her friend agreed. "Why does it matter?"

She found herself grappling with that very question. Why did it matter? Why was this information tugging at her concern more than it probably should? She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about this felt unsettling, like a piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit, and it left her with an unsettling sense of curiosity.

In the end, she decided to let it go, at least for now. She shook her head, dismissing her lingering thoughts. "I... never mind."

She dismissed the topic and left the two to talk as she entered the kitchen, her steps echoing in the quiet space. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the dim overhead light, casting elongated shadows across the countertops.

With a sigh, she made her way to the refrigerator, its white exterior gleaming faintly in the light. As she pulled the door open, a cold gust of air rushed out, ruffling her hair. She bent down and stared into its content. While her unanswered phone calls continued to chime softly in the background, her eyes scanned along the stacks of drink lined across the shelf.

"Do you guys want a refill?" She called out, her voice breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

She waited for a response, only to be met by silence.

"Eric! Sandy! Do you want a refill?"

There was still no answer.

"...Guys?"

It was then she realized the gentle sound of conversation from the other room had stopped, replaced by an eerie quiet that seemed to envelop the entire house. The only sound that persisted was the soft, persistent ringing of her phone in the background. Slowly, she began to stand, her movements deliberate and cautious.

She froze in place, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she heard a sudden sound of something heavy hitting the floor. It echoed through the room, breaking the eerie silence that had enveloped the house.

But it wasn't the thud itself that startled her, it was the deafening silence that followed, as if the very world had gone mute. The absence of any other sound, the stillness that hung in the air, was unnerving. It felt like the calm before a storm, the hush that precedes a revelation, and every instinct in her body screamed at her to be cautious.

Her breathing became shallow, and she strained her ears, hoping to catch any sound that might offer an explanation. "Sandy?" She took a step forward. "Eric?"

She slowly merged from the kitchen, her cautious steps carried her down the narrow hallway that led to the living room. The silence pressed down on her felt like a heavy weight, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her.

A sense of unease settled over her as she stepped into the living room. At first glance, everything seemed eerily normal. The furniture was in its usual place, the soft glow of the lamps still casted a warm hue across the room. Yet, amidst this apparent calm, her eyes landed on a sight that sent a shock of fear coursing through her veins.

A gasp caught in her throat, because there, on the floor, lay Sandy's unconscious form, her body sprawled in an unnatural position. The room seemed to close in around her as she rushed forward, but before she could even move, she felt a sudden, oppressive presence behind her.

A heavy arm closed around her waist in a tight grip, and another hand pressed firmly against her mouth, muffling any cries of surprise or fear. She struggled, her heart pounding in her chest, as she was pulled backward, away from Sandy's prone figure.

"Hey, hey, don't move." A hushed and urgent voice whispered in her ear. She froze, her heart still pounding, her eyes wide with fear. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

It was in that terrifying moment that she realized a cloth was held over her mouth, and with a gasp, she inadvertently inhaled something that left her world spinning. The room seemed to blur and distort, shadows swirling into a chaotic dance as her body went limp.

The last thing she recalled was the persistent sound of her phone ringing before everything went black.

>> NEXT PART

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taglist #1

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[not-magdi]

-ucl nights / lamine yamal

Warnings: None, well the loss yesterday (I think that should be a warning to)

Words: 756

Reading Time: 5min 53sec

A/n

This story was inspired by yesterday, I kind of tried to comfort myself with it so yeah I hope you'll like it.

Love y'all Magdi

1:4, that was the end. Barcelona was out of the Champions League. They fought so hard, especially Lamine. That boy gives his heart and soul every time he plays, so a loss hits him extremely hard. But this one was different. After a period of losses, the last few wins made hope spark in everyone's chest.

It was also painful for you to watch. Being a barça fan since you were a little kid. But nothing prepared you for the emotions you would feel as you saw the player's faces when they walked past you in the tunnel.

As soon as the game ended, you rushed down the tunnel, wanting to see Lamine as fast as possible. Lamine and you haven't been together for such a long time, only 2 months. But over these months, you have become each other's safe place, with only being 16 years old in this crazy world.

You have been waiting for about 10 minutes now, greeting and comforting a few players you know as they passed you. Then, Lamine finally came into your view. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes brimmed with tears.

Your heart broke at this sight. Lamine tried to stay strong in front of you, but as soon as you opened your arms, he fell into them, holding you tight.

One of your hands went from his back to his head, stroking his hair. He buried his head deeper into your neck, letting out little sobs as you continued to hold him.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm here baby, I'm here."

The two of you continue standing there for a few minutes until you feel Lamine pull away. Opening your arms, you look up at him, kissing away a few tears that rolled down his cheeks.

"How about you get changed, then I'll drive you home, and we cuddle a bit on the couch." You whisper into his ear, kissing the side of his head.

