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cheriladycl01 · 5 months ago

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ANGST ( friendship ended, ego battles, Championship, Ferrari, Red Bull, Dutchman, American Girl, unrequired love, Title battle)

Y/N and Max have been friends since their go-karting days. She was a driver for Alpha Tauri and achieved spectacular results with the team and was hoping to take the second seat at Red Bull, but as other drivers are ahead of her to take that spot, she accepts a million-dollar proposal from Ferrari. Max is bewildered by her decision and breaks up a years-long friendship for a trivial reason, as she is thinking about the good part of her career and at Ferrari she has a chance to fight for titles. She is devastated by Max's reaction and his contempt for her, the Dutchman starts to pretend that the American doesn't exist and ignores her both in the paddock and in Monaco, where they live. Fans, fellow riders and the media are devastated how such a lasting friendship ended in such a heavy climate, the American media blasts Max, while the Dutch media trashes Y/N. Y/N and Max enter into a brutal and fierce dispute for the 2024 championship, more tense than 2021, due to the entire context that involves the two. Max felt betrayed by her leaving Red Bull and by her never realizing that he always liked her, but now she's the one who doesn't want anything to do with him in her life anymore and she's going to do whatever it takes to be world champion. They arrive in Abu Dhabi tied and in the wheel-to-wheel dispute, Y/N becomes world champion, and Max realizes that he made a mistake with the love of his life and is humbled by her forgiveness.

This is the story of us! - Max Verstappen x FerrariDriver! Reader

Plot: In the style of a documentary find out what really happened in the year of 2024 between Max Verstappen and Y/N Y/L/N.

“Audio test in the studio please Y/N” the Documenter asks from behind cameras.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1” you say your face on camera as some continues to fix your hair.

A News Broadcaster pops up from 2023 on Sky Sports News.

“Today the shocking news has come that rather than signing with Red Bull Y/N Y/LN has made a million dollar move to Ferrari”

“Y/L/N to drive in Red for the 2024 season”

“Red Bull decision to not sign Y/L/N leaves them out no options says Adrian Newey”

News articles play in overlay over each other as they get more frequent about your career change 2 years ago.

“Hiya Y/N” the interviewer for the documentary asks.

“Hello” you smile back politely on the footage.

“So this documentary is about the Formula One season of 2024 and … your intense battle for the championship”

“Mmmmm all very interesting no?” You joke before serious music comes on. Showing some shots of you racing, and some of the radios that came from that season.

“This isn’t right! Why isn’t my team working together” your voice come through.

“Y/N it’s time to back off. You can’t win this one”

“I’m never going to give up, it’s me or him in this dust and I don’t care which as this point as long as I know I pushed”

“Y/N are you okay? Y/N?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“Guys this is my last chance let’s put it all in”

“FUCK THIS GUY MAN”

“Yes it was … a heated season for sure” you chuckle.

“So start by telling us about your early life” she asks after a small compilation of early photos of you karting before it’s edited to flick back and forth between your interview and clips of you karting and in the feeder series.

“I started karting from a very young age, around 6 and worked my way up like any other driver. Eventually Red Bull … saw potential in me and decided to sponsor me and make me a part of their Young Drivers Programme. That eventually fed me into a seat in AlphaTauri or what is now Visa CashApp RB” you start, hands clenched together.

“I saw everyone else get a chance at that Red Bull seat before me regardless of my performance. And when they signed Sergio Perez, someone from a different team, that tipped me over the edge” you admit, knowing that it was one of the hardest heartbreaks you experienced.

“And that’s when Ferrari came in?” The interviewer asks.

“That’s when Ferrari came in, they wanted something fresh and new and I’d pretty much grown up with Charles just like I had Max, so there was no concern about us being Team-Mates. It was … despite Ferraris struggles in recent years, my only way forward” you nod your head, before the documentary shows your driving in your AlphaTauri and your incredible win in that car, that should have been the reason Horner wanted to sign you.

“Max … wasn’t happy with this decision” she asks and you nod.

“He wasn’t … i thought if anything was to ruin our friendship it would be an external relationship that didn’t appreciate our bond. Not … because of a job” you laugh thinking of his reaction and how he’d cut you off in all aspects of life.

That year was difficult for you, even though you’d had more people around you than you’d ever had in your life you had never felt more lonely.

Max had pretty much axed you out of his life. He’d blocked you on every social media, every messaging platform and even put your emails into his junk folder. You thought it was a step too far writing to him so, you left it.

You left an eleven year friendship to just go down the drain. You didn’t realise until he was actually gone how much of an impact Max Verstappen had on you and your life. He was there for you for every major thing that happened in your life and this move to Ferrari felt like your next step. But he had no longer wished to be a part of that.

“What did it feel like when you announced going to Ferrari?” Your asked and your paused for a while before you face the interviewer.

“I think everybody dreams of driving for Ferrari, no matter what team your currently with as … it’s the pinnacle of motorsport. But to be the first female to drive for Ferrari is a statement. The day I made the announcement and it went onto the F1 page that my contract was up with RedBull and AlphaTauri for the 2023 season I couldn’t have been happier because it felt like I was finally moving forward and not stuck in the same spot” you answer and she nods.

“And how did that affect your friendships?” She asks and you almost scoff.

“Why didn’t you just say Max” you chuckle before sighing. You never mind talking about it especially now, of course you were upset and heated back then. You normally tending to be after racing if it didn’t go your way anyway, but when it came to Max leaving you there were times you were pretty nonchalant about it because you didn’t know how to react.

It was the later reaction that was more frightening.

“Well, that would spoil that kind of answer, clearly there’s more of an issue here than with any other driver” she asks.

“You’ve done your research, you know exactly what happened”

Media floods in the documentary American News anchors sending hate to Max Verstappen especially when he came to home turf for a race and the Deutch fans butchering you in the Netherlands.

SkySports -

“Max Verstappen is brutal, can’t imagine ever being as petty as he is”

ESPN News -

“And today we have news that Red Bull Driver Max Verstappen has cut all ties with new Ferrari Driver Y/N Y/L/N, for her change of team”

Fan at the Track -

“You know Max is incredibly overrated and childish for what he did to our American pride and joy”

News in the Netherlands

“ze is gewoon een vreselijke chauffeur”

Fan at Zandvoort

“neuk haar”

It pans back to you looking down at your hands before the interviewer speaks up again.

“So before the season started did you and Max have any heated arguments that contributed to the start of the season?” She asks and you shake your head.

“He blocked me on everything, I was with my ex-boyfriend at that point and we were travelling during the winter break so it didn’t bother me too much. I tried to keep myself distracted knowing I had great support around me, a new team to get to know and work with.

But as the 2024 started to get closer and you came back home to Monaco, sensing Max had disappeared from your life finally sunk in. You had many days at home wrapped up in blankets crying, wondering where it all went wrong.

Making you feel lonely in Monaco was one thing, but it only got worse in the paddock when racing resumed for the testy 2024 season.

A video plays of the Bahrain testing in 2024 you on track in a semi fast Ferrari that people cannot tell whether you are sandbagging or not Max breezing past you.

Strangely that was the closest you’d been to Max in months.

“Monaco was different now that you didn’t have your best friend … how did you occupy your time instead?” She asked.

It showed videos of you partying in Monaco with Charles your soon to be team-mate, Lando Norris and Daniel Ricciardo.

Then it flicked to you and Lando golfing with Max Fewtrell, while vacationing.

It flicked to a very public argument between you and your boyfriend which proceeded to your breakup.

“Well, it was an interesting build up to the season. Let’s just say that” you smirk knowing at the start of 2024 before preseason testing you caused a lot of chaos all to try get your mind off the absence of Max.

“Then we find ourselves at Bahrain 2024… a race I think that will be in the history books as one of the most tense season openings ever” she admits writing something down on the notepad she had that she really didn’t need.

“Yes, it was an interesting race. I think that was the first time I was in equal machinery to Max, at the start of the season we didn’t start off as good as RedBull but Charles and I were giving him a run for his money” you admit knowing Sergio Perez didn’t have the greatest start to the season and now that you were locked into Ferrari, Red Bull were beating themselves up over the loss of you.

“So Max took pole and you were only 0.003 seconds behind him, what a margin! You started P2 both front row” she smiles and you nod.

“Yeah I think that’s the most scared I’ve ever felt in a race car, P2 has been my best qualifying position and I couldn’t let it go to waste. But having Max next to me with everything that was going on was a massive headache” you tell her and there’s a clip of you looking over at Max sat next to you just before the formation lap was about to begin.

“Let’s talk about turn 1 Bahrain …” she asks and you nod.

“I mean, I was racing and I was racing hard. I gave Max plenty of room, I had the inside line and I got past him and led. It was a good overtake and the team didn’t exactly tell me not to go for it” you explain and she nods.

“But after your pit stop stuff got real” she adds and you nod with a roll of your eyes.

“Tell me about it” you laugh.

“AND VERSTAPPEN GOES FOR THE OVERTAKE GOING INTO TURN 5, Y/N DEFENDING BEAUTIFULLY AND HE GOES AGAIN EDGING HER INTO TURN SIX AND OMG HES OFF INTO THE GRAVEL! MAX VERSTAPPEN IS OUT IF THE BAHRAIN GP” it shows the commentary from Crofty when this was all happening showing Max getting out the car and slamming his helmet down.

“WHAT THIS Y/N HAS DAMAGE THERE WAS IN FACT CONTACT AND SHES HAD TO PULL OVER NOT MAKING IT BACK TO THE PITS FOR A NEW TYRE” is shown also you getting out of the car, your escorted back to the pit wall while Safety Car is deployed.

“Yours and Max’s argument that day while the race was still underway and Charles was leading, was intense who actually started it?” She asks.

“Oh Max did 100%. I was just talking to my race engineer and he came over all pissy and yelling in my face. Seeing him so red and angry was funny though” you admit.

“I think that’s the first time people had seen seriously Mad Max since the Ocon incident”

“I guess I just bring that side out of him” you admit with a nod.

“What the fuck was that” Max came over to you, you took a step back hoping to defuse the situation knowing their was cameras around and you didn’t really want to bring attention to either of you.

“Look Max we were both racing hard. It happens, you went into me, we both ended up out the race … it happens” you explain and the camera men all get closer.

“You went into me! Are you having a laugh!” He says until he starts ranting in Dutch and his PR manager and a Marshall take him away from you.

“Bahrain was incredibly dramatic for a race. The champion of last year was sat at the bottom of the leader board and Charles, Lando and George were looking at the top spots. How did the make you feel?” She asks and you nod.

“Obviously it’s concerning. Coming back isn’t easy after a feat like that, so we knew we’d have to come back in Saudi and make it better than it was. It’s also hard to come back from something like that mentally? Yano. So Saudi was hard especially all the media around me” you explains and it cuts to clips of all kinds of media swarming around you asking you stuff about Max and your race in Bahrain.

