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pucksandpower · 11 hours ago

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Stroke of Midnight

Max Verstappen x Alonso!Reader

Summary: New Year’s Eve sees you crouched under a table, shoving grapes into your mouth as the seconds tick by in a desperate attempt to find love in 2025 … but it just so happens that love finds you a whole lot sooner than you expect

Note: Happy (almost) New Year! Wishing everyone a sweet and fulfilling 2025 ❤️

The club is too loud, too crowded, too much. Somewhere near the DJ booth, your father is probably breaking it down to the worst remix of an already bad pop song.

You don’t want to know what’s happening. You don’t even want to be here, except here is Monaco on New Year’s Eve, and it’s supposed to be magical. That’s what the internet said when you Googled it this morning. But so far, the magic feels more like sweat and regret.

And desperation. There’s no use pretending otherwise anymore.

Your legs cramp as you shift under the table, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid the sharp heel of a passing stranger. The white tablecloth is a flimsy barrier between you and the chaos outside — limbs, perfume, champagne flutes tipped at precarious angles.

You check your phone. Eleven fifty-seven.

“God,” you whisper to yourself, clutching the little plastic bag in your hand. “This is rock bottom.”

But is it? The thought stops you short. You could argue there’ve been worse moments.

There was your first boyfriend, for starters. The trust fund baby who somehow thought being wealthy made cheating excusable. “It’s not like I need you,” he had said when you caught him. Yeah, no kidding.

Then came the mechanic. Charming, sweet, and exactly what you thought you needed — until you overheard him laughing with his friends about how he only asked you out on a bet. The details are blurry now, but the humiliation is crystal clear.

And, of course, the summer of horror: introducing your third boyfriend to your dad, only to walk in on him rummaging through your father’s underwear drawer. “I just wanted to see what greatness looks like,” he had explained with a sheepish grin, clutching a pair of Fernando Alonso’s boxer briefs like they were relics from the Vatican.

Three strikes. You’re out.

“Not this year,” you mutter, shaking your head. This year, you’re taking things into your own hands.

You dig into the bag, spilling green grapes into your lap. Twelve of them. One for each second before midnight, each representing a wish for the year ahead. You glance at the clock again — eleven fifty-eight now. Two minutes to go.

Someone shifts the table above you, and you nearly choke on your gasp. The tablecloth lifts slightly, and a pair of curious eyes meet yours.

“What the hell?”

It’s a man — dark-haired, stubble-jawed, vaguely familiar, though everyone in Monaco looks like they could be a movie star. He’s crouched, trying to see past the shadows. You stare back, frozen.

“Are you hiding?” He asks, tilting his head. His accent is clipped and Dutch, which somehow makes this all worse.

“Uh — no,” you stammer, holding up a grape like it’s evidence in court. “I’m … I’m doing something. It’s a tradition.”

“Under a table?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause. He blinks at you, then ducks his head fully under the tablecloth. “Alright, I’ll bite. What kind of tradition involves grapes and hiding under furniture?”

“It’s Spanish.” You’re not sure why you feel defensive, but you do. “You eat twelve grapes, one for each second before midnight, for good luck in the new year.”

“Good luck.” He glances pointedly at the table legs surrounding you. “How’s that working out?”

You scowl. “It’s not midnight yet.”

He snorts. “Fair enough. Carry on.” He starts to retreat, but something stops him. “Wait. Why under the table?”

“Because …” You hesitate, not wanting to explain that part of the superstition involves being in a confined space to focus your intentions. It sounds ridiculous out loud, even to you. “Because it’s quieter down here.”

“Right.” His tone is skeptical, but mercifully, he leaves it at that. “Good luck, grape girl.” He’s gone before you can respond.

The clock ticks closer to midnight. Eleven fifty-nine. You clutch the grapes tighter, willing yourself to focus.

“Okay,” you whisper, heart pounding. “This is it. Love. Luck. Anything but whatever the hell the last three years were.”

You pop the first grape into your mouth as the countdown begins, the music fading just enough for the crowd to yell, Twelve!

It’s sour, but you swallow it quickly, reaching for the next. Eleven!

The third grape is sweeter. Ten!

Someone bumps the table above you, but you keep going. Nine!

The fifth grape tastes like possibility. Eight!

You’re halfway through the sixth when the tablecloth lifts again.

“Sorry, but I just-” It’s him again, the Dutch guy. He ducks under the table fully this time, looking half-apologetic, half-curious. “I couldn’t help it. What happens if you don’t finish in time?”

You glare at him, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk. “Whuh ah oo doin’?”

“Trying to understand the stakes here,” he says, crouching beside you. “It’s fascinating.”

“Go ‘way!” You manage, scrambling for the eighth grape. Five!

“Is this, like, a universal Spanish thing? Or just your family?”

You shove the ninth grape in your mouth, ignoring him. Four!

“You’re really committed,” he notes, watching you chew furiously. “I respect that.”

You jab a finger toward the edge of the tablecloth, signaling him to leave.

“Alright, alright,” he says, hands up in surrender. “Good luck, truly. I hope it works.”

He disappears just as the countdown hits Three!

The eleventh grape is a struggle, but you manage. Two!

You grab the last one, cramming it in just as the crowd roars, One! Happy New Year!

It’s chaos — cheering, champagne popping, music surging back to full volume. You sit there under the table, sticky with grape juice and feeling utterly ridiculous.

“Happy New Year to me,” you mutter, wiping your hands on your dress.

Above you, the tablecloth shifts again.

“I had a feeling you’d make it,” the Dutch guy says, grinning. He’s holding two glasses of champagne. “Figured you might need this.”

You stare at him, utterly baffled. “Do you always bother strangers under tables?”

“Only the ones who look like they’re about to choke on tradition.”

You take the glass hesitantly, unsure whether to thank him or tell him to leave you alone. He raises his own in a toast.

“To luck,” he says simply, his smile oddly sincere.

You sigh, clinking your glass against his. “To luck.”

And for the first time in years, you think it might actually work.

***

The Dutch guy, whose name you still don’t know, doesn’t leave. You expect him to. After all, who bothers someone under a table, offers them champagne, and then sticks around? But here he is, leaning casually against the table, like this is his New Year’s Eve tradition too.

“So,” he says, studying you over the rim of his glass, “how do you know it worked?”

“What worked?”

“The grapes. Your luck in love.”

“It’s not instant,” you reply dryly. “I don’t think someone’s going to walk up and propose to me tonight.”

“Shame,” he says, smirking. “Would’ve been a great story.”

You roll your eyes, standing up carefully to avoid smacking your head on the table. The club is still throbbing with music, the crowd a drunken sea of sequins and suits. Your father is nowhere to be seen, probably charming half the room with drunken stories from his glory days.

The Dutch guy follows you, holding his champagne like it’s an extension of himself.

“So, do I get a name?” He asks.

“Do I get a name?” You counter.

He laughs, setting his glass on a passing waiter’s tray. “Martin. Martin Garrix.”

It clicks immediately. The Martin Garrix. You’ve seen him on magazine covers, his face plastered on Spotify playlists, his name on Coachella lineups.

“Oh,” you say, a little surprised. “You’re that Martin Garrix.”

“Depends,” he says with a grin. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He laughs again, an easy sound that somehow cuts through the noise around you.

“And you are?”

You hesitate. The last thing you want is to be recognized as Fernando Alonso’s daughter tonight. “Just … me,” you say, shrugging.

“Alright, Just Me,” he teases. “What’s the plan now? Back to the dance floor?”

“I don’t really have a plan.” You glance toward the bar, but it’s swamped. The thought of pushing through that crowd makes your skin crawl.

Martin tilts his head, considering you. “You know,” he says after a moment, “I’ve got to play a set in a bit. But before that, I could introduce you to someone.”

Your brow furrows. “Introduce me?”

“Yeah. A friend of mine. You’ll like him.”

You cross your arms. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“Not at all,” he says, grinning. “But if you’re looking for luck, he’s got plenty of it.”

Before you can argue, he’s already motioning for you to follow him.

Martin weaves through the crowd effortlessly, stopping just long enough to charm security guards and exchange handshakes with people who look vaguely important. You trail behind, clutching your champagne glass like a lifeline.

“VIP,” he explains over his shoulder, as if that answers anything.

“I was in VIP,” you mutter. “Then I left to crawl under a table.”

“Your loss,” he quips.

The VIP section is smaller than you remember, cordoned off with velvet ropes and guarded by men in black suits. Martin flashes a wristband, and the guard steps aside.

You’re led to a booth tucked in the farthest corner, hidden from most of the chaos. Someone is slouched in the corner seat, a drink dangling from his fingers. His head tilts up when Martin approaches, and your stomach flips.

Max Verstappen.

You stop dead in your tracks, heat rushing to your face. Of all the people — of course it’s him.

Max looks at you, then at Martin, then back at you. His brow furrows in confusion, his normally sharp blue eyes a little unfocused.

“Martin,” he says, voice thick with alcohol, “who’s this?”

Martin grins, gesturing toward you. “Stray kitten I found under a table. Thought you might want company.”

You gape at him. “I am not a stray kitten.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Martin says, completely unbothered.

Max blinks, then sets his drink on the table. “Wait. I know you.”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, “I know you too.”

It’s a terrible response, but you’re too flustered to think straight. Max Verstappen, reigning Formula 1 world champion, is sitting in front of you, looking unfairly handsome even in his clearly drunk state.

Martin claps Max on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t scare her off, mate.”

“Wait, what-” You start to protest, but Martin is already disappearing into the crowd.

You’re left standing there awkwardly, clutching your glass like it’s a shield. Max watches you, his expression softening into something unreadable.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

You hesitate, then slide into the booth, leaving just enough space between you that it doesn’t feel too intimate.

“So,” he says, leaning back. “What’s this about a table?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “It’s a Spanish tradition. You eat twelve grapes at midnight for good luck in the new year. I was under the table to-”

“Focus your intentions,” he finishes, surprising you.

Your eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Carlos told me about it once back when we were teammates,” he says with a small smile. “He thought it was funny.”

You relax slightly. “Well, it’s not funny. It’s practical.”

“Under a table, though?” His smile widens.

“It’s quieter!”

He laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your heart twist in your chest. You’ve always found Max intimidating — cool, calm, untouchable. But right now, with his hair slightly messy and his guard down, he seems … human.

“You’re drunk,” you blurt out.

He nods, unabashed. “A little.”

“A lot,” you correct.

“Fair.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But what about you? You’re here on New Year’s Night, eating grapes under tables. What’s that about?”

You hesitate, then shrug. “Bad luck. Bad … everything, really. I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze steady despite the alcohol. “Bad everything?”

“Love life,” you admit, looking away. “It’s been a disaster.”

“Join the club,” he mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

You glance at him, surprised. “What do you mean? You’re-” You stop yourself, realizing how stupid it sounds. He’s Max Verstappen. He could have anyone.

“Exactly,” he says, reading your expression. “And that’s the problem. No one takes me seriously. They just see the driver, the fame, the money.”

You soften. “That sounds lonely.”

“It is.”

There’s a beat of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

“You know,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, “I always wondered what it’d be like to talk to you.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

“In the paddock. You’re always with your dad, or with someone else. I never knew how to …” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” you say quickly, surprising yourself. “I always wondered too.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, the noise of the club fades into the background.

“Yeah?” He asks softly.

You nod, suddenly shy. “Yeah.”

His lips twitch into a small smile. “Maybe Martin was right.”

“About what?”

“Luck.”

You laugh, the sound light and unexpected. “Maybe.”

He leans back, the tension in his shoulders easing. “So, what now? Are you going to wait for the grapes to work, or are we going to make our own luck?”

You raise an eyebrow. “And how do we do that?”

“Well,” he says, a playful glint in his eye, “we could start by getting out of here.”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” he says, standing up and holding out his hand.

You stare at his hand, then take it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Alright,” you say, your heart pounding. “Let’s see where this luck takes us.”

***

The valet pulls up with the car, and it’s … a Ferrari Monza SP2. Of course it is. Sleek, black, and absurdly expensive, it looks like something out of a Bond movie. The kind of car you don’t just drive; you wear it, command it.

Max grins at you as the valet hands him the keys, his drunken sway almost imperceptible — almost. He heads straight for the driver’s side, but you grab his arm before he can open the door.

“Are you serious?” You ask, wide-eyed.

“What?” His expression is equal parts innocence and mischief.

“You’ve been drinking.”

He glances at the keys in his hand, then back at you, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “I’ve had worse nights.”

“Max,” you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise of passing cars and drunken revelers spilling out onto the Monaco streets. “You’re not driving.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “So, what? You’re offering?”

You blink, caught off guard. “I-I didn’t mean-”

But he’s already opening the driver’s side door and stepping aside, holding it open for you with a dramatic flourish. “Your chariot awaits, madam.”

Your first instinct is to argue, to remind him that this is his car and you’re not exactly in the habit of taking over Ferraris from Formula 1 champions unless they’re your father. But the glint in his eye dares you to say yes.

“Fine,” you mutter, slipping past him and sliding into the driver’s seat.

The leather feels luxurious under your fingers, the steering wheel practically begging to be gripped. You know Ferraris — you grew up around them, after all — but this one feels different. It feels … alive.

Max climbs into the passenger seat with surprising agility for someone who’s had more than a few drinks. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, leaning back like he owns not just the car, but the world.

“Where to?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant as you adjust the seat and mirrors.

He shrugs, a lazy smile on his face. “Surprise me.”

The car roars to life under your hands, the engine purring with a deep, satisfying growl. You pull out of the valet lane and into the Monaco streets, the city lights sparkling like they’ve been sprinkled with diamonds.

You have no plan, no destination in mind. So, you let the roads guide you. Past the harbor, where yachts bob gently against their moorings, and out onto the open road leading away from Monaco.

Max watches you drive, his gaze heavy but not uncomfortable. “You’re good at this,” he says, his voice cutting through the low hum of the engine.

You glance at him, one hand on the wheel. “I should be. My dad made sure I could handle cars before I could even ride a bike.”

He chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

The road begins to curve as you head toward Nice, the city’s glow fading behind you. The winding asphalt hugs the coastline, offering glimpses of the dark sea shimmering under the moonlight.

Max leans his head back against the seat, his eyes half-closed. “This is nice,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You smile, focusing on the road. “It is.”

The stretch of beach comes out of nowhere, a small, deserted slice of sand tucked between rocky cliffs. You might have driven past it without a second thought, but Max suddenly sits up, pointing wildly.

“Stop!” He yells.

You react instinctively, slamming on the brakes. The tires screech against the pavement, and the car comes to a jarring halt.

“Jesus, Max!” You exclaim, turning to glare at him. “What is wrong with you?”

He’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’re going skinny dipping.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He grins like a kid who just discovered a hidden jar of candy. “Come on. The water’s right there.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” He pushes open the door and climbs out, gesturing for you to follow. “It’s New Year’s. Perfect time to do something stupid.”

“Skinny dipping isn’t just stupid, Max. It’s-” You gesture vaguely, your cheeks heating. “It’s ridiculous.”

He leans down, resting his arms on the open car door. “Exactly. That’s the point. Live a little.”

You hesitate, glancing toward the beach. The moonlight glints off the waves, the sound of the surf mingling with the gentle rustle of wind through the grass. There’s no one else around.

“Max,” you start, your voice uncertain.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Hey. It’s just water. I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stalling.” He steps back, holding his arms out as if to say, what’s the worst that could happen?

You sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt. “If I freeze to death, I’m haunting you.”

“Deal.”

The sand is cool under your feet as you follow Max toward the water. He’s already pulled off his shirt and pants, tossing them carelessly onto the beach. The moonlight catches on his skin, highlighting the lean muscles of his back.

You hesitate at the water’s edge, the waves lapping at your toes.

“This is crazy,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

“That’s the point,” Max calls over his shoulder, already wading into the surf.

You bite your lip, glancing around one last time to make sure you’re alone. Then, with a deep breath, you pull off your dress, leaving it in a heap beside Max’s clothes.

The water is shockingly cold as you step in, but it’s not unbearable. You wade in deeper, the waves swirling around your waist, then your chest.

Max is already floating on his back a few meters ahead, his arms stretched out like he’s completely at peace.

“See?” He says, his voice carrying over the water. “Not so bad.”

You tread water, glaring at him. “I hate that you’re right.”

He laughs, the sound echoing across the beach. “You’ll get used to it.”

For a while, neither of you says anything. The water is calm, the world around you eerily quiet except for the soft crash of waves.

“This is nice,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Told you,” he says, tilting his head to look at you. His expression is softer now, less playful. “Thanks for indulging me.”

You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for trusting me with your car.”

He grins. “I figured it was in good hands.”

The silence stretches between you again, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels … easy. Like the two of you have always been here, floating in the moonlit water, sharing something unspoken.

“I’ve always liked you,” Max says suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. “What?”

He turns onto his side, treading water to face you. “I mean it. For years, I’ve … I don’t know. I never thought you’d feel the same, so I didn’t say anything. But tonight …” He trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It felt like the right time.”

Your throat tightens, your mind racing. You’ve always thought Max was out of your league, untouchable. But here he is, confessing in the most Max way possible — honest, straightforward, no games.

“I’ve always liked you too,” you admit, your voice trembling.

His eyes widen, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He laughs, the sound full of relief and joy. “Well, I guess the grapes worked after all.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never,” he says, his voice soft.

It feels like a promise.

***

When you and Max finally stumble out of the water, shivering and laughing, you head straight to the spot where you’d left your clothes. Only, when you get there, the beach doesn’t look quite the same.

Your dress isn’t where you left it.

“Oh no,” you mutter, scanning the dark sand.

“What?” Max asks, standing next to you, his arms crossed against the cold.

“My clothes.” You point at the waterline, which has crept much closer during your impromptu swim. “The waves must’ve gotten to them.”

Max glances down and then back at you with a smirk. “You mean those clothes?”

You follow his gaze to a small, soggy heap half-buried in the sand.

“Oh, for the love of-” You dart toward them, scooping up your dress and underwear, which are completely soaked and dripping.

Max doesn’t even try to suppress his laugh. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Don’t,” you warn, glaring at him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He holds up his hands defensively, still grinning.

You groan, holding up your dress, which now feels about ten pounds heavier with seawater. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t wear this.”

Max tilts his head, considering. “Guess you’ll have to drive back naked.”

“Max!”

“Kidding, kidding!” He steps closer, tugging his own damp shirt over his head and holding it out to you. “Here. Problem solved.”

You hesitate, eyeing the shirt. “What about you?”

“I’ll live,” he says with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the chilly night air. “Take it.”

You sigh, knowing you don’t have much of a choice. “Fine. Turn around.”

Max smirks but obeys, turning his back to you.

You quickly pull the oversized shirt over your head, the fabric still warm from his body. It smells like him, too — a mix of salt, sweat, and something distinctly Max. You tug it down as far as it will go, grateful that it’s long enough to cover everything important.

“Okay,” you say.

Max turns back around, and his grin is immediate and wide. “Wow.”

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“You look good in my clothes,” he says, his voice dropping slightly.

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn at the way he’s looking at you, his gaze lingering a little too long. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he counters, his tone light but earnest.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you shake your head, muttering, “Let’s just go.”

Max doesn’t argue, but his grin lingers as the two of you make your way back to the car.

“Where are we going?” Max asks as you slide back into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against your bare thighs.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” you say, adjusting the mirrors again.

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “We could go back to my place.”

You snort. “Why does that sound like the setup to a bad pickup line?”

“Hey,” he protests, mock-offended. “I’m a gentleman.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you, though?”

“Sometimes,” he says, grinning. “Depends on the company.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, as much as I’d love to see your undoubtedly bachelor-esque apartment, I have a better idea.”

“Oh?”

“My dad’s place,” you say, pulling onto the road.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Fernando’s?”

“He’s not there,” you assure him quickly. “He’s probably still at the club, or passed out somewhere. And I happen to know he stocked the apartment with some really good champagne.”

Max hums, considering. “Fancy champagne, empty apartment … I like the sound of this.”

You smile, turning onto the highway. “I thought you might.”

The drive back to Monaco feels different this time. The adrenaline from the beach has faded, replaced by a quiet comfort. Max sits beside you, his head tilted back against the seat, humming softly to himself.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “You’re not falling asleep, are you?”

He shakes his head, reaching for the radio. “Nope. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” you tease.

He laughs, fiddling with the dial until he lands on a station playing 80s hits. The familiar opening chords of Take On Me by A-ha fill the car, and Max immediately starts singing along.

“Talking away,” he belts out, completely off-key but fully committed.

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my God, Max.”

“What?” He says, grinning at you. “You don’t like my singing?”

“I’m just saying, maybe stick to driving cars.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”

The chorus kicks in, and Max leans closer to you, practically shouting the lyrics. “I’ll be gone, in a day or twoooooo!”

You’re laughing so hard you can barely keep your hands steady on the wheel. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he says, winking.

You roll your eyes, but the truth is, you kind of do. There’s something about the way Max is so unapologetically himself, even when he’s being completely ridiculous. It’s endearing in a way you didn’t expect.

The next song comes on — Africa by Toto (not that Toto, the other one) — and Max doesn’t miss a beat, launching into another impromptu performance.

“I bless the rains down in AfricAAAA!”

“Please stop,” you beg, though your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Never,” he says, grinning at you like this is the most fun he’s had in ages.

And as the lights of Monaco come back into view, you realize you’ve never felt more at ease with someone. Max’s off-tune singing, the salty breeze still clinging to your hair, and the warmth of his shirt against your skin — it all feels like something out of a dream.

“Hey,” Max says suddenly, his voice softer now.

“Yeah?” You glance at him, and for once, he’s not smiling. His expression is thoughtful, almost serious.

“I’m glad it was you tonight,” he says simply.

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “Me too.”

He turns back to the radio, cranking up the volume as another song starts. And as you drive toward the city, the two of you singing along to the music, it feels like the beginning of something you’re not quite ready to name — but it feels right all the same.