"Y-yeah, I like that plan." His voice is still a bit croaky, but there's a slight smile on his face again, which was everything you wanted.

It was now 30 minutes later, and you were sitting in your car. You let Lamine take his time, knowing the time with his teammates is really important now.

To pass some time, you decided to open up Instagram, where you are instantly flooded with thousands of new videos of the game. One particular video caught your eye, though it was a video of Lamine sitting in a chair, his jacket completely covering his face to not see him cry. It broke your heart to see him like that.

You were lost in your own world when you heard the door opening. You looked at who it was only to see the familiar face of your boyfriend. He was wearing one of your favourite hoodies and a pair of comfy jeans.

"Hey, did I scare you?" Lamine asked you with a teasing tone in his voice.

"You could never." You answer.

Laughing, he gets into the car, holding his hand out for you to take.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding Lamine's, you drive to Lamine's apartment. The drive was silent, which was unusual as you usually talked the whole trip. But you don't wanna pressure him into talking, knowing he needs some time to open up.

Arriving at his apartment, Lamine immediately flops down onto the couch facefirst. Giggling, you lay yourself on top of him, burying his head in the crook of his neck.

"You wanna talk about tonight?"

Turning his head to face you, he shakes his head, "Not at the moment, I just wanna apologize for disappointing you tonight."

Frowning, you sit up, "Disappointing me? Why would you ever disappoint me?"

Lamine now sits up, too. "You were so excited about the game tonight and I wanted to play good for you tonight so you would be proud."

Gasping, you grab Lamine's face to make him look at you. "You, my love are going to listen closely to me now, understand me? There will be not a single moment in my life where I will not be proud of you. You are one of the most passionate and hard-working players I know. You have come so far in your career already while only being 16! Every time I look at you I feel so lucky to call you mine."

You ended your speech with a deep kiss on his lips, laying your forehead against his afterwards.

"Thank you, Amor, I love you"

"I love you too Lamine"

---------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome!! ❤️

[callmearcturus]

The Video Gaming Major Arcana

The latest patron episode of Into The Aether/@intothecast asked the boys to decide a video game for every Major Arcana card. They ran out of time on it and only got 2/3s thru

my ass was like "Challenge Accepted"

0 - The Fool - Dragon Quest (The Fool is infinite potential and is at the start of a long journey. DQ as a series is a long-running, is a bedrock of the medium, and has done its own takes on everything from pokemon to minecraft, and it either did it first or did it better.)

1 - The Magician - Metroid and Zelda (The Magician is the first person the Fool meets and is a guide for the journey. The Magician is associated strongly with teaching and with tools. Metroid and Zelda both are foundational works and they revolve around gating player process through tools.)

2 - The High Priestess - FEZ (The High Priestess is another guide, but sits before the veil, keeping guard over arcane, hidden knowledge and deciding when to share the secrets of the universe. FEZ is one of the Big Games that hide under layers and layers of mystery.)

3 - The Empress - Stardew Valley (The Empress presides over growth and cultivation of her kingdom, sitting in a field with wheat in hand. SDV is chiefly about taking care of your own domain, the farm and the wider village.)

4 - The Emperor - Civilization (The Emperor is the firm hand of government and can be an important navigator in chaos but also is angered by lack of obedience and losing control. Civ is all about steering every aspect of a nation and protecting it viciously.)

5 - The Hierophant - Pokemon (The Hierophant is a cultural, societal leader that gains power from people who believe similarly but subsequently is very set in their ways. Pokemon is a huge phenomenon that unites people of all ages, but also struggles heavily with innovation and progress.)

6 - The Lovers - Journey (The Lovers aren't necessarily smoochy-smoochy, but represent a Decision, joining hands with another person and striding into the future together. It's Journey. If you know, you know.)

7 - The Chariot - Bethesda's Catalog (The Chariot is a tumultuous, potent card. They hold onto the reins of powerful beasts and drive forward, blazing a new path. But if they lose grip, everything goes to hell. Bethesda's works tend to have this incredible ambition to them, and when they hit, they HIT, but when they miss, it's dramatic.)

8 - Justice - Dark Souls (Justice is the system and its enforcement of its rules, whether they feel fair or arbitrary. I feel DS fits it well-- it relentlessly follows its own rules and is firm in them, which can either draw players in or seem cruel and unwelcoming.)

9 - The Hermit - Immortality (The Hermit is a wise person who gained specialized knowledge but through great personal sacrifice. They find it difficult to share their knowledge because they essentially traded that ability to communicate easily for the wisdom. Immortality has some deeply complicated concepts to communicate, but its methods and the basic mechanics it uses are to some people impossible to understand.)

10 - (Wheel of) Fortune - Spelunky (Fortune is the card of pure luck and the whims of fate and how you survive being caught in its spokes. Spelunky is a pure Rogue-like as opposed to a Rogue-lite and there is no knowing what the procgen will give you.)