“In Saudi you and Max raced hard but eventually it ended up with Max in P1 and you in P2 and Lando P3… that podium was tense” she explains and a video of the podium came up, showing Max celebrating with everyone but you. You ending up leaving him and Lando and leant over the fence of the podium to spray your team down below.

“Lando and Max are close, but you and Lando are aswell so how did it feel having no celebration up there with you?” She asked.

“Lando is actually the sweetest person I’ve ever met. He cares about everybody and everything and he worries when he thinks he’s upset someone. He messaged me after that podium, apologising for leaving me out of the celebration and he didn’t even realise he had as he was so caught up in Max spraying him he thought it was both of us. I obviously replied saying I wasn’t upset and that it was okay. I had my team and that’s all I really needed at the end of the day” you nod knowing it WAS a hard podium to be up on but you made the best of a bad situation.

“The comes Australia, and this is your first time to regain the points lost in Bahrain. So what did you do?”

“Man … the first time I won was so nice … that I just had to do it twice” you quote Anthony Joshua with a little laugh. Before it shows you’re victory.

“AND FOR THE SECOND TIME IN HER FORMULA ONE CAREER THE AMERICAN TAKES HOME THE CHEQUERED FLAG TAKING VICTORY IN AUSTRALIA, TEAMMATE CHARLES LECLERC BEHIND HER IN P2 WITH LANDO NORRIS CLOSING UP THE PODIUM” Ted commentates.

“It was an incredible feeling, knowing I was now making my way back up the ranks and was in P3 in the championship, Max was behind me and I felt like I was back in the game. To DNF’s for him was almost laughable.

“The points were very amusing come China, you were leading the championship and Ferrari were at the top for the constructors championship. And Max, Lando and Charles were all on 76 points and you were on 78… how tight!?” She adds.

“Yes, it was crazy how varied this season was with wins, especially with how RedBull were insanely dominant the year before and RedBull took all wins bar Singapore. At this point I wasn’t just fighting Max in he championship there was word at Ferrari that team orders were going to come into play to help Charles win but when we were both so close in points it was easier to just let us race” you explain happily, knowing that it was a fun season to be a part of.

“But after China was a sort of turning point for Max correct?” She asks and you nod again.

“It was for both of us. After China it was a constant change between me and Max of who was going to win, Lando and Charles remained close, but not enough to win.” You explain but her look tells you you didn’t give her the answer she was after.

“I meant about Max trying to rekindle that friendship you both once had” she asks and you scoff.

“Mmmmm you’ll have to ask him about that… at the time I could only assume he wanted to be my friend to distract me from what was important … winning” you answer.

“Hello Max” the interviewer says as their special guest for the documentary comes in. He takes a seat, a stoic nod as he does.

“So, Y/N didn’t seem to be able to tell us what happened after the Chinese Grand Prix, it seems from sources that you unblocked her on everything and attempted contact?” She asks and Max nods.

“I- I did. After seeing her wins, and her face once she realised it was a full fight this year and how excited that made her I knew I was in the wrong for ever letting our bond go. I don’t think she even cared about the championship that year, just being in a team that was letting her drive a good car, with a good team and actually help her improve. I was in the wrong but at this point … she was only focused on racing” he sings and a compilation of videos of the pair of you arguing on track came up.

“It was just affecting you guys either was it?”

“No, it was hard especially for Lando, Daniel and Charles, we’re all so close and Lando and Y/n are like siblings so when it came to the both of us not talking it was difficult for them. Y/N being … well Y/N didn’t want to make it a big deal and started hanging out more with her other friends like Yuki, Logan, Zhou, George and Alex but it still meant it was … awkward to say the least” he admits.

“Yeah, that sounds rough, do you ever regret it?” She asks and he nods.

“For a long long time, I didn’t think that I would be able to reconcile our friendship like Nico and Lewis did” he admits.

“But you think that now?” She asks and he smiles.

“I know so” he smirks

It was the end of the season, you and Max were tied in points so for fans it was like Abu Dhabi 2021 all over again. Max was starting P1 and you were starting P2, you’d overtaken him down the straight having better straight line speed than his car did. You were practically flying round the track, Max chugging along behind you eventually setting the fastest lap, and you just knew the cheer from the crowd would have been phenomenal if you could hear it.

After great strategy from Ferrari you ended up winning that race, along with the Championship. Getting out the car was a feeling like no other, you bend down by the wheel of your car, tears streaming out your eyes and dripping on the still closed visor as your knees give out from a tricky and hot race as you sob.

You run over to the Ferrari team, them all pulling you into hugs along with Charles and his girlfriend who looks so excited to celebrated with you.

“OMG” you cried into Fred’s arms. What surprised you the mot was a tap on your back and a blue race suit. You were silent looking at Max.

“Congratulations” he says and tears are still in your eyes. You just nod at him politely.

“Please Y/N I’m so sorry, I - you deserve the seat and the championship. You’ve done so well this year and I’m so proud of you” he smiles and more tears flood your eyes. All you’d wanted to hear was those words.

“Do you ever think you could forgive me, because I love you Y/N and I cannot loose you” he says tears brimming his own eyes.

“I forgave you a long time ago Max, this was all really stupid” you smile at him. Before your team I pulling you away to get you to the podium.

“After the podium, come meet me at the bay, 3rd yacht along… okay I have to tell you something” he shouts after you and you nod grinning.

“What happened on that boat Max?” The interviewer asks.

“That’s for me to know and no-one to ever find out …” he smirks before laughing and giving you as kiss on the cheek as you come back into the room.

“Y/N?”

“Mmmmm I’m with Max, but let’s just say … we rekindled” you laugh and the cameras cut out the documentary ended.

“So you guys are obviously together … what changed?” She asks off camera curiosity getting the best of her.

“We worked out that we had feeling for each other for a very very long time before the fight!” You answer and well, that was that.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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olivialivvy17 · 4 days ago

Text

Racing to the beat - Daniel Ricciardo

summary: Daniel gets a new teammate in VCRB, a F2 female championship winner for the 2025 season. What he didn't expect was her to be extremely genz and a kpop fan.

pairing: fem rookie driver!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

AU: Social media!AU and Written!AU

warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing, use of yn, hate comments, reader is 25.

face claim: Amna Al Qubaisi for professional f1 photos, the rest are from pinterest.

wc: 617

a/n: hii guyss, sorry for a late update. haven't been really inspired to write. I hope you enjoy this part, I'm not the best at writting but I'm trying my best fr. okay love you lots <333

part two <prev. next.>

ynusername posted a story

second story

user8 oh to be rich😔

charles_leclerc you know who to call for a tour

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ynusername Alex my favorite tour guide (ily mwah) ❤️

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user9 oh how I love women

user10 a duo we needed so bad😩

alexandrasaintmleux I had a blast! can't wait to see you again 🫶🏻

ynusername love you gf <3

user11 hello my clothes were just on 😔

lilymhe we need to meet up soon!

ynusername omg Lilly, omg omg. yes, yes we have to. omg you're so pretty🫶🏻

lilymhe you're so pretty too! and like such a good driver! ❤️

ynusername ❤️❤️ im freaking out rn❤️❤️

user2 Yn is so real for this😭😭

user1 let's hope they don't media train her 🙏🏻 liked by ynusername

charles_leclerc turns out we won't be only competing for that championship

ynusername I fear Alex is my gf now (I'm joking media manager)

danielricciardo going out with Alexandra before me? I might be heartbroken💔

ynusername noooooooo I promise we'll hang out before the first race, I just need to settle in Monaco rn

danielricciardo I'm holding you to that mate

ynusername yes sir🫡

user8 I might have a new favorite duo

ynusername posted a story

user12 you ARE in fact on my rob list

user13 we need an album collection asap girl

olliebearman I miss listening to your broken Korean singing 😭

danielricciardo that Seventeen group has some good songs

ynusername see I told you! I'm glad you're liking my recommendations

second story

visacashapprb boss said we might need to start media training you

ynusername nooo boss i promise I'll behave. I promise🙏🏻

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user15 HAHAHAHA I LOVE YOU ALREADY

bestfriend I love my strong woman🤤

ynusername all for you wife 🤞🏻

16.03.2025. Australia, Melbourne

“Get your shit together” you said to yourself in the mirror. Standing in the RB garage bathroom, gripping the sink with all your strength while trying to tame the boiling anxiety coursing through your body. It's officially the first race day and all the fears and doubts came crashing down on you. It’s normal to be nervous on the first day, you said to yourself, but is it normal to be physically nauseous? Probably not, but here we are. “You can do this Yn, you know what you're capable of” you keep repeating out loud like a mantra, hoping it will stop the burning and sinking feeling in your stomach.

A voice calling out your name snapped you out of the spiraling daze. “Are you in there?” said a voice you recognize as your race engineer. “Yeah, give me a second i'll be out” you shout from the other side of the door. Receiving a ‘Okay’ from them as you turn on the faucet and put your clammy hands under the cold water. Urgently splashing your face, hoping to bring you out the anxiety induced haze. Straightening up, you dab the moisture off your face and discard the paper towel. Fixing your tied back hair and the race suit that's zipped up to your hips. With a more of a shaky chuckle, you flash thumbs up to yourself in the mirror and whisper “You got this girl” before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out to the bustling and roaring garage.

Walking back to your side of the garage, you spot Daniel speaking to one of your engineers. “There you are” spoke the familiar Aussie accent as you two made eye contact, seeing his infectious smile only made the corner of your lips twitch upwards. “How are you feeling, everything okay?” said Daniel as you approached the screens where he's standing. With a nervous chuckle, you spoke “Honestly, anxiety is gnawing at my insides, but I've pep talked myself in the mirror so hopefully I won't spiral completely” as you shifted your gaze from the screen to him. The Aussie had a soft and understanding expression on his face as he reassured you in a comforting tone “You're gonna be just fine, trust me” as he placed his hand on your shoulder “I know how you feel and that's completely valid. Nerves mean you care—use them. Trust your prep, feel the car, and have fun. The first race is unforgettable. You’ve got this, you're a good driver and you know it.”. The way his tone was sincere and caring and that warm smile and the grounding hand on your shoulder made the burning pit in your stomach slightly fade away. With more confidence in your stance, and that smile finally appearing on your face, you thanked him “Thank you for saying that, you don't how much it means to me. I promise to give it my best and not let the fear swallow me whole,” you end the sentence with a soft chuckle. With a chuckle of his own, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you in a reassuring and warm embrace, patting your back gently. Your hands instinctively found their way onto his upper back, mimicking his patting motion.

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visacashapprb First race of the season comes to an end! Ricciardo P6, Yn/Ln P8. What a duo!