***

The apartment is just as you left it — sleek, minimalist, and undoubtedly your father’s. Clean lines, muted colors, and an expansive view of Monaco’s twinkling lights spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Max whistles low as he steps inside, running a hand through his damp hair. “Your dad has good taste.”

You scoff, kicking off your shoes by the door. “He has a good interior designer. There’s a difference.”

Max chuckles, padding after you as you head straight for the kitchen. “Where’s this fancy champagne you promised?”

You open the fridge, scanning its contents. Sure enough, five bottles of Dom Pérignon are lined up like soldiers, condensation clinging to their dark glass.

“Here,” you say, pulling one out and setting it on the marble countertop. “But don’t complain if it ruins you for whatever it is that Formula 1 uses on podiums these days.”

Max grabs two flutes from the cabinet you pointed to and shrugs. “I think I’ll survive.”

You pop the cork with a satisfying pop, pouring the sparkling liquid into the glasses he offers.

“To questionable life choices,” Max says, raising his glass.

You laugh, clinking yours against his. “To new beginnings.”

The first sip is crisp and effervescent, the kind of taste that makes you close your eyes for a second to savor it. Max seems equally impressed, letting out a low hum of approval.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says, taking another sip. “This is good.”

“Only the best for Fernando Alonso,” you say, rolling your eyes.

The two of you settle on the couch, the city lights casting a soft glow over the room. Conversation flows easily, the champagne loosening whatever walls you might have had left after the events of the night.

By the second bottle, you’re both leaning into each other, laughing at stories you’ve never told anyone else.

“So, wait,” Max says, his voice slightly slurred. “You actually punched him?”

“I didn’t punch him,” you correct, giggling. “I just … shoved him. Hard. With my fist.”

Max snorts. “That’s literally a punch.”

“Semantics.” You wave him off, taking another sip of champagne. “He deserved it.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Max says, shaking his head with a grin.

By the time you open the third bottle, everything is a blur of laughter, shared glances, and a warmth that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

You’re halfway through another story when Max interrupts, leaning closer. “You’ve got …” He gestures vaguely at your face.

“What?” You ask, frowning.

“Hold on.” He reaches out, brushing the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The touch is light, almost hesitant, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“There,” he says softly, his thumb lingering a second too long before he pulls back.

The room feels suddenly smaller, quieter. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

Then, without thinking, you lean in.

The kiss is messy, fueled by champagne and years of unspoken tension. Max’s lips are soft but insistent, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer.

You barely register the sound of your glass clattering onto the coffee table as you climb onto his lap, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your lips, his breath warm and ragged.

You nod, your hands already tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “More than okay.”

His hands slide under the shirt you’re wearing — his shirt — his palms warm against your skin. The touch makes you shiver, but you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or something else entirely.

“You look so good in this,” he whispers, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Stop talking,” you mutter, pulling him back up for another kiss.

He laughs softly but obeys, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every curve like he’s trying to memorize you.

You lose track of time, of where you end and he begins. The champagne bubbles in your veins, making everything feel hazy and light.

Somehow, you both end up half-naked on the leather sectional, your legs tangled together. Max’s hands stay under the shirt, resting against your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

Your hand drifts lower, brushing against the waistband of his briefs. He lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the couch.

“Careful,” he says, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and warning.

You smirk, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “You’re the one who said to live a little.”

He laughs, pulling you back down into another kiss.

Eventually, exhaustion gets the better of both of you. The kisses slow, turning softer, lazier, until you’re both too tired to do anything but collapse against each other.

Max’s arms wrap around you, his body warm and solid beneath you.

“Don’t let me fall asleep like this,” you mumble, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Too late,” he replies, his voice already heavy with sleep.

And as your eyes flutter closed, you can’t help but think that this might be the best questionable life choice you’ve ever made.

***

The first hint of dawn spills into the apartment, a soft, golden hue creeping through the glass walls. The city below comes to life slowly, but up here, in the quiet sanctuary of your father’s apartment, everything feels frozen in time.

You’re vaguely aware of the early morning light as you stir, still half-asleep, tangled in the warmth of Max’s arms. His hands are still under the shirt you’re wearing — his shirt — resting against your bare waist. Your head rests on his chest, his steady heartbeat like a metronome beneath your ear.

You should feel embarrassed, maybe even regretful. Instead, you feel … safe. Content.

The sound of keys jingling outside the door doesn’t register immediately.

Then, the lock turns, and the door creaks open.

“Ah, mierda.”

The low curse comes from the entryway. The unmistakable, groggy voice of your father.

You jolt upright, your blood turning ice-cold as the realization sinks in.

Max stirs beside you, groaning softly. “What’s going on?”

You don’t have time to answer before Fernando appears in the living room doorway, his hair disheveled, his jacket slung over one shoulder, and the beginnings of a hangover etched across his face.

His gaze lands on the two of you — your bare legs, Max’s shirt haphazardly covering you, and the obvious fact that both your pants are nowhere to be seen.

There’s a long, excruciating silence.

“Papá,” you manage to squeak, your voice higher than you intended.

Fernando blinks once, twice. Then his eyes narrow. “What is this?”

Max freezes, his brain clearly struggling to catch up. “Uh …”

You scramble for words, any words, but your mind is a complete blank.

Fernando steps closer, his voice sharp. “You. Verstappen. What are you doing here?”

Max raises a hand, as though he’s trying to surrender. “I can explain-”

“Oh, you better,” Fernando interrupts, his tone dark. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks like …” He gestures vaguely at the two of you, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “… a very bad decision.”

You hastily pull a throw pillow over your lap, trying to muster some semblance of dignity. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Fernando arches a brow. “It looks like I came home to find my daughter and Max Verstappen half-naked on my couch.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s a little what it looks like,” you admit, cringing.

Max finally seems to snap out of his stupor. He sits up, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Listen, Fernando, I-”

“You don’t get to call me Fernando,” your father snaps. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Max backtracks quickly, holding up his hands. “Look, this isn’t her fault. It’s on me.”

You turn to him, frowning. “Max-”

“No, it’s true,” he continues, his voice steady despite the situation. “I shouldn’t have let things get … out of hand.”

Fernando crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing further. “Out of hand?”

“I mean-” Max stumbles over his words, clearly realizing he’s digging himself deeper. “It’s not like we planned for this to happen.”

Fernando’s gaze flicks to you, his expression unreadable. “Is that true?”

You open your mouth, then close it, your cheeks burning. “Well … yes. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“It’s complicated!” You blurt out, throwing your hands up in frustration.

Fernando pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that you’re pretty sure isn’t complimentary.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he says after a moment, his voice tight. “You-” He points at Max. “Why are you even here?”

“We were … celebrating,” Max says hesitantly.

“Celebrating,” Fernando repeats flatly. “By taking your pants off on my couch?”

“Okay, that part was-” Max starts, but you cut him off.

“Can we not talk about pants right now?” You plead, your face hot enough to fry an egg.

Fernando gives you a look that could melt steel. “No, we’re absolutely going to talk about it. What were you thinking?”

“Maybe we weren’t thinking,” you admit quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“That much is obvious,” he mutters.

“Papá, please,” you say, your voice softening. “It’s not like we meant to disrespect you or your home.”

Fernando sighs, the anger in his expression giving way to something else — disappointment. It stings more than you care to admit.

Max shifts uncomfortably beside you, breaking the silence. “I know this looks bad-”

“It is bad,” Fernando interrupts. “Do you have any idea what this could do to your reputation? To hers?”

Max frowns, his jaw tightening. “With all due respect, I care more about her than my reputation.”

Your breath catches at his words, but Fernando doesn’t seem impressed.

“Convenient to say that now,” he mutters, crossing his arms again.

Max’s expression hardens. “It’s the truth.”

The tension in the room is suffocating, the silence stretching out until you can’t take it anymore.

“Can we just … take a minute?” You say, looking between them. “Please?”

Fernando stares at you for a long moment, his expression softening just a fraction. “Fine. One minute.”

He turns on his heel, muttering something under his breath yet again as he storms toward the kitchen.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you let out a shaky breath, turning to Max.

“This is a disaster,” you whisper.

Max reaches for your hand, his touch grounding. “We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” You ask, your voice tinged with panic.

He squeezes your hand gently. “Together.”

Despite everything, his confidence is reassuring. You take another deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Together.”

Fernando’s voice cuts through the moment from the kitchen. “You better be decent when I come back.”

Max lets out a low chuckle, and you can’t help but smile despite the situation.

“Let’s just survive the next five minutes,” you murmur, standing to pull on your still-damp jeans.

Max grins up at you, his eyes warm. “I like our odds.”

You glance toward the kitchen, where your father is undoubtedly fuming, and pray he’s right.

***

The tension in the room is suffocating as your father storms back from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and a sharp glare aimed squarely at Max. You sit on the edge of the couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Max, to his credit, doesn’t flinch under the weight of Fernando’s gaze, though his posture is tense, shoulders squared like he’s bracing for impact.

Fernando takes a long sip of his coffee before setting the cup down on the counter with a decisive clink. “Alright,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “Let’s talk.”

Max leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “I-”

Fernando holds up a hand, cutting him off. “No. I’ll talk first. You’ll listen.”

Max glances at you briefly, then nods. “Okay.”

Your father steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “So. Verstappen. Tell me — were you trying to sleep with my daughter under my own roof?”

The bluntness of the question makes you choke on air. “Papá!”

“Stay out of this,” Fernando says sharply, not even sparing you a glance. His eyes are locked on Max, who blinks in surprise before straightening in his seat.

“No!” Max says quickly, his voice firm. “Of course not.”

Fernando tilts his head, his lips twitching as though he’s fighting back a smirk. “Oh, so she’s not attractive enough for you to want to sleep with?”

“What?” You gasp, standing up. “What is wrong with you?”

“Sit down,” Fernando says over his shoulder, though there’s an unmistakable gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Max looks like he’s been thrown into the deep end of a pool without warning. “That’s not — what? No!”

Fernando raises an eyebrow. “No, she’s not attractive, or no, you weren’t trying to sleep with her?”

Max glares at him, his jaw tightening. “You’re twisting my words.”

“Am I?” Fernando says, taking another slow sip of his coffee.

“Yes!” Max snaps, then seems to catch himself. He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I wasn’t trying to disrespect you or your home. I swear.”

Fernando steps closer, looming over Max. “You swear, huh?”

“Yes,” Max says firmly.

“And yet,” Fernando says, gesturing at the couch with a dramatic wave of his hand, “I walked in on this. My daughter, half-naked, tangled up with you.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, stop.”

Fernando ignores you. “Explain that, Verstappen.”

Max meets his gaze, unflinching. “I care about her. That’s the truth.”

Fernando’s eyebrows lift slightly, but he doesn’t respond immediately. He paces a few steps, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup as though mulling over his next move.

Finally, he stops, turning back to Max. “You care about her,” he repeats, his tone skeptical.

“Yes,” Max says, his voice unwavering.

Fernando tilts his head again, studying Max like he’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “Alright. Let’s test that.”

Max frowns. “Test what?”

“Your commitment,” Fernando says simply.

You groan again, standing up. “Papá, this isn’t some kind of-”

“Sit,” Fernando says, pointing at the couch.

“Stop telling me to sit!” You snap, but you drop back down anyway, crossing your arms over your chest.

Fernando turns back to Max, a small, mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “So. Verstappen. If you care about her, you won’t mind answering a few questions.”

Max hesitates but nods. “Alright.”

Fernando sets his coffee cup down again, cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect. “First question. Do you even know her middle name?”

Max’s eyes flick to you, then back to Fernando. “Of course I do. It’s-” He pauses, frowning. “Wait. Do you have one?”

Fernando lets out a bark of laughter. “Strike one.”

You roll your eyes. “Max, I don’t have a middle name. Don’t listen to him.”

Max glares at Fernando. “That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Fernando says with a shrug. “Next question. What’s her favorite color?”

Max’s frown deepens. “Pink?”

Fernando shakes his head. “Wrong.”

“Wrong?” Max turns to you. “It’s not pink?”

“It’s not pink,” you confirm, biting back a smile.

Fernando smirks. “Strike two.”

Max leans back, exhaling slowly. “Alright. What is it, then?”

Fernando opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “It’s burgundy.”

“Burgundy,” Max repeats, nodding to himself. “Got it.”

“Too late,” Fernando says, waving him off. “You’re already failing.”

“Papá,” you say, your tone a warning.

Fernando raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. One last question.”

Max leans forward again, his expression determined. “Go ahead.”

Fernando’s smirk returns. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

The question hangs in the air like a loaded gun.

Max doesn’t flinch. He meets Fernando’s gaze head-on and says, “I don’t know yet.”

You blink in surprise, as does your father.

Max continues, his voice steady. “But I know I want to figure it out. I care about her, and I want to spend more time with her. That’s all I can say right now.”

Fernando studies him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, to your astonishment, he nods. “Fair enough.”

“Fair enough?” You echo, staring at him in disbelief.

Fernando shrugs, picking up his coffee cup again. “At least he’s honest.”

Max lets out a breath he probably didn’t realize he was holding, and you shake your head, still trying to process what just happened.

“Just one thing,” Fernando adds, turning back to Max with a pointed look.

“What’s that?” Max asks cautiously.

Fernando leans in slightly, his voice low but firm. “If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Max doesn’t hesitate. “Understood.”

Fernando nods once, then steps back, his demeanor relaxing slightly. “Good. Now, get dressed. Both of you.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands again. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Max says, nudging you gently.

You glare at him, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything.

Fernando smirks, heading toward his bedroom. “You’ve got ten minutes before I come back with more questions.”

“Papá!” You call after him, but he’s already gone.

Max chuckles softly, leaning back on the couch. “That went well, all things considered.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You think that went well?”

He grins, shrugging. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you like me anyway,” he says, his grin widening.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue.

***

One Year Later

The club is just as loud and chaotic as it was a year ago, but it feels different this time. Maybe it’s the crowd, maybe it’s the glow of the New Year’s lights, or maybe it’s the fact that Max’s hand hasn’t left yours all night.

You’re back where it all started, tucked into the VIP section of the Monaco club where you had once crouched under a table eating grapes in a last-ditch attempt to find love. That night had been nothing short of chaotic, but looking back, it had been the beginning of something you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Is it how you remembered it?” Max asks, leaning in close to be heard over the music.

You glance around at the glittering lights and pulsing crowd, then back at him. “It’s definitely less embarrassing this time around.”

Max grins, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. “I don’t know. You were pretty cute in your desperation.”

You groan, nudging him with your shoulder. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Not a chance,” he says, laughing. “It’s one of my favorite stories to tell.”

“Great. Glad my suffering is so entertaining for you,” you tease, though you can’t help but smile.

Max tugs you closer, his voice softer now. “You know, I’m really glad you ate those grapes.”

You look up at him, your heart fluttering at the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Me too.”

The DJ announces that it’s nearly midnight, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. Max pulls you to your feet, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“Ready to count down?” He asks, his voice warm and low.

“With you? Always,” you say, grinning.

The countdown begins, and the energy in the room spikes. You can feel the excitement in the air, the anticipation of a new year, a fresh start.

“Ten!” The crowd shouts.

Max’s hands tighten slightly on your waist, and you lean into him, your pulse racing.

“Nine!”

You look up at him, your eyes locking.

“Eight!”

His gaze softens, his smile turning gentle.

“Seven!”

You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Six!”

Max leans down, his forehead brushing against yours.

“Five!”

Your breath catches as the noise of the crowd fades into the background.

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

You close your eyes, tilting your head up.

“One!”

Midnight strikes, and Max’s lips meet yours, soft and certain. The room erupts in cheers and confetti, but all you can focus on is the way he’s holding you, like you’re the only person in the world.

The kiss deepens, his hands sliding to your back, pulling you closer. You smile against his lips, your heart full and light-

Only to be rudely interrupted by someone literally wedging themselves between you.

“Alright, break it up!”

You stumble back a step, blinking in surprise. Max looks just as stunned, his hands still midair where they’d been resting on your waist.

Fernando stands between you, his arms crossed and a deeply unimpressed look on his face. “Leave room for Jesus.”

You gape at him, your cheeks burning. “Papá! What the hell are you doing?”

“I think the better question,” he says, looking pointedly at Max, “is what you two were doing.”

Max stares at him, then throws his hands up. “We were kissing. It’s New Year’s!”

Fernando raises an eyebrow. “And you couldn’t do that with a little more … decorum?”

“You’re not even religious!” You protest, exasperated.

Fernando smirks, clearly enjoying himself. “And that’s why, by Jesus, I mean me.”

Max blinks. “You mean … you?”

You stare at your father, your frustration warring with the urge to laugh. “Are you serious right now?”

“Completely,” Fernando says, deadpan. “Now, why don’t we all take a nice step back, breathe, and reflect on the fact that I’m allowing this relationship to exist at all.”

“Allowing?” Max echoes, crossing his arms. “With all due respect, I don’t think you get to allow anything anymore.”

Fernando turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yes,” Max says firmly. “We’re adults. And we’re together. Whether you approve or not.”

Fernando looks at him for a long moment, then lets out a low chuckle. “Well, at least you’ve got guts.”

“More than that,” you interject, stepping between them. “He’s good to me. Better than anyone else ever has been. And I love him.”

Fernando’s smirk fades, replaced by something softer. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, then nods slowly. “I know.”

“You know?” You ask, surprised.

He shrugs. “Of course I know. I’m your father.”

Max exchanges a glance with you, clearly just as confused. “So … what’s with all the drama, then?”

Fernando grins, stepping back. “Because it’s fun.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands again. “I can’t believe this.”

Max laughs, pulling you into his side. “I can.”

Fernando claps Max on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Happy New Year, Verstappen. Don’t screw it up.”

Max meets his gaze, his expression serious. “I won’t.”

Fernando nods, then turns to you. “And you — try to keep him out of trouble, will you?”

You smile, leaning into Max. “I’ll do my best.”

Fernando waves you off, disappearing back into the crowd with a casual, “Don’t make me come back over here.”

Max watches him go, then turns to you, shaking his head. “Your dad’s insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” you say, laughing.

He grins, leaning down to kiss you again. This time, no one interrupts.

678 notes · View notes

gu6chan · 4 hours ago

Text

how do you take your tea / coffee? I don't drink coffee like... At all but in the rare moments I DO have tea I normally like iced, peach tea. That's about it. 😭

if you could be fluent in any language at the snap of your fingers, which one and why? Japanese, all this studying and all I can really do is understand it, forget speaking 😔 either that or Mandarin, for it's usefulness.

when do you wake up? About 8 or 9, though it's been hard for me to get out of bed till like 11 or 12 lately...

what was your favourite tv show as a kid? Oooh I didn't really watch many TV shows as a kid since I didn't grow up with cable, but I definitely watched a lot of movies! The only TV shows I can really think I ever watched was an old VHS tape of the Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin (German dub) that got really damaged after a certain point and there was another with a couple episodes of Tailspin? But none of them really had much of an impression on me growing up. I do remember seeing Bernd das Brot someplace as a kid and liking it a bit, though.

summer or winter? SUMMERRRR summer all the way, i hate the winter sm 😭

realist, optimist, or pessimist? I like to consider myself a realist, but I know most people I know would consider me a pessimist just because of my "Nothing good ever happens, so we'll do x" approach when dealing with situations. But I'm mostly apathetic to most bad news/outcomes and haven't been proven wrong very often (Always thrilled when I am though), so I like to think it's just to do with the things themselves and not my mindset...? Right?

rain or sunshine? Sunshine!! Rain is nice and all, but gets depressing after a while and makes it hard to do many things.

how do you mark your spot in a book? I just memorise the page number and come back to it.

what are your favourite shoes like? I don't have favourite shoes, just plain black slip-ons that are comfy and good for most occasions except rain.

what would your non-perfume/cologne signature scent be? Good question, I normally wear my favourite 4771 cologne for most outings and assuming the Old Spice deodorant I use 24/7 ALSO doesn't count, maybe the body wash does? It's a milk and honey body wash and i love it

if you were a dragon, what would you look like? I'd have scales and a snout, probably...? I can't really think of it.

is your handwriting more print, cursive, or a mix? 100% cursive. It's hard for others to read in the US both because it's a bit rushed and also they don't teach cursive anymore I've heard, but I get on decently well in Germany which is a shock.

what colour would your lightsaber be? I don't know, I'm not very much into Star Wars.

what is your defining personality trait? I can't really say...? I guess a lot of people know me for being "modest" or "polite" something along those lines (probably since I tend to be quieter and have a tendency to take up other people's work for them irl), so maybe that, but honestly I'm the biggest prick I've ever known lmao

roller skates or rollerblades or ice skates? Never used any of those, so none.

are you an only child? oldest / middle / youngest? This is an insane answer but pretty much all, though I'd consider myself an oldest child if anyone asked. For the early portion of my life I grew up with an older half-brother and a few in-and-out older half-sisters on both sides so I was the youngest. But then, my brother moved away when I was 7 and I had gotten my only full-blood relative, my little sister, when I was 10. In the EXTREMELY rare event of a family gathering I'd be considered a middle child, around most I'd be considered the youngest, but as it stands since my little sister has been the most consistent in my life I've always considered myself the eldest child.

what would your superpower be? how would you use it? I'd like to teleport so I can see the world and go back between here and Germany as much as I want :)

what’s your clothing colour palette? ...??? I don't really have one? I guess mostly neutral tones like greys, beige, etc. though I don't really purposely coordinate or anything 👀

pet snake or pet bird? Pet snake!!

weapon of choice in a medieval battle I don't wanna fight a medieval battle waaaaaaa 😭😭😭😭 okay if I had maybe like a flail or some type of polearm like a Glaive, I think it's called? Longswords are cool and all but I wouldn't have the strength to use them, the same goes for bows and arrows though i ALSO suck with my aim... A flail is self-explanatory, and a polearm would make me feel save and sound :3<

the best ice cream flavour I like yoghurt-flavoured ice cream!! But I haven't been able to find any in the US and it's been killing me lowkey, frozen yoghurt is NOT the same!!!!!!!!

what spices do you always use when cooking? Salt and pepper, normally I rely on my sister since she's an expert on what spices taste like what and things and I'm too scared to experiment and ruin my cooking if I try lol. I'm not a creative or bold person 😭

default font when typing? ...Arial? Or some variation of it? Depends on what app I'm using, I don't really use anything special so the default for whatever, I think. Though if it's in a word processor like google docs it depends on my muse, if I'm low in motivation I'll usually use some bullshit fun font to keep my interest and then change it to a serif-type font when I'm through.

ask game that tells a lot about you.

how do you take your tea / coffee?

if you could be fluent in any language at the snap of your fingers, which one and why?

when do you wake up?

what was your favourite tv show as a kid?

summer or winter?

realist, optimist, or pessimist?

rain or sunshine?

how do you mark your spot in a book?

what are your favourite shoes like?

what would your non-perfume/cologne signature scent be?

if you were a dragon, what would you look like?

is your handwriting more print, cursive, or a mix?

what colour would your lightsaber be?

what is your defining personality trait?

roller skates or rollerblades or ice skates?

are you an only child? oldest / middle / youngest?

what would your superpower be? how would you use it?

what’s your clothing colour palette?

pet snake or pet bird?

weapon of choice in a medieval battle

the best ice cream flavour

what spices do you always use when cooking?

default font when typing?