11 - Strength - Undertale (Strength is specifically about emotional control and fortitude. It's not about slaying the lion, but holding it, keeping it from lashing out. Undertale is a game that asks the player to endure emotional struggles both against the mechanics and against their own inclinations.)

12 - The Hanged Man - Signalis (OH BOY ITS MY FAVE CARD. The thing about the Hanged Man is that it's a test, a gamble, a deal. The Hanged Man is not hung from the neck, this is not an execution, they are inverted. They choose to be inverted in the hopes of gaining some Insight into the universe, but in doing so risk madness or obsession or doom. Signalis is both a game about a protagonist going through this and also a game that will put the player through this if they aren't careful.)

13 - The Nameless Arcana - Braid (I'm not even personally a fan of Braid, but I believe it is one of the handful of Original Indie Games. The very existence and popularity of Braid and its contemporaries showed that games outside the big studios could hit big. Braid (or Cave Story for the PC crowd) altered the landscape.

14 - Temperance - Yakuza (Temperance is the melding of disparate elements that should not go together into something grand and new, and maintaining that balance. Yakuza manages to be genuine and profound not in spite of its strange mixture of tones and mechanics but because of them.)

15 - The Devil - Genshin Impact (I don't feel the need to elaborate on this one.)

16 - The Tower - Shenmue (The Tower is total upheaval and where it all comes crashing down, where ambition crumbles and brings an institution down with it. Shenmue is not solely to blame for the failure of the Dreamcast and Sega's exit from the console arena, but it contributed to it and is emblematic of that seachange.)

17 - The Star - Mass Effect (The Star is a beacon in the darkness, a distant light that indicates not so much a goal, but that the journey will continue. Mass Effect is a landmark title that maybe didn't execute on half the things it tried, strangled by its own scope, but it still showed what games could do, broadening the possibility space. It is hope for greater experiences and art.)

18 - The Moon - Metal Gear (The Moon illuminates the path through the darkness, but creates illusions in the reflections, demanding the querent move forward with care or they will go astray, go mad. Is Metal Gear really deep? Is it the closest triple-A games get to arthouse? Does it have meaning? Or is it a mess? Is it too Problematique to justify it's big ideas? Is it all just really, really stupid? Or is it genius?)

19 - The Sun - Tetris Effect (The Sun comes at the end of a long, arduous journey. It is the sigh of relief, the tears of release, the light to finally see how far you've come. Tetris Effect is the latest iteration of one of the oldest formulas ever, and it's brilliant and celebratory and invites everyone to take part in its joy.)

20 - Judgement - Pathologic (Judgement is all-seeing and all-knowing, the final tally and the reckoning. So is Pathologic. Few experiences demand so much from the player, and few games are so brutally honest in answering the player's decisions. In Pathologic, you will get what you deserve.)

21 - The World - The Outer Wilds (The beginning is the end is the beginning. Completion and totality and holistic understanding of Everything. It's gotta be Outer Wilds.)

[writingoddess1125]

Modern AU Buggy X Reader- Pt. 2

Modern!Buggy x GN Reader

Fluff and some Sadness! Headcanon

Art belongs to Kokodraw on Twitter!

For just 10 cents a day you can support a hungry Author

• You and Buggy had been going steady for 7 months at this point, and truthfully it had been lovely.

• While Buggy did struggle with his emotions and expressing a healthy love language he did care a lot for you.

• It was rather blissful- That and the Sexy time were hella fantastic between you two.

• Who knew role-playing Pirate Sex was so fun!!

• However of course not everything can be absolutely perfect-

• It all blew up when you meet Shanks, it was purely by accident and at the loathing of Buggy. It had been a popular bar if the area that Buggy wanted to take you there as a special date.

• He had explained the bar was a favorite of his former Guardian and Boss Gol D. Roger. It was a important place for him and he wanted to share it with you.

• Arriving at the bar you two went to get some food in drinks, when the sound of bikers arriving disrupted the peace.

• Laughing and more sounded as the doors opened and the bikers entered. Buggy's face souring as he saw who it was- Shanks and his damn posy.

• "Well I'll be damned! Buggy! How are you doing" The red head announced and came over to Buggy- Of course buggy Biting his head off with Words which Shanks seemed to gladly ignored.

• "Oh and who is this?" Shanks questioned as his eyes landed on you. Buggy's eyes narrowing at this-

• "I'm (Y/N).. Buggys partner" You say politely, Shanks smiling brightly at hearing this.

• You saw Buggy's face scrunch up in anger, practically seething at seeing Shanks who was so happy to meet you.

• "It's lovely to meet you (Y/N), I'm Shanks- Buggy's brother if you will. Same group home and guardian from the past. I never knew Buggy had such magnificent taste" He charmed- For most he was defiently charming and kind. However a peg of sadness hit your heart when you hear 'group home'.. like a foster care? Your eyes traveling to Buggy who looked disarmed and like a protective armor was taken from him.