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user16 YN IS WHAT PLACE ?

user2 ATEEEEEEEEE🙂‍↕️

ynusername i totally wasn't singing that one song by 2ne1 (iykyk)

user17 rb better upgrade that car, cuz my girl can place so much higher

user18 for a rookie, she's good

f1 Yn slayed on that track!

user7 not admin trying to use slang😭

danielricciardo Amazing first race Yn!

ynusername couldn't do it without my great teammate🥹

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #dr3 #formula 1 #f1 social media au #f1 smau #instagram au #smau

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h4m1lt0ns · 1 year ago

Text

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode six :: THANK U, NEXT.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴max verstappen x ex!y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔y/n has come to save the industry, oh and max crashes.

fc – wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕max crashes and dnfs, shady behavior, i accidentally said w13 instead of w14.

y/n

♡ liked by honeymoon, carlossainz55 and 24,294,109 others.

y/n heartbreak syndrome, 20/9 🫀 my sixth studio album is finally coming out and i can’t wait for u to hear it !! (i actually physically can not wait until it’s released i’ll need to be held down srsly) i’ve worked with some of my absolute favourite people in the entire world to make the songs on here and i hope that u guys love this project as much i do 🎻🤍 excuse the twitter jump scare btw i was excited sorry lol 🫂🫧

tagged: honeymoon, arianagrande, theweeknd.

4,294,104 comments.

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alexandrasaintmleux heartbreak syndrome tour when

➜ y/n 👀

➜ alexandrasaintmleux you best BELIEVE i will attended every show 😌

francisca.cgomes BUT IT WAS ALL IN MY HEAYEAHYEAHYEAHEAD

➜ y/n IT WAS ALL IN MY HEAD

➜ username STOP TEASING US OML

➜ landonorris KIKA HEARD IT???

➜ y/n well.

➜ landonorris I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR FAVOURITE MUM 😢

➜ y/n YOU ARE BABY IM SORRY 😭

pierregasly literally ran a lap, i’m too excited.

➜ charles_leclerc he actually did

lilymhe MY WIFE IS BACKKK

➜ alexalbon come on man

➜ lilymhe no babe lOOK AWAY

➜ y/n i say let him watch 🥱

➜ alexalbon 🤨

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

y/n: GUESS WHOS COMING TO THE ITALIAN GRAND PRIX

honey badger : iS THIS A PISS TAKE???

my baby lando: shut up 😒

my baby lando: shut the actual fuck up 😟

chili!: YOU BETTER BE FOR REAL

chal eclair: REALLY OH MY GOD Y/N

alabono: PULL UP IMMEDIATELY 😁

PIERRE GASLYYYY: YEAHHHHH BOY

chal eclair: you’re coming to the ferrari garage first i don’t make the rules 🙏🏻

chili!: what charles said 🙏🏻

PIERRE GASLYYYY: UHM NO ???

alabono: c’mon now we all know where she’s going first

my baby lando: to the mclaren garage obv ??

chili!: no tf she’s not 😐

princess george: guys

chal eclair: ferrari garage or i run out into the track so i get ran over

chili!: oKAY RELAX 🔥

my baby lando: listen

my baby lando: i’ll be holding y/n hostage in the mclaren garage just so you know 🧡

alabono: see this just won’t work mate 🫤

princess george: GUYS

honey badger: i was gonna say rb garage but i’ll stay quite lmfao

PIERRE GASLYYYY: yeah let us know how that will turn out 🙄

my baby lando: yeah how abt no.

yukino: i will turn everyone into human sashimi if i don’t see y/n in MY end of the garage tmrw 🙏🏻❤️🔥

y/n: 😟

my baby lando: 😟

alabono: 😟

chal eclair: CHILL MATE

chili!: bwoah

PIERRE GASLYYYY: okay yeah no

princess george: GUYS.

princess george: y/n will be staying at the mercedes garage and hospitality

princess george: your welcome btw i convinced her to come

my baby lando: george william russell, i know where you live.

chili!: ?????????

chal eclair: ^^^^

PIERRE GASLYYYY: retweet

y/n: wait

y/n: yuki where tf have u been

yukino: i don’t feel like talking to people sometimes

y/n: retweet that

honey badger: real

chili!: honestly tho

my baby lando: real as fuck

alabono: still not over y/n picking george over the rest of us 🥲

chili!: yEAH WHY HIM HE’S NOT SPECIAL

chili!: HE’S BRITISH

yukino: retweet THAT

my baby lando: oH CARLOS YOU HAVE A PROBLEMS WITH BRITS NOW HUH??

honey badger: fIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

y/n: you guys are the most unserious mfs

chal eclair: bae george is not special

chal eclair: come home to ferrari 🙏🏻❤️

chili!: literally like ??

alabono: HOME?? FERRARI???

PIERRE GASLYYYY: ^^^^

my baby lando: “come home to ferrari”

my baby lando: i just had an aneurism

chal eclair: 😐

y/n: we’re literally gonna be together all day 😭

y/n: plus apparently roscoe hamilton is coming tmrw so

my baby lando : YOU PICKED A DOG OVER ME??

y/n: same same

my baby lando: BITCH 😭

honey badger: HAKSKANSJA

chili!: I CACKLEDDDDDD

chal eclair: LMFAOOOO

princess george: ROFLLLLLLL

my baby lando: we hAD A NO BULLYING POLICY

y/n: can’t hear you over doing my makeup while lily, carmen and kika scream along to lana del rey 🤍

my baby lando: i don’t like you.

y/n: liar

my baby lando: true

MAX VERSTAPPEN COMMENTS ON HIS DNF AT THE ITALIAN GRAND PRIX:

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #max verstappen #yuki tsunoda x reader #pierre gasly x reader #alex albon x reader

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ikigaisvt · 11 months ago

Text

quiet love

in which your boyfriend vernon likes showing his love for you in a quiet way.

pairing: vernon x f!reader words count: 2k content: childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff, domestic warnings: so soft but very corny, contains pretty common prompts imo, vernon's love language is not words of affirmation lol, implied that kids are mean to vernon, mention of driving, drinking, loss and exes, reader is sick at one point (the flu), a lot of food/eating talk, they are so healthy youre gonna throw up, soooo much physical affection they make me SICK (holding hands, kissing, playing with each other's hairs, hugging etc), babe/baby petnames note: omg im alive?!?!? hiii!! it's been so long since i posted a fic! this one is a birthday gift for the loml @vcrnons <3 happy birthday, u know it all already but don't forget i love u sm!!! i hope you enjoy this childhoodbff!vernon (it's ur thing) who's very very in love but very very shy to say it. hope anyone else who sees this fic enjoy too! don't forget to interact with this if u liked it, rbs are very very very appreciated! thank u<3 (also this was proofread by tired me so if there is any mistakes, ignore it pls thanks <3)

Vernon has always been a man of a few words; when you first met him in elementary school, he was the quiet boy and nothing could get him to speak apart from spinning tops and his favorite cartoons. Still, you decided to befriend that calm boy – at the time, people used to think you were only being nice but deep down you knew: you were making a friend for life.

Going through all of the different steps of childhood and teenage hood with Vernon by your side was an experience – you raised hell together, driving your parents crazy. But it was also having a best friend to experience each other’s every first times: first partners, first time driving, first time getting drunk but also first breakup, first bad haircut and first loss. You have seen each other through everything. No, you have watched over each other through everything; wherever you were, Vernon was standing two steps back, making sure you were always safe. And wherever he was, you were always standing two steps back, making sure he was always loved.

And that’s how you both fell in love. It was slow and secure; falling in love with Vernon was never complicated or painful. It was how things dropped into place and none of you ever denied it; at the time you knew you were meant to be – maybe you always did. And so, you let yourself fall into each other’s arms, a safe place, full of quiet love.

You were 24 years old when Vernon first wanted to tell you he loved you; yet, he didn’t have the courage to fess up. Having spent his whole life showing his love through actions, he had a hard time saying it out loud. After a nice date to the cinema and the restaurant, he drove you back home, small talk and look exchanged during the trip. As soon as he puts the car in park, he reaches out to hold your hand, his thumb drawing circles.

“Had a nice time tonight?” he asks.

“Of course I did,” you answer, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “You know I always do with you,” you add, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“You need to go, you have an early day tomorrow,” he tells you, kissing your palm.

“Yeah, I’m going,” you say as you reach down for your bag and open the door, “Let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“Of course,” he says as he holds your face between his hand, “You do the same,” he adds against your lips before kissing you softly.

“It’s literally two steps away, I’m already home,” you chuckle as you exit the car.

“Won’t leave until I get the text, babe,” he smiles as he leans over the center console to look at you.

You roll your eyes sarcastically at him but still, your lips go up into a smile as your cheeks reddens from the way he so apologetically loves and cares for you. This boy would do anything to make sure you see how much he adores you. So, you wave him goodbye and it’s only when you close your front door and his phone buzzes with an i’m home :) drive safe, text me xx that you hear him drive off.

The second time he almost confessed to loving you was when you were 25. You had just gotten over an awful flu that got you bed ridden for days, unable to go on with your schedule as you normally would. You were sleeping the sickness off for hours on end, only waking up when Vernon knocked on your door to check up on you. Honestly, he knew it was only the flu, but he was so scared for you; in his eyes, you always appeared as the strongest women on earth so seeing you so weak and tired pulled at his heartstrings. He thought about confessing his undying love as you were blowing your nose – maybe it will magically heal her, he thought one night. But deep down he knew you needed someone to help you out physically and so, he did. He had taken such good care of you; he kept your home clean, did the laundry and helped you out to the shower if needed. He had thought about doing the cooking but he knew his poor skills wouldn’t get you to eat at all. So, even if you couldn’t finish your plates, he had ordered your favorite meals all week, even if he didn’t really like some of those.

It's been a few days since you last had a fever, so even if you were still blowing your nose and coughing a little bit, you could still get out of bed and hang out with Vernon. You two decided to have an at-home date, ordering your favorite meals and watching the show you recently started together. Since you were less sick you could finally finish your plate and eat more than usual; even after finishing your food, your stomach was still grumbling.

“I’m still hungry,” you whisper to yourself, not thinking Vernon would hear you.

“Yeah?” he asks, still looking at the TV as he holds a spoon full of food in the air, “Want a bite?” he says as he looks at you.

“Is that okay?” you ask, not wanting to take away his favorite food. Even when you were sick, you saw how Vernon only ordered your favorite foods – he deserved to have every bite of his favorite dish.

“Of course it is!” he smiles at you, extending his spoon in front of you, “You like it?” he asks, waiting for your nods of approval.

You nod enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up with a smile, “That’s so good!” you exclaim before Vernon reaches for your plate. You look at him, wondering what he is up to before you see him fill your empty plate with more than half of his meal, “No, no, no,” you say, trying to reach for it as Vernon puts it out of reach from you.

“You need to eat, babe,” he says as he puts the dish on your lap, “Go on,” he smiles, patting your head before turning his attention back to his almost finished meal and the tv.

You smile down, cheeks red from your boyfriend’s attention. You notice how he gave you the tastier part of his dish – meat, veggies and a lot of gravy with a good amount of rice – and he kept most of the rice and only a piece of meat for himself. You start to eat happily, re-adjusting your position on the sofa to be closer to him. It might have been a year and a half since you started dating with no I love you’s said, but you know this is how he shows he loves you. And that is enough for you – it will always be.