#gu6chan's reblogs #ta-da!!! all about meeeee

12K notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 2 days ago

Text

Such A Mystery - Part 4

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

The sheets didn't smell like Max anymore. Colette had changed them over a week ago.

She ran her hand over the empty space next to her, the sheets cool to the touch. Empty. Alone.

Colette wished Max was there. That she could simply turn around and he would be there. But he wasn't.

Bébé took that moment to kick her bladder and she sighed as she pushed herself to sit up.

The sun was lower on the sky an she knew that she must have napped at least a few hours. "Bathroom and then we can see what we'll have for dinner," she suggested to the baby.

She got an answering kick in response that made her snort.

After taking care of her business, she made her way to the kitchen, feeling a rumbling in her stomach.

To her surprise, Colette wasn’t alone in their apartment. "You do know that I am adult, right?" she asked her mother and her oldest brother drily as waddled into the kitchen. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, probably busy with his actual job. "I can be left alone. Chances are I'll just go back to watching reruns of Real Housewives this evening," she said drily.

Neither of them laughed at this. She looked up from opening the fridge to see their...very serious expression. Colette paused, a cold feeling of dread worming its way into her stomach. Something was wrong, she could tell by their expressions. "What?" she asked, closing the refrigerator door.

Was something wrong with Max? With Cha?

She had never outright believed in the whole idea of twin telepathy or anything like that...but Charles and her had this...thing. If something was really wrong with each other...they could feel it.

And she couldn’t feel anything…not like that, not right now.

"Did...did something happen to Max?" Colette asked shakily, almost afraid of the answer. Her mind instantly went to the worst-case scenario. "Is he...okay?"

Her mother and brother traded a glance, which did nothing to calm her nerves. "Max is fine," her mother promised her. "Why don't you sit down, Choupinette?" This also wasn't calming her.

"Enzo?" Colette asked, her voice shaky.

"Nobody is hurt or dying," Lorenzo promised her quickly. "It's...complicated."

Colette nodded, lowering herself into a seat at the kitchen island. Her heart was still racing, palms a bit sweaty.

"Complicated how?" she asked, her voice a bit hoarse.

"I would like to preface this by saying that Arthur didn't...think this through," Lorenzo said with a grimace.

Colette's eyes widened in disbelief. "Arthur...what did he do?" she asked immediately.

"He may have posted that post you made on your stories in his," Lorenzo said carefully.

Colette's jaw dropped open in shock. "He...he WHAT?!" she nearly shrieked, hands gripping the edge of the table.

What? How could her brother do this? How could he...

That ill-thought out post she had made...with a Taylor Swift lyric that she had thought was cute...to her less than 200 followers that all knew about her and Max anyway…

What? How could her brother do this? How could he...

Colette's hands were shaking now as she tried to process what her brother had done. "Are you serious?" she finally managed to whisper.

And now it was out there. For EVERYBODY TO SEE. Everybody. Everybody could see her post about Max. Everybody could see her saying that Max came straight home to her.

They had spent 15 years keeping their relationship a secret. And now...now there they were.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to calm the panic that was welling up inside of her. "Oh god...oh god," she muttered, her mind racing.

"People are going to see that. Max's fans are going to see that," she whispered, her stomach clenching. "Oh god, they're going to see it and figure things out."

Her mother reached out, placing a calming hand on her arm. "It's okay, Choupinette," she said gently. "It's going to be okay."

Colette shook her head. "No, it's not," she said, her voice shaky. "How could Arthur do this? He knows...he knows that I didn't want anybody to know," she whispered, tears biting in her eyes. She wasn't even sure what to do. She wasn't even sure what to think.

Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, worry, frustration...and anger. So much anger at her brother, for not thinking, for not asking first, for not considering the consequences.

"How could he just... do this?" she said again, her voice cracking.

Lorenzo tried to come closer, but she held up a hand to stop him. She didn't want his touch, not right now. "Arthur should have asked me before doing something like this," she said, her voice shaking. "He knows...he knows that Max and I...we keep our relationship private."

"I...I need some space right now," she choked out, pushing her chair back and standing up. She had to get out of here, get some air.

She left the kitchen, leaving her family behind.

She found herself in the living room, collapsing onto the couch, her hands covering her face as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She couldn't believe what her brother had done.

And now...now it was out there. Their secret, Max's secret, their life...everything.

She tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm down, but she couldn't. She was angry, hurt, scared…

Their relationship...it had always been a safe space to Colette.

Somewhere where she could just be herself. With Max, she felt loved and safe and quite frankly, spoiled rotten by his attention. She didn't need to think about what she said, she could just be comfortable. And nobody had an inside look into that relationship that she didn't want to. They had admitted it to people over the years, to friends and colleagues and family members. But to the public they had never been connected beyond Colette being the twin sister of one of Max's biggest rivals.

She had liked her anonymity. Had liked that nobody paid her a second look on the street. That nobody even thought twice about her.

Her role could just be Charles and Arthur's supportive sister. Nothing more, nothing less. Max knew that she loved him, that she supported him in the privacy of their relationship. It wasn't something she needed anybody else to know.

But now it was out there.

Colette buried her head in her hands, letting out a soft sob. It was out there, and it couldn't be taken back. No amount of damage control, no amount of apology was going to take those words back.

She could already see the headlines in her head: “Max Verstappen’s secret girlfriend”

It was so much worse than she had expected. The idea of being exposed like this...it made her want to crawl under a rock and hide for the rest of her life.

Colette didn't want to deal with the media circus, the gossip, the speculation. She didn't want to deal with any of it.

She didn't want her life to be dissected. She didn't want everything to be picked apart.

But that's what was going to happen. The vultures were going to descend, the media was going to hound her, her inbox would be filled with requests for comment and statements.

She was going to be the topic of everyone's conversation, speculation, and judgment.

She wanted to cry, scream, and throw something simultaneously.

She didn't ask for this, she wasn't built for this.

She wanted her anonymity, her simple life, her relationship to be private. That's all she had ever wanted...was that too much to ask for?

But now it was all in jeopardy, because her brother wasn't able to keep his mouth shut. She knew that he hadn't done it to hurt her...he had just been a idiot without a brain. But that didn't make the situation any easier for her.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to gather her thoughts.

But now it was gone. The secret was out, and there was no turning back. She was going to be under the microscope, every move she made, every word she spoke, every expression on her face would be analyzed and scrutinized.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

Colette leaned back against the couch, feeling the weight of the situation crashing down on her.

She had always known that Max's life would come with a certain amount of spotlight and media attention, but she had never expected to be dragged into it.

She had always been in the shadows, quietly supporting him from behind the scenes, but now she was being thrust into the bright light of the media spotlight. And she couldn't help but cry her eyes out about it.

She let the tears flow, feeling the sobs rack her body. It was too much, all too much. She was exposed, vulnerable, and raw. And she had no idea how to handle it.

"Choupinette," her mother said softly, sitting down besides her.

Colette barely registered her mother's presence, too consumed by her own despair. But she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, gentle and comforting.

She buried her face in her mother's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her mother just held her, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words of comfort. "It's going to be okay," she promised. "I promise, it's going to be okay."

"Maybe it won't even be so bad," her mother tried to comfort her. "It will blow over. You do love Max and he loves you."

"It was going to get out sometime," Lorenzo said quietly. "It was question of when not if, Colette. It was a miracle that you were able to keep it quiet for so long."

This only made Colette cry harder.

She hadn't wanted anybody to know. She had wanted privacy. She had wanted…

She had wanted it to just be her and Max, living their life together, without any outside interference.

She knew it was foolish to think that it could last forever, but a small part of her had hoped.

Now it was going to be ruined. And it was all because of her stupid brother and his impulsive behavior.

She didn't want the attention. She didn't want the speculation, the questions, the accusations.

All she wanted was Max.

She wanted him, his warmth, his soft reassurances, his quiet love. She wanted him with her and just to curl up in his arms. Where she could forget everything else and just be.

But she couldn't do that. The truth was out there now, and there was no way to erase it.

She was Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, the public knew, and there was nowhere she could hide from it.

And that thought terrified her more than anything else. She didn't know how to handle the public eye, the media interest, the gossip. It was like a massive wave that was about to crush her, and she had no life raft to hold onto.

She leaned closer into her mother, feeling like a child again. The sobs continued to rack her body, and all she could do was hold onto her mother's comforting embrace.

She didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to handle this.

***

This was the last fucking news Max wanted to hear before qualifying. The absolute last.

He loved the Leclercs. He did. He loved Colette’s family like his own. And he loved her brothers like his own.

But this was making him absolutely furious with Arthur.

And he would have liked to destroy his driver’s room in a fit of rage, but he wasn’t going to do that. He was not going to let his emotions get the best of him.

Not when he understood where Arthur was coming from. Even when he hated the way he had gone about it.

Max had half a mind to simply throw the towel. To give up. What did it matter anymore? He had won his 4th World Championship title…Red Bull wasn’t in the running for the constructor’s championship anymore…that was between Ferrari and McLaren… so did it matter?

Wouldn’t he be more useful at Colette’s side?

But he knew that if he asked her…he knew what her answer would be.

She wouldn’t stand for it.

She knew that he wouldn’t forgive himself for this. He wanted to win. It was in his DNA. It wasn’t in him to leave things unfinished.

She would tell him to do it. To finish that race. And then to come straight home to her.

But it was hard, especially when he knew that the media was going to be all over this. The vultures were going to be circling, waiting for any slip up, any moment of weakness.

It wasn't like he cared if his and Colette's relationship became public. He was content with screaming it from every rooftop. He would happily post his beautiful girlfriend on his Instagram daily. He was more than willing to take her to some charity gala and kiss her in the view of every camera that was there...but he knew how important it had always been for Colette.

And now she was exposed, without warning and without even knowing.

Max wanted to find her brother and wring his neck for this. How could he be so careless, so thoughtless?

He knew how important Colette's privacy was to her, how much she valued it. And now it was gone. Just like that.

Colette wanted to keep a low profile. She was more than happy to be the always supportive sister to her brothers, to cheer them on from the sidelines...and she herself was happy to work in her mother's hair salon, and dabble at playing the piano and violin…and content to simply be.

He had always loved that about her…how happy she could be with the most simple of things.

Colette didn’t enjoy the spotlight, she preferred the shadows. And now she had been thrown into the whirlwind of media attention.

He knew that she wasn’t going to handle this well.

And he was seriously considering throwing the towel.

To say fuck it all and go back to Monaco.

His father didn’t want to hear a single thing about it.

Jos had never really approved of Max's relationship with Colette. He thought it made him weak, he thought Max needed to focus on racing, not on some girl… but Max had been stubborn.

Colette was everything to him. Colette’s place in his life was not something they were going to argue about it. It was set in stone.

And so, through the years his father had realised that Colette was there to stay.

And he may even had started to respect her place in Max’s life, realised that her presence calmed him and focused him in a way nothing else did…Realised that Colette was good for Max.

And even for his relationship with his father.

Nowadays…they got along better than they ever had and quite frankly they had Colette to thank for that. She had softened his father with her calm, gentle and yet incredibly stubborn nature, unwilling to take any of his bullshit and willing to call him out on it, constantly.

Still, Max wanted to get to Colette. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her that everything was going to be okay eventually. He wanted to place a hand on her swollen belly and feel bébé rumble underneath her skin…wanted to see that everything was alright with her and their baby.

“You have a job to do,” his father said drily. “Colette isn’t alone. She has her family with her.”

Max didn't answer, just clenched his jaw.

He knew his father was right, he had a job to do, a race to focus on. But the thought of leaving Colette to deal with that by herself…it didn't sit well with him.

“She’s pregnant,” he hissed. “You want me to care about a race while my pregnant girlfriend is an ocean away, distraught, because our relationship just became public knowledge?!” Max asked sharply.

His father scowled.

“She has her brothers and her mother with her,” he repeated sternly. “I’m sure they can calm her down and make sure she’s taken care of in your absence. But the team needs you to focus on the race. Besides…It has been a long time coming…”

He knew he had a job to do. He had a race to focus on, a team that was depending on him to be at the top of his game. It was his job to win, no matter what was going on at home.

“Fine,” he gritted out, turning around to leave the room. “I’ll focus on the damn race.”

He took a deep breath, trying to push all thoughts of Colette out of his mind. He needed to focus. He needed to push aside his emotions and put his game face on.

He was a professional and he had a job to do.

He could deal with driving. He could deal with managing a respectable 5th place on the grid in Qualifying…he couldn’t deal with the press afterwards.

He was surrounded by reporters, camera flashes and microphones. They were all firing question after question at him, shoving the microphones closer and closer to his face.

"Max, is it true that you and Colette Leclerc are in a relationship?"

Max clenched his jaw, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face. He didn’t want to give them any ammunition, anything they could use to try and dig deeper into his personal life. But he knew he couldn’t ignore the question either.

“I don’t see how my relationship status is relevant to the race,” he snapped back. “I’m here to talk about the race, not my personal life.”

They happily ignored that: “What’s Charles’ reaction to your relationship?”

Max clenched his jaw again, the anger starting to boil over. He hated this, the way they felt like they had the right to just poke and prod at his life like it was some kind of spectacle for them to enjoy.

“I’m not discussing my personal life,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “I’m here to talk about the race.”

But the reporters weren’t interested in the race. They were only interested in the juicy gossip of Max Verstappen dating Colette Leclerc.

More microphones were shoved in his face, more questions were asked, each one more invasive than the last.

“How serious is your relationship with Colette?”

“Are you engaged?”

“What did you think about what she posted on Instagram?“

“I think that Colette’s Instagram account is private for a reason,” he said tightly.

The reporters fell silent for a moment, surprised by the harsh tone. Max knew he was skating on thin ice, but he didn’t care. He was angry, frustrated and upset. He wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner to just brood and worry about Colette in peace.

“I think that George overreacted about something that was posted on a private Instagram profile that has less than 200 followers. ” Max bit out. “There is a difference between posting something for your friends and family to see and complaining about this to the press when George knew it would be put all over the media.”

The reporters were stunned into silence at his outburst.

Max knew he had crossed a line. He knew he shouldn’t be snapping at them like that, but he couldn’t help it. He was so frustrated and upset, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He knew he had to reel it in before he said something he would regret even more. “I have already lost all respect for George Russell before, but he has crossed a line when he dragged this into the public sphere,” he said flatly.

The reporters' eyes widened, surprised by the ferocity of his words.

Max knew he was being harsh, but he didn’t care. He was furious, enraged. How dare Russell expose their private life like that?

Max took another deep breath, trying to calm himself. But it was hard. The anger was like a living thing inside him, seething and burning. He wanted to storm over to the Mercedes garage and punch Russell in the face, to wipe that smirk off his face for good. But he knew he couldn’t.

So he stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to keep the anger at bay. Trying to ignore the way the reporters were looking at him with greedy, excited eyes.

He knew they wanted him to explode, to lash out. They wanted him to go off the rails and say something even more incriminating. Something they could use to make more headlines. But Max couldn’t give them that. He couldn’t let them get a rise out of him. So he stood there, trying his best to remain calm and collected.

But it was hard. So goddamn hard.

He could feel the tension in his body, feel the anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. He wanted to do something, to take action and make the situation right. But he didn’t know what he could do, how he could make it right.

He didn’t know how he could fix the mess that had been made, how he could turn back time and undo the damage that had been done.

"Do you have any questions about the race tomorrow? Because otherwise I am done," he asked.

The reporters stood there for a moment, frozen in shock. Then, a few of them started to ask questions about the upcoming race, but Max could tell that their hearts weren’t in it. They were too distracted by his outburst, too eager to keep prodding at the sensitive issue of his relationship with Colette.

The reporters looked at each other for a moment, unsure whether to press him further or not. Max could see the wheels turning in their heads, could see them trying to decide whether they would press the issue or let it go.

Eventually, the more sensible reporters began to ask questions about the race, steering the conversation away from the minefield of his personal life.

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meazalykov · 3 days ago

Text

new years baby

ingrid engen x pregnant!reader

summary: your baby decides to arrive two weeks late

the air in the apartment has a mix of excitement and calm.

you were perched on the couch, your feet tucked under a soft blanket, sipping from a juice box while ingrid and alexia chatted lightly over their glasses of wine. the christmas lights still twinkled along the edge of the window, and the faint hum of music played in the background, setting a cozy new year's eve atmosphere.

you shifted slightly, your growing belly making every position a balancing act. ingrid’s eyes flickered to you often, her gaze soft and adoring.

"how are you feeling, love?" she asked, her norwegian accent wrapping the words in warmth.

“same as this morning,” you replied with a small laugh.

“still pregnant.”

alexia chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief.

“i don’t know how you’re still walking around. december eighteenth, then christmas—now new year’s eve? iris is really taking her time.”

you smiled, resting a hand on your belly.

“if she doesn’t come by january second, the doctors said they’ll have to induce me. but she’s probably just waiting for the right moment.”

ingrid leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“she’s dramatic already, just like her mom.”

“and patient, just like her mamma.” you respond.

the three of you laughed, and you reached for another sip of your juice. the warmth of the moment made the days of waiting feel a little lighter.

then, as the clock ticked closer to 10:00pm, something shifted. you felt it suddenly—a strange, uncontrollable sensation. at first, you thought you might have peed, which was embarrassing enough, but when you excused yourself to the bathroom, the realization hit: your water had broken.

a rush of adrenaline swept through you, but you kept calm, padding quietly to the bedroom to change into more comfortable pajamas and grabbing the hospital bags you and ingrid had prepared weeks ago.

as you emerged from the bedroom, the sight of alexia and ingrid staring at you with wide, questioning eyes almost made you laugh.

“uh, my water broke,” you announced, holding up the bags as if to prove it.

ingrid was on her feet instantly, her wineglass abandoned.

“what? now? are you okay?”

“yes, now,” you replied, feeling the first faint stirrings of contractions.

“i’m fine, but we should probably get to the hospital.”

alexia jumped up, her usual calm demeanor replaced with an almost comical fluster.

“okay, bags—car—uh, do you need anything else? snacks? more juice?”

you shook your head, smiling at her concern.

“just the hospital bags, alexia. and maybe some shoes.”

within minutes, the three of you were in the car, the streets of barcelona unusually quiet for new year’s eve. ingrid sat beside you in the backseat, her hand tightly gripping yours, her face a mix of excitement and worry.

“are you sure you’re okay?” she asked for the fifth time, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

you nodded, exhaling through another contraction.

“i’m okay, promise. it’s not too bad yet.”

when you arrived at the hospital, things moved quickly. you were whisked into a delivery room, and ingrid stayed glued to your side, her presence a steadying force.

alexia, after ensuring you were settled, made her way to the cafeteria, where fridolina joined her, both of them eagerly waiting for updates.

the labor progressed faster than you expected. by the time the clock struck 11:45 p.m., the contractions were intense, and the nurses were preparing for delivery. ingrid held your hand through every wave of pain, her voice soothing as she whispered words of encouragement.

“you’re so strong, mi amor,” she said, her own eyes glistening with emotion.

“our baby is almost here.”

by 12:01 a.m., you were pushing. the effort was exhausting but focused, every ounce of your energy channeled into bringing your daughter into the world. ingrid’s voice anchored you, and after just three pushes, the room was filled with the sound of a newborn’s cry.

“she’s here!” the doctor announced, carefully placing your daughter on your chest.

tears streamed down your face as you looked at her tiny, wriggling form. ingrid was beside you, her face alight with wonder and tears of her own. the doctor glanced at the clock and smiled.

“12:03 a.m. happy new year!”

“happy new year, baby,” ingrid whispered softly, leaning close to kiss iris’s forehead. the sound of her voice seemed to calm the baby’s cries for a moment.

you let out a tired laugh, looking down at your daughter.

“of course she wanted her birthday to be a holiday.”

ingrid chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

the moments after were a blur of joy and relief. alexia and fridolina came up to the room once things had settled, their faces lighting up when they saw ingrid cradling iris in her arms.

“she couldn’t wait for january second?” fridolina teased, leaning over to get a better look at the baby.

“was 2024 not a good year to be born in?”

ingrid grinned, glancing down at iris.

“exactly what i was thinking. she had to wait for the new year.”

alexia laughed.

“at least we’ll never forget her birthday. it’s a built-in celebration every year.”

you smiled, feeling the warmth of their words as you reached for iris. ingrid gently placed her in your arms, and you marveled at her tiny features—the button nose, the delicate fingers curling instinctively around your thumb. she looked just like ingrid.