• Shanks continued his charismatic chatter- You looking to your partner who looked almost afraid and shocked. Shanks reaching his single arm out to place on Buggy's shoulder- clearly to compliment him.

• Buggy quickly pulled his grasp from Shanks quickly, hatred in his eyes that made the red head freeze. Buggy grabbed your hand quickly and pulled you away "We are leaving" He grumbled. Forcing you out of the Bar and back to the car

• Buggy wasn't know to be good with his emotions- So you knew he was either holding it in or about to burst-

• "Buggy.. How do you feel?" You ask, Knowing what was to come next

• "YES IM FUCKING FINE! WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT I-" He stopped himself, his driving slowing down as he clenched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

• "Pull over right here Bugs" You say softly, He hesitates but does as you ask. Pulling over in a deserted area of the road Buggy parked formally and glared out at nothing.

• You got out of the car and waved Buggy to follow. He did, slamming the car door as he marched to you clearly ready to snap again.

• You hugged him suddently and wrapped your arms around him tightly. "I'm so sorry Buggy... It must have been hard for you to see him again.. I'm sorry"

• You felt Buggy freeze against you, Before you felt his body slack against you and he buried his face into your neck as a sob ripped through him.

• You felt him close as he hugged you tightly and cried against you, Rubbing his back softly as he babbled through his tears.

• 'How Shanks betrayed him'.

'How could Shanks let Roger's legacy die like that'

'How he could abandon him- How his brother left him on his own..'

• The more Buggy cried the more you learned. Buggy had been abandoned as a child- Left in foster care were he met Shanks. The two begins picked up by Roger's and he raised him till he died..

• All of that fear, abandonment and pain being let out in sobs against your shoulder.

• Eventhally he stopped and pulled back enough were you could see the puffiness of his eyes and overall how red he was. Kissing his cheeks gently you ran your hand over the side of his face in comfort

• Leading him back to the car you took his keys and decided to drive yourself.

- The car ride had been silent all the way home. Buggy looking too out of it to care. Deciding it was best to stay the night with Buggy.

Back at his place, you both take showers together this time as Buggy clearly needs the extra love and care so you help him clean up and he tries the same with you. Mainly washing your back so he can lean against you in the shower.

Some comfortable clothes, snacks from the snack stash and laying in bed under the best of blankets. You and Buggy cuddled against each other, The night Seeming to wash away from you both finally.

"Im... I'm sorry I yelled at you" He whispered, his head against your chest as he laid there still and unmoving. Your fingers drawing invisible patters on his skin as you listen.

"I forgive you... I know you were emotionally frustrated" You say softly, earning a amused huff from Buggy at your choice of wording.

"God you sound like a therapist.

"Well I could say Emotionally constipated- You know reeaallly backed up in there needed-" Buggy snorted a laugh and placed his hand over your face to stop you.

"Alright Alright I get it- no shit jokes in bed" He deadpanned and rolled his eyes, You sticking your tongue out and licking his hand earning a noise of disgust from Buggy. "Nothing funnier!-"

"Nasty!" He protested with a laugh and wiped his sloppered hand on the blanket, you laughing as well as the two of you laid there together. The evening lightening up and clearly lifting both your hearts.

"Thank you (Y/N).." He whispered softly, You smiling and kissing the top of his head gently.

"Of course Bugs.."

After this there was moments of silence, you shifting a bit and feeling Buggy stating up at you.

"Buggy.. do you want to talk about it" You asked, He winced slightly at your words and sighed.

"... there isn't much to talk about- I was foster got a good foster parent and worked with him till he died" Buggy said with a sigh, You pausing your fingers for a moment.

"And the guy in the bar?.." You ask softly, Buggy body shifting a bit uncomforble.

"I thought he was my brother... but he abandoned me when I needed him the most.." He said with a sad sigh, his eyes closing.

"I-It hurts to be left you know?.." His voice trembled a little "...To know I wasn't wanted once is gard enough but twice?... T-Thats why I was so worried when we met. Happy I met someone like you but what if you left me too?"

Your heart broke at hearing this and you kissed his head again and pulled him closer.

"Buggy I'd never abandon you, I swear. I love you" You tenderly scoot him up just enough to place a kiss on his lips, Fresh tears in his eyes he returned the kiss. It wasn't sensual or deeply passionate like all the others before- but soft and filled with love...

Pulling back after a few moments you wipe the freh tears from his cheek and feel him lean against your hand in need of affection.

"I love you (Y/N).." He said softly, You heart aching at the sight of the poor man like this. Holding him close like you could shield the world from his bruised heart and kiss him once more.

"I love you too Buggy... More then I can ever express"