It's now been two years since you started dating Vernon; you’re 26 years old, living with your boyfriend, your two cats and waking up every day with the love of your life next to you. Life is beautiful and you could not ask for more. To celebrate your anniversary with Vernon, you planned a trip to your hometown - only a 1 hour-drive from home – so you can have your date where you first kissed: at the cinema. If someone told Vernon he would one day ignore a movie to give his attention to a human being, he would have laughed at their face. But here he is. Countless of movies and shows watched with you right there, next to him, and yet you always steal his gaze away from the screen. You are just so beautiful, he thinks to himself. And when he sees you, laughing at a stupid joke from a character, he smiles with you. Not because the joke is funny, no, but because he cannot watch you without his heart filling up and his feelings pouring out onto his lips. He knew since he woke up that day, on your 2 years anniversary, that he would say it. It had been on the tip of his tongue since the first time he saw you in elementary school, smiling at everyone and saving bugs, but he always held it back. He thought it would be too soon, too fast, too much – but how can love ever be those things? he realized recently. He had said I love you a thousand times already through his actions, he had said he loved you out loud to his friends, his family, his cats. He thought now was the time you should hear it. So, all day, his head was in the clouds, thinking how to bring this up, how to say I’m in love with you to his soulmate. It happens when you pull him into your apartment at 1 am, your anniversary already over. You both get rid of your shoes, the tiredness of the day finally falling on your shoulders, before you pull him into you for a hug. Your arms stay at his waist, his heart going thump, thump, thump against yours as his cheek rest on the crown of your head.

“Gonna let you go to sleep,” you mumble against his shirt before letting him go, “I’m gonna shower.”

“Hey- babe,” he says softly to get your attention, his hand wrapping around your wrist, “need to tell you something,” he tells you as you’re pulled back against his chest, hands on his front as one of his rest on your waist, the other one covering your cheek.

“Everything’s okay?” you ask, rubbing circle on the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” he whispers, his eyes going down to look at your lips and up again, “You’re pretty,” he speaks under his breath, a blush making its way on your cheeks – and his.

“Thank you,” you smile as you reach for his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whisper against his lips.

He holds onto your cheeks, your foreheads resting against each other, “I love you,” he murmurs so low you think you made it up but as you open your eyes and see tears in his own, you know this is nothing but real life.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, taken aback, “I love you too,” you say, smiling up at the love of your life.

“I know this was long overdue and I’m sorry it took me so long-“ he starts to babble, uneasiness bubbling in his chest before you cut him off with a kiss.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, playing with the hair at his nape, “To me, you’ve said it a thousand times,” you reassure him as he blushes, chuckling softly at how you always find the right words for him, “But a thousand more wouldn’t hurt,” you tease slightly, making him snort.

“I love you,” he repeats, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours find a resting place at his waist, rubbing his back over his shirt.

“Again,” you say with a smile in your voice before kissing his chest in an I love you too.

“I love you,” he says against your hair, his hands making its way under the straps of your dress.

“Again,” you ask him, never getting enough of these words flowing out of his lips.

“I love you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, leaving a kiss behind, “so much.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing this,” you whisper, your hands meeting the end of his shirt, “I love you,” you say as you touch his bare back.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says like a mantra, “I’d unlearn any other words so all you could hear is my love for you,” he whispers, his eyes meeting yours, before your lips collide – just like your worlds did so many years ago.

You’ve always found reassurance in this quiet love you and Vernon were giving each other – but maybe you liked your love being a little louder sometimes.

thank u for reading! hope you enjoyed hehe <3

#sammy's works #j<3 #seventeen 💌#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt reactions #svt fluff #vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #vernon imagines #vernon fluff

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wonfilms · 10 months ago

Text

looking after enhypen [౨ৎ] when they’re sick

( rbs are very appreciated !! ) | pairing. ot7! x fem reader wc. 0.9k cw. sick ppl (jst fevers and colds!) genre. fluff a/n- i loved writing niki's sm idk why, i hope u guys enjoy this, this is mostly bc i'm sick rn and i'm projecting

lee heeseung:

heeseung’s so pouty when you try to look after him, trying to insist that he’s completely okay despite his flushed cheeks and very evident fever

mumbling under his breath about something along the lines of, "don’t worry about me baby" when all you can do is worry when he’s been tucked in bed all day, napping

begging you for another blanket to stay cosy, even though it's gonna make him feel warmer and worse, till you cave and swaddle him up

lets you feed him soup and press kisses to his forehead even though he’s complaining about how you’re gonna catch his cold too, (he’d be lying if it didn’t make him feel so loved and cared for, he’s already plotting how he’ll make it up to you when he's feeling better)

park jongseong

jay’s already trying his best to take care of himself , sleepily attempting to make some soup when you arrive back home in a rush, arms decked with supplies to help him feel better.

hates to complain, he's practically insisting he's absolutely fine even though he's so tired

giving him the princess treatment, even though he insists that’s usually his job.

letting him lean on your shoulder, combing his soft hair as you feed him the little warm dumplings you bought for him as a treat :(

kissing his forehead telling him about your day while he dozes off slightly on your chest just because he likes to hear your soft voice lulling him to sleep

keeps saying thank you over and over even though you told him to rest his voice, because he appreciates you looking after him so so much sim jaeyun

so cute n whiny about it actually lets you tuck him in bed and put on a movie while he's plowing his way through a box of tissues..

swears that he's going to pass away from his little cold, and it's cute even though he's been a little drama queen just for your attention

says he can't move just so you can feed him, another man who deserves princess treatment

won't let you kiss him though, doesn't want you to get sick!! but he knows he'll fold if you keep asking,

whenever you say he's getting hot, his go to response is "aren't i always baby?"

keeps up the flirting even though he swears he's on his 'deathbed'

park sunghoon

he never gets sick, he’s always somehow at the peak of health, usually it’s his job to look after you when you catch colds but this time it’s his turn to be coddled, quite unlike his usual taste

cheeks and nose all red and he’s clinging to you, even though he swears he’ll be okay in a day (he was not)

hugs you from behind as you make him something warm to drink because he just wants to be close

even tries to insist he’ll sleep on the sofa because he doesn’t wanna get you sick, pouts when you shut that idea down before he can even finish explaining himself

gets really irritable and groans about how much he could be doing right now if he wasn’t all ill and if it wasn’t for the fact you’ve put him to bedrest for a while

kim sunoo

very much a little drama queen like jake but sunoo’s sweet about it. insists on trying to take care of himself, failing miserably when he almost falls asleep trying to make toast and having to call you to help him

sunoo very much enjoys the coddling and princess treatment you’re giving him, but does promise he’ll make it up to you even though you’re only doing it because you love him

running him a warm steamy bath to clear up his sniffly nose and making warm herbal tea to share~

he loves you so much, constantly mumbling about how much he does in his delirious state

yang jungwon

tries to be productive even when he’s coughing his lungs out and half lucid, that’s always been his issue

complies when you drag him to bed because he loves you too much to go against your words

does complain about it though, saying he’ll be okay and it’s just a cold.

almost falls asleep as soon as you start brushing his hair gently

even though you’re scolding him for not taking care of himself, he can’t help but smile at how much you care for him

cuddles you tight, even after saying he doesn’t want you ill too, because he doesn’t wanna be apart right now

“you look adorable all bundled up like this” “hehe yeah <3”,

nishimura niki

is an absolute brat, in all honesty

complains the medicine tastes bad, and you have to plead and beg for him to take it.

“just take it niki” ”what will i get if i do?” “you’ll get better, that’s what you’ll get”

whines complaining how he can’t kiss you now, tries to sneak in a couple cheek kisses though

bundling him up in 3 blankets because he’s shivering.

won’t give up the drip even though he’s sick.. he’s gotta keep up hot boy appearances and let everyone know that his hot girlfriend has a hot boyfriend too

taking him on a walk and hes trying to leave his coat at home because it ruins his outfit.

moans about the fact he looks like a kid, when you pull a coat, scarf and a hat around him before you take him out, making him look so so cuddly

takes a nap on your chest after you get home, when he finally shuts up and calms down <33

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andcars · 5 months ago

Text

★ 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗬 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗦 daniel ricciardo x f!reader

SUMMARY . . . # during the summer break , you and daniel decide to make it official . what better way than for both you and him to feature on each other's tracks ? daniel plays as the drummer and you are invited to an f1 race.

TAGS . . . # female reader , reader is part of a band , established relationship , softlaunching , slight suggestive content , the band is based of pre-existing ocs FIC STYLE. . . # social media (instagram + tiktok)

thehitbandofficial

liked by @ ynyn_unofficial @ ollieq._x @ jacoblorde @ penn4pennies @ danielricciardo and 154 others

We're getting the band back together!!

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thb_01 NEW ALBUM DROP??

olli4.jpg eating this shit up

lijahl4ves63 been bored as an f1 fan at least i can get content elsewhere

under_hitt FUCK YEAH!! LET'S GO

ynsfavetoe YN about to drop another hit we love herr

ric3.kiki wait danny ric is a fan of the hit band ??

ub4nforthis WAIT SERIOUSLY!? I DON'T FOLLOW HIM

dannyricxpodium @ ric3.kiki he's just like me

ollieq._x So... About the drummer 🤔

ynyn_unofficial he's finee don't worry about him

ollieq._x Uh huh...

ols_thb why they speaking like that what happened to penn ??

XOXloserclub didn't penny say she's taking a break?

lightsoutt33 @ ynyn_unofficial WHO'S "HE", PENNY USES SHE/HER?!?!

ynyn_unofficial i'm ready to go again

penn4pennies EWWW

ynyn_unofficial I SAID NOTHING WRONG??

penn4pennies That no one but us knows 🙄

visacashapprb ✔ Hang on in there everyone 💙 #Daniel Ricciardo #VCARB

racer4hire WE LOVE YOU DANNY RIC!!

georgiepig give us some more daniel content is the real challenge

danielsshoe3 what's he refering to when he says challenging

graveyardx_x maybe he finally took up riding a jetski like he claimed all those years ago

LanaDRIV3 Yea he probably doesn't struggle doing that

ynyn_tikkitok danny ric ric

cashedouthit YOU'RE AN F1 FAN TOO??

ynyn_tikkitok ki ki ki

visacashapprb Aye Aye Aye! 🤣🤣

georgiepig i cannot tell if that's an intern or daniel himself @ themiddleway

ynyn_unofficial

liked by @ ynyn_unofficial @ ollieq._x @ jacoblorde @ penn4pennies @ danielricciardo and 564 others

'LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY' is out now! Watch the MV and the Behind-The-Scenes on the official Youtube channel 😘😘

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XOXloserclub WAS THAT DANIEL FUCKING RICCIARDO ON THE DRUMS?!?!

under_hitt WHAT!? I DIDN'T SEE HIM IN THE MV

XOXloserclub HE'S IN THE BEHIND THE SCENES... I THINK HE PLAYED INSTEAD OF PENNY

lijahl4ves63 @ XOXloserclub two of my favourite things collabing is crazy 😭

ynsfavetoe what the fuck is a formula 1

under_hitt YN DOESN'T USUALLY WRITE LOVE SONGS... WHAT THE FUCK WAS 'down boy' THEN!?

ub4nforthis NOO MOTHER PLS DO NOT BE TAKEN

ric3.kiki maybe its the f1 brainrot but the amt of racing/formula 1 references in this album... crazy

dannyricxpodium right like what the fuck is 'can't leave me baby i'm no rosberg to your hamilton' it's so ON THE NOSE

penn4pennies My recovery will be fast 👍can't let anyone take my seat

ynyn_unofficial chill . no one is taking your sticks away

danielricciardo It was so fun filming with you guys 😁😊👊Hope to see you again 😉

rodethewaves4hits WHAT DOES THAT MEAN..?

penn4pennies Respectfully, sir. I hope you don't touch my drums again. Take Ols' guitar next time.

ollieq._x You're just bitter that YN was nicest to him lmaoo

ynphotographed

1,227 likes

YN LN was spotted in the Dutch '24 GP in front and inside the Visa CashApp RB Garage!