“she’s perfect,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. iris’s eyes were closed, her face peaceful as she nestled against you.

“she really is,” ingrid agreed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the two of you admired your daughter.

“happy new year, mi amor.”

you leaned into her, feeling the overwhelming love and gratitude of the moment. despite the long wait and the unexpected timing, everything felt exactly as it should be.

masterlist

#ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #norwnt #norway women #alexia putellas #frido rolfö

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kpoperotics · 2 days ago

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Surrendering to Lia x Male reader

When the quiet allure of the night draws you closer to Lia, you discover a world where restraint melts away and passion ignites like wildfire. Her touch teases, her moans beckon, and every shared moment pulses with an electric intensity that leaves you craving more.

On the bed. Candles burning, giving the soft warm light in the room. Lia's lying beside you, her hands are already on you making you shiver with their touch. She moans in your ear, because she knows how bad this drives you crazy. She won't waste time, she has already taken your pants and underwear off, stroking your hardening shaft.

She jerks you off really good, making you feel her palm against your slick hard cock. Her hand rubbing up and down, her grip is tight and firm

"Just say it, you want me to take you in my mouth, babe" She says and you don't even have the time to think about it that... she's already sucking on your tip. You can't help but let go of a moan.

Pleased with your reaction, Lia takes more of you in her mouth, she starts to gag on your cock as she bobs her head up and down on your hard cock. She looks at you, silently asking for approval, you nod and hold her head with your hands as she keeps going.

In the meantime, her hand reaching up to your balls to cup and massage them, the pleasure only adding and adding the longer she sucks and treats you right.

She pulls back for a moment to breathe, strands of drool stick her chin to your cock. "God, you're just so fucking good, babe" You say, she smiles and takes you back in her mouth, this time diving deeper than before, so deep that she gags loudly; she's taking you all the way in, her nose buried against your pubis.

She's making you loose your mind, that's obvious, and she wants to take you to the edge, make you cum so hard for her. God she wants it so bad, and she works to earn it.

Her hands are working on your balls as well, squeezing and rubbing against them to increase your pleasure. She closes her eyes, her tongue flickering against your throbbing cock.

"Shit, Lia, I'm almost there- oh fuck" You moan. Lia smiles at your declaration and stops sucking you, to tease you but also because she doesn't want you to cum in her mouth. She straddles her legs on you and rubs your cock against her wet dripping pussy. She moans and throws her head back, then, she finally sinks on your cock, letting you dive all the way in her.

"Fuck!" She exclaims, one hand on your chest and the other one squeezing her own breast as she starts to ride you.

Squeezing her breast and riding you, Lia is a moaning and gasping mess. She's too focused to get your cum inside her that if you asked her what's her name, she'd probably answer it wrongly.

"Fuck me, use me, fill me up with your cum. Please, I need it, I need you inside me so bad, I beg you daddy.." She begs with her eyes half closed and her mind hazy with pleasure.

You're going to cum so much inside her that even if she took pills, she would probably still get pregnant.

Seeing her boobs bounce and her jumping on your cock like that brings you close to the edge, you grab her ass and squeeze it strongly, your nails leaving marks on her skin. You even spread her ass cheeks to finger her asshole, deeply, while she rides you.

Lia's eyes roll back in her head and her tongue darts out at the sensation. She can't even moan anymore, she went too dumb even for that.

You cannot hold back anymore at the sight and you just let go. Spilling so, so much cum in her womb. She's a living earthquake, trembling, shaking. She went so dumb for your cum, so cum-holic. You're still cumming inside her, deep in her womb. She crumbles on you, her mind coming back from the high, she regains her senses and looks at you.

"I have nothing to say but... wow" She smiles.

You smile back at her and lie her down on the bed.

"Goodnight, Lia" You say.

#itzy #kpop #itzy smut #kpop smut #fanfiction #lia #lia itzy #lia smut

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magics-neptunes-things · 3 days ago

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Lightning Love

Hi guys!

Like I said, after seeing Steph in that outfit I just COULDN'T not write something for her.

It's longer than I expected to be honest, but I hope you will like it!

TW : Some Angst maybe, Alcohol consumption, mention of breakup

It’s always strange to be at a wedding while your ex-girlfriend just ends things with you. Until early November, you were due to come here with Leila Ouahabi, your former girlfriend.

She broke up with you after an eight-month relationship but, with the reasons she gave you, you can’t really be mad at her. She accused you of not being as involved in your relationship as you should have been after so long. It was true that with her being in Manchester and you in London, you aren’t able to see each other very often.

But it was good for you, you had fun dates, you laughed a lot, and you had good moments with her.

Leila was right to say that though, because the real reason for your lack of involvement is probably very related to the fact that you are dead in love with your Australian teammates, Steph Catley.

And seeing her today at Emily and Kat’s wedding doesn’t help.

Steph is absolutely stunning, and you have trouble looking somewhere else.

You never told anyone about your crush on her, you never wanted to make things strange with anyone. Steph was in love with Dean, happier than ever and that is all you want for her. You never had a talk with her about her preference before she met Dean, but for you Steph is as straight as a ruler.

So, you totally have not a single chance with her.

You were happy for her when you learned about her engagement and genuinely sad when you learned that her and Dean broke up.

And right now, as you are looking at her laughing with Caitlin and Katie, you just can feel your heart clenched. Maybe it’s the consumption of alcohol that makes you feel sadder than you actually did. It doesn’t stop you from accepting another glass of champagne when a waiter comes for you.

“You alright?”

You turn your head towards Kristie, Sam’s girlfriend, you are sitting next to you. You promised to Sam to look for her while she takes some pictures with some of your friends, but you probably weren't good company after all.

“Yeah, sorry” you turn yourself towards the blonde. “Do you need something to drink?”

You realise that her glass is empty when you glance at it and that the waiter didn’t bring something alcohol free. With her being pregnant and the heath around today, you hope that he will get fired soon.

“I’m alright” she smiles.

“No, please drink at least water. Sam is going to kill me otherwise”

Kristie smiles when you fill her glass with cold water and it’s only two minutes before Sam comes back with Steph and Mackenzie Arnold.

“Have you been treated well?” Sam smirks towards you. “I’ve heard that she doesn’t know how to treat girls right”

You roll your eyes and let yourself go against the back of your chair. You know that Leila hasn’t said anything bad against you, your breakup was pretty chill, and you are still talking from time to time. But the woso-world is a small world and some of her friends probably made some assumptions.

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asks while Steph frowns.

“I’m just saying what I’ve heard” Sam says, raising her hands defensively.

“I’m sure that is wrong. Y/N is the cutest of all of you”

Steph statements and the defensive hands she puts on your arm make you feel warm inside. And stupid to react like a teenage boy.

Sam smirks before inviting Kristie to go dancing, leaving you with Mackenzie and Steph alone at the table. It’s a little bit depressing to see all these couples to be honest. A moment of silence floats between you three, all of you probably lost in their thoughts.

You know that Mackenzie broke up with her girlfriend some weeks ago too, or that her girlfriend broke up with her. Either way, it’s never really great to be in that position for a wedding.

“Well, that’s surely depressing” Mackenzie finally states, looking at you three.

You can’t help but giggle at that, Steph smiling next to you. You know that there are more single people there, by the way where the hell is Alanna?

“You don’t see someone who might be interesting for you? Weddings leading to another wedding are great love stories” you say, looking at Mackenzie.

“No, and I’m not sure that I want to” she sights softly. “On another hand, Steph probably could try something with the way our waiter looks at her every time he is near”

You hold a grimace of disgust thinking about that waiter and glance towards Steph, to see that she has the same expression you just retained.

“No thanks” she mumbles.

“She deserves someone better than him anyway” you add, before taking another sip of your drink.

You feel Steph’s gaze on you, but you distract yourself by looking at Caitlin and Katie dancing a little further than the other people in the crowd.

“I’m going to see if I can find Lany” Mackenzie says before standing up.

You watch her leave before turning your head towards Steph. She was already looking at you and you are glad that the night has fallen otherwise she would have seen the red colouring your cheeks.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asks softly.

“Sure” you accept with a smile.

You stand up and have some trouble finding your balance, between your heels and the champagne you drank in probably too much quantity. You feel stupid at first, before feeling Steph grabs your arm to give you more balance.

“Are you okay?” she laughs.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t stand for a long time and the Champagne kept coming back in my glass” you smirk.

She laughs again and you feel the habitual feeling in your stomach. At first you were sad to learn that Steph signed to Arsenal and not Tottenham where you are playing with Charlie. But then you realised too that it’s probably better like this. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the reality of your feelings in another way.

It’s already too hard to do it when you are at Australian camp. Thank God Kyra is always here to distract her, you are pretty sure that other than that you would have been caught since a long time.

You silently walk next to her, your arms always linked together. You like it that way, feeling her against you without you being the one making the first move.

Steph and you are pretty close, you are the same age and started to play at the same time. You played together in Melbourne until she left for the USA, and you went to Tottenham. With her being in London from 2020 it’s easier for you to see each other, usually for walking Calvin or drinking coffee.

“Seriously, how are you dealing with your breakup?” Steph suddenly asks.

Surprised, you turn your head in her direction before shrugging. You didn’t really talk about it with her to be honest. Leila broke up with you early November, then you had all of those games and after that Christmas break was there. It is only thanks to the wedding that you are able to see her before January.

“I’m okay, for real. It wasn’t that serious from my side, and I think she understands it. I liked her but I wasn’t in love, you know” you shrug.

“You were in a relationship without being in love?”

You can hear Steph’s surprise and almost discontent in her tone. You know how that girl is romantic, and you cringe a little after saying what you said.

“I was hoping to really fall in love with her” you precise. “I mean she’s funny, beautiful and everything… But I don’t know. Something was missing”

“I think I can understand” Steph says slowly.

“It was comfortable, but we weren’t meant to be”

She nods and you keep walking in silence a little more. You are in the vineyards now, the noise of the party coming from far behind you. It’s quiet and peaceful here. You like it.

“What about you?” you ask quietly.

“I’m okay, I think. I wasn’t expecting this to be honest, but I can’t fight against it”

“Are you still in love with him?”

You realise when Steph looks at you how inappropriate your question is. You are not her mother, her sister and even her best friend. You are just a friend who has nothing to say in her relationships.

“I’m sorry, I –“

“I don’t think I’m in love with him anymore” Steph cuts you.

By then you stopped walking, and you are facing each other. With the sun going down Steph gets ride of her sunglasses but she’s still stunning. You could look at her pretty face all day long anyway.

You weren’t expecting an answer, so you shut your mouth and let her talk.

“I don’t think I was for a long time now… I can’t say since when, though. It doesn’t mean I don’t have any affection for him, you know? I just fall out of love with him”

She seems sad though and you take all the strength you have in you not to crush her against you. You take her hand back in yours instead, giving her what you hope is a comforting squeeze.

“You will find the right person for you” you smile at her, continuing when she makes a pouty face. “Of course you will. I mean, every single person would be lucky to have you in their life.”

“We’ll see”

You hum, looking at the landscape around you. Em and Kat made a good choice by coming here. It’s really beautiful.

“You’ll find someone too, you know?”

You pout and shrug, not really believing this. In almost ten years you never found someone able to make you forget Steph, it’s not going to change now. You just have to live with the fact that you fall in love with someone straight and will never be able to be happy with her.

You can’t say that to Steph like this, though.

“Want to go back?” you ask.

But Steph shakes her head no and when you look around you spot a bench between two lines of vineyard. You make Steph wait before sitting down, using your jacket to protect her dress.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steph asks a little after.

“Sure” you mumble, looking now at the stars.

But after that there is only silence and you turn your face to Steph, to see that she seems to be thinking about how to tell you what’s in her mind. It attracts your curiosity, and you tilt your head on the side, silently questioning her.

“Don’t take that the wrong way, but… I’ve never seen you really into your girlfriends, you know? Sure, you liked them and treated them well despite what Sam said before, but I never saw you fond of them. Have you really been in love once?”

You sigh softly, now turning your eyes back on the stars. She seems scared about your reaction at her question, but you are not mad. You are more jaded by the situation than something else.

“Once” you finally answer.

“You were in love once?” Steph asks for clarity.

You nod, still without looking at her. You are scared that she would be able to understand if you look her in the eyes.

“With whom?”

“I never told her”

“What? Why?”

Steph seems genuinely surprised and almost concerned by this statement. She sits to be able to lean and be able to look at you correctly, not only the side of your face. It’s hard to ignore her like this and you bite your lip unconsciously when she’s still looking at you.

“It’s complicated, Steph”

“Why?”

“Because it is”

“Is she in a relationship? Is it someone who’s here?”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you whisper.

Realising that she was maybe put too much pressure on your, Steph sits back and seems a little bit embarrassed by her behaviour.

“Of course. I’m sorry”

You give her a small smile. It maybe would be great to able to talk about it to someone, but you don’t know who. All of your close friends are close to Steph, and you don’t want to put them in a complicated situation. You don’t like lies and secrets, even if you keep this one for years now.

“Do you want to go back?”

“Yes, please.”

You totally can do with more alcohol.

Even if you offered her your hand to help her walk in the dark, the way back is filled with silence and just a glance at Steph makes you understand that she’s lost in her thoughts.

You wonder what it is, hoping that she’s not thinking about Dean. That boy has fallen far down in your esteem since her breakup with Steph. You refer to him as “Calvin’s dad”. It amuses Steph though, so it’s probably okay that way.

“Ow, look who took the most beautiful girl away to kiss her in the vineyard?”

Alanna’s voice makes Steph and you jump. You don’t really know which one of Steph or you let the other hand go first, but you blush stupidly.

“Shut up” Steph answers.

You are surprised to see that she seems flustered too, but Steph is taken away from you by Mackenzie for something related to a new cocktail to try. You are a little sad to watch her go away but try to concentrate your attention on something else.

Like the glass Hayley gives you.

********

You watch Steph from afar for the rest of the night, staying with Hayley during this time. You had a lot of fun to be honest, even if you feel a pang of jealousy in your chest every time you see her laughing with Mackenzie.

You haven’t realised that they were so close, to be honest.

At some point of the night, you decide that you are too drunk to stay any longer and take advantage of Clare leaving to do the same thing. After saying goodbye to the married couple, you take your taxi and leave to go back to your hotel room.

You are almost relieved to find the silence here and even if it’s late (or early in the morning) you take the time to take a hot shower. It helps you sober up a little bit. You are still glad to find the softness and the warmth of your bed.

You were almost asleep when someone gently knocks on your door, making you groan in your pillow. But you still get up, opening your door just a little bit to be able to see who it is.

“Steph?” you frown, opening it a little more.

“I didn’t see you leaving” she says, playing with her bag.

“You were busy dancing with Macca” you shrug with a soft smile.

You weren’t jealous at all, of course.

(That’s a lie)

“Do you want to come inside?”

You open the door completely now and after a second of hesitation, Steph comes inside.

“I just wanted to say goodnight” Steph says, sitting on your bed. “And I wanted to be sure that you know you can talk to me about anything, at any time. You know that, right?”

“I know” you smile at her. “Thanks, though”

You are leaning against the desk in front of your bed, looking at her. You are glad that you put an old jersey and a shorty to sleep. Steph is still in her dress, and you love that you are able to look at her longer with this dress.

“And about that girl you are in love with…”

“Mh?”

“It’s not Hayley, is it?”

“No” you laugh. “The problem isn’t for her to be in a relationship. Hayley is just a friend”

You see her looking at you for several seconds, just like if she wants to be sure that you are saying the truth. But you are and she finally smiles again.

“Good. Do I know her?”

You hesitate to answer this time, biting your bottom lip thoughtfully. You know that if you say stop about this conversation at any time, Steph will accept it and talk about something else.

“You do” you finally answer.

“Is she a footballer?”

“She is” you smile.

Steph seems to have fun asking you those questions and you don’t want to suppress her smile. She said earlier that she never saw you fond of someone, it’s only because you aren’t allowed to show it. But you are so whipped.

“And it’s not Hayley” she thinks aloud while you shake your head. “Macca?”

“No” you laugh softly.

“Right, you told me that her relationship state isn’t the problem”

She still seems lost in her thoughts and you smile softly at her before talking again. You really hope that she will forget this conversation after a good night of sleep and having sober up.

“I do. But now you probably should go to bed. You look tired”

“You really know how to talk to women”

Steph rolls her eyes while you help her to get up, making you laugh. You guide her to the door that you open for her, smiling softly.

“You can look tired but still be beautiful, you know?” you point anyway.

She doesn’t answer but smiles before kissing your cheek. You froze, not expecting this gesture now. Your skin tickles you where she kissed you and you have to take all your concentration to stay focused in the moment.

“Sleep well” you say at the same time.

You smile and she giggles before going to her room. You close the door of yours, before letting yourself go against it and taking a big breath. Why is your life so complicated? Why aren’t you able to forget her and have a happy relationship with someone? Leila was great, for example.

Thinking about your ex, you look for your phone several minutes before spotting it in the bottom of your bag. You have several notifications there, including two messages from Steph asking you where you are. They came one hour before and you imagine that it was before she came back to the hotel too.

When you open Leila’s conversation, you see that she was online twenty minutes ago. Probably because it’s the middle of the afternoon in Spain. She went back to her country too to spend Christmas with her family.

You go in your bed again, looking at Leila’s goofy profile picture. After some hesitation, you start to write something like “Hello. I hope you are okay and have a great holiday for now. Can we just please talk about something if you have time?”

After all, Leila understood that you were totally into your relationship with her for a reason. She deserves to know why and maybe talking about it to someone will help you to pass to something else? Leila told you that she was still for you if you needed anything. And right now you really need to talk to someone.

Just after you send it, someone knocks at your door… Again. But you choose not to go answer this time, Steph is safely in her room, and can’t a girl have her beauty sleep?

But the person insists and at the third knock, you finally get up. If it’s Lany asking for a makeup remover, you are going to crush her.

But it’s not her. It’s Steph, again.

She has meanwhile removed her makeup, and her hair is down now. But it’s not what is the first thing you spot. She seems strange.

“Are you okay?” you ask her, frowning.

She doesn’t wait for you to propose to her to enter your room this time, passing in front of you to go inside. But you let her. After all she’s Steph, she can do everything she can.

“The girl you love. She’s a footballer and she’s single, because her relationship status isn’t the problem”

You watch her pacing around in your room, only nodding when she looks up to see your answer. What the hell is happening.

“Your problem is that she’s straight”

It’s not a question, but a statement. She doesn’t say it accusatively either, she makes you think about someone who is exposing his theory about something. You bite your lip when you nod again.

“And it’s not Charlie, is it?”

“No” you whisper.

Charlie is great and beautiful, but a little bit too young maybe. And definitively not Steph, once again. You look at Steph when she takes a big breathing, still not understanding what she’s up to.

“I think I know who it is, then”

“No, you don’t” you giggle softly.

She will never know and that is comforting and depressing at the same time. She’s still wearing this damn dress, and you want to rip your eyes apart for not being able to see her for any longer. She’s so beautiful it hurts.

“I do”

You heard that sentence several hours ago, pronounced by Emily and Kat and you found it cute at this time. But right now, coming from Steph’s mouth it feels strange. Maybe because she’s really close to you now.

“I have one more guess, but you have to tell me if I’m wrong”

“I will”

She’s so close that you can see every detail of her face and tell with certitude that she brushed her teeth too.

You still don’t understand what is happening, but by now she has closed the last centimetres existing between you and before you are able to freak out, she presses her lips against yours.

An uppercut probably might have made you less groggy than that. It was just a small press against your lips, but it was everything and you take a step towards Steph when she takes a step back.

“Maybe your problem isn’t really a problem” the left back whispers at you.

You lose two seconds to look at her deep in her eyes, before kissing her too. You don’t know if you are dreaming or hallucinating because of the alcohol, but it feels real and fucking amazing. Steph kisses you back and you take her against you by her waist.

********

The morning after you need two seconds to remember why you feel so happy and content. But you don’t open your eyes directly, scared to have only dreamed it. You are lying on your side, under the cover still with your pajamas. You didn’t sleep with Steph last night, it was “just” kisses and sweet nothing whispered, before you both fell asleep in your bed.

When you finally slowly open your eyes, you can see that Steph is still here and that she’s already up. The light in the room tells you that it’s probably pretty late, even with the blinds closed.

“Hello” you mumble shyly.

“Hi”

“Did you sleep well?”

Steph only nods and you understand immediately that something is wrong. You feel your stomach squirm uncomfortably. Of course, she would have regrets about it. She was probably at least tipsy last night; you shouldn’t have accepted any kisses from her in this state.

“We still can do it as if nothing happened” you whisper.

She frowns again and you want to erase those lines between her eyebrows with your thumb. At some point last night, she changed her dress for one of your shirts and it’s an unbelievable feeling to see her in one of your clothes.

“Is that what you want?”

“No” you admit before sighing. “But I want you to be comfortable”

“It’s not about yesterday” Steph says before rolling on her back and looking at the ceiling. “I mean, it does, but not exactly”

“Okay?”

You see her take a deep breath, just like yesterday before she kissed you. Waiting for her to talk, you put your head in your hand to have a better look at her. You are nervous, not knowing what to expect at this point.

“You said you love me” she begins and you nod. “So, I assume that what happened last night means something to you”

“It means everything” you whisper.

The smile that is on her face after hearing you saying that is breathtaking. But she is still looking at the ceiling, concentrating on what she wants to tell you.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but before everything I need to know if you are still involved in any way with Leila Ouahabi?”

You frown at that. You talked about it yesterday at the wedding, so you don’t understand why it is coming back now. But if she still needs reassurances, you will say at every minute if it allows you to have something with her.

“No, I told you yesterday. We are just talking from time to time but that’s all”

You would rather for Steph to look at you, but she’s still looking at the ceiling of your room, her frown deepening.