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ub4nforthis NO WAY.

ub4nforthis wait okay not that unexpected daniel and yn are apparently friends

lijahl4ves63 the friendship came out of nowhere but honestly go off <333

XOXloserclub I KNOW MY GIRL IS A REAL F1 FAN!!! SHE'S NO FAKER

lightsoutt33 guys theyre so cute tgt 🥺🥺😭 i saw a clip of yn in the garage talking with daniel

schecorat omg wait link?

lightsoutt33 I'LL TAG YOU

ols_thb I SAW THE VID THE WAY DANIEL IS LAUGHING AND SMILING AT EVERYTHING YN IS SAYING

goattifi Kinda weird to say... Daniel's a pretty happy guy overall

ric3.kiki she's the only celebrity i accept on the paddock

kickedatp5 she's barely a celebrity IN A WAY THAT SHE'S KINDA UNDERRATED

theshoeyshoe i didn't actually know about the hit band earlier but their music... kinda fire

under_hitt @ theshoeyshoe congratulations you are now part of the beaters

theshoeyshoe What did you just call me..?

gentlemanlyinyn IT'S THEIR FANDOM NAME I'M SORRY IT WAS A JOKE AT FIRST BUT IT STUCK AROUND

ynyn_unofficial

liked by @ thehitbandofficial @ ollieq._x @ jacoblorde @ penn4pennies @ danielricciardo and 3,523 others

Wherever you end up in, I think you're going straight to my heart

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thehitbandofficial can't wait for another hit song from this duo <3

ynyn_unofficial stfu jay . also , did u lose your main pw or something?

thehitbandofficial ...no

ynyn_unofficial i'll text it to u

penn4pennies @ thehitbandofficial Is that why you never responded to the memes I've been sending you? Bad.

ollieq._x Crazy how I never asked to hear about this 🤔

penn4pennies I think they would be cute if I was blind and deaf.

ynyn_unofficial you guys remember the fifth member..? yeah , no one does anymore .

danielricciardo I'm sure you can scare them more than that, baby!

thehitbandofficial @ danielricciardo alr fuck off with that mate 😭

ollieq._x @ thehitbandofficial Lmao

penn4pennies So... him back on the drums would be unprofessional, right?

ynyn_unofficial ugh

danielricciardo If I could, I would post you on my instagram too! ♥😚

ynyn_unofficial what's stopping you?

danielricciardo PR would have me for the ungodly paragraphs I would say about you in the caption! 😢🙌 I would profess my love to you all over again and they'll hate it!

ynyn_unofficial huh , that wasn't where i thought that was going.

danielricciardo The rest are reserved for the bedroom 😉😊

penn4pennies Okay, you're banned from ever stepping foot near the studio.

Comments on this post has been limited

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! by andcar

#🔖 . DR3 #: 🔗 social media #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 scenarios #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagines

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leviscolwill · 1 year ago

Text

ballroom extravaganza

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: you always hated arguing with jude, but even more so when you're about to race monaco's streets (wc: 1,7k)

req: jude bellingham x f1 related f!reader ! (driver if u can or js a driver’s relative) where they argue before a match/race that doesn’t go really well + she crashes/dnf or he gets rlly hurt in a match

contents: jude is jealous, reader drives for mclaren w lando (sorry oscar my beloved </3), possible racing inconstancies (i can't drive to save my life), reader crashes (nothing too bad happens tho), gasly slander sorryyyy, language ??, quite angsty but happy (&fluffy) ending i swear

note: i didn't want to make either jude or reader 'the bad guy™' so i hope i didn't side with one more than the other writing the argument part :| i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you enjoy reading it (lmk by rb and giving feedback !!). finally, thank you for requesting anon,, i hope you like it 🫶

now playing: ballroom extravaganza by dpr ian (moodswings in to order)

"i'm just saying, i don't like the way he looked at you when he said that"

"you're being ridiculous jude, he's my teammate and i've known him for years."

jude had always been the jealous type, and you never had any problem with this, until now. he tried to tell you how lando was flirting with you when that's really just how he communicated. sure, he was kinda flirty at times, but he knew you were in a relationship and never crossed any lines with you. but jealousy seemed to get the best of your boyfriend in that moment.

"that's not the point y/n, i'm a man and i know what he meant when he said he'll take you to this 'perfect seaside italian restaurant if your boyfriend won't'. and you just stood there laughing." his voice was louder now, and you hated it whenever jude screamed, especially when those screams were directed at you.

"you're delusional... he didn't imply anything with that, he was only joking." you tried to reason your boyfriend.

"i still don't like it, i'm not asking you to never talk to him again, just make it clear you're-"

"but he knows that jude! i talk about you all the time, let's be serious for a second, come on." you laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation you were in, 45 minutes before the monaco grand prix fighting with your boyfriend in your driver room, it was probably the last thing you should be doing on a track where your focus was the most important thing.

you were always grateful whenever jude made time to see you racing because you knew how packed his schedule was. but right now, he was the last person you needed to see given the circumstances.

"jude, please just leave, i'm sick of fighting."

"i'm not leaving, we're having this conversation whether you like it or not." he said in a calmer tone, but it was too late, the damage was done.

"well, you're in my room right now and i want you out. i need to focus and you're not exactly helping right now."

"but we need to talk it out, i don't want you to go while we're fighting." you would have sworn his voice broke a bit when he ended his sentence.

"maybe you shouldn't have picked a fight with me then! maybe you shouldn't be here at all actually..." you practically whisper the last part and you immediately regret the words that came out of your mouth, knowing well you didn't mean them.

"okay then..." jude quickly gets up and you can't help but look at your feet, you can almost feel the sad look on his face.

"i love you."

you wanted to say it back but he closed the door with a loud bang before you could mutter any sound.

the only thing jude left behind was the faint smell of his cologne for you to think about what just happened and not focus on your race at all.

deep breaths. deep breaths were what you needed, you tried to shift your focus on your start, how you needed to get away from sainz, given how close he was to you. whenever your mind drifted off to the argument you had with jude, you found another thing to focus on before the race. the formation lap would start in a couple minutes, your focus needed to be on monaco's streets for at least an hour and a half, then you'll handle the rest later with jude, you always did.

the formation lap started and everything went perfectly well, you just had to wait for the red lights to turn off and you'll be gone, no more thinking, or overthinking.

"it's lights out and away we go in the streets of monaco."

perfect start, now you just had to race like you knew how to for 78 laps. nothing you couldn't do.

the first 46 laps went perfectly, you managed to overtake carlos' ferrari and pierre's alpine. everything went well, then you thought about jude, you knew he was probably still mad at you but you still hoped he was watching the race, waiting for you with papaya-coloured headphones. as your thoughts kept going you were about to get to the trickiest part of the circuit, mirabeau.

as your focus shifted back to your race, you forgot the most important thing, the biggest danger on track is the other drivers.

your brain barely had time to register the bright blue alpine trying to overtake you when there was clearly no space. next thing you knew, your head hit the cockpit. before you hit the wall at god knows what speed, you thought about how you didn't tell jude you loved him back, and how you hoped he was still aware of how much he meant to you in that moment.

pitch black, no sound at all, you couldn't feel anything for about thirty seconds because of the shock.

then everything came back. you felt the urge to move your legs around, they moved. perfect. then you felt like your position was unusual, you came to a conclusion on your own, your car was on its side. you didn't even get to think about getting out because you felt a horrible pain in your head, where it was hit you assumed.

and lastly, you saw the medics making sure you were okay, you moved your hand for them to understand the message. you were okay, they helped you out of the car, saying you would be taken to the infirmary.

you couldn't stop smiling, you felt terrible about the race and it was probably the biggest crash you ever experienced but everything was well, your family and friends saw you get out of the car safely, and you'd be able to tell jude you loved him. everything was well.

you had to answer the medics questions that made you feel like a 4-year-old: "what's your name ? do you know which day of the week it is ?" you knew it was for safety reasons but you absolutely hated it.

jude opened the door in pure jude fashion, loudly. you almost stopped waiting for him at that point but he was here finally.

he didn't even talk to you, words weren't needed. he just held you really tight even though you were still on the, very uncomfortable, infirmary bed. you felt his arms that were holding onto you shake as he kissed your hair.

"you have no idea how fucking terrified i was y/n." while jude had been to a fair few races with you, he'd never seen any big crashes, let alone involving you. yes, you could only imagine how scary that must have been for him, feeling powerless over the situation, you knew it all too well. you felt that way when jude was injured and you were absolutely helpless, of course you never wished for your boyfriend to ever feel that way, but here you were.

"i love you." you felt like it was the first thing you should say right now. "so so so much. i'm sorry for not saying it earlier." jude looked at you as tears started to form in your eyes, he quickly wiped them away and kissed away the sudden wave of sadness surging through you.

"and i'm sorry for getting mad at you, i shouldn't even have told you about it before the race, it was-"

jude was cut short when someone knocked and opened the door quickly after. pierre came in with a sorry look on his face, you heard he dnf after he damaged his car. poor thing.

"y/n, are you okay? i'm sorry about-" he started rambling with a french accent.

"i'm fine don't worry, just... can we talk about it later? you can come to our motorhome, they make great coffee there i swear." you tried to joke to lighten up the atmosphere, but it was still as tense as before.

if looks could kill, gasly would have died right here the way your boyfriend eyed him in silence, his gaze following the driver on his way out.

"what a fucking dickhead. how is he driving a whole f1 car? even i would do a better job than him i swear..." your boyfriend's pettiness amused you, even more so knowing that boy couldn't ride a bike without scaring the life out of you.

his features visibly changed and you knew he wanted to talk your argument out, as you were both calmer about the situation. but he didn't get the chance to speak a word before lando opened the door.

"what did that french hooligan do to my favourite teammate? that was a barbarian try at overtaking really." you laughed at your teammate being dramatic, as always.

"i'm fine, i think gasly needs prescription glasses though, i don't know where he saw the space there but i'm okay."

once again, you felt jude's eyes burning holes in lando's skull as he went silent, he quickly took the hint and left.

you couldn't help but burst out laughing at jude when it was just you two in the room.

"you need to stop glaring at people like that."

"i just don't like him." you took his hand as he looked at you, his look much softer than the one he gave pierre and lando.

"i only want you. alright? it doesn't matter how lando views me, whether what you think is true. he will never be you." you told him stroking your thumb on the back of his hand.

"i know that, i was just mad at how he acted with you. i'm sorry about that. i trust you, 100%. i just don't like how comfortable he was making these comments y'know."

"i get that, i'll make my boundaries clear with him, okay? let's not fight over silly things like that anymore."

jude softly grabbed your jaw and kissed you, you could tell you both needed this talk, and this kiss, to clear the air.

you pull out of the kiss first, suddenly feeling the urge to annoy him.

"you know... you look good when you're jealous, i might try that more often..." jude faked a serious face.

"if attention was what you wanted, you just had to ask love." he joked as you playfully hit his arm.

"just no more leaving without saying 'i love you' alright?" he asks before quickly kissing your forehead.

"never again."

#f1 inaccuracy: gasly would never apologize #jk jk #i reckon jude would get on well with lando but #but we move #hope you enjoy it my football & f1 friends 🫶#jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #football x reader #football imagine #football one shot #football fanfic #footballer imagine #football blurb

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adventuringblind · 9 months ago

Text

AUS24 (3k words)

Oscar Piastri x Liam Lawson x Reader x Logan Sargeant

Genre: Angst, fluff, spice, A/B/O AU

Summary: James Vowels takes things a step further when covering his ass in the media. Logan and his mate pay the price but Oscar and Liam are there to help.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heat/rut cycles, James Vowels is the bad guy in this one, Alex being a king, Thigh riding, other alluded to sexual things but not specific so IDK what else to put

Notes: This one was a lot and I hope I filled the request okay! I struggled... Therefore y'all should feed my praise kink in order to motivate me. Jk...... unless?

Side Note: My ABO dynamics and how I write it is different so be forewarned ig. Also, NSFW under the cut. MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Oscar didn’t think much of it when he jumped out of the car and didn't see Logan. He figured he’d rushed off to make sure Alex was okay after that nasty crash and see if the team was going to be able to fix the beta’s car.

Practice had gone pretty decent. He should probably meet up with Lando to talk about how he’d felt in the car. All things considered, he’s mildly optimistic.

The itch in his neck leaves him wondering which of his three mates could possibly be annoyed. Oscar usually assumes Liam, given the nature of the omega. Oscar had to learn to pick his battles early on. He understands that in entirely alpha or omega families, dynamics have to be flexible. Liam is more alpha coded then he is omega. Unfortunately for the mess of things that is the paddock, people give him shit for it and Oscar has had to haul the kiwi away before he killed somebody.

Oscar, because he’d prefer not to spend his home race weekend bailing Liam out of jail, speeds off towards the RB garage. He doesn’t have to go far since Liam is also sprinting in his direction. “Oscar! Are you alright? I thought maybe something happened when you got out of the car since I feel all prickly.” The blonde smells both annoyed and concerned.

Oscar shakes his head. “I thought you might be trying to take the head off Helmut again…” He shakes his head and continues his walk down to the Williams garage with Liam on his heels. “Have you seen the other two at all?”

“Her and Logan walked down to the William's garage together. That was about twenty minutes ago.”

On their trek to the end of the paddock, They end up running into George. The second British Omega on the grid. He’s pacing outside of the garage and Oscar has to bite back a gag at how distressed he smells. “George?”

“Oscar! They won’t let me in.” He’s raking fingers through his and getting increasingly more distressed the longer they are stuck outside. “He sent me a text saying something happened, but didn’t elaborate. I can feel his anger.”

Oscar, because he has no idea what to do in this scenario, sends Liam with George to find Lewis, or Carlos, or Max, or Lando, or anyone else who might know what to do right now because he has no idea. He just needs to see the other half of his mates or he’s going to lose it.

He tries to flag down anyone in the vicinity, only to be ignored. He’s about ready to come unhinged until he gets the attention of James. The alpha team principal keeps his distance - the invisible boundary line the only thing keeping Oscar from shaking the information out of him. Only, James doesn’t just smell like James. No - he smells like Oscar’s other two omegas. Both of which must be in heat.

He tries to breathe; reign himself in so he doesn’t lose it and end his entire career (though he will if it comes down to it). “Where are they?” If there is a growl laced within the question, he can’t be bothered to care.”

James looks like he might jump into an explanation of some kind, but gets foiled by Alex. The beta looks pissed. The kind of anger that shows in every movement.

“JAMES!” While Oscar flinches at the olders tone, James remains calm. It's aggravating in a way. “Tell Oscar what you did or I will.”

James sighs and motions for the Australian to follow him. Alex can't growl, but the way he's seething tells Oscar that he would if he could. It's ironic to think that between the three of them, Alex is the most angry compared to the two alphas trudging through the garage.

James gestures for him to go inside. The scent leaking through the cracks in the door is terribly seductive and Oscar has to dig his nails into the palm of his hands to ground himself. “Neither of them were supposed to be in heat this early. All four of us are synced and just went through this a month ago.” he stares down the older alpha for an explanation.

He takes an inventory of his own body. His own reaction to his mates in heat is more… intense. Like he can't keep himself off them. Currently he feels more protective than anything.

“since James won't tell you, I will-”

“It's team business!”

“Not when the safety of others is concerned!”

James makes a lunge for Logan but Oscar matches his speed and steps in front of him. He wants to retch at how awful James smells at the moment.

Four pairs of footsteps from the direction they had come from. Liam and George have managed to find them and dragged Carlos and Lando as well. It's terribly comforting to have more people around.

“what's going on?” Lando whines at the door the closer he gets. “Is Logan in heat? But didn't he just have one?”

Alex is much taller than Oscar, but the beta appreciates the gesture given the nature of how betas usually are towards anyone else. “Oscar, why don't you, me, George and James speak about this in his office. Carlos can come too, if you'd like.”

“yeah - yeah okay. I need to know what happened.” He looks around for Liam and pulls him away from James. “Sorry - I don't know what's happening. I didn't mean too-”

Liam attaches himself to the alpha and noses at his neck. “I'll take care of them while you're gone. Lando is going to stay also.”

Oscar nods, kisses his head, and drags himself away. He doesn't want to go anywhere but inside that room. Be it biology or his own mind, clearly something is wrong and he would desperately like to be there for the people he loves. Still, Liam is here and that makes things better. They aren't alone.

They settle into chairs in James’ office. Carlos opts to stay by the door watching everything going on outside. “Why are they taking apart Logan's car?”

Oscar blinks at him. They're what?”

“I crashed the car and broke the chassis. James decided to punish Logan for it. But that's not even the worst part!” Alex looks expectantly to his team principal. A silent urge for him to tell his own story. He gestures for Alex to come continue on and the beta rolls his eyes. “Logan and y/n walked here together. James summoned them into the office together. He told Logan he was going to give me his car. Obviously, I said no and…”

George shuffles his way over to Alex. The physical contact between the two seems to lessen Alex's rising emotions. “It was probably my fault, since I kept saying no.” Alex throws a packet of heat inducers on the table. “I was restrained. James didn't show he had a whole package - just dissolved way over the recommended amount into a cup and commanded Logan to drink it. She got to it first so he didn't have to drink it, and downed the entire thing in seconds.”

“That doesn't explain Logan’s-”

“He had more and just repeated it. Then he used that fucking voice to get them to not tell anybody and lock themselves away.” Alex looks like he's on the brink of tears. “I'm sorry, Oscar.”

Oh - the rage that's building beneath his skin. He moves to throw himself at James, but is foiled by Carlos. “You can't help from jail.”

Which, the Spaniard isn't wrong, so Oscar goes limp in his hold. He takes a few ragged breaths to force himself to calm down. “It's not your fault Alex, at all. Sounds to me like it's a move to cover his own ass.”

“Alex is out best chance-”

“Bullshit! I just murdered my car!”

The door to the office is thrown open and Oscar has no time to react to the fact Max and Daniel, his pack alpha and omega - respectively, got word of this.

“Did we need to alert the entire grid, Alex?”

Max openly, and without hesitation, growls at the team principal in question. Daniel hits him upside the head to get him to stop. “Where’s Logan at?”

“My driver doesn’t need anymore assistance, Daniel-”

All of them (aside from Alex) Descend into a fit of threatening noises. “Really? Because heat inducers can fuck up anyone’s body on a normal dose. Trust me James, I’ve been in this scenario with my own team.”

Briefly, Oscar recalls Lando talking about McLaren trying to induce Daniel’s heat without his knowledge. Andrea is a much better team principal and He can vividly recall Lando near sobbing when they were assured that would never happen.

“In Logan’s room.”

“Great! Here’s what we’re going to do then.”

George has to drag Alex away from the Office and back up to his room. The British Omega throws a middle finger at James before he’s out of sight completely. Max is staying with James until things get sorted out. Which - unfortunately since the laws are so unfair - will mean James gets away scot free. Daniel says he’s going to be subjected to a lecture first. The rest of them head back to Logan’s room with the intent on getting out of the building.

“Should I call Andrea and Zak?” Oscar looks desperately at Daniel for instructions. He’s never had to leave so suddenly and has no clue if there is a protocol for these things or not.

“No worries, I took care of it. We just need to get them out of the paddock.” the older Aussie pats his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m assuming the four of you aren’t prepared at all?”

Oscar shakes his head. “We all synched just last month.”

“Anything you need then? I can send George and Alex on errands. Actually, I’m hoping for that seeing as Alex is desperate to help.”

“I hope he sees that this isn’t his fault.”

“He’ll come around, I hope you know it’s not your fault either.”

And here Oscar thought he was hiding it so well. He tries to shake it off, play his own insecurities down. “I’m-”

“Relax mate, Max felt guilty for weeks.”

“But it’s my job to protect them-” The voice crack was unnecessary and completely screwed him over in terms of hiding whatever feeling he had buried.

Daniel turns to face him right outside the door. “You can’t change the past, Oscar. You were never going to be able to stop this from happening. What you can do is help them now because they need you.”

Oscar nods with newfound determination, and opens the door.

She certainly wouldn’t say it was her greatest decision, definitely one of the easier ones in the moment. She’d downed the drink without a hesitation.

They’d attempted a nest. Tried to make the room comfortable. The amount of drugs in their systems was not making it easy. Instead opting to throw everything on the floor and try to sleep before they can’t.