“In that case, why has she tried to call you several times and sent you messages like Sorry I was busy, What do you want to talk about or Please answer I’m worried?”

Looks like Leila took your message from yesterday in a very serious way.

“Oh… It’s not what you think” you start, but then Steph is turning her head very slowly towards you.

“Those are the exact words Dean told me when I saw the conversation he was having with that girl from his work, the very same he’s going on dates with as we speak”

You feel your face getting soft at her confession. She doesn’t talk a lot about Dean, not wanting for her friends to diabolise him, you think. But it looks like he deserves it finally. You move in the bed to be closer to her, wanting to offer her as much comfort as possible.

“Yesterday after you left my room for the first time, I sent a message to Leila asking her if she was free to talk about something” you explain while sitting up on the bed. “But then before she’s able to answer you came back and… well I hope you remember what happened”

She looks at you for several seconds, scanning your eyes and your face with attention. She’s probably looking for any possibility of lies, but you won’t take it against her.

“I do” she whispers and your mind flies back to yesterday.

“I can show you the conversation if you want to, I have nothing to hide. And I should probably write to Leila to excuse myself” you add, frowning softly.

“No, I – I trust you” she sighs “What did you want to talk about?”

“You” you smile this time.

“Me?”

She seems genuinely surprised by your answer and your smile grows wider. You nod at her and shyly put a strand of hair away from her face.

“Yeah. I needed someone to talk about it. And Leila already understood that I wasn’t really in our relationship for a reason. She was the easier one to talk to, especially because other than Lany, she doesn’t know a lot of Australian people”

“You wanted to talk about your feelings for a girl to one of your exes?”

She seems rather amused now and you realise that I might be a little weird finally. It wasn’t maybe your best idea, but Leila is the only one who came to your mind at that time.

“My feelings about a girl I’ve been in love with forever” you precise with a soft smile. “And that I really want to kiss again, because she’s the most beautiful sigh I’ve ever seen in the morning”

Steph rolls her eyes and smiles, before opening her arms for you. You don’t waste any time before cuddling against her, cupping her cheek before kissing her softly. And just like yesterday, you wouldn’t be able to describe what you feel at every kiss. But you just can’t get enough.

You stop at one point though, when your stomach groans with discontent. It makes Steph laugh and you hide your embarrassment in her neck. Your wild appetite is a big thing, known by a lot of people around you.

“How are you seeing things, back in London?” you ask while you are eating a toast from the meal tray you request at the room service.

“I’m still looking for a flat, I’m living with Beth now and even if Calvin and Myle are great friends I can’t wait to have my own flat”

You nod while looking straight in front of you, munching your toast slowly. You love Steph’s dog, but like everyone around. He’s the best honestly. But that wasn’t really what you were referring to. Steph kept Calvin with her after her breakup, giving it to Dean when she’s away like those days in Australia.

“I’m looking for something in St-Albans, but I could look a little more eastbound maybe?”

You side-eyes her, only to see her looking at you with a knowing smile and you can’t keep yours at bay. Maybe she knows you better than you thought, or maybe she can read you better than you thought.

“That’s a great idea. Like this I could take you easier on a date”

“Oh, do you now?”

She pinches your ribs, making you squeak and almost throw the trail away. After a not very fair tickles fight, you finish on your back with Steph lying on you. You totally could get used to that. It’s Steph's turn to stroke your hair now and you take a look at her before asking what you have in mind.

“Will you say yes? To go on a date with me?”

“Of course. I didn't kiss you last night for nothing. But would you mind taking things slow? I mean – sorry for bringing him now – but I’m not separated for a long time, and I’ve never been with a girl before”

“We will go as slow as you want” you promise her before kissing her.

You feel her smile against your lips as if the feeling of your kiss is as good as it is for you. You like the idea, to be honest.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Steph whispers and you just hum in answer, distracted by her caresses on your arms.

“I’ve always had a crush on you, but before last night I was saying to myself that it wasn’t something serious. But when I realised yesterday that you might be into me… I don’t know it’s like everything made sense”

“Do you want to know a secret too?” you smirk when she nods “I’ve been in love with you for years. That is the reason why you never saw me fond of someone. It was because I’m fond of you.”

“I love this explanation”

She smiles at you, and you find it hard to breathe easily when she smiles and looks at you like that. You don’t mind hiding your relationship for some time if this is what she needs or waiting for her to be ready to take some steps together. As long as it’s you and her, that’s all that matters.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #steph catley #steph catley x reader #steph catley imagine

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producedbysohyun · 2 days ago

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Reverse comfort

Kang Dae-ho x reader

Summary: Reader is scared of thunder, and even though Dae-ho is a bit startled as well, he pushes his fear aside to make them feel safe.

Warnings: Non!squid game au, maybe slightly OC Dae-ho? GN reader

a/n: I keep seeing “reader comforts Dae-ho” and stuff like that but your girl needs some comfort as well so I decided to make one 😃 (please be kind this is my first time writing and English is not my first language 🙏)

The storm came out of nowhere. One minute, the sky was clear, and the next, it was dark and stormy. You sat curled up on the couch, hands gripping your ears as a way to drown the loud sound out.

Dae-ho was sitting on the opposite side of the room, the loud sound made him flinch, too. It wasn’t like he wasn’t scared, he definitely was. But he realized that you need more comfort than him at the moment.

Another clap of thunder struck and you jumped, breathing a little more erratic now.

“Hey,” Dae-ho said, voice soft as he stood up and walked over to you. “It’s just a storm. Nothing to be afraid of..” He said trying to convince himself as well.

But the look in your eyes told him you weren’t quite buying it. The thunder crashed again, louder this time, and your hands shook as you pulled your knees to you chest, trying to do anything to block out the awful sound.

Dae-ho’s heart tightened, the urge to comfort you stronger than his own fear. “Hey, come here,” he said, gently pulling you into his side as he sat down next to you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, basically pulling you into his lap at this point.

The sound of thunder shook the apartment again, and you stiffened, a small gasp escaping your lips.

Dae-ho’s chest tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “I know it’s scary,” he said quietly, “but you’re safe here. I’m right here with you.” He said again, not fully believing himself.

You nod slightly, trying your best to not focus on the thunder. You bring your legs up to rest on his lap, the two of you holding tightly onto each other.

Dae-ho gave you a small smile, rubbing your leg softly. He could feel the tension in your body starting to melt away, and that was enough to make him forget about the thunder for a second.

“See? We’re fine,” he said, his hand still resting on your leg. “You’re not alone.”

Your voice was barely a whisper when you finally spoke. “Thanks, Dae-ho.”

He just nodded, pulling you a little closer. “Of course, angel….”

As the storm raged on, the loud booms of thunder and flashes of lightning outside only seemed to intensify. But inside, with Dae-ho's comforting presence beside you, you felt a little safer. The warmth of his body against yours felt like the only thing keeping you grounded.

Another boom rolled through the apartment, and you stiffened, your grip tightening on Dae-ho’s sweatshirt. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the fear rising again with each noise from the storm. But this time, you didn't panic as much.

Dae-ho noticed the way you tensed and, without hesitation, he moved his hand from your leg to rap around you again, pulling you just a little closer. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft against the storm outside. "Ive got you."

You cling onto him so tightly that you can feel the way he’s shaking as well. You can’t help the guilt that creeps up your body as you realize that he’s scared as well. All you can do is mumble out a quiet apology.

“I’m sorry….”

Dae-ho looks at you in confusion. “Sorry… for what?”

You sigh. “I- I don’t know… I feel bad… I know you’re scared too and I just-“

Dae-ho cuts you off. “Hey.. don’t worry about me ok? I’m fine…”

You know that’s probably a lie given the way he’s shaking so you try to defend your statement. “But you-“

“Y/N.. it’s ok… let me take care of you…” he says, cutting you off once again.

You sigh, too exhausted and scared to argue over it so you just lean into him more.

“There you go…” he says as he rubs your back softly.

“Thank you….” You say tiredly, your body feeling more relaxed as you hear the storm calming down.

He smiles and reply’s. “No need to thank me baby…”

You both sit in comfortable silence. Your body practically on-top of his as he continues to rub your back, both of you calming down as the claps of thunder become less frequent.

After a while, you drift off to sleep, Dae-ho following soon after, still wrapped in each other’s arms. And as the storm calmly continued outside, you couldn’t help but think that if enduring a thunderstorm meant being held and comforted by your boyfriend for hours, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

a/n: ignore how bad I am at making endings but I hope you enjoyed it 😭

#daeho x reader #daeho #squid game x reader #kang daeho #dae ho x reader #😃#squid game #kang daeho x reader #kang dae ho

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himbosandhardwear · 2 days ago

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Steddie I Soulmate AU I 2k I Rated Mature I idiot4idiot

The thing about linking with your soulmate, you never knew when it was going to happen. There were horror stories about it happening during weddings to someone else or while performing heart surgery or landing a plane, but linking was so rare, stories like that seemed more like fairy tales than cautionary ones.

If anyone had asked Eddie what he thought about it, he would've said the odds of there being some guy out there destined to be his mate, let alone that he'd have to worry about linking during some critical moment, were astronomically low.

He'd be wrong.

Because his ears are ringing, his vision has tunnelled, and there's an empty vacuum where his usual chaotic thoughts should be. All signs pointing toward-

Hello?

Jesus H. Christ, not now! Not right now, this cannot be happening now. Quick! Think of something else! Uhhh… Golems! Ice golems! Or maybe frost giants. Yeah! Not having hate sex with your arch nemesis. Shit! Stop thinking about it! Frost giants, frost giants, frost giants!

Hate sex? He hears echo around his noggin next. Arch nemesis?

Fuuuuuck. No, darlin’, don't even worry about that stray thought! Nothing to see here. I'm, uh, baking! Yeah. Brownies. For a charity bake sale

A long pause, empty space between them, before he says, I don't believe you. I think you are having sex

Sex?! He screeches. How dare you! I would never!

You would. Go balls deep into a guy you don't even like, sounds like to me. Class act.

Oh god, there’s gotta be a way to salvage this.

No, let me explain, please!

Knock yourself out

Right. So, this guy, I know him from school, right? And he was always kind of a jerk. The space between them pings with a sort of stung feeling but Eddie doesn't understand how any of this works yet so he ignores it. But we end up having a few mutual friends, and this one really weird event happens that forces us to, like, team up, I guess. After all that I'm spending more time around the guy and he's not so bad. Invited me over to smoke up with him, which was cool. I'm gonna be totally honest, I'm not sure how exactly we got here, the sex part, but it’s pretty hot and heavy, kinda aggressive, so… yeah. Hate sex I guess

Soulmate is quiet again. His feelings bleed through anyway, at least Eddie's pretty sure that's what he's getting. It feels like embarrassment and disappointment.

You okay? Did I scare you off?

You don't like the guy at all? You said arch nemesis

Oh. Uh. Well… How did he explain to his future partner, if he hadn't already ruined it, that he likes him plenty, he's just been holding him at arms length, metaphorically, because he assumed the guy was straight? Up until roughly twenty minutes ago. He should probably start with honesty.

No, I like him okay. He's not as bad as I'd always thought. We give each other shit but I'm pretty sure it's just left over bullshit stereotypes from high school. I bully him about his music taste, he bullies me about my shitty van. That type of thing

…Right

He waits to hear back from his soulmate but he's not very talkative. That's okay, Eddie can talk enough for both of them.

So, what were you up to when we linked? Not driving I hope

He can hear the guy sighing over the link, which is worrying.

You'll never believe it, but I'm also having sex at the moment

Seriously? That's hilarious

Yeah. A hoot

Not having fun?

I was. But I recently found out the guy doesn't like me that much. So, yeah, real mood killer

Oh man. That sucks

Oh my god. Yeah, it really does. Kinda wish he'd get off of me so we can get the awkward part over with but he's distracted at the moment

Doing what?! Eddie yells, offended on his behalf.

“He’s busy not realizing he linked to the guy he was hate fucking.”

Huh?

“Eddie, open your fucking eyes.”

That's Steve talking.

He blinks his eyes open to see Steve looking up at him. He's not pleased.

Wait

“Yeah.”

Oh my god

“As impressive as it is that you managed to stay hard through that whole thing, I'd appreciate it if you-” He hisses as Eddie, rudely he realizes, pulls out without warning.

He scrambles to the end of the bed, bunching up the comforter around his junk. “I'm so sorry, fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry. I don't… I didn't…”

He can't fix this, he starts to slowly comprehend. He's made Steve think he hates him.

“Nah, it's cool. I get it.”

I don't hate you, I swear. You have to believe me

“Sure, Eddie.” He's yanking his briefs back on, angry and trying not to show it. “You just don't like me much.” Can't believe I did this again. So fucking stupid

Eddie's certain he's not meant to hear any of that but he responds anyway.

You're not stupid. Please let me explain

“You already did. And I am fucking stupid,” he snaps. “Here I thought we were flirting this whole time and you thought we were bullying each other. That's real fuckin’ stupid of me. I'd convinced myself you actually-” He snaps his teeth shut but Eddie can still hear the unfinished -liked me. “I really wish you would control your feelings, dude. You're broadcasting your horror straight into my head.”

“I don't know how to stop,” he quietly admits.

“Well if you'd ever shown up to health class you'd know how to control it.”

I never thought I would get a soulmate

Steve's surprise at that pings around his brain before he does what Eddie can't and shuts it down.

“I did. I've been thinking about it for years.”

And you ended up with me… And I ruined it before we even got started. I ruined it. Steve Harrington is my soulmate and I ruined it. What the fuck

“You don't have to say it like I'm some kind of prize.” He steps into his jeans and tugs them back up to his hips, not even bothering to do them up. Which is- “I guess it's nice that you think I'm hot. That's something. Maybe we'll be the first casual hookup soulmates.”

He has to fix this. Somehow. Think, god damnit! Wait! That's it! He just has to show Steve what he's thinking!

“I wish you wouldn't.”

“Too bad!” He snaps back.

Okay, as embarrassing as this is about to be, he has to tell the truth.

Eddie was in the 8th grade, Steve in 7th, when they first met. Or, when Eddie first noticed Steve anyway, they never really spoke to each other, their cliques already established by then. But Eddie can remember it like it was yesterday. It was lunch, Eddie was walking by with his bagged PB&J, when he heard it. Steve laughing. It was so joyful, Eddie didn't even know what he was laughing about but it made him smile anyway. Of course one of Steve's shitty jock friends caught him staring and called him a queer freak but that wasn't unusual.

“What the fuck, Eddie? Why do you remember that? And how are you so good at visualizing?”

He ignores the questions to move on to the next memory. Eddie's sophomore year they somehow ended up in the same Shop class. Again, they never spoke but he got to watch Steve work, tongue poking out while he concentrated, the proud look on his face when he whittled some hunk of wood into a recognisable shape.

“I forgot about that. It was a dolphin. I was dating Chelsea Hosteller, they were her favorite animal.”

“Lucky her.”

“Hey, fuck you, man, you're the one showing me this shit! What am I supposed to assume from any of this? You thought I was cute? So what? You clearly don't like who I am as a person, so what difference does it make?”

He's not going to have the patience for every single moment, and they're a lot of them, Eddie realizes that now. So he speed runs through them, making sure to send every bit of feeling through their link.

Steve in his Scoops outfit, luring Eddie to the mall but never making him brave enough to go in. The horror of not knowing whether Steve was alive or dead when he heard about the mall burning down. The joy of finding him at Family Video, somewhere he had reason to visit.

You never even talked to me there

Listening to every word to every story Henderson told him about Steve and his bravery. Pretending to be annoyed so no one noticed he was eating it up. Getting to know the real Steve over Spring Break, the giddiness he couldn't quite tamp down, even as he was scared shitless. The pain of knowing Steve was still in love with Nancy Wheeler, even though it was the obvious narrative to Steve's fairytale life. Of course he gets the girl at the end.

What? Is that why you-

The way he stuck around afterward, even though their dynamic was more antagonistic than friendly, and the way Eddie thrived off of every snarky comment. How it felt like banter even though Eddie knew, by all logic and reason, Steve was merely tolerating his presence. They would always be antithetical to each other, circling but never meeting.

Eddie, no

Steve growling ‘Do you ever shut up!’ before pouncing on him downstairs. The heavy pounding of his heart as he wrestled Steve up the stairs. The way his brain never did catch up to what was happening or why, until it was too late, and he was ruining both the greatest sex he'd ever had and also the chance to prove, though he's still completely unworthy, that he has already been primed and ready to fall for Steve for years. The shame of ruining it. The heartbreak of ruining it. The teeny, tiny spark of hope as Steve stares him down. He has to close his eyes to avoid it, lest he say something stupid and fuck it up again.

You…do like me?

Yeah, Stevie. I like you a whole lot. I just didn't think I was allowed to like you. I didn't realize you liked me too. I'm sorry I said all that shit earlier. I didn't want to tell the guy I'd just linked with that I was thoroughly enjoying the chance to sleep with this guy I'd had a crush on for years. That seemed rude

The bed dips and so does Eddie's stomach. Steve's enormous hands slide up his neck, into his hair, and gently cradle his face as he leans in to kiss Eddie square on the mouth.

Oh. Hi

This is nice

I think so too. How do you feel about finishing what we started but this time we both know that we like each other?

That sounds awesome. But are you sure? I really, really fucked up the first time

I thought you were perfect up until you called me your arch nemesis

I have been told that sometimes I'm a little dramatic

You know what, that's fair. I really should've taken that as a compliment, if anything

See? Now you get it

What I'm getting is another condom. Hold my ankle so I don't slide off the bed

You got it, baby

Unbelievable. Salvaged the wreckage of his own stupidity and managed to bag the hottest guy in town! Score one for the nerds!

“I heard that.”

#soulmate au #steddie #ficlet #my writing

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strangersteddierthings · 2 days ago

Text

Platonic Stobin bodyswap AU idea I'll never write. This has been in my drafts for over a year (since July 2023 per the timestamp)

Post season 3; During the season 3 bathroom confession scene Robin came out to Steve, and Steve came out to her. She knows he's bi, and she's the only one who knows. Swap starts off slowly for Steve and Robin. Little moments of vertigo where the world doesn't look right for a few seconds, that progresses to black out periods of time spanning 5-15 minutes. It's them switching bodies but it's so traumatizing (they are FREAKING out) that they don't remember it. So, it's like they're just losing moments in time, which still freaks them out.

Then one day they wake up and they're... each other. And they just don't go back.

And Steve can't really pass as Robin to her parents but thankfully they just blame it on 'moody teenage angst' and "you can talk to us about anything babygirl we love you so much and we're here when you need us." Which. Yeah, Steve cries about. But it also comes with the side of GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I HAVE TO FINISH HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN??? I CAN'T PLAY THE TRUMPET ROBIN YOU HAVE TO DROP OUT OF BAND

And Robin also cannot pass as Steve at first, but she gets to see how that matters exactly 0% because the Harrington's don't even notice. They also aren't around near as much as Steve makes them out to be. But she does get to enjoy the freedom of a legal drivers license and no job currently. HOWEVER she has walked Steve's pretty face into several doors/poles/walls because cute girls keep looking at her with hunger in their eyes and she doesn't know how to handle this.

(It makes more girls interested in a suddenly shy, stumbling, nervous Steve because those girls think they're the reason Confident Sex God Steve turns into a mess but really it's just Robin not knowing how to exist in a world where woman want her and fish fear her (sorry bad joke))

Anyway, queue shenanigannary for a bit. Steve encourages Robin to go on dates because why not get some practice in while they wait to swap back again? (he's holding out hope)

Do they have the awkward discussion of 'what are the limits to what I'm allowed to do in your body????? I dunno yet.

Anyway, Robin goes on dates. ((Does she end up going on a date with Vickie? Canonically Vickie's got no problem dating older boys? How to solve this plot line for when(if?) they switch back bodies? IDK dudes, that's Future Jess's issue.))

At some point, the gang finds out. Probably Dustin realizing Steve isn't as Steve-like as usual. He'd sniff out something was wrong with his brother for sure.

But then season 4 starts. Robin taught Steve how to play the trumpet back in August/Sept and it's then they realize that they kind of share their knowledge? Like... Steve picks up how to play the trumpet EASY. At first they think it's just Robin's body using muscle memory but then Robin realizes she knows things only Steve should.

Anyway, Steve is in band with Vickie the night of the Championshipgame, chatting easily while also trying to hint that 'Hey, I think Steve Harrington is checking you out???" while trying to tell Robin with telepathy (that they don't have... yet? Decide if they end up with telepathy later) to try and subtly check out Vickie. But neither girl is subtle so they both just whip around to stare at each other and Steve is facepalming.

NO WAIT. DO I MAKE CHANGES TO THE NARRATIVE BECAUSE IF STEVE IS IN HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN, THERE IS NO WAY HE'D LET DUSTIN AND MIKE SKIP OUT ON THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME. Maybe??? Will decide on this point later. Until then, above points stay.

Anyway, Chrissy still dies (sorry) and Eddie's still on the run, but like this time in the boathouse, Robin invites Eddie to stay at 'his' big empty house 'cause the parents are gone and Robin has no hangups about Eddie like Steve did in canon (he is the first person we hear call Eddie The Freak).

The end point here is that Robin, Steve, and Eddie spend A LOT of time together at Steve's house and then the angst falls in because Steve starts to fall in love with Eddie.

So, he has a breakdown in a bathroom with Robin about it, all sad and crying like "I really fuckin' like him Robs, but I can't- there- we can't-"

"I need you to take a breath and tell me what the issue is," Robin says.

"I like him Robs, but this is your body. I can't take things from you. Like your first kiss. And I certainly can't- I won't put your body through... you know. I can't do that to you."

And it takes Robin a moment to process what he means. Romantic entanglements that Steve might want to have would have to happen with her body. And maybe Robin isn't sure what to say/do because the thought of a guy and his dick anywhere near her body immediately freaks her out but... she's not in her body. She's in Steves, and has been doing things with girls in it. It never occurred to her that Steve might want to get hot and heavy with a guy in her body and maybe she's got something to unpack there???

Anyway, no time to worry about that. Vecna's gonna kill Max so they gotta go. Also, Eddie does NOT know about the body swap.

She does tell Steve to kiss Eddie, though, in the end. When they're not sure they'll live. So, Eddie calls out to Steve. "Make him pay." So, to Eddie, it looks like Steve gives him a nod and it's Robin who marches up, grabs his face, and plants one on him. Robin(Steve) doesn't stick around long enough for Eddie to kiss back (Steve wants him to because he wants a proper kiss from Eddie, but he also doesn't want him to because Eddie thinks he's kissing Robin and if he kisses back it means he likes Robin, not Steve, so Steve doesn't lock lips long enough find out).

Something something they all survive and then Eddie, hopped up on pain meds in the hospital, demands to speak to Robin. So, Steve slinks in, afraid of what's going to happen, and Eddie's like 'Robin. I appreciate that you like me but you are unfortunately a girl and I am not into that.' And Steve is like!!! my time!! It's come!!! I HAVE to get back to my body.

And then at some point they switch back. Maybe El doing some mind fuckery? Idk.

And for fun, here's the beginning of the fic that idea written out:

"Whoa," Steve blinks rapidly as the world tilts and shifts. It's very sudden, and over just as quickly as it started, but it still leaves Steve unanchored for a moment. It was probably brought on by the concussion he's been nursing these last two days, since the whole Starcourt shit. He leans sideways to try and use the wall as an anchor until everything feel right again.

He should, probably, be more concerned about this because this has been like, the fourth time this has happened and when he told Robin about it, she confessed it was happening to her, too. That Owens guy had told them there could be unknown side effects to whatever the fuck they'd been injected with and this might just be part of that. It'll fade, Steve's sure, as the days go on. Never mind that it has been happening more lately. It's going to fade. It has to.

Except, it doesn't. The sensation of be unanchored gets worse, and now it comes accompanied with loss of time. Steve will feel the tilt and shift while standing in the doorway to his room and the next thing he knows he's got a hand on his front door, keys in his hand, and doesn't know where he was trying to go.

Ring Ring

Steve shakes his head, shakes away the feeling of wrongness and goes to answer the phone. "Harrington residence, Steve speaking."

"Steve! Steve, it's getting worse!" Robin's voice sobs at him from the other end of the phone. "I-I was in the kitchen and then I was, like, huddled in the bathroom and I don't remember going there."

"Fuck, me too. I just came to standing at my front door, about to leave but I don't remember getting there, or where I was planning to go," Steve confesses back. It's strange, how easily Robin has become a part of his life. He was expecting her to not want to be withing five miles of him ever again, after what he got her dragged into, but it seems Robin isn't scared away. Perhaps it's just that he's the only other person she knows who went through Russian torture. Even if that is the case, Steve'll take it. He likes Robin a lot.

"Should we... call Dr. Owens?" Robin sounds so small when she asks.

"I don't want to," Steve confesses but doesn't elaborate. Calling Dr. Owens means admitting that something is wrong wrong. Steve doesn't want anything to be that wrong. He wants to get back to his life. He's got to get back to job searching, too, and Dr. Owens might deny him that.

#platonic Stobin #steddie #fic idea I might never finish #if anyone wants to write the fic please tag me. I'd love to read it #my fic #<tag just so i can find it on my blog again later

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revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

TFP Starscream is the only one doing this pet thing right, he gave us a name and everything 😂

Honestly, TFP Shockwave will probably figure it out and get lucky before TFP Starscream does. 18+ mass displaced mech 🌶️

I caved… also: we’re getting Classic Class Blokees for TFOne Starscream and Bumblebee…

Bad Idea Pt 15

TFP Soundwave x Reader

• Shifting under you at your soft little ‘please,’ he tips his head and his servos fidget with your coverings. Hears your breathy noise as he keeps pressing and sliding that tendril up against you as you splay a hand on his chassis for balance, trembling. “If you want the clothes off, you have to stop that for a second,” you whisper, even as you push back against him, eyes hooded. Reaching to stroke a grasper against your cheek, he relents and you tug your top covering off and toss it aside. Servos flexing, he watches you brace on him to stand so you can remove those layers of coverings, baring soft skin. Trusting yourself to him.

• Suddenly not as confident, you avoid looking up at his visored face. Hating you can’t figure out what he’s thinking. You’re so different from him, it has to bother him that you’re not like him. Not living metal, but soft, warm flesh. Awkward now, you lower yourself to straddle him again only to be stopped when he snags your wrist in a grasper. Slowly, those long servos of his slide from the inside of your wrist up along the crook of your elbow and over to your collarbone. Mapping you in surprisingly gentle touches. And then his tendrils are coiling around you again, gripping you so you’re suspended by them over him. Head tipping back to look at you as he pulls you down to him, his visored face brushing against your cheek.

• Can feel your anxious uncertainty adding a bitter edge to your need and isn’t sure how to soothe you except by touch. Servos sliding over you, trying to reassure you that he wants you in return. Likes the feel of your mind, your emotions, mixing with his. That you don’t try to keep him out, can’t. Your emotions so bright as they spark through him. Nuzzling against your cheek and then your throat, he splays his palm against your chest, anchoring himself with the feel of your little heart as he slides the tendril around your thigh up. Stroking against you to feel you arch and his own frame strains, hips lifting when he finds you wet. Wanting this, you.

• Writhing in the grip of his tendrils as one slides up against you and his servos slide up your sides, you shiver. “Don’t tease.” Hips rocking against that coil, a grasper catches both your wrists and lazily tugs them up over your head as his own head tips with predatory interest. Before tipping down and you follow his stare. Breath catching as he frees his spike and the hand on your side slides to your hip, a servo sliding against the skin just below your navel. Feeling the question he can’t actually ask hanging in the air between you. Asking permission. “I need you.” Want to share this with him. To share yourself and to claim him as yours in return.

• Keeping your wrists trapped because he’s not sure he can handle those soft hands on him just yet. Using his servos and tendrils to keep you where he wants you. Tugging you down, finding you and then pulling you all the way down. Servos tightening on you as your silken heat wraps around his spike, hips lifting and frame straining. That sound you just made. Needs to hear it again. To record it to keep forever. His. That sound only for him. And buried inside you, there’s no shutting you out. Your thoughts and emotions pouring into him, drowning him in you. Using his grip to move you on his spike, his hips lifting to drive deep again and again. “S-Soundwave,” you whimper, tugging at your wrists as he bounces you on his spike. Again, please. Say his name. Let him have this and just for a little while forget all the reasons he doesn’t deserve this. To live in just this moment and the feel of you.

• There’s a tendril wrapped around your wrists, two more gripping you just above your knees, keeping you immobile and helpless as he lifts you and drags you down. That thick spike driving deep with each thrust. Toes curling, you buck your hips when he drags you down, lips parting on a cry as his servos slide over you, stroking almost lazily. If not for the way his hips snap up to meet you when he pulls you down and the way he tosses his head back, frame straining, you wouldn’t be able to tell he’s as lost to this as you are. Silent, but desperate. His grip on you shifts, his next thrust hitting a new angle and you cry out, hips bucking. Coming apart as his tendrils yank you down, his spike driving deep as his hips lift. And your hands are free as all of his tendrils hook around your hips and waist as he shudders under you, hips moving in frantic, rocking thrusts, feeling him release inside you. Pinning you in place. Servos cupping your neck and face as he presses his head to yours, bumping his visor against you as those tendrils slide against you, gripping you so tightly you’re almost sure he’s going to leave bruises. Like he thinks you’re going to try to escape. Pressing your mouth against his visor, you lay your head against his neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#transformers x reader #tfp soundwave #soundwave x reader

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cressidagrey · 1 day ago

Text

Such A Mystery - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts? (That was a nice fever dream. I am now thinking maybe 8-9?)

Max didn‘t wait until he was back at the hotel to call Colette. He was attached to his phone as soon as he got done with that horrible press conference.

He really didn‘t care what anybody else had to say about that. As soon as he could, he called Colette.

It wasn‘t Colette that picked up though, it was Pascale, her mother.

"Max," she greeted him.

Max was surprised to hear Pascale's voice on the other end of the line. He had been expecting to hear Colette's voice, and hearing her mother instead sent a jolt of anxiety through him.

"How is she doing?" He asked. He didn't need to say more. Pascale understood.

"She's...she's not doing well," Pascale said wearily. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "She's been crying almost non-stop since the news broke."

Max closed his eyes, his heart clenching painfully at the news. The thought of Colette crying, of her being so upset and distressed...it was unbearable.

"Can I talk to her?" he asked, desperately needing to hear her voice.

He needed to hear that she was okay, that she was holding up. He needed to know that she was coping.

Somehow.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Max held his breath as he waited for Pascale to respond. He could hear muffled voices in the background, and he knew that Pascale was likely talking to Colette.

"Maxie?"

Colette had cried. That was clearly obvious in her voice, how hoarse it was...how even these two syllable seemed to take so much effort from her, her voice hitching. He could hear her shaky breathing over the phone, clearly her trying to get a grip on herself and not worry him even more.

But that had become impossible the moment George Russell had decided to get completely bananas.

"Hey, liefje," he said softly. "How are you doing?"

Colette's voice caught on a sob, and Max's heart ached at the raw emotion in it. He could practically picture her, sitting in their living room, tears streaming down her face as she tried to hold it together.

"I'm...I'm not okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max's heart clenched in his chest, and he desperately wished he was there with her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. But he could only listen.

"What can I do?" he asked, his voice thick with emotions. "How can I help you?"

He needed to do something, anything to ease her pain and make her feel better. "Do you want me to come home?" He asked her. "I'll do it, liefje. Say the word."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He could hear Colette breathing heavily, clearly trying to compose herself.

"No," she finally said, her voice sounding a bit more steady. "No, please don't. You have a race tomorrow. You need to focus."

Max's heart squeezed at her words. He wanted nothing more than to hop on the next plane back to Monaco and be with her. But he knew she was right. He couldn't just abandon his team and the race like that. "If you change your mind..." he trailed off.

"No, we are not doing that," Colette said shakily. "Your races are yours, and I'll be waiting once you come home."

"You are more important than any race ever could be," he disagreed sharply. More important than anything else to him. He loved her so much. "I want you to know that."

He needed her to know that.

She had always been a pillar of support to him. Had never questioned how much of his time his career demanded. Had never once thrown it at his head in an accusatory way. She had always accepted it. Had supported him every step of the way, from his first practice in a Formula 1 car, through his first point finish, his first race win, four championships…

She had always supported him.

But no race win…no trophy, no world champion title was ever going to be as important to him as Colette.

He would happily give all of that up, if it meant that he got to come home to her.

He heard her exhale shakily. "I do know that," Colette said softly. "I know that. But...But even if you were here, you couldn't do anything but hold me. Everybody is..." she trailed off and he could hear another hitch in her breath. "Did you...Did you see what Arthur did?" She asked him, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"I did, liefje," he agreed softly. "He shouldn't have done that without talking to you first."

"Or to you. This is your life too," Colette disagreed.

"Colette," he said carefully. "I don't care that the public knows. You were the one that wanted to keep this private, which was completely alright with me. I agreed to that. It didn't bother me, liefje. But I wouldn't have cared if it was public knowledge either. I am only upset with Arthur because he upset you."

Colette didn't answer. He could picture her sitting on their bed, cross legged, one hand resting on her baby bump…she took deep breaths, clearly trying to keep her tears at bay.

"I just...I feel so stupid," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel so stupid...I shouldn't be so upset by this. But I am and I..." her voice trailed off.

"Hey," he interrupted gently. "You are allowed to be upset, liefje. You are allowed to feel however you feel," he reminded her carefully.

There was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Gemma stick her head into the driver’s room, a grimace on her face. "Can it wait?" He demanded from her, not caring at all, that he was being rude.

"No, it can't. George Russell had some more stuff to say," Gemma said hesitantly.

Colette must have heard it, because he got to hear another choked off sob from her.

"Liefje," he said softly. "I want you to let me deal with this, alright? Don't look online. Don't search it out. Just ignore it. Your only job right now is to take care of you and our baby," he told her fiercely. "Let us take care of the rest."

Colette let out another shaky breath on the other end of the line. He could hear her trying to compose herself, trying to push the sobs back.

Finally, she said quietly, "Okay," in a small, meek voice, and he hated how defeated she sounded.

"Go cuddle with the cats," he told her softly. "Let your Mom spoil you."

"M…Maman’s making hot cocoa," Colette offered weakly, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

It was faint, but it was there. And that was all he could hope for right now."I am jealous," he teased her lightly.

"I'd save you some, but it's too good to share," she teased back before her voice caught on another sob, and he knew that this was it. This was the end of her being able to converse with him.

"Hey," he said gently. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," Colette whispered in a broken voice. "So much."

Max hated that he couldn't be there, he hated that he had to hang up. He just wanted to hold her, to remind her that everything was alright.

"I want you to do something for me," he told her in a firm voice. "I want you to take a bath. And a long one," he told her. "One of the nice lavender scented bubble bath, I always make fun of you about. And I want you to eat dinner. And I want you to watch some of those stupid tv shows you love, and for you to relax. And rest. Can you do that?"

"I...I'll try," Colette said weakly over the line. He could hear her crying getting slightly worse again, the realization that they were ending the call obviously hitting her.

"And then you will take the best nap. And cuddle with our cats," he continued. "Alright? You'll do all that for me?"

"Yes," she answered him, her voice breaking on that one word.

Max closed his eyes, his heart hurting as he took a deep breath. "I am going to hang up now. I'm sorry, love."

"I know," she whispered, and he could hear the desperation in her voice. The need to keep the phone line between them open. But he knew that she was tired and he knew that she was distraught. And he knew that she needed rest. He needed to let her go.

"I love you," he said fiercely. "I love you so damn much, liefje. I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"I-I love you," Colette managed back, before her voice broke on a sob again. "More than anything. Please...be careful tomorrow, okay? Be careful."

"I will," he promised her. "I swear, I will be careful. I'll come home to you in one piece, okay? I promise."

"You better," she told him in a wobbly voice. It was half pleading, half joking, and it just about crushed him.

"I swear. I'll try my damn hardest," he promised her. "And when I get home? I promise I will hold you for hours. I won't let you go, liefje."

He hung up on her then. And then he turned to Gemma. "What could Russell possibly have said that I should care about it right now?"

"How about that you have spent the last 15 years living a lie and that he wouldn't want you to date his sister, because your girlfriend probably is the one dealing with all your anger issues?" Gemma offered drily.

Max looked at her in disbelief for a moment, his mind refusing to process her words immediately, they were so completely insane.

"What?" He finally asked, his voice coming out in a disbelieving croak. Gemma handed him her phone, a grimace on her face. And there it was in black written text. Screencaps of statements George Russell had made.

None of it making any sense whatsoever. Max had no idea what the other driver had snorted that had sent him off the rocker like that.

"They tried to get Charles Leclerc to comment as well, but he said it was insulting and that he has not once worried about you and Colette, more the opposite," Gemma said quickly. "Everybody that has ever seen the two of you together knows that it's complete bullshit, Max."

Still. He swallowed.

"I would never lay a finger on her," he said weakly. Not ever.

Colette was...Colette was everything. Colette had been his safe place before he even knew what that was or that he needed one.

He would rather cut off his own hand than to put a finger at her in anger.

Gemma stepped over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Everybody knows that," she told him gently. "Everyone that knows you knows that you would never. Just like everyone knows that the other stuff Russell has said is nonsense as well."

Max closed his eyes, letting Gemma's words sink in. He knew that they were true. The people in his life, the people that knew him and Colette...they knew that those accusations were completely ridiculous. That even thinking he would ever hurt Colette was laughable.

"But..." he said quietly. "Social media won't care that it's complete crap."

"It'll blow over. You know the online world has the attention span of a goldfish," she said with a shrug. "We'll send the usual suspects to talk to the media tomorrow to make it clear that you neither have anger issues nor that anybody needs to worry about you laying a single finger on Colette," Gemma promised. "I know that this is hurtful, Max, but I think it just makes it very clear that everything that Russell has said has been completely made up."

Max leaned his head against the door behind him, his mind racing, trying to process everything. He knew she was right. That everything she was saying was reasonable. But it still hurt. It hurt that somebody would come at him and his relationship with Colette like that. Especially when it was so clear that they knew nothing about them.

"I'm going to call some people," Gemma told him gently and with a final squeeze on his shoulder left the room.

Max took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything and calm his racing thoughts. He wanted to call Colette again. He wanted to explain again and again that he would never hurt her. That all of this was complete and utter bullshit.

But he didn't want to bother or upset her even more, if she had even been able to rest at all.

And he hated this. He hated this so much.

He really did. He hated that there was nothing he could do.

He hated that the next day was going to be a media circus. He hated that he was going to have to sit in a car for an hour and a half tomorrow, without being able to see or talk to her.

And most of all, he hated George Russell.

Bath. Lavender. Warm Water. And hot cocoa.

She felt like a child again.

Her Maman had been hovering around her all afternoon and early evening, fussing over her when she really didn't need it, but Colette was glad that her mother refused to leave her alone.

Especially when her mother tucked her into bed like she had done when she had been a wayward 6-year old.

"Arthur didn't think," her mother said softly. "He didn't do this on purpose to hurt you."

Colette let out a shaky breath. "I know he didn't," she said thickly. "But I am just so mad at him. And it just...hurt," she admitted. It hurt more than she had thought.

"I know," her mother said softly.

Another shaky exhale, and Colette closed her eyes, just to keep the tears at bay.

"I knew it was going to come out one day," she admitted weakly. "But I never wanted it to come out like this. Not now.”

Bébé rumbled unerneath her skin, striking out to kick against her ribs once more. She laid her hand over where he had just kicked her.

Her mother gently sat down next to her, gathering her in her arms and pulling her close. Colette melted into it and leaned into her Mom with a soft, shaky sigh.

"It wasn't right of Arthur to say anything," her mother told her quietly. "He had no right to share that picture. Nor to talk about your relationship. Not without talking to you about it first."

Colette swallowed back another bout of tears, hiding her face in her Mom's chest. "I know," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I know, it wasn't his news to share, but...it's still just...it's just so upsetting."

Her mother ran a hand over her hair while the other circled her back in a soft, circular motion. "I know," her mother agreed, her voice kind and soft. "But this doesn't change anything. You know that, right? The important people already knew," she continued softly. "Your family and friends. They all know that Max and you are in a relationship."

A quiet nod, Colette still hiding her face in her mother’s chest, her fingers clinging onto her shirt.

"It's just...." she said weakly. "It still hurts. A lot."

Her mother's arms wrapped around her a little tighter, a gentle kiss placed atop her head. "I know," her Mom agreed again, gently rubbing Colette's back. "It hurts, and it sucks, and it's not fair that he didn't talk to you about it before. I'm sorry, Choupinette."

Colette swallowed again, and exhaled, trying to hold it together. But a few tears escaped anyway. "I just...I just wish that he hadn't. I feel so exposed now," she admitted in a half-whisper.

"I know," her Mom agreed again, letting Colette let out another round of quiet tears. "I know, Choupinette," her mother repeated, gently rubbing her back again, her arms tight around her.

Colette sniffled again, her emotions a tangled, swirling mess, and clung on tighter to her Mother. "I just...I just wish Max was here," she admitted in a broken whisper.v"He asked me if he should come home," she admitted softly.

Her mother’s hand ran gently up and down her back, still hugging Colette tight.

"What did you tell him?" she asked quietly.

Colette swallowed past the lump in her throat and breathed in shakily. "I told him to race. I told him I didn't want him to come home," she said shakily, more tears escaping her.

Her mother hummed quietly and hugged her a little tighter. "Why?" Her mother's voice was gentle and curious, no judgement and accusation to be found.

"Because I fell in love with a 12-year-old boy for whom racing was the most important thing in his life,” she answered, her voice soft. “Max has this...passion for it. This incredible love. And I promised myself then, that I was never going to be the one to take it from him," she explained softly. "I was never going to make him chose. Between me and racing."

And maybe that was also because for years...she had wondered if she was going to be the one of the two he would chose.

Her mother was quiet behind her for a moment, only the soothing motion of her hand rubbing along Colette's back continuing.

And then her mother said, softly.

"You know he would chose you in a heartbeat, don't you?"

Colette buried her face further into her mother, her tears starting to flow again as she let her mother's words sink in.

Because she wanted to believe it. She really, really wanted to.

"He will never need to," she said simply. "He said the same thing but…I would never take it away from him."

Her mother hummed again and tightened her arms around her a little.

"I know you wouldn't," she assured. "But he still wouldn't hesitate, love."

Colette took another shaky breath, trying to keep herself from completely falling to pieces just from the thought of it. It was true. She knew it deep in her bones. Max would drop everything to get to her, if she only asked. And it just made her feel like crying more.

"I just...I just miss him," she admitted in a sniffly voice, her nails digging in her mother's soft shirt.

Her mother's gentle hand was running over her hair again, trying to soothe her as best as she could. "I know, baby," she whispered. "You'll see him soon."

Colette huffed a breath against her mother’s chest, the thought both a comfort and a curse.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to crawl into his arms and just listen to him tell her everything was going to be okay, and believe every single word of it.

Another shaky inhale and exhale, and Colette's hands gripped her Mom's shirt, just to keep from completely falling apart.

It was all so overwhelming, with Max so far away, and just everything in general.

Her breath shuddered again when her mother's arms tightened around her once more, pulling her even closer to her chest, as if she was trying to protect her through sheer force of will.

Colette let her, burying her face in her Mom's soft chest and trying to hold it all together.