They’d stripped down to undergarments within the last few minutes. The heat steadily building and becoming too much. Still, she lays plastered against Logans body; his scent intoxicating.

“You didn’t have to do that for me.” He noses at her neck, teeth nipping at the three scars lining her collar bone.

“Wanted to help, Lo.” She feels like crying. The odd lack of connection bombarded her after James used his stupid voice. “Wanted you to race.”

The door squeaks open sometime later. After a nap and the first round of what will probably be many. She peaks her head out from around Logan who’s gone defensive from the new intrusion. Only - Liam peaks his head inside and Lando follows before shutting the door again. She whimpers and tries to claw her way to Liam, but is pushed back gently by Lando.

“He’s grabbing a few things.” She can see him trying to smile gently at her.

Liam ends up between them, his own shirt off and one of Oscar’s sweatshirts in hand. She makes herself as small as possible to curl up into his side. “Do you two need anything specific right now.”

“Where’s Osc?” Logan beats her to the question.

“Talking with James, I believe.”

The whines are involuntary. That part of her brain still fighting for its life wants to know why he’s not here right now. The overthinking side is claiming it’s because she’s undesirable now. “Does he still want us?”

Liam coos at her, as does Logan and Lando. “You'll never not be undesirable.”

“But what about James?”

“What do you mean?” She can feel Liams muscles tense underneath her. She shrinks in an attempt to hide from the new angry scent permeating the room.

Thankfully, Logan takes over for her. “He used his voice on us. He wanted to give me inducers…”

She, despite the struggle, rolls herself over Liam and into Logan's lap. “Not your fault.”

“I know-” his desperate whine nearly kills her. And Liam - by the looks of it. He's restraining himself if the way his jaw is tensing is any indicator.

“Lando, would you mind possibly grabbing mine and Oscar's stuff so we don't have to leave here again if possible?” It's not fair really, that Liam can be bossy and she finds it attractive. Oscar is also bossy, but he’s the gentle bossy and Logan isn’t bossy at all. Wow - her stupid hormones have her drooling over this and she doesn’t even know what this is.

Liam makes up a list for Lando and the Brit runs off to collect the items. She wonders how long Oscar is going to be and if the ache in between her legs will let up until they can leave.

It’s the only thing on her mind. It’s also now all over her thighs. An unfortunate circumstance where there are no towels on the ground. At this rate she might die if she can’t do something about these feelings and the longer she waits the more desperate she becomes.

“Do you need something, darling?” Her hazy mind decides that now is a great time to register that she’s grinding into Liam's leg. She doesn’t stop though. If anything - she can’t, because he has a hand on her hip urging her to continue. “Only one of me at the moment, is this okay for now?” She makes a weak sound and makes a mess of herself and Liam’s poor thigh. Not like Logan is doing any better. They both smell good like this.

She has no idea how much time passes, the endless amount of work she’s having to do finally wears her out enough to relax for the time being.

“I guess I should’ve stripped all the way, huh?” She’s too tired to be embarrassed about Liam’s teasing comments. She barely even notices Liam attempting to clean her up. Her mind is too far gone. Enough that her and Logan are both ready to go again after a few measly minutes.

They don't get very far, instead scrambling under whatever is available as the door swings open. Liam is hissing at the intruder, only to see Oscar and Lando poke their heads inside.

“Hey Daniel, I think maybe we’ll stay here for the time being and then when the traffic of the paddock dies down we can try and leave.”

Daniel also slips into their space. She makes a lunge for either of the two Australians. Oscar is quick to react to her movements and get her to stay put underneath the little amount of covering she has.

Lando drops the bags of stuff he was holding and tries to smile at them before he leaves. Unfortunately, his sad scent gives away his true feelings. She wonders if he knows the full story now since Oscar definitely does.

It’s just her, her mates, and Daniel now. The pack Omega is hovering by the door and is clearly ready to leave them to their own devices. “Keep in mind that reactions to heat inducers are unpredictable but fast. You’ll only be in “heat” for about a day. Then you’ll just be sick, but we’ll take it as it comes.”

Daniel reminds Oscar to text him if they need anything and then leaves them alone. Which - she likes Daniel, but being able to jump the bones of her mates sounds all too appealing.

“James?” Logan looks pleadingly at Oscars for some kind of reassurance.

“Is going to get an earful from Max and Daniel. Aside from that, he will probably get a slap on the wrist. Alex is ready to kill him though, if that’s what you wanted.”

The three of them find humor despite the nature of the situation. It’s why she loves them so much. The way she can feel safe and taken care of, but still be herself and laugh and give into her own desires.

Oscar loses his own clothes. The fireproofs he was wearing around his waist come off in record time.

“You're still going to race, right Osc?”

“We’ll see-” Oscar nearly jumps when the three of them whine and pout in unison. “I take it that you want me to race?”

“We’ll make do without you.”

“Hey!-”

“Liam is good for something after all!” Logan wheezes in laughter. Only for Liam to grumble and decide enough is enough. He takes Logan by the hips and slams right into him.

She looks between the two of them and Oscar. She leans up to his ear, fully intent on whispering to him but gets a little distracted by his scent while shifting around.

“Need something?”

Finally, she surrenders herself to the haze knowing she has all her mates with her. “Just you three.”

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starrieangel · 1 month ago

Text

🩷 Curly helps reader regress 🌻

Request by Anon: “How about Curly with a reader who wants to regress but struggles to due to responsibilities and stress, And Curly just, gently coaxing reader into relaxing and taking a break from all of that”

Features: CG! Curly x Little! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Female Reader, Age Regression, omg this is way longer than expected, my Curly bias is showing

Notes: I used Daddy, Papa/Papa Bear, Teddy/Teddy Bear as cg names for Curly (cause he's my f/o and that's what I would call him alskxndkslsnxhkz thanks for requesting this, it’s very self indulgent..!!!)

rbs appreciated !! ☆ ~

Curly begins to notice that you aren't regressing as often as you used to. You've been extra busy with work or school, just general life stuff, and it seems to be taking up a lot of your mental energy

Normally he could get at least a giggle out of you each night, getting you to either regress or just relax into a calmer state by tickling you or playing with your plushies or offering to read you a bedtime story- just anything that he knows you'll enjoy

But lately when you go to bed, you don't seem to smile as much. It's like your responsibilities are weighing you down, sucking all the joy from you :(

Teddy Curly cannot have his little princess be so gloomy..! It kills him to see you so clearly stressed, but he's not really sure what to do at first..

Until one day, you come home from work/school, and Curly insists you let him take care of you.

“I know you haven't been feeling well, Princess, so I was hoping maybe today could be a.. little day? I've seen how stressed you are and, I just really want to help you feel better.”

“I don't know, Curly, I haven't really been in the best mood lately...”

“That's what I'm talking about, just... let me help you, okay? And, if I'm being honest, I really miss my little girl, too.” He says the last part sheepishly, looking down at his shoes as he says it.

You think about it for a minute before reluctantly agreeing. He sighs a breath of relief before his lips crack into a shy smile.

“See, there's my good girl..” He wraps you in a hug, running his fingers thru your hair. “Now tell Daddy what's wrong. Please, bunny?”

You're already starting to melt a bit, feeling his strong arms around you, and hearing his handsome voice saying your special title for him.

You tell him what's been happening at work/school that has you so upset, he's resting his chin on your head as he adds “uh-huh, I hear you” or “I know, baby, that sounds hard” you can feel tears prick your eyes a bit as you near the end of your story, your speech sounding more and more like your little voice.

He cups your face in his hands, rubbing his calloused thumb against your cheek. “Thank you for telling me that, baby. It's all going to be okay now, though. Papa's got you.” He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek.

“C-can we start that little day now?” You say, the weight of grown up life was beginning to be too much.

He chuckles a bit, thinking of how cute you are looking up at him with big wet eyes. “Of course, baby.” And without warning he picks you up so that you're resting on his hip, arms around his neck. You start to feel even more little- He’s so strong that he can easily pick you up like you're a baby /)(\

“How does a nice warm bath sound, darling?” He says in his soft voice. He presses a kiss to your cheek, really rubbing it in so that his facial hair scratches against you. You giggle from his stubble tickling your cheek- he always knows how to make you smile ♡

You nod your head, and he goes to draw you a bath ~

I think I will do a part two for this since it's kinda long!! Part 2 will have Curly giving regressed reader a bubble bath and putting them to bed 😊 Thank you for reading! and leaving requests :) sorry if I don't get to all of them, I try to only write for fun and not force anything, but I love hearing other's ideas!

Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! I love talking to other people abt fanfic aaaa ♡ Thanks again!

🩷🌻🧸

Guys why is this so long. Why am I so cuckoo for coco puffs over a character from a horror game. This is deranged

#fandom #f/o #mine #curly x reader #mouthwashing agere #request #mouthwashing imagines #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #agere imagines #f/o agere #agere f/o #agere imagine #sfw agere #age regressor #f/o imagines #its 2am and im losing my marbles #this is my Husband

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hmhas-00 · 1 month ago

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Ch. 6

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Don’t forget to like and rb if you’re liking the series so far! ♡

Remy’s POV

I poured some homemade almond milk over the cereal in my favorite ceramic bowl. “Bills, do you want any cereal?” That’s when the intercom rang.

“Who’s that?” Billie asked, all the way from my room.

I press the button, “Can I help you?”

“Remy! This is Rachel! Hii!”

Unbelievable. How the fuck does she know where I live?

“Uhh hi? What are you doing here?”

“I need your help with something I’m working on, is it okay if I come up? Joseph told me your address, I hope that’s okay.”

I roll my eyes and buzz her in. It’s literally 6 o’clock on a Wednesday. What is this.

I let her in when she knocked. Her stupid, pretty face annoyed me. “Rachel, it’s getting late. Why didn’t you talk to me earlier at the office?”

“Listen.” She clapped her hands together. “I want you to help me write this column. You’re friends with THE Billie Eilish, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to write next week’s column about her new album.” She smiled, really, really big. It was kinda creepy how perfect and white her teeth were.

“You want to use me to be able to talk to a celebrity for an exclusive interview?” I blinked.

“Who’s this?” Billie walked out, furrowing her brows.

“Oh my god! Hi! I’m Rachel, SO nice to meet you!” She walked past me to give Billie a hug.

Billie looked at me over her shoulder and laughed, probably knowing I was hating every minute. “Nice to meet you too, Rachel. I’ve heard so much about you!” She mouthed at me, What the hell?

I rolled my eyes and walked back to my cereal. I sat on a bar stool, watching them. She would not shut the fuck up. She’s insufferable. And Billie just ate it the fuck up. When I finished my bowl, I placed it in the sink, eying the way Rachel constantly felt the need to touch her when she spoke.

“You’re much more beautiful in person. I’m like, mesmerized!” She giggled

“Girl! Thank you, you’re so sweet. You’re gorgeous, are you kidding?” Billie blushed.

“Rachel, can’t we do this at the office?” I cut them off, leaning over the counter.