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cassiesc0rner · 2 days ago

Text

Impurities VII

Synopsis: You're the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: angst

Pairing: Nate x fem!reader

Warnings: manipulation, jealousy, (homophobia?), lying,

Song rec: Hush - The Marias | Caged Muse - Lilithzplug | listen before I go - billie eilish |

WC: +6,9k

Other parts: previous part, next part

A/N: This might be my saddest part and things are getting crazy but I hope you’ll still enjoy it nonetheless :)

Holy shit

That was all you could think once you woke up the next day. To say that you felt tired would be an understatement. You felt like you got run over by a truck.

Your head hurt—no, scratch that, your whole body hurt, you were tired, and for a moment, you totally forgot what happened the day prior. But once you took in your surroundings—the oversized bed, and Nate's cologne, you remembered it. Every. Single. Thing.

You pulled the blanket over your head, feeling like the room was way brighter than usual. You stayed like this until you heard the door of Nate's room. Your head peaked up under the blanket, and you looked at Nate who stood in front of his bed.

"Good morning, princess." He said as he smirked. He was wondering when you'd wake up, given that it was 1 PM already. "Morning.." You mumbled, before pulling the blanket back over your head.

Nate chuckled as he strolled over "How are you feeling?" he asked, despite knowing you're probably hungover. "I'm never gonna drink this much again.." You groaned, your voice muffled by the blanket.

Nate cooed as he sat down next to your legs. "I'm sorry," he said, running his hand over the blanket where your leg was "I should've kept a better eye on what you drink." he apologized, successfully masking his true intentions.

Nate had no regrets at all, last night had gone better than he could've imagined. Seeing you give in to him, endure his rough side and actually liking it, was everything he ever wanted.

"You hungry?" he asked, changing the subject. You groaned "Starving." you mumbled into the blanket.

"Good, I'll get us something to eat." he declared standing up and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to distract you momentarily. "There's a glass of water for you on the bedside table. I'll be right back." He announced with a smirk.

You were surprised by Nate's sudden mood shift, but you were sure it was because of your rather exciting night together.

You took the chance to freshen up while Nate went to get breakfast. Once you took all your strength together to get out of bed, you took one of his shirts and walked towards his bathroom.

When you looked into the mirror however, your eyes widened and your heart dropped.

Your throat was littered in red and purple hickeys.

You remembered how Nate's mouth was constantly on your neck last night, of course this had to be the outcome. You weren't sure how to feel other than utter panic, because there's no way your parents wouldn't notice.

You sighed before stepping into the shower, deciding that it made no sense to worry about it now done there wasn't much you could do.

After you got out of the shower and dried your hair, you put on Nate's tee and made your way over to his bed. Luckily your headache wasn't as present anymore and you were just tired.

You plopped down on his bed and scrolled through your phone as you waited for Nate to return. You saw pictures from the party yesterday, which some of the students posted.

You decided to text Max, in order to thank him for everything. You felt bad for him because he had to clean up everything alone, since you left earlier with Nate.

You: Heyy just wanted to say thank you again for helping me and trusting us with your place! 02:42pm

You waited a moment after sending the text, feeling a little better now that you thanked him. You wouldn't have been able to plan this huge party without him, and you wanted him to know that you didn't take it for granted.

But as you continued to scroll through social media, you suddenly remembered Nate's words before the two of you left the party. They echoed in your head, loud and clear, "You're not gonna talk to him again, you understand?"

You sighed. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the fact that you were finally sober again, but something about that warning unsettled you more now than before. Yesterday you were way too drunk to notice how weird he was behaving, brushing it off as him just being his overprotective self.

But now you weren't so sure.

You glanced down at your phone as Max's reply popped up almost instantly.

Max: No worries, I'm glad everything went smoothly :) 02:43 pm

You smiled faintly, but you still had an unsettling feeling in your stomach—which could've also been a result from the drinks you had, but you were sure it was something else.

Fear.

You couldn't get past what happened when he found out that you and Max were texting, and meeting up without him. You'd rather not risk it happening again.

You put your phone down, and allowed your head to sink into the pillow as your mind went back to the previous night. Each memory seemed so vivid, the way Nate had pushed you past your limits, the way you finally felt less insecure.

The sound of his footsteps ripped you out of your thoughts. You quickly sat up as you waited for him to open the door. Suddenly, you felt anxious as his words rang in your ears over and over again.

The door swung open, and Nate stood in the doorway, smirking at you as he put the bag of take out on his desk. "Miss me, princess?" he asked cockily as he took in your expression.

You nodded before leaning back against the headboard. "Yup, but now you're back." You chuckled, hoping Nate didn't notice how nervous you were.

But he did, of course he did.

He had enough time to analyze your behaviour, and he knew that something was off. You were acting way too relaxed again, almost as if it was forced. "Yeah," he said slowly as he looked at you "what's with you?"

"What? Nothing." you shrugged, Nate's gaze flickered to the phone in your hand just as you locked it.

Now his smirk faded. You wouldn't do the same mistake twice, right? "Y/n," He started as he took a step towards the bed "Was someone texting you?" you shook your head "No, I was just about to text my mom when I'd be home. You know her, always asking me where I am and if I'm okay." You chuckled as you averted your gaze towards your phone.

He didn't buy it one bit. "Then why did you just lock your phone?" He pressed, crossing his arms as he stared you down and when you took too long to respond he continued "Don't lie to me, baby. You're terrible at it."

You groaned, still seemingly looking everywhere but him "Nate why is it so important to you? I was literally about to text my mom!" you defended yourself. But Nate completely ignored it "Unlock your phone."

Your eyes went wide "Nate, you can't be serious right now.. let’s not do this again." But Nate only continued to stare at you. "Unlock it." Your heart raced, as you gripped the phone tighter.

"Nate.. please." you whispered softly, as the memories of the previous fight came back. And for a second he seemed taken aback, questioning himself if he was overreacting.

You just couldn't help it, the thought of reliving that day made you shudder and the way he yelled ‘Stop fucking lying, Y/n!’ was probably engraved into your mind, just like the pressure of his grip on your arms as he shoved you against the wall of his room.

Or the way you suddenly couldn't breathe anymore.

And now, as you watched him inch closer to the bed, you swore it would happen all over again. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" You asked, trying to sound as calm as possible "I promise, it's nothing you have to worry about."

Nate let out a humorous laugh "Then why were you acting so fucking suspicious?" he asked as he reached the bed "And also," he continued, as he furrowed his brows "wasn't that also what you said, when I asked you why you met up with Max?"

"Jesus, Nate, I'm not even acting suspicious!" you groaned in frustration. "Yes, you are!" He shot back, "Locking your phone when I ask you what's wrong, avoiding eye contact? Just stop wasting time and–"

You put your phone beside you, as you sat up straight "Nate, please!" you pleaded again, "Why do you have to pick a fight over this right now? Just because I apparently texted someone?" Nate frowned, taken aback by your sudden outburst.

"I mean, seriously?" You continued, the words rushing out of your mouth before you could stop them "When are you going to stop being so insecure and just love me, without constantly suspecting I'm cheating on you?"

The room went quiet.

Nate flinched, as if you had slapped him. For a moment he just stared at you, processing what you had just accused him of.

And then something shifted, his jaw clenched and he seemed eerily calm.

Fuck.

"Insecure?" He repeated, his voice even lower than usual. The silence afterwards made your chest tighten, somehow this was even worst than him yelling at you.

Because right now, you had no idea what was going on inside his head.

You swallowed hard as he stared at you, almost like he was staring right through you, his expression unreadable. For a moment it seemed like he didn't breathe with how motionless he was.

"What did you just say to me?" He asked, his tone calm. You shifted uncomfortably as you tried not to lose it. "I–I didn't mean it like–" But Nate was already shaking his head, his mouth stretching into a mocking smile. "Nah, you meant it."

He stepped closer to you, slowly, almost as if he didn't want you to notice. "You think I'm insecure?" he repeated, like he was trying to make sense of your statement. Then he chuckled bitterly, almost mockingly as he reached the side of the bed, causing you to inhale sharply as you scooted away.

"Tell me something," he said, taking a step closer as his eyes were locked on you "if I'm so fucking insecure... then why do you look so scared of me right now?"

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer. You opened your mouth but nothing came out, while Nate was watching you predatory, waiting for you to say something.

"You know what I think?" he continued quietly, leaning in just slightly. "I think you know you fucked up. And now you're trying to make me the bad guy, so you don't have to feel guilty about it."

"Nate..." you whispered. He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "Who was it, hm? Who were you texting?" His voice stayed low, almost gentle, like he was asking about the weather. But you could feel the threat lurking underneath it.

"I—I told you, it was nothing," you stammered once again, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. Nate's smirk faded, his eyes narrowing just slightly. You sighed, knowing you didn't stand a chance against him. "I was texting Max..."

Nate chuckled drily "Max.. really? Why am I not surprised.." he responded sarcastically. "I just thanked him for yesterday, nothing else." You explained, as your hand shakily worked to unlock the phone.

Once you did, Nate took the phone from your hand before his eyes scanned the text messages between you two. His jaw tensed for a moment, but other than that his expression was void of any emotion, causing you to fear he might be even more angry.

"That's it?" he asked, his eyes still glued to your phone.

"Yes, I–I only texted him because I wanted to thank him for the party yesterday. I felt bad because we left so early and he had to clean everything up himself, and–"

"I didn't ask for a speech," he cut you off, his tone less cold. "I believe you." he continued, a faint smile making its way onto his face. You sighed in relief "You do?" you asked once again.

He nodded "Yeah, I do." he stated, his gaze intense as he just stared at you for a moment. Then he tossed your phone back on the bed "But let's be clear about something." he sighed as he leaned in closer.

"You're not talking to him again. Got it?"

His tone left no place for any arguments, so you just nodded "Okay.." you swallowed harshly when Nate's gaze didn't falter "Say it." he demanded.

"I.. I won't talk to him again." You complied quietly. Nate watched you for a moment longer, before a triumphant smile appeared on his face.

"Good girl." he praised, his hand stroking your bare thigh, and for a moment you forgot how possessive and scary he was just mere moments ago. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

You forced a smile and nodded, still feeling slightly uneasy. Nate on the other hand seemed perfectly at ease, as if the entire argument didn't even happen.

"You hungry?" He asked casually, before he walked back towards his desk where the take out rested. You simply nodded slowly "Yeah.." Nate smiled for a split second before he opened the bag.

You were left staring at his back, completely confused. Was he actually mad just now, or was he just acting like he was to get his way? He was so angry just mere moments ago, what happened?

You decided to just let it go, glad your fight was over. You were more than sure that you could relax the rest of the day, at least until you'd get home.

Or so you thought.

After you two were done eating, Nate had pressed a kiss onto your lips before he disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower.

You were watching TV as you waited for him to come back, the thoughts of your previous argument slowly resurfacing. You just couldn't get past how his mood shifted so many times.

Suddenly you sensed a faint vibration. Thinking it was your phone, you reached for it, but the vibration continued.

It was Nate's phone.

You still heard the sound of the shower running, so you decided to reach for his phone and take a look at who was calling him.

Not because you were particularly curious or anything, you just thought that it might've been his parents and maybe it was something important.

But it was just a random number, no caller ID or anything. Maybe it was just a scam call, but something inside you, told you to answer the call.

You could still hang up, right?

You slid your thumb over the screen to accept the call, but decided to remain silent as you held the phone to your ear.

"Hello.. Nate? Oh my god.. I can't believe you finally picked up."

You froze as you took in the sound of a female voice. It was a voice you didn't recognize and it frightened you for a second. Nate didn't have any sister, and he barely talks to any girls from school.

Cassie?

Just as you were about to say something, she continued to speak "Listen I–I know that this is pretty late, but I just needed to talk to you, about everything that happened."

Your grip on the phone tightened. "I want to apologize for how things went.. I didn't know Lexi would put stuff like this into her play."

Your eyes widened, totally confused at what was going on. Which play? Why was she apologizing for someone else's play?

"I.. You know that I always stood by your side. I literally dropped everything for you, no one's gonna love you the way I love you! Even after everything Maddy told me about you.. About those dickpics on your phone."

You nearly gasped, your mouth agape in both confusion and realization.

You were listening to none other than Cassie.

Did Nate actually have dickpics on his phone? Does that mean.. he sent dickpics to other girls while he was with Maddy?

No, there's no way, he already told you how crazy Cassie was. Not to mention, that Nate was not the type to cheat on his girlfriend– she was the one who cheated.

But why were you still listening to her?

"I mean.. you're not into that.. right? Or is that why you broke up with me? B-Because you realized you're into boys?"

That's when it clicked and your face started to form into a scowl. Those dickpics weren't his own, they belonged to other guys.

You started to feel dizzy, the urge to hang up was immense, feeling overwhelmed with the situation. But you felt like you'd miss out on a lot of information if you'd hang up now.

Why would she say stuff like this? She's so sure that she's talking to Nate, there's no reason for her to lie.

"God, what am I even saying, I'm sure Maddy just lied about that. Is.. Is that why you choked her at the carnival? I–I get it, okay? I mean, I know you hate when I bring up Maddy, and we talked about this before, but I just– I want you to know that I don't blame you. She was pushing you and you just snapped."

What the actual fuck?

You stopped breathing for a moment, unable to believe what you just heard. He choked Maddy, at the carnival, because his anger got the best of him?You felt like you were about to throw up.

"I always did what you wanted me to do, I even dressed the way you wanted me to, I–I did everything just so you'd like me, so.. what did I do wrong?"

Your hand was trembling as you tried to comprehend everything that she just threw at you. There was no way that she was telling the truth. She sounded just as crazy as Nate described her.

But why did you still believe her?

Did he tell her how to dress? Was that why he bought you all those outfits? You had so many questions, but you couldn't ask anyone. You were just about to hang up when Cassie sighed, ready to continue her rambling.

"I just.. I can't let you go, not after everything we've been through. I need to know if you.. ever felt the same way about me? I.. saw you with her.. with that new girl..." her voice cracked slightly.

"I saw you holding hands. I didn't think she would be your type but.. I guess all she has to do is listen to you the way I did, right?"

You were surprised by how sudden her mood seemed to switch from desperate to bitter in the span of mere seconds. But other than that you were beyond disturbed with everything you just found out.

You felt like everything you knew about Nate was a façade he put on to gain your trust. But why would he go through so much trouble just to have you as his girlfriend?

Cassie was right, it was odd that he picked you. You weren't popular, you didn't dress to his liking and you two didn't even know each other.

"Nate please.. please say something, anything. Yell at me if you want to I.. I just wanna hear your voice."

Your eyes fluttered shut in an attempt to calm down. Then you slowly removed the phone from your ear and hung up.

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, you wanted to cry because you were so shaken. When you heard the shower turn off you quickly put his phone back onto the bed. Almost like you felt disgusted to hold it.

You stood up and started to put on your own clothes again. Quickly tossing his shirt onto his bed and picking up your bra.

But you weren't quick enough to get fully dressed when Nate emerged from the bathroom, only a towel around his waist.

He smirked when he saw you in only your bra and panties. "Hm, what do we have here?" He teased as he took another step closer.

To his dismay however you took two back, your dress clutched tightly in your hand as you glared at him. "Drive me home." You demanded sternly. Nate's smirk fell as he inspected your body language.

Something was definitely off.

"What?" He asked softly, but the question was directed towards himself more than you.

"I want you to drive me home." You repeated as you turned away from his gaze and stepped into your dress.

Nate swallowed harshly, his mind racing with all the possible things you could be mad about. He had to find out quickly before it was too late. Nate slowly approached you as you adjusted your dress, your mind racing with thoughts as well.

He placed his hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch. A frown crept onto Nate's face as he looked around his room.

He was trying to see if anything was out of place, despite knowing that there was nothing you could've possibly seen to get you this disturbed.

"I still have to talk to my parents and everything and it's getting late." Once you fixed your dress, you turned around to walk past Nate. But he had other plans, he grabbed your arm and swung you back almost against his damp chest.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked as he leaned in closer, the scent of his expensive shower gel intoxicating you as you blinked up at him. "I already told you.." you trailed off as he leaned in even closer.

You swallowed harshly before you removed your arm from his grip, and walked towards the door "Are you gonna drive me home or do I have to take the bus?" you asked, your tone serious.

Nate clenched his jaw before he nodded "Yeah.. sure, I'll drive you."

The ride to your place was quiet. Nate occasionally tried to make conversation, complaining about the driving skills of some of the drivers.

But you only replied with short answers, which only infuriated him further. You nervously tapped your thigh as your gaze was fixated on the scenery outside, and the sun which was about to set.

Once he stopped in front of your house, you thanked him and unbuckled your seat belt. Nate squinted his eyes at you as he inspected your strange behaviour.

Usually you'd kiss him goodbye, with a smile on your lips. But that smile was nowhere to be found and Nate finally decided he had enough.

"I'll see you tomorrow." you said softly, as your hand reached for the door handle

Click.

The sound of the lock echoed through the silence and you immediately froze. You slowly turned back towards Nate, who's fingers were casually tapping against the steering wheel.

He looked straight ahead, almost like he didn't just lock you in his car with him. You weren't sure what to say, you knew deep down that he wouldn't let you go unless you told him what was wrong.

And of course he wouldn't let you go until he successfully convinced you that you're worried about nothing.

Nate's dry chuckle broke the silence and interrupted your thoughts momentarily, his gaze still directed to the front "Y/n.." he started. You gulped in return, waiting for him to continue.

"Are you gonna tell me what's up? Because I'll stay in this car with you until you do." he added, before he slowly shifted in his seat to turn towards you.

You simply glared at him, even more anxious now that you knew what Nate did to Maddy when she pissed him off. "Are you gonna hurt me if I don't tell you? If I don't do as you say?" You replied as you took all your courage together.

Nate's jaw clenched before he snickered "What the fuck are you on about? Have I ever hurt you?" he asked, his tone bitter as he unbuckled as well now.

Your gaze flickered towards his hand, feeling even more frightened now that he was less restrained. "Is that a serious question?" you responded, trying to sound as calm as you could.

"Yes, it is. Because if I remember correctly I never fucking hurt you." You sighed when he continued "Was there anything I haven't done for you? Literally anything?"

You furrowed your brows "That's totally besides the point." you defended yourself "Okay, then answer my other question, when have I ever hurt you?" he asked again.

"Remember when we fought about Max for the first time?" You reminded him, to which he sighed "Jesus Christ, why is it always Max?" he scoffed before he added "Is this still about our argument earlier?"

You shook your head "No, you literally asked me when you hurt me and I was about to explain it to you, before you started putting words into my mouth." Nate sighed, his hand gripping the steering wheel.

He despised the way you were talking to him.

It was so out of touch with how you usually talked to him. And the fact that he wasn't even sure what got you this worked up, made him even more angry.

He exhaled sharply through his nose before shaking his head, as if he was trying to hold himself back.

"This wasn't me hurting you," He muttered, his voice even lower "This was me trying to protect you from guys who only want to fuck you. I mean, you have no idea how the boys talk in the locker room, and trust me, Max is one of them."

You blinked in response "You slammed me against the wall, Nate. Do you really think that was necessary?" He turned towards you again, debating on what to say without pushing you further away.

"And I already apologized for that, didn't I?" When you didn't respond, he continued "I didn't realize that I went too far, I was scared because I didn't want to go through the same thing I went through with Maddy."

Maddy.. Is that why he choked her at the carnival?

"I just wanna know what happened while I was in the shower. Did anyone talk to you? Was it Max?" He asked, his tone less harsh and more concerned.

You shook your head, before you looked out the window, wanting nothing more than to get out of his car as soon as possible "I answered your phone." you finally admitted, your tone calm.

Nate's jaw clenched tightly as a million thoughts ran through his head, was his dad calling him and said something weird? Maybe it wasn't even his dad, and one of his stupid teammates?

He nodded encouragingly waiting for you to continue. "It.. kept ringing... and I just thought it might be something important and you were in the sho–" Nate cut you off "I'm not mad that you picked up, Y/n, you don't have to justify your decision."

You nodded in response "It was Cassie." you finally explained. You made sure to look at him as you did, to gauge his reaction.

But to your dismay, he only sighed and shook his head. Then he suddenly chuckled drily. "Seriously? You talk to fucking Cassie for once and you instantly think I'm a monster, is that it?"

When you didn’t respond immediately he continued “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to talk to her when you offered it last week. You believe everything people tell you.”

It was your turn to sigh now "No Nate, I just don't understand a lot of things.. I feel like you're hiding so many things from me while I'm an open book to you." you frowned.

"Cassie's absolutely insane, if you couldn't tell by now, do you really believe what she says about me?" Nate asked in disbelief.

He knew damn well what she told you about him. That he's an aggressive asshole, or that he'll drop you eventually, he was aware of the fact that she'd say anything to make you dislike him, to ruin your relationship.

"She told me about the carnival."

Nate's face remained unreadable, but you could've sworn you saw his eyes twitch for a moment, as if he was nervous. But he quickly masked it with a scoff "Oh and you believe her? You really think I would try to strangle Maddy?"

You remained silent, before you squinted your eyes at him "I never mentioned that she told me that."

Fucking hell.

There it was again, that subtle twitch. "Well, you didn't have to, I know what she tells people." He explained, before swallowing harshly.

Why did you make him so fucking nervous all of a sudden? He was supposed to have everything under control.

You sighed, knowing that he had a point, but he wasn't as calm and collected as he usually was and that made the whole situation really suspicious.

"I mean.. she thought she was talking to you, Nate. I didn’t respond to anything she said.” you answered, your tone laced with frustration.

“And what about.. about the nudes on your phone?" Nate glared at you "Which nudes?" he asked, even more confused now. "Cassie mentioned some dickpics you had on your phone."

Nate shook his head and chuckled again, before you continued "You know, it's totally fine if you're bi or anything, it doesn't matter but–" he interrupted you, slamming the steering wheel as his breathing grew heavier.

"I'm not fucking gay, Y/n, Jesus Christ!" he raised his voice, causing you to flinch. Then why was he so defensive? "The fact that you actually fucking believe anything that comes out of her mouth is insane."

He didn't deny having the pictures on his phone. And judging by his outburst you weren't wrong "Then why did you have those pictures on your phone?" you pressed, wanting to know more.

"Maddy thought it was funny to.. mess with my phone. She put those dickpics onto my phone to mess with me, okay?" he explained, but his words seemed rushed, like he wanted to defend himself even more.

You didn't respond right away, watching him for a moment before you asked the next question that pushed him. "And you just.. kept them?"

His jaw clenched as he turned towards you "You're making it sound like I wanted them there. Do you think I sit around looking at–" he cut himself off, inhaling sharply.

His hand lifted from the steering wheel before it dragged down his face, as if he wanted to wipe the frustration away. "Y/n, I'm not into that shit alright?" He continued, his voice more quiet.

The way he said it 'not into that shit' made your stomach twist uncomfortably. You frowned, sitting up straighter "You mean.. guys?" you asked as your brows furrowed.

For a moment silence set in as you waited for him to answer. "I didn't mean it like that." He scoffed, shaking his head "Yeah, you did." you nodded in response.

His fingers tapped against his thigh, the familiar smug smirk visible on his face. "Look, I'm not gonna feel bad for not being into dudes, sorry if that offends you."

You scoffed "It's not about being into guys, Nate. It's the way you acted like it's disgusting or something." you explained, sighing heavily afterwards.

His smirk faded, because yes, a big part of him did find it disgusting and his thoughts were a mess regarding that topic. But he couldn't let you in on that yet.

"I didn't say that, okay? Sorry if it sounded like that. I'm just starting to get pissed off because this is so absurd." he said, as looked straight ahead again for a moment.

"I mean, did you seriously believe I'm into guys?" he asked, his voice sounding almost amused, before he turned towards you again for what he was about to say next. "After the way I fucked you last night?"

You averted your gaze, caught off guard as your breath caught in your throat. "Or what? Was I pretending back then?" You shifted in your seat as the memories flashed before your eyes "No, that's not what I–"

"And I asked you to be my girlfriend, did you forget that?" his eyes narrowed, watching you intently as his hand moved towards your thigh.

You didn't want to admit it, but he made sense you couldn't deny that. So why did you still feel so.. unsure?

Nate noticed the way the wheels were turning in your head, and he loved it. He was so fucking good at this– twisting your words until you weren't even sure why you were even arguing anymore.

"I didn't forget.." you quietly responded, your gaze falling to your lap. "Do you see what I mean now, how this doesn't make any sense?"

You sighed as you nodded slowly. "And also, I didn't wanna tell you this because I didn't want you to think I'm weird, but.. Cassie and Maddy were best friends."

Your eyes widened as you remembered that Max told you that back in his car. But you obviously couldn't tell Nate. "Oh.. who did you date first?" you asked, despite knowing the answer.

"Maddy, so tell me, do you really think Cassie would've dated me afterwards if she knew I choked Maddy?" You shook your head, agreeing that this was absolutely absurd.

Nate smiled softly, as his thumb stroked over your thigh. "Cassie is a liar, even if she acted as if she wasn't aware that you were the one on the phone, she probably was when you weren't responding."

God, you felt so stupid. Why did you believe some random girl who you didn't even know over your boyfriend? He did so much for you and even if he had a short temper sometimes, he wouldn't do something like that.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so stupid." you sighed, closing your eyes as you leaned against the headrest. "No you're not, you're just too naive and believe people too quickly." he reassured you.

"You could've just told me what happened right away, and we wouldn't have had this argument." you nodded again, placing your hand over his on your thigh.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized again, this time leaning in to hug Nate "I love you and I shouldn't have doubted you like this.. not after everything you've done for me." you mumbled into his neck.

Nate wrapped his arms around you, stroking your back softly "It's fine, baby. I'm not angry, I just don't wanna lose you." he reassured you, sighing in relief before he added "From now on no secrets anymore, yeah?".

You hummed in agreement "No more secrets." you smiled softly, before releasing him again "I'll go inside now, I still have to talk to my parents." you groaned.

Nate nodded, pressing the button to unlock the door again. Then he leaned in towards you, grabbing your chin before kissing you deeply. You kissed him back, your hand resting on his cheek.

When you broke the kiss and smiled at him, he smirked "Text me later, I'm curious about what they want from you this time." You nodded before saying goodbye and getting out of his car.

You waved at him as he drove off, before you made your way into your home.

As soon as Nate was out of sight, his jaw clenched again. He was furious– not at you, but at Cassie. What the fuck was she thinking? Why did she even mention all those things?

He had to talk to her and tell her to stay the fuck away from both of you. Now that everything he was scared would happen did happen and she had nothing to blackmail him with, he could finally cut her off for real this time.

And he wouldn't be nice about it.

As you entered your home you sighed, trying to calm down from the intense argument back at his place and his car. But then you remembered that you still had to deal with whatever your parents had to say.

You decided to deal with it right away instead of postponing it any further, and made your way into the living room.

You were met with the sight of your parents who were currently watching TV. When they saw you, your dad sat up straight before he turned the TV off "Y/n, you're back." he said with an apologetic smile.

Your mom also smiled at you, but her smile seemed almost condescending. "How was the party?" she asked as she crossed her arms "It was really good." you answered, before sitting down on the armchair.

"Well, now that you're here we can finally talk." She added, before glancing at your dad. "Your father got a new job offer.” You swallowed harshly as your heart seemingly stopped for a second.

You were well aware of what that meant.

It wasn’t the first time you heard that sentence, but right now it carried way more weight than ever before.

Your gaze wandered from your mother to your father, who was sighing “You can’t be serious.” you muttered, your voice lower than usually.

“Y/n, it’s a really good opportunity. I’d get the same amount of money and less hours. I’d finally be able to spend more time with you.” he softly explained, causing you to scoff “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?”

You crossed your arms as you fought back tears, your mind wandering to all the moments you had with Nate, completely unaware of the guilt clearly visible on your dad’s face.

“I know it hasn’t been perfect,” he admitted as he moved forward, placing his elbows on his knees “But I’m trying to make up for lost time. Time I spent working for us” he emphasized.

“So moving again is your way of fixing things?” you asked shakily, more than frustrated by how unfair your parents were treating you.

“This is about Nate, isn’t it?” Your mother suddenly interjected “You never complained this much before when we moved.” You froze as your gaze was fixed on her.

“I–that’s not true!” you protested, your brows furrowing in anger. She shrugged as if this wasn’t a big deal “It’s obvious, you’re attached to him because he’s your first boyfriend.” you squinted your eyes at her.

“But trust me, Nate isn’t the right one for you. You’re young, you’ll meet someone else, someone better.” Her words angered you even more, and you struggled to stay calm.

How could they do this to you, now that you finally found friends and a boyfriend who loved you so much? You scoffed before getting up “You might think you know him, but you have no idea how fucking ridiculous all of this is!”

Your mothers face turned into a scowl as she gave you a disapproving look “Language..” she scolded, before continuing “You’ll get over it, trust me.. even if it’ll be hard at first.”

You felt like everything you and Nate worked for was crumbling apart. You knew you were powerless regarding the decision of your parents, but you wished they’d let you have a say in this as well.

Your father jumped in in an attempt to reason with you “I’m sorry, I really wish it would work out here but it just doesn’t.. I realized how burnt out I am currently. And with the new work it’ll all get better. And I’m sure you’ll meet new people.”

You did feel bad for him, but it just felt like this realization should’ve come earlier, since he’s been this absent ever since you were a child. You simply nodded, tears stinging your eyes as you glared at him.

“Where are we gonna move, and when..?” You asked shakily “Urbandale.. it’s a city in Ottawa.” your mother replied, causing your eyes to widen “We’re moving to Canada?” you asked in disbelief.

Your father nodded “I have an appointment there next week, to check out the area and our new place. I’m sure it’ll be just as nice and calm as this neighborhood.” You blinked at your dad, unable to say anything.

“If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be able to move there next month.” You bit your lip nervously, trying to distract yourself from the tears that were threatening to spill.

“I’ll go now.” you answered sharply before you exited the living room. As soon as you went towards your room the tears started running down your cheeks.

You closed the door behind you, breathing heavily as the words kept repeating in your head. You couldn’t believe that they were actually serious, totally rejecting your feelings.

You quickly wiped your tears away and pulled out your phone, shakily swiping across the screen as you searched for Nate’s contact.

You knew that he was probably still in his car and maybe he’d pick you up again. Your parents might be against it but they couldn’t stop you.

You sighed one last time before you pressed the call button. It rang a few seconds before he finally picked up. “Hey, is everything okay?”

That sentence alone made you sob, stopping you from answering right away. “Baby.. what’s wrong?” he asked again, his tone concerned.

“C-can you pick me up again? I.. can’t sleep here tonight..” you shakily responded as you moved away from the door, running your hand through your hair in frustration.

“I’m on my way, give me five minutes.” he instantly assured you before hanging up and turning around at the next crossroad, not even minding the traffic laws as he sped back towards your place.

He knew that something huge must’ve happened for you to actually call him, and ask him to pick you up. He cursed your parents for making you feel this way, his jaw tensing as he tried to stay calm.

✎ Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, feel free to give me feedback!! :♡

- Cassandra

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lure-of-writing · 3 days ago

Text

Price to Pay

You were his long before she came into the picture. Being the child of parents that were deemed as traitors not many people sought you out in hopes of a friendship, neither did Xaden but nonetheless he took on responsibility of all the marked children in hopes of keeping them alive. It was a freezing wet cold January morning when you met him, purely by accident at that. You were never intended to meet him , at least until you got to the riders quadrant. “There is always a price to be paid my sweet girl, whether or not you know it.” Your mothers voice rang true in your head. In all your life it seems that she was never wrong, not even in death.

“You are the only person who was being…” The deliberate pause of the man standing before you didn’t go unnoticed, with a slight cough he clears his throat. “Being trained as a healer of some sorts. And seeing as he won’t let anyone else help him you surely understand why I asked for you to be the one who came, right?” The agitated tone of his voice did nothing to soothe the anxiety hurling throughout your body. “I mean after all, I can’t let the boy die.” Ah, there it was. The real reason you were brought here. Never would they allow the leader of the rebellion's son to die before they got a chance to play their death games with him. Pretending to play gods. Something tells you Malek wouldn’t be too happy with their doings. With a heavy sign you give in “Where is he?” After all your mother was just as involved with the revolution as his father was, which means you are not only responsible for the others, mostly out of guilt that your mothers actions caused them to lose their own families, but you also know that your mother would want you to look after the boy like she looked after his father. Shame and guilt have an interesting way of making people do things that they wouldn’t normally do. Such as willing to walk into what could be considered a death wish of a house.

Xaden was exactly where they said he would be. The room was basically empty besides the bare necessities and random things he must of deemed worth collecting along the way. Hues of tan, white and gold engulf the room in what you could only imagine to be an attempt at not only showing a wealth of money but also a failed attempt at being inviting. If anything it only made the raised, wilted and barely healed wounds lining his back to be even more glaringly obvious, if that were even possible. While observing the marred flesh you noted that you didn’t see his back rise and fall. That was a bad sign, a very bad sign. Quiet but hurried steps made their way over to where he laid in bed. His head was facing you but his eyes were closed. Naturally you stuck your finger under his nose to see if he was even breathing. “Is it normal for you to stick your fingers under the nose of people you don’t know?” The sudden noise has you pulling back and quickly placing a hand over your heart. “My god, why would you scare me like that? I thought you were dead, you dumbass.” you grumble “In what world would I just be sticking my hands in the faces of strangers?” You swear you heard an attempt at laughter out of him but it could also be a groan of pain. Your second guess was probably much more likely. “What hurts the most?” you stop assessing his back for a moment when you see him peek open his eye “Everything?” His tone drips in disbelief, not that you blame him. It was kind of a stupid question. Sighing you pull over his chair from his desk and take a seat. Another sigh tumbles out while rubbing your face and all you can think is that you definitely have your work cut out for you in more ways than one.

The path of your relationship had for the most part always been a rocky one. Xaden never wanted to accept not only your help but the role you played keeping the other marked children alive. While he might be the son of the leader that doesn’t make you invisible. Day in a day out you would teach those around you the knowledge you possessed of plants and herbs and remedies in hopes that they would never need to use them. Teaching, training, building children into young adults who understood what they were going to be up against was something you took pride in, even if Xaden frowned upon it.

He would never say it out loud but he thinks you are not capable of teaching them what they need to know, how to survive in a war college that's meant to kill you. In his eyes you are too soft, too kind, too willing to help, to survive Basgiath War College. And if you couldn’t survive then how would the children that you are supposedly teaching?

Unfortunately for him you are your mothers daughter. Not only were you almost as lethal as him in the challenges, you were quick and smart and strong. Stronger than he ever thought you were capable of. And after many fights about letting you help, letting you correct as much wrong as you humanly could, Xaden finally caved. That is where the tab for your price to pay begins collecting.

Something about him was like a drug. Constantly pulling you in for more but causing a world of pain when you lack access. You never planned on your relationship becoming more than a begrudging and slightly reluctant friendship. But just like with any drug you think you're good at controlling the amount you need in what doses, but then over time you need more and more until it's all consuming and you can’t function without it. Won’t function without it. You always thought you were better than others at controlling your feelings and never allowing yourself to get too close to someone but everything about Xaden goes against what you know.

Life had been as blissful in a war college that attempts to murder you at every chance they can get, can be. After fighting the obvious mutual attraction for longer then you would like to admit. You and Xaden found a routine in being a couple in a psychopaths dream scenario. In the three years that you had been there alot had changed. Somewhere obvious, some well…some where definitely not. Like Xaden falling out of love with you. He would never admit it. Violet's sudden arrival to the riders quadrant was unexpected to say the least. Xadens request for her to be put into his wing was even less expected. Obviously you weren’t dumb you knew the saying “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer” but looking back your unyielding love kept you from seeing the truth and in turn maybe you were in fact dumb after all.

At first her presence didn’t worry you at all. Did it slightly irritate you? Sure but you were confident that she would be nothing more than a slight annoyance. Oh how wrong you were. Slowly you felt Xaden pull away from you. It wasn’t anything unusual being a wingleader that he was pulled away at different times for varying amounts of time, as were you. This was nothing outside of your usual. A red flag was suddenly raised when Bodhi and Garrick couldn’t seem to look you in the eyes, constantly covering for where Xaden was at and what he was doing. Or rather who he was doing. As dumb as you were you knew without a doubt that their loyalties lie with your boyfriend but you had also hoped that as your friends they wouldn’t turn a blind eye to his affair. You soon learned hope is a useless thing. Hope gives you the ability to pray for change, to see other possibilities, to turn a blind eye at what is happening in front of your very own eyes. Hope is what kept you in the dark, and later would later kill whatever remained of your heart.

Years down the line you would learn from Bodhi what exactly happened between Xaden and Violet but it would never help repair what had been broken. You would live in the dark of where things went wrong, what signs did you miss because you were too young and in love to pay attention to your surroundings. It was after threshing when you noticed how he looked at her. How he cradled her cheeks in comfort, just like he did with you. When news of Xaden’s dragon being bonded with Violets finally reached you, all you could do was groan in frustration at how much more complicated your life was about to become. “Is it true?” Xaden didn’t need to know what you were talking about, he already knew. With a slight tilt of his head he beacons you into his room before closing the door. Last thing he needed was somebody eavesdropping on a conversation that didn’t involve them. “Yeah.” he drops into the desk chair while you place yourself on the edge of the bed. “What are we going to do?” Slowly he looks at you with a resigned look. “There’s really not much anyone can do about it.” Scrunching your face you look at him in disbelief “But you know what happens with mated dragons as well as I do. They can barely go like a few hours being separated. What are we going to do? Bring her along like we’re her parents or something?” you watch as he crosses his arms over his chest with a raised eyebrow. “Would you like to talk to Tairn and Sagely about this?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid Xay you know they don’t give a shit about how I feel about this situation. But you have to admit this is absolutely ridiculous, this isn’t going to work, we graduate soon and will be sent off to gods knows where and she will still be here.” you gesture to the four walls of his bedroom “Are you really willing to get yourself killed by coming back to this place every other week?” With a shrug he groans before placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It's either here or out in the field.” While you have grown to accept his air of nonchalance, its about to drive you up a fucking all. “For fucks sake Xaden why are you not concerned about this? About how it will affect us and everything we are working so hard for.” You're met with a cold hard glare “Don’t you dare question my commitment to what I am trying so hard to protect, to those I am willing to help and willing to die for.” You couldn’t hold back the laugh of disbelief that falls out of your mouth “Are you willing to die for her?”

“Goddamnit (y/n) why can’t you see that this is out of my control? This is normal for me to accept what has happened and figure out how to deal with it. So if you’re done questioning my alliances then I think you should leave.” Never has Xaden talked to you like that and you would be damned if you let it happen now. “Who do you think you’re talking to Xaden? Because I know for sure it isn’t me, so I suggest you fix that attitude of yours and try that again.” There is a long beat of silence while you refuse to break eye contact with your boyfriend. He sighs again before lightly motioning for you to come to him with his hand. Blankly you stare at him, there isn’t any way you are going to go to him after the way he spoke to you, not even Malek himself could drag you over there.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry. You know it didn’t mean it. I’m just stressed. I now have to figure out how to keep Violet alive because you know if she dies I die, and if you haven’t noticed she's kinda making it more difficult than it needs to be. I mean you have seen her for yourself, she's behind in basically everything.” You don’t even bat an eye at his so-called apology. That was lackluster at best. “(y/n) baby I’m sorry. My stress isn’t a reason to take it out on you just because you are concerned about me. You know that your opinion matters to me more than anything and just hearing your worries adds a whole other layer of stress to this clusterfuck of a mess. I know you’re concerned and you have every reason to be, if this was the other way around I have no idea what I would do. But I promise you I am going to do everything in my power to not let this affect us and what we have going on outside of here. We’re going to figure it out, just like we always do right?” His question hangs in the air like hope. “Right.” you reluctantly agree before giving into his beckoning and plop yourself into his lap. “There isn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t do for you, you know that right?” his eyes pierce into yours and you swear you saw something else dance in those eyes of his and it wasn’t love “I know.”

Your life was never the same after that moment. The memory is frozen in time, forever memorializing your heart break. It was the night the war games started. You hadn’t seen Xaden all day having been preoccupied with your own wing to have time and check in on him and his wing. After looking for him everywhere the only place left to look for him was his room. You know for a fact that he hasn’t taken off with Sgaely so that only left one place for him to be. Xaden had warded his door so that no one would be allowed in but in the moment of lust with Violet he had forgotten all about the fact that he had also worded it to allow you into his room at any time. Finally you had reached the end of the hall where his room sat diagonally from yours and pushed the door open.

Violet. Xaden. Violet. Xaden. Your eyes didn’t know where to focus. On him? Or on Her? You didn’t hear as violet shrieked in shock or as Xaden uttered your name. For a moment no one moved. No one even dared to breathe, for all hell was about to break loose. “You lied.” it tumbles out of your lips like a ghost. Xaden barely caught the end of what you said. “You lied! YOU FUCKING LIED!” Your heartbroken cry breaks him out his trace pulling Violet off of him and reaching for his pants. He watches as blue bolts of energy strike randomly around the room sending various objects flying. “Xaden we kinda have a situation a-” Garrick and Bodhi appear behind you. Obviously they were looking for him also. Except they were hoping that they found him before you did.

“So this is what you’ve been doing? You’ve been fucking some first year behind my back? I thought I meant the world to you huh? That there was no one else in this world who was more important to you than me? You remember that, don't you Xaden?’ Never in his life had he seen so much anger consume someone that he could see it dancing in their eyes but he could see it in yours. The way you went from screaming to clam sent a shiver down his spine, and he was not one to scare. Another bolt of energy went flying and this time it landed right next to Violet who was wrapped in his blanket trying to cover her naked body. Without thinking his shadows built a wall between her and your bolts of energy. You watch as the wall of shadows is formed and dissipates before your very eyes. He was protecting her. Protecting her from you.

A loud scoff of disbelief strikes a nerve in his body sending him into action. “(y/n) look at me, baby. This was an accident, a mistake. You know I only love you.” He could see the particles of energy bumping into each other gaining strength and as he goes to step forward closer to you it strikes, keeping him in his place. “I thought you only loved me?” Violet cries out in heartbreak. Shaking your head you laugh “You are such a fucking liar, but I have to admit you had me fooled Xaden.” Slowly you start to clap while staring the man who once held your heart in his hands keeping it safe from everyone and everything but now it lays shattered on the ground into a million pieces. “You truly had me there for a second, I fell for your tricks. I had a feeling that I was never good enough for you, that you were waiting for someone else who was better to come along and I guess you found better huh? Tell me Xaden just exactly how long you’ve been fucking her behind my back?’ He takes a long deep breath while looking at the ceiling before answering “Since threshing.”

Deep down Xaden knew the second he saw Violet that he was doomed but he had hoped for both yours and his sake that it was just a thought, he knew that one would compare to you, no one would be able to love and understand him on the level you do. And yet here he is doing the one thing he promised to never do. “Fuck you Xaden Riorson.” The look in your eyes is cold, dead even. The only thing keeping them warm is the hatred he knows you keep for him shimmering beneath the surface. And with that you turn swiftly on your heels and shoulder checked both Garrick and Bodhi who were too stunned to move, “Fucking energy wielders” Garrick mumbles

You now knew just what the price of loving Xaden was. What dues were to be paid. It was your soul, your heart and everything left you had to believe good in the world does exist. Loving Xaden Riorson was your price to pay. The heart of the girl who used to be is no longer there, all that's left is the gaping hole that Xaden caused when he ripped your heart out that night with his own bare hands.

#fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #xaden riorson #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader

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