Billie looked at me, scratching her eyebrow.

“I just thought we’d get to know each other… Before starting on the column we’re gonna write together.” She smiled at Billie.

“You’re writing the column with her, Rem? That’s great!” Billie cheered.

I crossed my arms, “Ask her what it’s about-“

“It’s about successful artists that blew up overnight, and their advice for any up and coming artists.” Rachel said, proudly.

“Which artist.” I raised my brow, looking at Billie.

Billie looked at Rachel, waiting for her to answer.

“Only the coolest, most badass, talented-“

“It’s you.” I interrupted.

Billie looked at me, tilting her head. “Oh?” She let out a small laugh. “Well… then you guys better get to work!”

⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

Throughout the next few days, Rachel spent most of her time in my apartment. It was my very own personal hell.

Of course, Billie joined us each time, wanting to be in on everything we did. Rachel was loving every bit of it, I could tell.

“Remy, is your section ready?” Rachel interrupted my train of thought. She laid on her stomach on the floor, kicking her feet in the air. Billie sat up next to her, probably feeding her ego.

“Yeah, I just have to edit a few things.” I typed away on my laptop from the couch.

Occasionally, I’d look up from my screen, only to see Billie’s gaze stuck directly on Rachel’s body. Her icy eyes stared into her soul while she talked, pissing me off to the max. Who would’ve known she’d steal my job, and my best friend.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s great.” Rachel’s smiled at me, shutting her computer down.

“You wanna join us for dinner tonight, Rach?” Billie asked.

Rach? Really? She had a nickname now?

I looked over at Billie, not at all happy with her proposal. The look of disdain on my face had to be evident enough for her to notice.

“Oh, no, I’d hate to intrude on y’all’s plans.” Rachel looked at me. “I gotta head out anyway-“ Getting up from the floor, she picked up her belongings.

“No really, I insist.” Billie got up, grabbing her arm. She gave me a disapproving look, which I didn’t appreciate. There’s no way she’s eating with us. I frantically shook my head no at Billie when Rachel looked away.

“You sure?” She asked

I held up a giant X in the air with my arms.

“Yeah! My treat.” Billie ignored me.

Fuck.

⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪˖⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

At dinner, Billie sat between Rachel and I, in a round booth. They did most of the talking while I stuffed my face with pesto pasta.

“No, for real, I’ve met some rude ass famous people.” Billie lowered her voice, not wanting others at the restaurant to hear. She adjusted her sun glasses and held onto her hoodie.

“Me too! It’s sad but so many of them are too far gone.” Rachel shook her head, looking over her shoulder.

It felt like over the past few days, they shared their own little secrets. Their own little gossip session I wasn’t allowed in. Of course, I was sitting right there, but I didn’t want to be.

“Like for example…” Billie got closer to her, leaving some space between us.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was third wheeling. The way they looked at each other. The way Billie’s eyes wandered to Rachel’s lips when she talked. The way she accepted every compliment from her, even though she barely ever believes any of mine.

Out of nowhere, an obnoxious laugh startled me. Billie laughed too, but Rachel’s laugh was exceptionally loud. Billie was trying to finish her story, which wasn’t even that funny to begin with.

“She thought I was just a fan, it was super awkward!” Billie laughed. “So I just vibed with it and asked for her autograph. She was a bitch though.”

“You’re hilarious! I cannot!” Rachel’s laugh continued. It wasn’t even that funny! I sat there, straight faced, trying to get the waiter’s attention.

“The bill, please.” I quietly asked the waiter.

Billie noticed, putting a hand on my lap and mouthing

I got it.

“It’s fine, I’ll get my plate and be on my way.”

“Rem, I’m your ride home.” Billie scooted towards me.

Rachel broke out in laughter again, acting like that was even remotely funny.

“What’s funny, I’m confused.” I furrowed my brows slightly, squinting a bit.

She cleared her throat and took a sip of water, shaking her head, looking a bit embarrassed.

Billie looked at me as the waiter brought the bill. She handed him her card.

“Thank you, really, I so appreciate your invite, guys. Rem, to our column!” She held her drink up, waiting for me to clink her glass with mine.

I returned the favor, shooting down the last bit of my watered down gin and grapefruit soda. I could feel Billie watching me down my drink, leaving a hole on the side of my face.

“Ready guys?” Billie finished signing the receipt.

“Yup.” I scooted out of the booth, walking towards the exit.

Billie stayed with Rachel, allowing her to walk ahead of her. She followed behind her, through the restaurant, and opened the car door for her as the valet attendant pulled up.

The car ride was loud, and annoying. Rachel still would not shut up, and Billie was now starting to laugh at her dumb jokes.

All night, my mind overwhelmed me with hate. Whether it’s directed toward the wrong person or not, I’m still completely over it. Maybe it’s the fact that this girl has my dream job, waltzed into my home, and made herself comfortable because she thinks she can. Maybe it’s the fact she instantly got along so well with Billie, even though they’re not at all alike. Even though, Billie knows I don’t like her. After all the arguing and convincing me to quit, she invites the reason why to dinner?

“I have to admit, I hate that the column is almost finished. I loved hanging out with you.” Rachel reapplied lipstick from the front seat. “Both of you.” She looked at me through the little mirror.

Maybe I hate the way this girl throws herself at Billie. Usually, this bothered Billie. It didn’t seem to bother her as much as it did me. I mean, I could be exaggerating, I could be so heated that everything tastes sour. Logically, Rachel wasn’t at fault for getting the position. She showed up for the interview and got the job. But I wanted to hate her so much, it made me question if my heart was in the right place. Her attempts to include me and be kind made me want to pull back even more for some reason.

“You too. You’re cool, Rach. You know where to find me.” Billie smiled.

I just don’t get why Billie was being so damn friendly with her. I felt betrayed. Jealous, even. Only because of how unfair it all was. It made my stomach turn. I’d never do that to her. The slight touches, the forced laughter, the looks they shared. I swear to God if they don’t stop… If they start dating I’m going to throw up. I could imagine them kissing, ignoring me completely. There it was again. My mind going to a place it didn’t need to. I hate it, I don’t know why.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rem.” Rachel smiled, getting out of the car after giving Billie a hug. Only Billie called me that, I thought. She waved at me as she walked around, toward her building. I looked out the window, seeing the stunning sky-rise covered in glass windows next to us. I waved back.

“Oh, you’re not gonna go with her?” I said, sarcastically.

“Shut up. You gonna come up to the front?” Billie pats the seat next to her. “Ooh it’s warm.” She scrunched her nose.

“I’m good here.” I brought my knee up and hugged it.

“Dude. Get up here before I drag you out.” She lowers the music.

I rolled my eyes.

“Do I have to beg you?”

“Can you just take me home, I’m not in the mood.” I scrolled through my phone, knowing there wasn’t a damn notification to check.

“What’s up your ass, Rem.” She pulled out of the lot, driving toward my place, which apparently wasn’t too far from Rachel’s.

“Oh, you mean besides the fact that all night the two of you bonded over the dumbest shit, and she basically sat in your lap the whole time?”

“Huhhh?” She squinted. “What are you talking about? I was just being nice to your new boss?”

“My what, bro?”

“You know what I mean, I’m trying to help you! She gets to write her column about me, you get to impress her with your insane writing, and maybe your hard work isn’t all for nothing.” Billie looked at me through the rearview mirror every once in a while.

“Oh, is that what this is?” I laughed.

“Yeah, me helping you, is what this is.”

“You looking at her with fuck me eyes is supposed to help me? Thank you!”

“Rem, you’re actually implying I’d fuck your coworker?” She raised her brows, in disbelief.

“I don’t know, you keep looking at her like you’re going to kiss her or something. Like she’s not literally using me to get an interview out of you!”

“Okay, what if I was? What’s the fucking problem, then?” She turned into my building’s parking garage.

I laughed, getting defensive now. “Nothing, go right ahead, absolutely no one is stopping you.”

I could tell she stopped herself from saying something more petty. “Rem, I think she’s just trying to be nice by including you, and that’s better than coming in and making you her bitch, is it not?”

I didn’t answer. I knew she was right because I had similar thoughts, but I still wanted to hate her so badly. It was either her, or myself, I guess, instead of quitting and proving everyone right.

“Rem?” She looked at me again, through the mirror.

I stayed quiet.

“What if I was trying to fuck her?” She quietly asked, shrugging a little. “Why would you care?”

I struggled to get the right answer out. “Because!” I stuttered, “She’s my boss- no- my coworker. It’s weird.”

Billie stayed quiet for the rest of the car ride. I felt embarrassed, like I overreacted, which I knew I did. It made sense. She was trying to play nice, get me ahead, or something.

I unbuckled my seat belt, as did she. She got out of the car and climbed in the backseat with me and closed the door. She looked straight at me, not saying a word. She leaned back, resting her head on the window.

“So, you gonna apologize?” She crossed her arms. “Because you’re being mean.”

“I swear to you, I hate her with every fiber of my being. And I know I shouldn’t, but she pisses me off. This isn’t fair, Billie.”

“Was I supposed to be rude to her? And mess up your chance at being published on the column?”

I barely shook my head.

“I haven’t heard you once talk about how awesome it is that you’re co-writing a column. Who cares who it’s with. Your name is gonna be on that magazine!”

She’s right. This is what I wanted.

“You’re not happy, see?”

I looked in her eyes, trying to find out what she’s getting at.

“You’re not going to be content there. Because you want more.” She read me like a book. A book with really sticky pages that are hard to turn without skipping a few.

I shook my head, not wanting to accept it.

“Yeah, you’re just projecting. You’re trying to find someone to hate, when you’re tolerating everyone’s bullshit, just to prove something to yourself.”

“Billie, I’ve just had such a shit week. I wanted that job so badly. It was- it is my dream job. And I wanted it alone-”

She cut me off, “She’s giving you that chance. Maybe she hates Joe too and wants you to have what you deserve. You wanted me to support you? Well here you go, Remy.”

I nodded, “okay.”

Billie sighed, leaning forward towards me.

I watched her mouth open to say something, but she stopped. It felt like she did that a lot recently.

“I’ve always been this honest with you.” She played with her rings.

“I know… I need it.”

“You do. You need me.”

I looked up at her. “I need you to come inside so we can finish our show. We were rudely interrupted earlier by Rach.” I mocked her.

“Okay.” She laughed a bit, rolling her eyes playfully. “There’s my Remy.”

I got out of the car, glad that the tension thinned out. I walked towards the elevator and pressed the up button, noticing Billie was still in the car. I watched her sit there for a moment, then get out.

“You alright?” I asked, my voice echoing in the dim parking garage.

“Yeah, coming.” She finally caught up, putting her hoodie up, over the green bandana in her hair. Her voice was hesitant.

From this moment forward, I promised myself not to make it about myself. My time with Billie was limited, and I wasn’t going to waste it. Tour starts next week and I plan on making the last few days memorable.

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writefightandflightclub · 1 year ago

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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